Page 172 of Vicious Saint
Saint must’ve decided for me, because he lets go, and the fear of losing him, the monster, and this moment has me blurting out a frantic, “I don’t want you to leave.”
His jaw tightens.
“I swear.”
Through a long exhale, Saint maneuvers me around to face him, then guides my back onto the bed before climbing on top of me.
“What are you—?”
“Shhhhh…relax, okay?”
Kind of hard to do that when you know your Beetle is about to get rear ended by a mack truck. It’s not like Saint needs the reminder, given I’ve been drawing the line on butt play with his fingers.
…and maybe a little tongue.
But leave it to my awkward nerves to tell him anyway.
“Just a bit nervous.”
“Yeah, well. You should be.”
“Do you always have to be such an arrogant ass?”
“I’m not.” He chuckles, wrapping my legs around his waist one by one. “You’re a virgin. Gonna hurt no matter what.”
Of course Saint’s views on virginity match mine.
Otherwise…how else is the universe going to make ending this harder for me?
Saint instructs me again to relax as he adjusts his cock by my pussy entrance, then uses my wetness to lubricate it. “It’ll hurt less if I get you nice and stimulated everywhere else.”
I nod vigorously, heart racing as he pushes inside.
Saint hisses, filling me to the hilt, stretching me in all the best ways before moving again.
“Fuck. I knew you’d be addicting, Jimi, but not like this.” He kisses me hard and sneaks a hand under my shirt to squeeze my breast. “I don’t know how I’m gonna stop taking you.”
I’ve had the notion of ending things in my head for days now. So to hear Saint speak the same thoughts out loud shouldn’t surprise me—or affect me the way they are.
Definitely shouldn’t cause my heart to twist in my chest.
“Sounds a lot like a goodbye.”
He kisses me again, this time lingering by my lips when we disconnect. “Isn’t that what you want? What you’ve been battling with yourself this whole time?”
His cock surges into my pussy with a roll of his hips, and already my insides are tingling.
“We both know this needs to end.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” His fingers travel downward to play with my pussy—circling, rubbing, pinching until I’m squirming. Then he bites my lips, my neck, my shoulders, all the way down to my nipples through my shirt as he fucks me.
How this guy reads every single one of my cues is not only impressive, but a tough act to follow when this is over.
Over.
A word I loathe more than I did the shushing.
Saint removes himself from me to reach over and slide open my drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube I had no idea was in there and popping it open with his teeth.
