Page 23 of Of Sinners & Salvation
But then she looks up, and it’s not Eternity, it’s Mercy beside me, and that’s so much worse. She’ll definitely break up with me for getting her caught, for getting her blamed even though she’d never steal anything. I want to tell them she didn’t do it, but they’re all gone, leaving us handcuffed on the sidewalk alone, waiting for our parents. I try to tell her I’m sorry, but just then, a church van rolls up to the curb. The door opens, and the guy from the Crossbones that Angel killed, the one I knew from Mill Street, smiles out at me. His mouth is full of blood.
“Go on,” Mercy says beside me. She stands, dropping her handcuffs to the ground. “Get in, Heath. It’s your turn.”
I wake with a start, my heart hammering, my arm throbbing all the way to my shoulder, sweat dampening my shirt. It’s dark outside. It takes a minute for me to remember where I am, why I’m moving. There’s only the whir of tires under us, and my head on a warm, solid wall of muscle. I sit up slowly, not sure who I’m laying on.
“Where are we?” I whisper, blinking at the only thing I can see, the edge of the road blurring by and then black night, unbroken and unchanging.
“We passed St. Louis a while back,” Saint murmurs, his warm, comforting hand landing on my knee.
My cock throbs, and I realize I woke up sporting some serious wood despite my decidedly unsexy dream. I shift in the seat, adjusting myself. “Is everybody asleep?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Why?”
“I just wondered,” I say, eyeing Father Salvatore in the driver’s seat. I doubt he can hear us from up there, let alone see what we’re doing in the back seat. My mind flashes to that moment on the lawn, easing down Saint’s zipper, wrapping my fist around his fat cock. I shift again, trying to get comfortable with his hand so close to my raging hard-on. He jumped up and ran away after I jerked him off, so I can’t exactly say he was into it. He’s sure as fuck never wanted to go there when I tested the waters in conversation.
“Is this okay?” he asks after a minute, his voice a husky whisper.
“Uh—yeah,” I mumble, not even sure what he’s talking about.
He leans his head back on the seat and slowly, agonizingly slowly, he drags his hand further up my thigh. I can feel the heat pulsing through the denim of my jeans, and every thought drainsfrom my brain. He draws a slow, deep breath through his nose, his eyes closed, hair loose around his shoulders. I watch him in the scant light inside the van, trying to find something to anchor myself, to convince myself I’m not still asleep and dreaming.
His hand stops at the crease in my jeans, and his fingers tighten. I suck in a breath, dropping my head back too. His little finger skims over my jeans until it brushes the side of my cock. My pulse throbs, and I bite down on my lip piercing so I don’t moan. He traces my length, running one finger along the edge, tracing the outline of my erection.
“Heath?”
His hot breath feathers over my cheek, and I open my eyes, rolling my head toward his. His mouth is just inches from mine. His eyes are just glints of light, the reflection of the dashboard lights in the moisture, but I swear I can feel the heat radiating from his gaze. I imagine what his beard would feel like against my cheeks, my chin, my lips.
“Yeah?” I ask, not letting myself lean in. I was too thirsty last time, and it freaked him out.
“Are you up for this?” he asks. “With your arm, and…”
I shift my hips, nudging my hardness against his hand. “Do you really have to ask if I’m up?”
He straightens and pulls his hand away, and for a second I think I spooked him again, but I can just make out the smirk twisting his lips as he reaches back and quickly loops his hair into an elastic band. The next second, he’s bent over my lap and—
Oh fuck. What is happening?
He opens my jeans and takes me all the way to the back of his throat in one second flat. My entire body goes rigid, and I suck in a sharp, audible breath, almost a hiccup. What the fuck? Saint’s mouth suctions onto my cock, and he slides up andthen buries me inside his hot, wet mouth again. No teasing, no working up to it.
My cock is in Saint Soules’s mouth.
Holy fuck, it feels good.
I wrap my fist around his hair, but he doesn’t need any guidance. He fucks his mouth over my cock, sliding it in and out of the tight suction, swirling his tongue over my piercing, lapping at my slit, dragging his teeth roughly over the crown. My legs jolt at the edge of pain, a tremor running through them. He pumps his fist up and down my shaft, stroking while his mouth suctions onto the pierced head of my cock and stays there, suckling in rhythmic pulls that make my head spin like I need a fucking exorcism. Or maybe I’m getting one, having the demon sucked out of me through my dick.
“Fuck, fuck,” I mutter under my breath. “You’re going to make me cum.”
He stills, my dick resting on his tongue. After a few seconds, he nods and starts sucking again. Fisting his hair, I shove him deep, lifting my hips at the same time to thrust into his throat.
My balls meet his chin and he gags, and the sound alone, the sound of this grumpy asshole bully who communicates mostly through grunts and growls, who can make people cower with just a look, now choking on my cock like a dirty cum slut, undoes me. The painful pressure that’s been building erupts, and a tingling rush of heat shoots down my spine. My balls draw up and my cock throbs, and I empty into his mouth in a gush. He sucks, his mouth hot and deep, gulping hungrily as he swallows down my cum. He lets out the smallest hum against my piercing, and another, smaller jet of cum spurts into his throat.
He makes a slurping sound as he drags his lips over my tip, gathering the last of it. Then he sits up, grabs me by the hair, yanks my head back, and spits it back into my mouth. I’mtoo stunned to do anything but swallow when the thick, salty liquid hits the back of my throat. Saint’s free hand wraps around the front of my throat, and he spits one, two, three more times, audible in the silence of the car. When I’ve finished swallowing the third time, he tips my head up, still gripping the hair at my crown.
“Fuck,” I pant out, my head spinning. “I think I’m in love.”
He smirks at me, his lips still shiny with my release. “Good boy.”
eight
