Page 90 of No Saint

“Good girl,” he praises, awarding me with a long, sensual stroke of his tongue but then he comes away from me, moving up my body to kiss my mouth. I taste myself on his lips, a musky flavor that I didn’t hate. He grinds his hard cock against me before he suddenly flips. My legs straddle his abs and he grins wickedly, tugging on my thighs to force me up his body.

“What are you doing?” I breathe, trying to steady my breath and the throb between my legs that hadn’t been satiated.

“You’re going to sit on my face,leonessa,” He orders, “You’re going to take what you want.”

My eyes go wide, “I can’t do that, you’ll suffocate!”

He chuckles, “I don’t need fucking air when I have your delicious cunt in my mouth.”

Jesus Christ,his dirty mouth would be the death of me.

My cheeks heat as he continues to move me, eyes drawn to the space between my legs until I’m hovering over his lips.

“Sit,” he demands, “I saidsiton my fucking face, not hover,” his voice is muffled as his hands snake around to the tops of my thighs and he forcefully makes me sit. His tongue punches up into me and I cry out at the sensation, lashing out to grab the headboard so I don’t fall.

I can’t stop my hips from rolling, from grinding as he fucks me with his tongue, his fingers in a bruising hold, “Oh god!”

He’s relentless and he does not stop, bringing me to the peak hard and fast. I cry out as I come, hips sluggish and twitching. He gives one final lick before he gently pushes me from him, his mouth covered.

“Breakfast of champions,” he grins.

I burst out laughing, unable to stop it and climb from him, slumping back on the pillow.

“I need more of that,” He stares at me. “Your laugh.”

His fingers brush my hair from my face, eyes soft as he kisses me once and climbs from the bed, adjusting his still hard cock. I reach for him, but he steps away from me with a smirk, “Get dressed,mondo mia,meet me for breakfast.” He disappears into the bathroom, closing it behind him.

I’m still smiling when I come down thirty minutes later, freshly showered and dressed. Gabriel sits at the table, Lincoln perched on his knee.

It had been a week since I allowed Lincoln to have his own room, Camille had helped set it up and painted it in blues and yellows, with toys and books and his own space for his fresh clothes. It was a dream.

He never wanted for anything now and Gabriel, he had been actively trying to be involved with him, playing with him, helping him to sleep or soothing him while he cried.

Lincoln munches happily on a finger of toast.

I sit opposite them, the plate of eggs and bacon steaming in front of me and freshly brewed coffee to the side. I pick that up first.

“I want you to learn to swim,” He says after a few moments of silence.

“What?”

“I want to teach you how to swim.”

“Gabriel–”

“I will not accept no as an answer, Amelia. You need to learn to swim, and I will teach you. Here in my pool, it will just be us.”

“When?”

“We will start today; my mother will take Lincoln for a few hours to the park.”

The incident in the pool seemed like it happened ages ago rather than just a few weeks, but I still remembered it, the fear, the panic, and I knew that Gabriel wouldn’t soon forget

It wasn’t just about the swimming. My fear of the water was rooted deep into my memories, how it felt to drown over and over, forced beneath the surface by cruel hands as punishment. They’d hold me under until they felt me start to slow and right before I’d lose consciousness, they would drag me back out, let me get a breath before forcing me back under.

I fought them. Every time but they were stronger, bigger…

Their abuse of me knew no bounds. My mother, while she wasn’t the best mom, she never hurt me and she wouldn’t have allowed them to but after her death, the courts ruled my stepfather my legal guardian and he was a mean bastard. The abuse started the same day we put my mother’s body in the ground.

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