Page 9 of The Saint

I got to enjoy it, watch her fuck me like she’d been thinking about it all day.

I unbuttoned her blouse the rest of the way and helped her out of it before I unclasped her bra, letting her perfect tits come free,little nipples on plump tits, firm and perky, nicest pair of tits I’d ever seen.

She started to move faster, riding my dick harder as she arched her back and came down on my length, moving like a seductress who was about to steal my soul. She ran her fingers over her chest, leaned back to make her tits tilt to the sky, smeared my length in her cream that was thicker than the milk in her morning coffee.

“I’m fucking obsessed with you.” I worshipped her body with my stare, with my big hands, wanting to come inside that little pussy because it was all mine. I didn’t thrust up to meet her movements, sat still and let her fuck me like I’d paid for it. She was so fucking good at it, so confident and sexy, like she knew what I wanted the moment I walked through the door.

“I wanted to show my appreciation.” She reached her hand behind her and played with my balls as she continued to ride me, making me inhale a sharp breath at her touch. “For everything you’ve done for me…”

My fingers dug into her ass, and I felt my cock twitch inside her because I’d never been this fucking hard in my life. It was like a taunt, watching me try to hold it together while she was a fucking fantasy. “Sweetheart…”

“Come inside me.”

I sucked in a breath through my teeth. “Jesus.”

“It turns me on.” She exaggerated her movements, taking my length all the way to the base before she rose up again, her palms planted on my chest, her tits fucking amazing. “I like to feel it.”

I couldn’t keep it together, not after she teased me and fucked me the way I liked. She was paradise, and my dick didn’t want to leave. When I fucked whores, I never cared about their pleasure. But if I was with a woman I met at a bar or on the street, I stepped up and acted like a gentleman. Now that I was in the first real relationship of my life, it felt wrong to shoot my bullet before she shot hers. But she had me by the balls—literally—and I was too weak to fight it.

So I felt the heat swallow me whole, and I felt my gun fire off an entire clip of bullets. My eyes were on hers, seeing her cheeks flush in arousal as she watched me come inside her. My hands squeezed her cheeks before I tugged her at the speed I wanted, taking her harder until my final pumps were finished.

I was winded, though I hadn’t moved, winded because she took the breath straight out of my lungs. I was fucking obsessed with this woman, and I was relieved that I didn’t have to hide it anymore. That she seemed just as thoroughly obsessed with me.

No surprise that my dick was still hard when it was sheathed inside her, when the perkiest tits were against my chest, the greenest eyes locked on mine like I was the man she should have married in the first place.

She rocked herself slowly, like she could feel the come between our bodies, her neck bright red like that really did turn her on. She moved into me and kissed me, slow and sexy kisses, her hips still grinding against me. “Now it’s my turn.”

She seemed to be feeling better because she’d gone to work and then fucked my brains out when I came home, so I took herout to dinner. Just because we lived together now didn’t mean I would stop doing those things.

Besides, I wanted to show her off.

I knew every man looked at her and wished he were the one nailing her.

But that privilege was all fucking mine.

She sipped her water before she looked at the menu, wearing an oversized sweater as a dress with thigh-high black boots. She was probably trying to be casual, but it was one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen her wear.

I’d have to fuck her again when we got home.

“What are you getting?” she asked.

“The chicken.”

“Still cutting back on the red meat?”

I gave a shrug. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Good for you for getting checked out,” she said. “And good for you for caring. I need you to live a long time.”

My parents used to fight about my father’s cholesterol levels all the time. My father would always dismiss my mother’s concerns, probably because he knew he was more likely to die from a bullet than a heart attack. “It runs in the family, so…”

She gave a slight nod in understanding.

The waiter came over to take our order, and I stuck to my roasted chicken, while she got a salad and a soup. She’d beeneating very little the last week, and she seemed to be continuing that streak.

“You didn’t have to go back to work.” I’d told her boss she would be unavailable for a while. If he didn’t like it, it wasn’t like he could voice it. Not when I could fire him—or worse.

Her mood dampened noticeably. “I had to get out of the house.”

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