Page 5 of Of Saints & Savagery
He drags his girth out slowly, letting me feel every detail of his shaft with my abused flesh. “Only four?” I choke out.
“See, not so bad, is it?” he asks, grinning down at me. His mouth finds mine, his lips a torturous tease, his hips resting between mine, his cock stretching me wide. He gives me another inch, then another, but when he gets to the sixth piercing, I can’t take more. Even when I finally adjust, and need ripples through me along with the pain, I can feel him bottoming out inside me.
“I think that’s enough,” he whispers against my lips. “That’s all I wanted. Just to feel the depths of your cuntsqueezing my bare cock. God, I want to cum inside you right now.”
“No,” I cry, my eyes flying wide. “I—You can’t.”
“I know, baby girl,” he says. “I know you’re not on birth control. Why does that make me want to fuck you raw even more?”
“Don’t,” I beg.
“I won’t,” he promises. “Just relax and trust me, Em. Doesn’t it feel good now, like I said?”
“Yes,” I admit.
He lets his body meet mine again, his mouth claiming mine in long, languorous kisses that make me feel drunk with desire. He stays still inside me, letting me adjust, letting me drench his flesh with my lust, letting me whimper and writhe while he owns me with his tongue.
“Angel,” I gasp out at last, tearing my throbbing lips from his. I grip his shoulders, my nails digging in.
“Yes, angel-baby?” he teases, clearly enjoying my torment.
“Please,” I beg. “I need more.”
“I said I wouldn’t fuck you,” he reminds me, shifting his hips back and forth.
I gasp aloud, pleasure rippling through me when he hits different angles inside me. He rotates the pressure slowly, and I whimper pathetically, my nails raking down his back. My spine arches, and I cry out his name again.
“I like the sound of my name rolling off your tongue while your cunt soaks me,” he croons, nuzzling my neck. “But if you don’t stop scratching my back like that, I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re screaming it. Is that what you want, Em?”
“No,” I gasp out.
“Didn’t think so,” he says, taking my hands and pinning them to the bed above my head again. He keeps his hips still, the torturous pleasure building until I can’t stop myself.
“Yes,” I cry. “Yes, please, Angel. Just do it.”
“Do what, baby girl?”
“What you said.”
“Use your words now,” he teases.
“I—I can’t,” I gasp, and then I feel my walls clenching and squeezing and desperately sucking at him, as if I can drag him deeper with the force of my climax.
I expect him to gloat, but his whole body shudders with a spasm, and a whimpering moan rumbles through him. The next second, I cry out as I feel him throb inside me, and a rush of wet heat gushes into me. My entire channel contracts, achingly full with him.
“Fuck,” he groans, his length back. When he does, his spend flows out of me, and he grips his shaft, delivering another jet of white cream over my belly. He rises up, sending the next one spurting over my breasts. Then he lowers himself and shoves the crown inside me again, emptying the last of his seed inside me. He draws it out to look, spreading me with his fingers. I squirm, and he chuckles and pushes back in deep, sinking to my depths again.
With a groan, he lowers himself onto me and kisses me again, his girth still stretching my aching, torn flesh. He drags his cock back through my slick channel before plunging in again, then repeating the motion, still hard. It’s different now, though, slow and playful, with no destination. He sees me wincing when he reaches my bruised core, and he stays still, stroking his hand over the top of my head.
“What’s wrong, baby girl?” he asks, searching my gaze, his brow furrowed with concern. “Didn’t that feel good?”
“Yes,” I admit. “But it hurts too.”
He nods, his kiss lingering, gentle. “You’ll get used to it,” he assures me. “It only hurts the first few times. And if I have one of the other guys fuck you first and loosen you up, I’ll slip right in.”
A forbidden, erotic charge shivers through my body at the thought, and to my embarrassment, my pussy throbs around him. He sucks in a breath, and I realize I’m not the only one affected by our intimacy. This huge, muscular, tattooed and pierced gangster is shaking all over, his muscles trembling, little aftershocks firing through him too. He didn’t just make me lose control. When he felt me giving in, he lost control too. Though it looks like an unlikely match, our bodies fit together in more ways than the tangible. His body is formidable and powerful, hard and carved from marble, while mine looks soft and fragile in comparison, feminine and defenseless.
There’s a power in that too. Even though I can’t see it, don’t really understand it yet, and was never taught anything of the sort, I feel it. I know it by the way this massive man is a puddle in my arms now. I thread my fingers through his thick, black hair and press my nose into the damp strands, inhaling his scent, dark and spicy cloves with just a hint of something sweet like vanilla.
