Page 347 of Vicious Saint
So, I do what I came here for, and eat all of it.
Allowing my body to reap the benefits is just an added bonus.
When Saint talks to himself again, it’s with his free hand sliding up my wet center then between my ass cheeks.
He presses against the tight hole, and for the first time since he’s fucked me there, I can actually taste the terror on my tongue.
But, if terror is what he needs, I refuse to allow it to stop him.
Although my head expects what’s coming, I yelp in surprise when two of Saint’s fingers break through the barrier, the sharp pain from his invasion dizzying me.
I’m granted no mercy as he starts pumping them in tandem with his cock, the intensity increasing alongside his hold on my neck. My eyes roll, and my insides erupt in tiny explosions of pain and pleasure as he continues fucking me this way.
“You’re mine,” he hisses. “Fucking mine.”
Then, just when I think the intoxication has hit its peak, the tip of his cock skates the edge of my g-spot, triggering a desperate cry to fall from my lips.
“Please!” I beg anyone who can hear, because the stimulation may actually kill me.
With no choice but to fend for myself, I decide to chase the feeling, meeting Saint push for push until the first zap of an impending orgasm shoots through me like lightning.
With relentless fury comes the second.
By the third Saint already has my back to his chest, using short upward thrusts to chase his orgasm too.
The electricity builds so high stars glitter in front of me, and before I know it I’m coming with a scream Saint devours with his lips.
Saint’s acknowledgment of my presence, along with the loosened grip around my neck, lifts the fog enough to assume he’s close to finishing too.
But what he does next shows how dangerously wrong I am.
Before I can fathom what’s happening, his fingers leave my ass, and his cock drives inside it with a brutal force.
I’m screaming again—this time it’s actual pain that Saint swallows.
Which he continues swallowing through long, powerful thrusts that have tears dripping down my cheeks.
It’s deplorable. Yet for some sick reason, I find myself loving it.
“Shhhhhh…” Saint lulls, using his thumb to soothe the erratic pulse of my carotid, and it tells me all I need to know about why.
Saint’s light may have gone out—but it’s fighting its way back.
So, through every one of his brutal attacks, I fight just as hard.
To smile cunningly at the darkness.
Demand it to give me more.
Just when I think Saint’s about to rip me apart, his breaths lower to grunts against my lips, and his thrusts shorten to increase friction.
Adding a new level of pain that’s too gruesome to challenge.
Saint’s thumb caressing my pulse remains a false sense of security as I squeeze my eyes shut, and when he doesn’t let up on his assault, I’m scared he never will.
That is, until my relief comes through in the form of a standstill, Saint’s in the form of jerking hips.
“Almost…there…” He groans, seconds before warm spurts of his orgasm fill me.
