Page 137 of Vicious Saint
I trace the outline of the petals with a finger.
Sleeping beauties don’t lie…or summon monsters.I try justifying the unjustifiable.You can get Hendrix out of your system and still keep her safe.
My hunger must outweigh my conscience, because I don’t even realize my thumbs are behind Hendrix’s boyshorts until they’re sliding down her legs.
She mumbles something inaudible, but doesn’t budge from sleep, and a small, much less despicable part of me is questioning how the fuck she isn’t. The rest? Well, that’s the part of me blinded by alcohol and starvation.
I toss the underwear behind me the second it passes her ankles, and gently guide her legs wider before lying betweenthem. The position gives me unhindered access to Hendrix’s pussy, making it, andher, mine for the taking.
Enticing, sure. But my desire is more about the prize than the possession. Therefore, I take my time to drink in the view before me.
Similar to most women I’ve been with, Hendrix’s pussy is smooth, the main difference being the short, triangle of hairs above her pubic bone.
I’ve always taken myself for a guy who preferred a cleaner slate, which is why finding out this detail shouldn’t be bringing on this uncontrollable hunger.
But it does.
And I choose to believe worse things will happen to my little Jimi Hendrix if I don’t do something about it soon.
My face dips between her legs, andmy GodHendrix’s scent.
Her fucking scentis a toxin I’d breathe willingly.
And her flavor, a poison I’d drink just as fast.
A little salt mixed with sweet explodes on my tongue as I lick a gentle line up her pussy, my groan in as much pain as my cock.
Hendrix can either sense me, or she’s dreaming, because her back arches with a moan, sending me too far off the edge to ever come back now.
So, with my eyes glued to her face I hold back nothing. Using my tongue to fuck, lips to suck, nose to prod her open.
I nibble her thighs, and Hendrix bucks, but for whatever reason, still doesn’t wake up.
And at this point, I’m counting on her to not.
I could never allow myself to relinquish control like this. Not with my hell and her fire-eating tendencies.
“Saint.” My name comes out as a whimper from her lips.
“Shhhh, Jimi. I got you.”
Reaching blindly for me, she moans my name again, the neediness of her unconscious having me ready to fucking burst.
With a brief pause, I wait, licking away the mess her arousal made on my lips until she steadies back to a deep sleep.
When she does, I continue devouring.
My moves are frantic, kisses are sloppy, and my hips thrust against the bed so hard my cock aches.
But I won't stop. No, Ican’tstop.
Tasting, kissing, fucking myself into the mattress until Hendrix’s moans resurface as full on cries.
I know women orgasm in their sleep, hell, I’ve gotten off to watching a few. But not one of those shows compares to how erotic this is. Watching a girl like Hendrix, so headstrong, fall apart for me in her rawest forms.
With no choice.
No rebuttal.
