Page 278 of Vicious Saint
“That’s funny.” I shrug. “You had no problem with myheada few hours ago.”
Truth time, ladies and gents.
There’s nothing I like about announcing to Leviathan that I choked on his best friend’s dick like a cheap corner hoe before we got here. But what I do like is how Saint’s furious eyes are about to pop out of their sockets as I make the dick sucking face with my tongue in cheek.
A few of the guys snicker like hyenas as they watch me, and I don’t need a magic ball to tell me how fast they’re about to regret it.
With a single spin on his Jordans, Saint turns, slamming the one closest to him’s forehead into the glass window.
It’s the Royals’ second quarterback Coby, who I remember used to draw pictures of me as a pig during class.
And nowIcan draw him as a falling sack of potatoes.
Sorry, Taylor, looks like karma is my boyfriend too.
The kids around us take several steps back, giving us,and Saint’s crazy,a wide berth as he spins to face me.
“Hard way?” he questions, pointing a brow, and for some, I’m sure deranged, reason, the threat that used to disgust me spurs me on.
I spot the next asshole closest to Saint. One of those JV’s from last year he secretly Haloed for calling me fat.
Fuck it.
“Hard way.”
Whack goes the next asshole’s head into the glass, and this time it leaves drops of blood.
Saint’s glaring down at me as I bite back a laugh, but I can spot Levi from the corner of my eye looking not as amused as I’d expect.
If anything, wary, and I can’t help but wonder why that is.
“Why don’t you just go down there and dance with her, bro?” Levi suggests, his expression much lighter. “I’ll clean this mess up.”
Saint seems to think on it a bit, looking between me, the poles, and the dancefloor below us. “Fine, let’s go, Jimi,” he mutters, taking my hand and dragging me for the second time tonight.
Past Carlo, down the stairs, across the bar, all the way to the middle of the crowded dance floor.
Zayn’s “Trampoline” blasts through the speakers as Saint jerks my back to his chest, guiding one of my hands to reach around his neck. “You’ve got your sexyandsassy pants on tonight, huh Jimi?” he says into my ear over the music, driving his point by scraping nails up my thigh. “I told you it would get me in trouble.”
A devious smirk pulls at my lips, but when Saint’s breath kisses the skin by my neck, the witty remark I was searching for never comes.
He lowers just enough for his hips to level with mine, and my eyes flutter closed when he begins winding us slowly to the tempo of the song. Surprised but not surprised by how smoothly he moves.
Our bodies sway, dip, grind together, and other than Saint’s hums or occasional comment on how turned on he is, we remain quiet to let the beat carry us.
I scratch lightly at the hairs on the back of Saint’s head as he rolls his hips deep, making the erection building behind his jeans rub a hard line along my ass. I gnaw on my lip, not even trying to stop myself from pushing back against it.
Gentle fingers brush away some waves from my shoulder, and right after I’m being peppered with kisses down the hollow of my neck. Slow, sensual, and absolutely unfair to do to an orgasm deprived Hendrix in the middle of a dance floor filled with people.
On instinct I bend my neck to give him easier access, needing to feel so much more than his lips, hands, and caged erection on me.
As if aware of my needs and crumbling state, Saint squeezes my waist, using the tip of his tongue to follow his trail of kisses.
I’m like a cat in heat curving my body into him.
Fuck me…
Can this boy ever not be so damn perfect at everything?
