Page 138 of Vicious Saint
Just the pleasure she will never admit she wants.
Her clit pulses against my tongue, my cock against the mattress, and I know it’s only seconds before we’re exploding for each other.
I nibble on her sensitive area, suck, then nibble again until finally, she’s unraveling beneath me. Then, with one final thrust into the mattress, I’m unraveling too.
18
Saint
“This wasn’t part of the plan,” I sputter into the phone, listening to my dad go on about being stuck for a few more days at headquarters.
“You made it through the first night, son. So things couldn’t have been that hard.”
Oh, things were hard all-fucking-right.
And now all they want is to be hard again.
I peer over my shoulder to where Hendrix is still out cold.
My mind reels with images from last night, but poof into oblivion when my dad says, “Saint? Are you still there?”
“I’m here.” My jaw clenches.
“Just a few more days, alright? It’s important you keep an eye out.”
“When are you gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?”
“Once we get back. We’ll have a family dinner and I’ll explain what I can.”
“Everything,” I shoot out.
“What Ican, son.”
Hanging up, I chuck my phone on the couch.
“Who pissed in your Cheerios?” Hendrix asks, her voice groggy from sleep.
“So she wakes…at eleven A.M.”
“Is it really that late?”
“For me, yeah.”
“Damn.” She rubs her temples. “I had a nasty headache. Must’ve knocked me out.”
Studying her face, I find very little evidence of suspicion, and Hendrix is never great at hiding her suspicions.
“I could tell.”
Her eyes widen. “What do you mean?”
I know exactly what’s running through my little Jimi Hendrix’s mind, the panic oozing from her makes it obvious.
Regretfor agreeing to sleep with me in my bed.
Fearof me having heard her orgasm in her sleep.
“You snore really fucking loud. Wouldn’t shut up.”
