Page 41 of The Dirty Saint

“What did I tell you about going near her?”

Killian wipes the back of his nose with his palm, streaking it red with blood.

“You haven’t changed one bit, Odeh.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he spits. “You are still the same little prick you were when we were kids. No wonder Michael brought me in to handle business.”

I grab a fistful of Killian’s shirt in my hand, pulling him up so that he can’t do anything but look me square in the eyes. He thrashes against my grip, but I hold him firmly to the wall.

“You better watch that mouth of yours,” I say, pressing my forearm into his throat. “Or you’re about to be choking on your own goddamn teeth.”

“You really gonna sacrifice your career over some skank,” he spits.

“No,” I laugh. “Because, from where I’m standing, the only skank is you.”

10

Chapter Ten

After

EZRA

I lay back on my bed in nothing but a t-shirt and lace thongs, remembering the feel of his hand as it grazed my skin and the way it traveled from my lips all the way down to my sensitive area. I drag a finger down the center of my breasts, hovering over the entrance to my opening. My breath quickens. It has been a moment since I have felt pleasure.

I close my eyes, imagining Joey running his hands up and down my body, fitting them in every line and crevice. For a man that most would deem cold, his touch was always warm and electric.

I imagine his voice in my ear, whispering sexy words of affirmation, setting every inch of my skin on fire.

As I rub my throbbing clit, my brain begins to swirl with images of him. I can feel the orgasm start to build, and I can feelit in my bones as if it is a part of me. But as much as I am itching for it, I would like for this moment to last.

They don’t come very often.

As I brace myself for the tip of the iceberg, a smile creeps onto my face. Beautiful is too elegant a word for what Joey and I did to each other, but our fleeting moments were special nonetheless.

He and I cared very deeply for one another. It was hard not to notice the sizzling chemistry between us. God knows I fought it as long as I could, but at some point, not only could I not fight it anymore, but I didn’t want to.

Before Joey, I hadn’t been happy in a long time. I wanted to be, but no matter what I did, I never was. I was mourning my husband and the man who became my son’s father. I was forced to be everything for a little boy who I prayed to god I wasn’t fucking up. However, I knew that with me being his mom, he was destined to be a tiny bit.

Joey made me happy. He brought out a side of me that I often hid away due to fear and shame. But I didn’t have to worry about being too much when I was with him. I knew that he knew I was enough.

Finally, growing impatient, I insert two fingers inside me.

Suddenly, I am screaming out Joey’s name as if it is the only word in my vocabulary. I weave them in and out, riding the orgasm as long as I can.

When I am done, I lean back in bed, letting out an exasperated sigh.

After a few minutes pass me by and reality nips at my skin, I get up and gather my sheets. I roll them into a ball before throwing them into the washing machine. I then take a nice warm shower.

Alone.

* * *

The smell of sweaty bodies and hard work hits me like a shitload of bricks.

When I walk inside, the first thing I notice is a younger woman flirting with an older man. A gold wedding band glimmers off his finger, and I have to fight to hold back a snort.

---