Page 130 of Vicious Saint
For all intents and purposes, Saint absolutely can take what he wants from me. His strength, size, and position would make it an easy feat.
But I will never submit to someone like him, no matter how bad I may want the amount of debauchery he’s capable of.
“Try it, I dare you.”
Too many painful seconds pass before he responds with, “Nah, too easy. I prefer to make you beg.”
“I’d send you to Hell faster than I’d ever beg for anything.”
My words fall to silence as Saint closes his lips around his thumb, sucking the finger clean of my arousal.
It’s a filthy, possessive gesture that has my insides coiling with a mix of disgust and arousal. That sends my erotic thoughts back inside the closet with a madman. Calling out for him to give me more before I’m forced back to reality.
A reality in which I can never have him again.
“Fuck. I almost forgot how good you taste.”
Saint doesn’t elaborate as he lets me go, and when I turn I find him tasting his finger again and reaching into the back pocket of his jeans.
I’m too busy forcing my eyes away to realize what he pulls out and tosses at me until it’s fumbling in my hands.
“What the…?” I gawk at my cell phone. “How’d you find this?”
“You’re as predictable as you are a brat, Jimi.” He pauses, lifting a shoulder. “Although…not to the useless Italian I found wandering around Bleeker.”
“Where’s Carlo?”
“Let’s just say…the Italian was called off duty for the night.”
I narrow my gaze. “You better not have hurt him.”
“I mean…Halo isn’t exactly a match for a Smith & Wesson.”
“Who called him off then? My mother? Your dad?”
Saint rolls his eyes, grumbling something inaudible under his breath. “Need to know basis.”
“What trouble is your family in?”
“No trouble at all.”
My lip twitches. “Do you take me for an idiot?”
With a sharp look past me, Saint grips me by the shoulder of my hoodie. “Question time’s over.” He shoves me along. “Time to go home.”
16
Hendrix
Between the wrestling match that took place as Saint dragged me to his SUV, plus the damn city traffic, it took over thirty minutes to get back to Riverside.
I spent the entire ride with my back to him and blowing up my mother’s phone. Even Theory’s. Getting no response from either even after several colorful voicemails.
Saint spent his time in conversation, mostly with himself, since I was too busy wishing chronic diarrhea on his ass through every failed attempt at reaching people.
There was also the Plague.
Sepsis.
