Page 7 of The Saint

His rocking turned into a pounding, his strokes even and hard, hitting me in the perfect spot on repeat. His skin started to tint and moisten with a sheen of sweat, smelling like a man, and that was a turn-on in itself.

I was already ready to go, but my body halted, extending the buildup for a second longer because it was just so good.

But his breathing turned harsh and irregular, fighting the fire in his dick because he wanted to come inside me. He held off for me, waiting for me to go first, and like the gentleman that he was, he didn’t edge himself, too proud to show a sign of weakness.

I’d been fucking him long enough to know his tells and his moves, to know how he felt even when he tried so hard to hide it.

I let myself go, both of my hands gripping his wrists for something to hold on to, like I was at the top of the tracks on aroller coaster and I was about to go into a drop. When I fell over, my nails were like claws, and I came around his fat dick with a mixture of cries and screams, with tears that burned my eyes before they streaked to my ears. “Bastien…” No man brought me to the heavens the way he did, made me see the stars that the strongest telescope could never detect.

He didn’t wait for me to finish before he let go, unable to hold on to the railing a second longer. He made the jump, his cock thickening a little more inside me before he released, giving his final pumps full of mounds of seed.

I loved watching him come inside me. Just made me want to fuck him again.

He seemed to have the same idea because his dick was still hard when he finished. He started his thrusts again, this time pounding into me hard enough to make the bed shift and the headboard tap lightly against the wall. He fucked me like he’d wanted to fuck me for weeks and months, like he’d spotted me across the bar and eye-fucked me all night before he finally got me back to his house. His desire bled from his pores, and he took me like it was his mission to claim me, to erase my past and own my future.

3

BASTIEN

Luca walked into the warehouse in his tactical vest, like he’d just moved product. He talked with the guys across the room before our eyes met, and he joined me at the table.

I sat there, a cigar in my mouth and a cold drink in my hand. It was my first night back on the job. It’d been a long twelve hours, and I still had several more to go. It was the first night that Fleur would be by herself, but I knew she could handle it.

She’d died and come back to life, so she could handle anything.

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s better,” I said after I released the smoke from my mouth.

“And you?”

I gave a shrug. “I’ll get there.”

“Did you work it out, or did she take off?”

“She said she’s not going anywhere.” It was hard not to smile as I said that, proud of my woman for being tough and touched thatI was worth fighting for. For most of our relationship, I had done all the chasing, but now she chased me. “She moved in.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “Happy for you.”

“Thanks, man. It’s nice to see you supportive for once.”

“You know I’m protective of you.”

“I’m a grown-ass man and don’t need you to protect me, asshole.” I smirked when I said it, so he knew it was all good between us.

“It’s been quiet. The Aristocrats haven’t made their move.”

“They will. Give it time.”

“Won’t Adrien be their target instead of you?”

“No, they’ll want both of our heads. Adrien crossed them, but I hung Oscar for all the world to see.” And I didn’t regret it. He’d killed my woman, so I burned his ass alive. Didn’t care that his wife was a widow, that his kids wouldn’t have a father. He violated the code—simple as that.

“Maybe we should hit them first, then. Nip this in the bud.”

“Everyone will think I’m a psychopath if I do that.”

“You are a psychopath.”

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