Page 74 of Only Mine
“I’ve been patient for too long,” I protest.
His laugh is dark velvet against my skin. “Then you can be patient a little longer.”
With his free hand, he works open the button of my jeans, sliding the zipper down with agonizing slowness. My hips lift instinctively, seeking his touch.
“So eager,” he murmurs, pressing his mouth to my stomach. “I like that.”
He releases my wrists to tug my jeans down my legs, taking my underwear with them. And then I’m naked beneath him, exposed to his hungry gaze.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathes, his hands sliding up my thighs.
I reach for him again, needing to feel him. “Your turn. Fair’s fair.”
Saint stands, unbuckling his belt while never breaking eye contact. I push up on my elbows to watch, the metallic rasp of his zipper loud in the quiet.
When he pushes his jeans down, the outline of his cock against his black briefs makes saliva pool in my mouth.
“See something you like?” he asks, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“You know I do.”
He kneels between my legs, spreading them wider. Saint’s eyes gleam through the night as he lowers his mouth to my inner thigh, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that trail higher with each touch. I moan when his stubble grazes the sensitive skin there.
“I’ve thought about this non-fucking-stop,” Saint murmurs against my flesh.
When his tongue finally strokes through my folds, I cry out. He hums with satisfaction, the vibration intensifying the pleasure as he explores me with deliberate, torturous skill.
“Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined,” he groans, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me open for his mouth.
I thread my fingers through his dark hair, holding him against me as he finds my clit and circles it with his tongue. The pressure builds low in my belly, coiling tighter with each expert flick.
“Saint,” I gasp when he slides two fingers inside me. The stretch is delicious, his calloused fingertips curling to find that perfect spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
He works me tenaciously, his mouth never leaving my center as his fingers pump in a rhythm designed to drive me wild. I’m trembling, hovering on the edge, my thighs beginning to shake.
“Let go,” he commands. “Come for me, Wrenley.”
The sound of my name on his lips while he eats me out pushes me over. I shatter, waves of pleasure crashing through me as I cry out his name. Saint doesn’t stop, drawing out my orgasm until I’m gasping, turning into an oversensitive puddle.
When he finally raises his head, his mouth is glistening with evidence of my pleasure. The sight is so erotic I whimper.
“That’s one,” he says, his voice rough as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I want to see at least two more before we’re done.”
He rises to his knees, finally pushing his briefs down to free his cock. The size of him makes my jaw drop.
“You’re staring,” he says, echoing my earlier words with a smirk.
“I’m memorizing,” I reply, reaching for him like a kid in a candy store.
My fingers wrap around his length, feeling the velvet-soft skin over steel hardness. Saint’s breath hisses between his teeth as I stroke him, his eyes darkening to midnight.
“Condom,” he manages, voice strained.
“Not before I lick you first.”
But I take the time to drink in the sight of him, thick and hard, the head glistening. Saint’s fingers thread through my hair as I take him into my mouth, his breath audibly catching when my tongue swirls around the sensitive tip.
“Jesus, Wrenley,” he groans, his hips jerking slightly.
