“Wait…” I put a hand to his head when he moves between my legs, stopping him.
He slants me a sharp look, then shakes his head, his golden hair brushing the insides of my thighs. “Let me go, Ellis.”
I hesitate, even though I’m desperate to have his mouth on me. I’m afraid if I let this happen, he’ll use it against me somehow. Steal another part of my soul that he’ll never give back.
“Mallory…” His voice is a low growl, and his breath caresses my hot flesh.
I bite my lip against the moan that wants to escape, but then decide, fuck it. Let him use this against me later. Saint Angelle is on the verge of kissing me there—taking the edge away—and I’m certain it’s going to be the most mind-blowing sexual experience of my life. He’s already taken so much from me, it’s about time he gave something back.
Throwing caution to the wind, I drop my hand and nod my head.
“Good girl.” He dives in, sealing his mouth over my pussy, and I throw my head back with a cry.
Oh. Oh. Jesus, he’s really, really great at this.
He drags his tongue through my folds, then clamps his lips around my clit and sucks. His hands hold my thighs wide as he feasts on me. I’m overwhelmed by sensation, losing awareness of everything but his tongue, lips, and teeth. In my mindlessness, I cup my own breasts, but then feel a sting of self-consciousness and drop my hands to my sides.
He lifts his mouth just long enough to order, “Get your hands back on your tits. I want you to touch them while I make you come.”
I’ve only slept with one other guy in my life, but he never bossed me around during sex like this. He was gentle and slow—at least, until I became an irredeemable monster in his eyes. While part of me thinks I should bristle and snap back that Saint doesn’t own me, a deep, darker part of me wants to submit to him. To obey. I give into that part and pull my shirt up as he resumes ravishing me. Yanking down my bikini top, I let my breasts fall free and cup them again. The rougher he gets with his mouth, the rougher I get with my hands. I’m pinching and tugging at my nipples and squeezing my breasts until it almost hurts, but that delicious edge between pleasure and pain only makes me hotter.
“Saint…” I gasp his name like a plea.
“You should’ve left when I told you to,” he snarls against my flesh. “You’re an idiot for staying when I told you to go.”
How could that be true, when staying led me to this?
“I’m going to make you fucking regret not listening to me.”
He takes my clit between his lips again as he moves his hand to press a finger at my entrance. He teases the hole as he sucks me, then presses his thick digit inside without warning. He pumps it in and out, flinging me into madness with this finger while he continues to torment my clit. Another finger slips inside to join the first, and I gasp.
I undulate my hips, desperate for more. More friction. More torment. More everything. Wild, keening noises keep slipping from my mouth, but I’m too lost to be embarrassed by any of the sounds I make. He’s driving me toward what I know is going to be the more powerful orgasm of my life, and nothing else matters to me in this moment than the promise of that earth-shattering release.
I’m climbing higher and higher—so close I let out a frantic whimper.
“Saint, fuck, I’m almost there … please. Please.”
At my words, his pace becomes savage, and suddenly I’m tumbling over the edge into a sea of pure ecstasy. I scream as I come, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through me like a tsunami. Saint is merciless as he drags my orgasm out to a tortuous degree. I’m too tender and sore and finally have to push at his head to get him to stop and let me go.
He stands up, his expression radiating smug, male pride. Reaching down, he casually pinches my nipple, which makes me gasp.
“Damn, Ellis. For such a stuck-up bitch, you sure come unglued when your pussy’s getting—”
“Don’t,” I rasp, and a slow grin forms on his bronze features.
“Eaten,” he finishes.
I don’t even care that he’s being a vulgar dick again. That felt too good, and I’m too blissed-out to give a shit about what he says. I lean up on my elbows and take him in. He’s breathing heavy, his hair’s sticking up around his head, and his face glistening with my juices. I like that. I like how messy I made him. I let my eyes travel down the length of his torso to the front of his jeans. There’s a sizable bulge there, and my sex clenches at the thought of making him lose control.
Sitting up fully, I reach for the button of his jeans, ready to return the favor. His hand comes down and snatches my wrist, stopping me.
“What—”
“Have some respect for yourself.” His tone has turned cold and his eyes narrow as he releases me and steps out of my reach. “You can go now.”
I stare up at him, floored.
“B-but I don’t mind…”
“I said get out,” he snaps, jabbing the same finger he’d just used on me at the door.
Startled, I slide from the desk and right my clothing, pulling up my bikini bottoms and shorts quickly. Why’s he doing this? Why’s he got to ruin this, just like he ruins everything else?
Dressed, I turn toward his door without a word. Before I leave, though, like the masochist he keeps accusing me of being, I pause and glance back at him over my shoulder.
“What are we now?” I demand. I’m proud that my tone is stead and strong. The last thing I want is to look weak in front of him. “After this, has anything changed?”
He lets out a cruel chuckle and shakes his head.
“Not a damn thing,” he sneers. “We’re still enemies, and I still want you gone.”
It’s what I should’ve expected him to say. It’s my own fault for hoping he could be anything but a complete and total jackass.
“Wipe your fucking face,” I spit, then turn and storm out of the room.
His taunting laughter follows me down the hall.
I throw all my focus in preparing for Parents’ Weekend so that I won’t have to think about Saint and his godawful talented mouth. Whatever Loni needs, I’m there for her. We shop for supplies, we order food, we organize activities, and when she asks me to help her decorate for the picnic, I meet her outside the dining hall with a smile on my face.
She’s got a crew of facility workers to help us, and a few other students from the planning committee she took over leadership of. Like a drill sergeant, she assigns us all tasks and maps of where everything is supposed to go, then sends us off to complete our tasks. Once the tables are all set up in the commons, she has me help her cover them with tablecloths and put out cute little centerpieces made from twigs and paper leaves.
“Thanks again for all your help,” she says as we move down one of the tables together.
I give her a bright smile. “No problem.”
“No, really. I appreciate you putting so much time into the weekend even though … well …”
“Even though I won’t have anyone here for me?” I finish her thought for her.
Her expression turns bashful. “Sorry, Mallory.”
“It’s okay. It’s not that big a deal. Besides, it’s just one weekend.”