Page 65 of Forever My Saint

“Yes.”

He inhales sharply, licking his delicious lips. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” I reply, brushing the hair from his brow. However, I suddenly realize that I am the one who should be assuring him. “If this is too much for you, though, we can—”

But he won’t hear a word of it as he avidly confesses, “No, I want it to be your touch I remember. Your kisses I taste. And your body I feel underneath me.”

I nod slowly.

Oscar took a part of Saint that he will never get back. So I want to give Saint a piece of myself to help him heal, the piece that was always destined to be his. “I love you.”

He inhales in triumph, and for the first time in a long time, he smiles. “And I you.”

His admission is everything and so much more.

Looping my hand around the back of his neck, I coax him back to my mouth where we kiss with a sluggish cadence. This is new ground for us both, and it seems we’re happy to take it slow. His tongue circles mine, the action evoking erotic images of him moving in a similar way between my thighs.

The coarse hay is rough beneath me, but the sting only seems to add to my heightened state. Even so, Saint’s kisses slow down. He reaches overhead, over the bales of hay and produces a gray blanket. I’m not sure where he got it, but I’m thankful when he lays it down beside us. With one last kiss, he rolls off me and sits, taking off his shoes.

I shuffle onto the blanket, watching breathlessly. When he attempts to join me, I place a hand to his chest. “You forgot to take off your pants.”

A dimpled smirk smacks me in the solar plexus as its radiance challenges the sun. “All in good time, ?????.”

Just the name alone turns me to mush, and I fall back onto the blanket as Saint sits back on his heels at my feet. He peers down at me with such hunger, I feel myself turning red all over. He takes his time combing over every inch of me as I do him.

His long hair is wild, his chest is rippling, and his tattoos come to life before me. The delicate feathers that sweep across his taut biceps leave me breathless.Heis truly the angel. The scars across his body only have me loving him all the more.

With a gentle touch, he sweeps his fingertips across my tattoo. My skin instantly breaks out into goose bumps. He traces each letter, appearing mesmerized by the sight. Who knew five letters could evoke such an awakening within me because by the time he crosses the T, my body is a quivering mess.

My breathing is uneven, hinting to my needs.

Once he’s done spelling out his name, he slides his fingers upward and cups my right breast. Instantly, I arch my back, whimpering. He flicks my pearled nipple with his thumb, licking his lips when I cry out softly.

Unable to help myself, I rub my thighs together, the friction alleviating some of the pressure building, but nothing, bar Saint, will soothe that burn. “Open your legs.”

Once upon a time, I would have shied away at such a demand but not anymore. Although I am still a little nervous, I slowly comply. When I do, a hiss escapes Saint. He focuses on my sex with his chartreuse swirls, sparking a dangerous mix of pleasure and pain.

Who needs foreplay when you have this stifling anticipation?

“When we were on the island,” I say, my cheeks reddening at the memory, “I saw you…I saw you jerking off.”

His lips lift into a slanted, wicked grin.

“I liked it,” I confess. “I shouldn’t have, but I did. I couldn’t see properly, though, because it was dark. Will you, will you show me?”

My request has caught him off guard.

The reason I asked this is because yes, hell to the fuck yes, do I want to see him pleasure himself, but I also want to ensure he is okay with this. I don’t want him to freak out, especially after everything he’s been through.

His impressive bulge has me unable to tear my eyes away from the front of his pants because I know what that bulge feels and tastes like.

“Fuck, ?????. If you don’t mask your thoughts, I’m going to come like a pubescent teen.”

No surprise, he can read my mind, but I can’t filter those erotic visions.

“Please,” I beg, uncaring I sound like a wanton fiend.

He takes a moment, maybe to center himself or draw out the torture, but I don’t know or care because when he lowers his sweats and his dick springs to life, I forget everything and focus on his big, beautiful cock. His left hand is still bandaged, but he takes his shaft into his right and begins touching himself slowly.

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