Page 276 of Vicious Saint
He’s nothing less than a feral beast.
Saint halts his movements again. “Take a nice, long breath for me, baby, because you won’t be sucking in anything but my cock until I’m finished spilling down your throat.”
I take Saint up on his offer, preparing myself with a deep inhale and exhale through my nose, then meet his gaze head on.
“Green…” His jaw ticks. “The color of the road to my undoing.”
And blue is mine.
Just like that, Saint is back to fucking my mouth with angry slams of his hips, making my throat burn, pussy clench, and roots sting from his hands in my hair. In other words…the level of wrong but right that signals I may need to call a freaking shrink.
Maycan wait.
Because what I definitely need to do now is hold on to his hips for dear life…and I think Saint knows it too because he finally allows it.
“One small mercy, baby. That’s all you get.”
Such a bullshit artist.
He let me catch my breath too.
To prove my point, I watch him as I bring a hand between us slowly to gauge his reaction. Saint’s eyes narrow, then roll when I squeeze my fingers around his base.
Gotcha…sucker.
We start moving in sync together, still fast and hard, but with a little bit of Saint’s hips rolling. I focus on all the things he loves: cupping his balls, relaxing my throat, curling my tongue against his cock. The only pleasure I’m being granted is the thighs I rub together to manage the ache.
The first pulse of a vein beats against my tongue, and I grin as Saint’s movements become erratic, switching from rolling back to driving straight into my mouth with a punishing force.
My teeth tear at my inner lips, and mascara burns my vision, sliding down my cheeks and mixing with the blood in my saliva.
So delicious I know I’m truly fucked in the head.
Every crevice of my mouth screams in pain, begs for the end of Saint’s brutal attempt to get his agreements worth.
Wet sloppy sounds, curses, moans lead every push and pull, until finally I’m granted reprieve in the form of warm cum shooting down my throat. Saint’s frozen inside me, but I make sure my hand around his cock doesn’t let up.
“Fuck, Jimi! Yes!” he groans as I swallow, his voice loud enough for the entire damn floor to hear. Then, when he’s done, he looks down at me panting through the hottest spent grin.
“Like I said.” Saint huffs. “A wet…fucking…dream.”
Releasing his dick with a pop, I hit him with a grin of my own, then run the back of my hand over my lips. “Well, I hope I made it worth your while,” I joke, rubbing at my neck next.
“Did I hurt you?” Saint asks, satisfaction gone and in its place, surfacing guilt as he helps me to my feet.
“No, crazy pants, I’m okay.”
Saint gives me a look that makes it obvious he doesn’t believe me.
“Hey.” I press his clenching cheek with my palm. “I wanted, and enjoyed, every second of it.” With a wiggle of my eyebrows, I try to liven his mood. “In fact, I say we ditch the club and go for round two.”
I’m not sure what this obsession is with Saint thinking he’s always hurting me, but I’m adding it to the list of conversations we need to have.
Soon. Not now.
I need whatever hypersexual stage this is to last a bit longer.
With a huffed chuckle, Saint reaches for a couple napkins on the table. Handing one to me, he says, “As much as I want to keep having my way with you…it’s gonna have to wait until we finish celebrating with the boys.”
