Page 93 of The Bad Boy Rule

He guides me up and down on his cock, rocking up into me with hard, sharp thrusts that have my head feeling light, my vision turning hazy.

“Don’t stop. Don’t… Don’t stop-p.” I’m panting, shallow breaths.

Suddenly, he’s flipping us, the movement effortless, never slipping out of me as my back hits the mattress. His rough palm slides along the back of my thigh, and he hitches my leg higher onto his side, burying his cock inside me again to the hilt.

The position is somehow even better. My toes curl, my fingers tangling into the hair at his nape as he captures my lips, swallowing down the shameless, breathless moans that he’s tearing out of me.

He thrusts deeper, so deep that I swear he’s in my stomach, and rotates his hips.

Pulling back, I moan, “Oh my God. Saint…” Pleasure steals my breath, and I swallow, sucking in air as he pounds into me, hips slapping against my thighs. “I think I’m… I think…”

“Tell me where you want my cum, baby. I need you to tell me right fucking now.”

I’m so close, so, so close, I can hardly form a single rational thought.

“On me.”

His hips flex, and he hits that spot inside of me that has my eyes rolling shut. Blinding, bright pleasure crescendos inside of me, pulling me under as my climax crashes into me in atorrential wave. My belly quivers, drawing tight as my orgasm ripples through me.

“That’s my girl, milking my cock like she was made for me,” Saint murmurs, the filthy words hoarse and full of need, only making my orgasm more intense, prolonging it until every muscle in my body is limp. He pulls out of me, and my eyes snap open as he rises to his knees and pumps his fist around his cock, spilling all over my stomach.

His lips are parted, eyes squeezed as he groans, painting me with his cum, thick ropes that pool in my belly button.

God, the sight of him trembling, muscles rippling as he strokes his cock and marks me, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.

When he’s finished, his eyes slowly crack open, drinking me in with a satisfied smile. “You look so fucking good covered in me. My messy good girl.”

I draw my bottom lip between my teeth as I bring my fingers to the cum on my stomach and drag them through it, watching his gaze darken, pupils flickering with heat when I bring it to my lips. I wrap my lips around my finger and suck it off, something that I know he loves to see.

That’s the only reason I’m feeling so brazenly confident to do it.

“Stop tempting me, baby. You’re going to be sore, and all I want to do is fuck you again. Next time, I’m going to make sure every goddamn drop stays inside you,” he rasps but moves off the bed.

I sit up on my elbows, about to ask him where he’s going, but he disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the water running, only for him to return with a washcloth in his hand.

His knee hits the bed, and he moves over me, gently cleaning the mess he left behind off my stomach. I had no expectationsabout what this experience would be like with Saint. I know that he’s not a soft kind of guy, but he surprises me.

He’s tender, attentive, and thorough as he cleans me off, then throws the dirty washcloth into the laundry basket.

I reach for the comforter to cover myself, but he pulls it out of my hand with a shake of his head. “Fuck no.” He parts my thighs, dropping onto his stomach between them, eyes holding mine. “Now, let me take care of you, baby.”

I think I’m going to have heart palpitations. He just took my virginity. There’s probably…

“You don’t have to do that, Saint. There’s probably some, um, blood… from you know,” I say, staring down my body at him.

I feel the warm fan of his chuckle against my sensitive flesh. “And? You think I care about that? I’m going to lick my girl’s swollen, little pussy until every fucking drop is on my tongue.”

Oh.

Well, okay th?—

The coherent thought slips away when he does exactly as he says and drags his tongue through my slit, lapping at me until I’m not thinking about the ache any longer. All I’m thinking about is the way he’s unabashedly devouring me without any hesitation.

“You know what you taste like, Golden Girl?”

I look down at him, cataloging his hard, possessive stare, mouth hovering over my pussy.

“Mine.”

---