Page 308 of Vicious Saint
“Imagine how you’d feel if I told you I’m not wearing any panties.”
If Saint had a superpower, it would be his ability to fuck me with a single look. Specifically the dark, hooded one on me right now.
“You goin’ commando for me, baby?” The question is instantly followed by his hand snaking between us, tracing along the damp area in question. “Mhmmmmmm…” He lets out a deep, appreciative sound, which only adds to the ache between my legs. That, and the fact he’s toying my clit harshly through the thin fabric.
“Saint…” I whine, tilting my hips in encouragement.
He grins. “Yes, baby?”
“I want your cock inside me.”
He rises until our faces ghost each other. “I’ve got a better idea.” Saint licks my parted lips with the tip of his tongue, then removes his hand from my pussy, taking me from aroused to murderous in less than a second.
“What the hell—”
“Come with me.”
“No fucking way, dude.” I laugh, kind of maniacally, if I’m being honest. There’s no chance I’m leaving this bed without us blessing it first.
Apparently, Saint’s not in the business of giving a shit, because he rolls me over, pressing a long, bruising kiss to my lips before hiking us both to our feet.
“AndI’mthe tease?” I protest like a child as he, shocker, drags me down the steps, all the way over to where bottles of paint are taking over a shelf.
Picking up a bright blue bottle, Saint waves it in front of me. “I know you’re more the drawing type…but…”
Oh, I amsopicking up what he’s putting down on the table next to us.
“You wanna paint?” I ask, knowing damn well the answer, it’s just fun to make him work for it.
Saint’s gaze is blazing hot as he lifts me onto the edge of the table, inserting himself between my legs. “Something like that, yeah,” he says, hooking two fingers behind my bra and pulling it off, then tossing it somewhere behind him.
My breasts stand round, nipples perked as he drinks me in, and the primal rumble in his throat has prickles exploding from head to toe.
“Fuck, Jimi. I could stare at your tits until my eyes bleed.”
I chuckle a “Thank you, I think?” but get no further than that before Saint is pushing me back onto the table, taking two fistfuls of them in his hands, and a nipple in his mouth.
“Ah, fuck.” I arch myself into him as he scrapes the sensitive skin through his teeth.
The rumble in his throat turns full on growl when he deepens the assault, massaging, licking, sucking, biting each of my breasts until I’m nothing more than an explosion of nerve endings trying to grind my pussy against any surface of him I can.
Saint’s eagerness picks up as he kisses a trail down my entire body, not bothering to stop as he pulls off my sneakers and pants.
The second his trail of kisses return to my lips, I’m tearing his clothes off with far less sensuality than he did.
Jacket flies, shirt flies, even his sweatpants are shown no remorse as I shimmy them down his legs with my feet, only to get stuck at his ankles.
“Stupid Jordans,” I whine into his mouth, and Saint chuckles, leaving the rest of his undressing to do himself as we continue devouring each other with our tongues.
That is, until Saint’s heading south of the border again.
I grip his hair to stop him, my hips wiggling with the need to feel the initial thrust of his cock.
A guilty pleasure where the thought alone has had me orgasm on my own an unhealthy amount of times.
“No. I need you inside me.”
If Saint wants to argue, it’s not for long because in less than three seconds I’m getting yanked to the edge of the table, his heated gaze hanging over me as he works my pussy with his fingers.
