Page 3 of Giving It to the Monster

“I didn’t want to kiss her.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. She just face planted her lips on mine.”

She raised a brow, staring at him.

“It’s the truth.”

“Yeah, whatever. Your name may be Saint, but I know you’re not one.” She let out a little chuckle, and Saint couldn’t resist. Leaning across the sofa, he cupped her cheek, and claimed her lips.

Natasha was soft, gentle, and perfect. She let out a little gasp, and like in the movies he’d seen, he plunged his tongue into her mouth. When she didn’t pull away, he stopped freaking out, and simply enjoyed the feel of her mouth on his.

She pulled away, staring at her. “Why did you do that?”

“I wanted to. I really like you, Nat.”

“I like you, too.”

“I want us to be more than friends.”

“You mean that?” she asked, licking her lips.

“Yes.”

“No more kissing Brittany?”

“No more kissing anyone else but you.”

The smile tugged at his heart, and Saint knew there was never going to be another girl quite like her ever.

****

Saint at fifteen

“You want to be a leader, you’ve got to learn to fight, boy!”

Saint flinched as his father slapped his face. When his mother was home, his father never raised a finger to him. Now, he was constantly being trained so one day he’d take over from his father. Life had gone to shit since his mother left, taking Elena with her. Saint fucking hated life, and he hated being away from his little sister. Neither he nor his father was allowed to see her, and it fucking killed him having that distance with Elena.

So, getting to his feet, Saint lashed out at the other Prospect he was supposed to hurt. The moment he was done, and his father was proud, he’d be able to go to his girl’s house. His father didn’t approve of Natasha and believed he was wasting his time on her. Saint loved her. Natasha was in his blood. She was part of his soul, and he’d never give her up. He’d rather die than live without her.

“That girl is turning you into a fucking pussy. No son of mine will be a fucking pussy,” his father said.

Pulling away, Saint launched himself at the Prospect, and with three easy strikes, the other kid went down. Panting for breath, he turned toward the man that he had once admired. “Can I go?”

“You running to that pussy?”

Pausing, he glared at his father. “I did what you wanted. Now I get to do what I want.”

“There are plenty of bitches at the club.”

“I’m fifteen.”

“And still a fucking virgin. You think these men are going to respect you? Learn to take what you want. There are plenty of women who’ll give it to you.”

Saint’s stomach recoiled. He’d made a vow to Natasha. From the moment they were twelve, and they belonged to each other. He wasn’t about to take that back.

“I’m not interested.”

---