Page 345 of Vicious Saint
Saint didn’t even want me showing Archer and Bex my art studio. I mean, yeah, he was fine with it once we got there, but I could still feel the trepidation in his response to Bex’s gushing.
To be honest, if it was up to him, I think we’d remain cooped up in my bedroom until I leave for college.
For two months we’ve remained glued at the hip, yet somehow, every second Saint walks around almost as if afraid he’s about to drop me. It’s absurd in an adorable, nurturing, slightly contradicting sort of way.
To my surprise, the only aspect of my return to school Saint didn’t question was Carlo’s gun, which is already safely stored under my bed in the safe he bought me.
“Hey.” I cup both hands around his cheeks. “Why’re you trippin’ so much lately?”
“I don’t know, Jimi.” His shoulders deflate. “As fucked up as it sounds, I guess I just got used to having you all to myself. Taking care of you. Being in our own little world.”
“A little dark, morbid, and emotionally dependent world.”
“Yeah…but it was still ours.”
I don’t know what’s sadder, the shitty circumstances behind this new bond we share, or the fact Saint is willing to accept living such a depressing life with me in spite of it.
With a deep swallow, I attempt to push the melancholy down my throat. “I love you, Saint. So much. But I want more for us than dark, morbid, and emotionally dependent. I want a real future in the real world together, and having that doesn’t mean we have to give up our quiet moments.”
“Fuck.” He blinks widely. “I didn’t realize how selfish that makes me sound until hearing it out loud.”
“Let me stop you right there, Letterman.” I tilt his chin. “In the past year and a half, the last thing you’ve proven yourself to be is selfish.”
“Then you clearly haven’t been paying attention.”
“Stop. We’ve come way too far to dwell on the past. I’ve already offered you a clean slate.”
Heavy silence thickens the air, and it needs lightening stat. I need to prove to Saint that if we can overcome the shit the universe has thrown at us already, there’s not much left the bitch can throw that we can’t face together.
“I have an idea.”
This piques his interest. “What is it?”
“We return to school but continue spending our nights in the mansion for a bit. Remain in our little world long enough to make it a better one.”
Saint looks away, seeming to mull over his words before he says, “I don’t want you doing anything just for me.”
“I want our little world as much as you do, trust me.” With a wicked grin tilting my lips, I straddle Saint, lowering my center onto his with a flip of my hair. “And twenty minutes before homeroom sounds like a pretty good time to prove it. Don’t you think?”
Saint couldn’t help the growing erection behind his pants even if he tried, not only because of how long it’s been since we’ve had sex, but because I’ve been going commando since I got dressed. Something his little head would’ve realized if his big head wasn’t so preoccupied.
“What are you doing, Jimi?”
“Now, now, Letterman,” I tease, rocking my hips. “Are yousoout of practice you need a crash course in Sex 101?”
Immediately, Saint’s got a hand fisting the roots of my hair, breaths uneven as he jerks my face to his. “Fuck. Don’t do this,” he mumbles through a strong, hypocritical kiss. “It’s been too long and I’m not in the right head to trust myself with you.”
Saint’s lack of self-esteem is like a Bic to a fuse. Igniting me. Taking the lead as I rub myself against his cock.
I need him inside me—not only because I miss the closeness, but so I can be his anchor too.
“I trust you. Now take me...”
“I can’t. You’re hurting.”
“But still yours no matter what.”
Saint turns his head, so I turn it back with my hand. Determined, I tell him, “Let me cater to you for once.” When silence becomes the enemy between us, I whisper, “Please.”
