Page 6 of The Sins of Saint (The Sins of Saint 3)

My nails dug into the leather of the seat as I moved—harder, faster—my hips swaying back and forth, my body seeking release from the tension that had every muscle wound up tight.

Saint remained still beneath me, not moving an inch, and merely stared at me while I rocked my body on top of his. It was as if he surrendered, gave me control to take what I wanted. But I knew better. I knew he would never surrender, never give me control. Right now, he was simply allowing me to think that. Allowing me to experience the thrill of dominating even though it wasn’t real. He still controlled my every move, though he wasn’t touching or restraining me in any way.

I lifted myself before sliding back down, his cock slipping easily through my slick heat. My head lolled, my core throbbing around his thick girth, curls falling around the sides of my face hiding my tainted virtue like a veil of sin.

“Remember the night I made you vow before God to honor me as your husband?”

I kept moving, taking his cock over and over again.

“Remember how I pinned you on that table and finger-fucked you until you came?”

The memories flashed inside my mind, and I flipped my hair back to look him in the eye. “What are you doing?”

“Do you remember it, Milana? How I coated the skin of your naked ass with my cum? Humiliating and degrading you right after I forced you to marry me?”

“Don’t.” I clenched my jaw.

“I can still remember the sound of your sweet sobs, the sight of your tears staining the table as I had you bent over and exposed.” His expression was hard, his eyes beaming with cruelty.

“What the hell, Saint?” My shoulders tensed.

A dark brow slanted, his wicked stare an unspoken challenge. “Or how about the night I tied you to my bed and forced my dick down your throat while I denied you an orgasm?”

Anger simmered. Rage fused with burning lust, and my hips thrust hard, taking every inch of him.

“You remember how much you hated me? How you fought me tooth and nail?”

“You’re making it hard to forget,” I sneered with clenched teeth as white-hot coals seared my spine as he continued to provoke me. To anger me by reminding just how much he hurt me. But it didn’t make me stop. It only fueled my depraved hunger for the twisted ecstasy I knew awaited me. It only made me more determined to take what I wanted.

I twisted my hips to the side as I kept his cock locked inside me, forcing him in deeper.

“That’s it.” He grinned, his arrogance reflecting in his malevolent eyes. “Fuck me, Milana. Make me pay for all the times I hurt you.”

God, I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop even though I knew exactly what he was doing, inciting rebellion in me, stirring my defiance so I would lose control.

The more riled up I became, the more it fed my lust, my nails tearing through the leather as every emotion crashed within my core and derailed every shred of control I had left.

My knees pushed deeper into the seat, and my thighs tightened as I straddled him, our every transgression reflecting in our eyes as we stared at each other, our bodies fused together. We were the same, Saint and I, yet completely different. Darkness and light. One couldn’t exist without the other.

I hissed as I kept moving, biting into my bottom lip until I tasted my own blood, but I didn’t give a fuck. All I cared about was having pleasure and pain melt together into a single moment of euphoria. And it was fucking liberating taking it, no matter the fact that it was all just a façade as we both pretended I held control in the palms of my hands. An illusion painted by the devil so his angel could feel empowered and unshackled. A sense of freedom.

“Take your pleasure, Mila. I won’t hand it to you on a motherfucking silver platter again.”

And I took it. I took it all.

3

Saint

Sweat beadedlike pearls on her beautiful face, her cheeks flushed and lips glistening. My wife was exquisite—especially during the moments of rapture as her body’s carnal needs butchered the prudery that caused her to hold back. To fight the darkness.

I gave her this. I handed her control for my own selfish reason—to witness her fall from grace right into hell with me. A place where she would learn to not let her inhibitions control her, but rather to have her hunger for power fuel her.

A sonnet of moans lapped from her lips as she moved her body on top of mine, rocking her hips back and forth as she welcomed my cock inside her body. The euphoria that painted her expression, that had every muscle in her body contract, was all the evidence I needed to know how much she craved me. And it fucking thrilled me to know my dick was the only thing she wanted in that moment. Nothing else.

I leaned my head back and stretched my arms across the leather seat, the smooth driving of the limousine a strong contrast to her hard, heady, and incessant fucking. Her pussy was slick, coating my dick with her arousal as her heat wrapped around my length like a vice. Her inner walls squeezed my dick so I could feel the way her sex throbbed. It took every ounce of self-control to not grab her hips and make her move the way I wanted her to move. To pull her down and let me do the pounding. So, I exhaled and bit my lip, an agonizing groan tearing from my throat every time I slipped out of her. But my needy little lamb would force me back inside her before I even had a chance to move.

I knew I should have probably worried a bit more about the life growing inside her, but I was a selfish bastard. I always had been, and always would be. Milana’s body was mine long before my child claimed ownership of it.

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