He slowly slides one of his hands down to my pussy and strokes his fingers between my folds. My hips jerk, but he places his free hand on my pelvis and holds it down as he teases me until I’m squirming beneath his palm. His cock is hard and throbbing, but he doesn’t touch it or press it against me.
“I love how wet you get for me,” he whispers, slipping a finger inside me. I whimper as he begins to pump at a languid pace.
My eyes fall back to his dick.
“Saint … I want to touch you too.”
His gaze lights up. Removing his finger, he grabs my hips and repositions me so I’m lying horizontal to him. Fisting his cock, he teases my lips with the head.
“Open up, baby,” he urges.
I let my mouth fall wide and begin sucking on him. His hand slides between my legs again and he reinserts his finger. I moan around his dick and his hips jerk. We pleasure each other like this for long minutes, until I can’t take it anymore. I need more than his finger, and I’m beyond caring if I have to beg for it.
“Saint…” I moan, releasing his erection from my lips.
“You’re greedy, little masochist,” he says with a smirk. “Do you want me inside?”
“Yes.”
He removes his finger again and trails it up to my clit for a few quick strokes before he positions my body back so that my legs are spread before him. He takes himself in hand and, lining his cock up with my entrance, he begins to sink into me, inch by agonizing inch.
When he’s fully seated inside me, he’s lying on top of me, and we’re face-to-face.
He holds himself up on his elbows, and I slip my hands around his shoulders to hold him tight as he begins to move his hips. He’s shockingly gentle, and it’s intensifying the experience in a whole new way from any other time we’ve had sex.
When he kisses me, there’s an urgency behind it that leaves me breathless and dizzy and uncertain. He does exactly what he said he would and fucks me long and slow, and when I come, I bury my face in his neck and let out a keening cry. He orgasms shortly after with several grunts, his hips spasming as he empties himself inside me.
His body is heavy on top of mine, but I don’t want him to move. I continue to hold tight to him, afraid that the moment we break contact, I’ll lose this tender version of him. As much as rough and dominant Saint thrills my body, this Saint is making my heart swell.
“You okay?” he mumbles against my neck.
I nod. “Yeah. I’m okay. You?”
“I’m good. Am I crushing you?”
“A little,” I confess. “But…but it’s okay.”
“Tiny ass woman,” he teases, pushing himself up onto his elbows, but he doesn’t move away from me. I stare up into his eyes, and I’m lost as to what he really wants from me. In that moment, though, I don’t really care.
Dropping his head, he kisses me again, and I let myself get lost.
Saint and I have sex two more times before we’re totally spent. Each time, he kept things slow and light, and each time he made me shatter, just to put me together again.
The party’s gone quiet downstairs. I’m guessing, without the birthday boy, there wasn’t a lot of incentive for people to stick around. It’s a relief, though. I won’t have to deal with any dirty looks as I make the walk of shame out of his house.
Saint’s laying on his back next to me, his arms tucked behind his head. He hasn’t said a word in a few minutes. I glance at his face, and he looks like he’s on the verge of sleep, which is a satisfying sight. I take that as my sign to get going. Pushing the covers away, I slip out of bed and begin searching for my clothes.
“Where’re you going?”
I freeze and glance over my shoulder to find him wide-awake and staring at me.
“I, uh … I was just going to head out,” I lamely reply.
He sits up and rests his arms on his knees. His golden hair is messy, and he looks adorable as he gazes at me with sleepy eyes.
“Don’t,” he says.
I blink and turn to face him. “What?”
He throws the covers open and pats the bed beside him. “Come back to bed. Stay.”
“You want me to stay the night?” My voice is small and nervous. My heart is pounding so hard, and I feel that stupid fluttering of hope returning deep in my belly.
He nods. “Yeah. Come back to bed, Mal.”
With slow, cautious steps, I make my way back to the bed and crawl up into it next to him. He tosses the blankets back over me and eases down. Before I can try and get settled, he grabs me and pulls me down onto his chest.
“Saint?” I murmur.
“Shhhhh,” he rumbles. “Go to sleep.”
Deciding not to fight it, I snuggle into his side and let the sound of his heartbeat lull me to sleep, just like back when things were the best between us.
Before he betrayed me, and I swore to hate him forever.
Light pokes at my eyes and I groan. I don’t want to wake up yet. I’m so comfortable, so warm. The light is persistent though, and I finally give up and slide my eyelids open.
I’m greeted by Saint’s sleeping face. I bite my lip and grin. He’s so beautiful, and I just want to lay there and watch him because it’s the most unguarded I ever see him. Gently, I stroke my fingers along his cheek, careful not to disturb the little sleep he’s actually able to get.
I need to go. I know I do. I’ve been here too long, and I’m sure Loni has a million questions about what happened to me last night. An Uber will be a little pricey from here, but I can swing it this one time. Better to make a quiet exit than risk him waking up and ruining what we had last night with a bad attitude.
Sitting up, I’m about to untangle myself from the blankets when I see movement out of the corner of my eye by Saint’s window. Turning, I stifle a scream when I find Saint’s mother standing in the room, opening the shutters to let the light in.
23
“Good morning.” Mrs. Angelle’s tone is as icy as her smile. “I hope you don’t mind I had one of the maids unlock the door. I had to be certain my son didn’t drink himself to death last night. Apparently, he had … alternate entertainment.”
I’m so, so fucked. It never crossed my mind that his parents would show up. They never did once when we were here for Thanksgiving break. I’d assumed they were off in some other city, ignoring Saint’s birthday just like they ignored much of his existence.
“I’m so sorry,” I blurt out, clutching the bedsheet to my naked chest.
“Whatever for? You’re just doing what girls like you do best.”
Girls like me, huh?
Okay, biiiitch.
She comes to the edge of the bed, her red-painted lips curling as she gazes down at us. “You should probably leave before my husband gets here,” she says snidely. “It’s our son’s birthday, after all. We’d like to spend some quality time with him.”
Even though I’m dying to tell her his birthday was yesterday, I silently nod, and she leaves the room without a backwards glance. Saint hasn’t stirred, and I’m careful not to wake him as I quickly climb out of bed. Shame makes my cheeks burn as I get dressed and find my phone. I wish I could crawl into a hole somewhere and just die. The last thing I want to do is go downstairs to face his mother, but I don’t have a choice unless I want to risk a two-story leap onto the terrace below.