Page 61 of Dirty Saint

I pushed at his chest and sucked in a deep breath when he removed his palm from my mouth. “You scared the shit out of me, Koah.”

“You left The Strip.” He stated the obvious.

“So?”

“So I wasn’t done looking at you.” His voice dropped, going deeper and smoother.

Goose bumps covered my arms, and my stomach fluttered.

“You were looking at me?”

He moved closer, pressing his palm against the brick beside my head.

“Maybe.”

I snickered. “You weren’t looking at me,” I stated.

He moved closer still, leaning and breathing me in. His palm slid up my arm and over my shoulder until his fingers wrapped around my neck. It was then I smelled the alcohol on his breath. “How would you know?”

I swallowed my nerves. I had known Koah for most of my life. Why was I suddenly nervous around him? “Because I was looking at you.”

I couldn’t see his face, but I felt his lips as they skimmed the corner of my mouth. “Do you like looking at me, Tori?”

I loved looking at him. I loved looking at his body—his tats and all his hard, tanned skin—and how he could maneuver his bike. It was difficult to look away sometimes. Still, he didn’t need to know I was slowly becoming obsessed with how he made me feel when I looked at him.

Instead of answering his question, I followed it up with one of my own. “Do you like looking at me?”

Again, his lips skimmed mine before moving down my jawbone. I shivered, and he chuckled against my skin. “I do, but you know what I like doing more?”

“What?” I squeaked.

His free hand curled around my side before his thumb made tiny circles against the little bit of exposed skin beneath my shirt.

“I like touching you.”

Then he kissed the side of my neck, his calm breaths moving into my ear and making me shiver again. His hand lowered until his fingertips pushed into the back of my jeans as if he would grab my ass. Except he didn’t. Instead, he moved his hand around to the front of my jeans. He tugged my panties away from my flesh and moved lower until his fingertip brushed my clit.

My knees went weak, and I whimpered.

“Do you like it when I touch you, Tori?” he asked.

I nodded, moaning an uh-huh as my answer.

He swirled his finger around my engorged clit once more before he began to massage it in a rhythm that had me reaching down and pressing his hand through my jeans.

“Like that,” I whispered.

He sucked on my neck before he paused, moved his fingers lower, and pushed them into me a few times. I cried out, enjoying the feel of his large fingers penetrating me. Then once again, he massaged my clit, making my body climb with pleasure.

“You’re so wet for me.”

My body tingled, and I knew his magic fingers would soon push me over the edge.

Again, he wrapped his fingers around my throat, and this time, he squeezed.

“Come,” he demanded. “I want a puddle in my fucking palm when I’m done with you.”

He was so different from the night before. He was demanding and ruthless, pleasuring my body as if my impending orgasm was his. I didn’t hate this side of Koah. I liked that he felt comfortable enough with me to let me in. I knew he was capable of being sweet, but it was his savage side that got me off.

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