Page 39 of The Sins of Saint (The Sins of Saint 3)

Without taking my eyes off her, I lowered onto my knees, like a sinner about to confess a lifetime of sin. Her body beckoned me, and the lust that had her body trembling sang to me. A beautiful melody of desire and lechery.

Our gazes where still locked when I hooked my fingers through the sides of her panties before dragging them over her thighs and down her legs. I dropped my gaze to the black heels on her feet. “I think I’m going to let you keep those on.”

She snickered, her hands still steady on my shoulders as I lifted her feet one by one to remove the black silk hinderance.

“Have I told you how good you taste?” I brushed my fingertips up the inside of her legs. “How I love the sound of your needy moans when I claim you?”

Her grip on shoulders tightened, and I continued to watch as my hand moved up her inner thigh, my thumb barely teasing across her sensitive folds. I glanced up just in time to see her mouth form the perfect O as she closed her eyes. There was no need for me to slip a finger through her cleft to know whether she was wet for me. I could smell her arousal, the scent of her lust that provoked the predator in me. It incited a filthy need in me to fuck, to rush us both to a climax that would tear us apart. But while my cock throbbed like a motherfucker, pressing hard against my zipper, I bit my lip and summoned every shred of self-control I could in order to keep my shit together.

I snaked an arm around her thigh and yanked her closer, looping my hand behind her other knee. “Hold on to me,” I ordered and guided her leg over my shoulder, the sharp edge of her heel digging into my spine.

Like an artist entranced with the colors and shapes of his art, I was captivated with the curves and flawless skin of my wife.

With the tip of my tongue, I traced leisurely circles around her hip, painting her with gentle strokes. Mila writhed with need and tried her best to guide me to that one spot I knew was aching for attention.

I smiled, purposely avoiding her swollen pussy lips. “I want to tease you until you break.”

“Please don’t.” Her voice was a mere rush of air, and she weaved her fingers through my hair, clutching it tighter and tighter. “Don’t torture me.”

“Give me one good reason not to.” I pressed my lips right above her bare cunt, flicking my tongue once, which earned me a loud, appreciative moan from her glistening mouth.

“Because I’m begging you to.”

“I like it when you beg.” I blew gently against her bare pussy, and her body tensed as she sucked in a deep breath.

“Saint—””

“Hush, Mila.” I dragged a finger through her sex, from entrance to clit, and back. Her legs trembled. “Don’t talk. Just feel.”

I placed a hand on her thigh and played my thumb lightly over her slit, a caress meant to inflict a torturous amount of torment on her body. I glanced up at her beautiful face already reflecting the euphoria that possessed her—her neck craned and cheeks flushed.

Nails bit into my shoulders, and I spread her pussy wide before dipping my tongue through her slick heat. She moaned out loud, and her hips moved of their own accord. The taste of her lust coated my tongue and intensified my own threefold. I wanted inside her sweet body so damn much, but I first needed to witness her shatter for me while I was on my knees, worshipping her like my fucking queen.

Another smooth stroke through her pussy, and I slipped a finger inside her as I looked up, wanting to see the pleasure that possessed her.

Slow and rhythmic, I moved my finger in and out of her, not going quite as deep as I knew she needed. With every stroke, her cunt wept with arousal, and I couldn’t stop myself from licking those swollen lips, swirling the tip of my tongue against her clit before sucking it hard into my mouth.

“Saint—” Her hips bucked, and her legs shook. She leaned forward, supporting herself on my shoulders, and I coiled my arm around her thigh that rested on my shoulder.

“I want you to come on my tongue,segreto. And I want all of New York to hear you.”

I buried my face between her legs, feasting on her pussy as if it was my last goddamn meal. My tongue stroked, licked, teased while I fingered her faster, deeper. Her hips moved with a need to fuck, and I let her. I let her fuck my mouth, allowed her to force her clit against my tongue. Her hands wrapped around the back of my head, and I could feel her intemperance as she pulled me closer, forcing me to tongue-fuck her harder.

The heel of her shoe pressed deeper into my spine, and my cock ached to take the place of my tongue.

“Saint,” she panted, “I’m going to come.”

My fingers bit into her thigh, and I had to fight the urge to torture her body some more. The sadist in me wanted to play and toy with her, deny her the pleasure she so desperately wanted until her body was a broken mess for me. But I’d vowed not to be the selfish bastard that I was, not tonight, so I gave her what she needed to finally tip over the edge. I sucked her clit and worked her pussy while she fucked my goddamn face with a vehemence I had never witnessed from her before.

Her body trembled as her climax gushed over my tongue, the taste of her orgasm exploding in my mouth.

I carried her through it, made sure I milked every last drop of pleasure from her body.

Her arms relaxed as she leaned over me, her breathing rapid and labored. With a steady hand, I eased her leg off my shoulder. It was evident she had no strength left in her body as she collapsed into my arms.

A stray curl caressed her cheek, and I tucked it behind her ear as I studied her and drank in her beauty.

“You are exquisite,” I whispered in awe, appreciating the fact that her beauty belonged to me, and no one else.

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