Home > A Gorgeous Villain (St. Mary’s Rebels #2)(116)

A Gorgeous Villain (St. Mary’s Rebels #2)(116)
Author: Saffron A. Kent

 I grip the sheets tighter, squirming my hips. “But she’s not. She’s not daisy fresh anymore.”

 He chuckles again, this time only a puff of breath that makes him shudder. He still doesn’t show it to me though. He only massages his hard dick over his jeans and rasps, “He saw to that, didn’t he? I saw to that.”

 “Yes,” I whisper.

 He comes closer then, puts his hand on the bed and bends over me, and stares at my prone form intensely. “I made sure that this time when I caught you in my evil clutches, I made you pay. That I left my mark, didn’t leave you unscathed.”

 My elbows give out and I fall on the bed, all writhing and needy. “You did.”

 And that gives him permission to get on the bed. To hang over me like a thrilling, threatening shadow. “Yeah. Maybe you should call the cops on me then. You should tell them how I cornered you in the woods. How I carried you screaming and kicking in my arms and put you in my Mustang. You should tell them how I tore at your clothes, your pretty white dress, to get at you. To get at your pussy. Your virgin pussy, wasn’t it? How I didn’t even care if she was a virgin. How I took one look at her, all pink and swollen shut and I lost my mind. I lost my fucking mind and rammed inside of you. How I made you cry. I made you bleed. You should tell them that, Fae. You should tell them that this motherfucking villain didn’t even care that he was fucking you raw. That his dick was banging into your sweet pussy without rubber and when he got enough sense to pull out, it was already too late.”

 God, I’m a mess.

 I’m a writhing, sweating mess and I’m tearing at the sheets. I’m tearing at them and rocking and I know my pussy is so wet for him.

 For the villain that’s hanging over me, telling me these filthy tales.

 False tales though.

 “But I wasn’t,” I whisper almost incoherently.

 “You weren’t what?”

 “I wasn’t k-kicking and screaming.”

 “Ah, so you wanted it then.”

 I nod. “Yes.”

 “My Fae wanted to be fucked by a villain.”

 “Uh-huh.”

 He crawls over me even more and my thighs, even in my mindlessness, part for him. They make space for his large body. When he’s directly above me, his biceps straining and sweaty now, he says gruffly, “So you won’t call the cops on me, baby?”

 I shake my head, shuddering, almost orgasming at his ‘baby.’

 “No? Not even to tell them that you just went out for a walk. An innocent fucking walk when he took you, that villain. When he captured you in his dirty hands and fucked you so hard that he sowed a baby inside of you.”

 My hands leave the sheet and go to him.

 My nails make homes in the meat of his biceps and dig in, making him shudder over me. “No. God, Reed. Please.”

 He lowers himself on me, his taut abs touching my pregnant belly, and I arch my back. I bring my thighs around his waist, my core seeking his cock.

 “Please what, Fae?” he asks, framing my face with his hands, rubbing his jean-covered cock right at the notch of my thighs. “‘Please, show me your dick, Reed.’ Is that what you’re saying?”

 I undulate with him, chasing that friction. “Yes.”

 “What about now?” He chuckles, teasing me, moving against me, giving me that friction that he gives me every night, but I want something more tonight. I want his cock. “You want to call them now? You want to tell them that this asshole won’t even show you his dick. His big, fat dick that made your pussy cry and got her pregnant.”

 I push at his biceps and claw at his skin. “God, Roman, you’re —”

 Sense slams into me then.

 It jars me.

 It opens my eyes, clears my foggy vision and I see him.

 I see his flushed cheekbones, the sweat dotting his brows. His stubble-covered jaw that’s sharp but still. His entire body is still. Hard like a rock. So much so that digging my nails into his muscles is a hardship now.

 My heart pounds in my chest as I lie beneath him, naked, with parted thighs.

 “What’d you just say?” he asks in a voice that barely reaches me even though I’m almost wrapped around him.

 I swallow. “R-Roman.”

 He stares at me for a few beats and I don’t know what he’s thinking.

 I don’t know what he’ll do.

 “I’ve been…” he says again in that low voice. “I didn’t… I didn’t think that you’d ever call me that. I thought…”

 “You thought what?”

 His eyes pierce into mine, so many emotions running through them, and his Adam’s apple jerks. “I thought that I’d lost it. Lost the privilege of you calling me that.”

 My hands fly to his face then, my palms rubbing his stubble. “You didn’t. You didn’t lose it.”

 His jaw tics under my palm, his eyes burning me. “Say it again.”

 Tears prick my eyes but I blink and obey him. “Roman.”

 “Again.”

 “Roman.”

 “Again.”

 “Roman.”

 But this time, I don’t stop. I chant it for him, so he can absorb it, the name that I gave him two years ago. So he can tuck it inside all his empty spaces.

 So this name that I gave him in love warms him up.

 It warms his winter blood, his chilled bones, his cold soul.

 I chant it until I can’t anymore.

 Because his mouth is covering me. Because his mouth is drinking that name from my lips, swallowing it down like an elixir. An antidote to all the hurt, the pain inside of him.

 And then he isn’t kissing me anymore.

 He’s broken that kiss and left me to get rid of his jeans. And again, he’s done it all so fast and yet so slow that by the time he gets back to me and settles himself over me again, I’m hurting.

 My lust is hurting me.

 It’s hurting him too, but still he frames my face in his large hands and stares into me. “I don’t… I don’t have a condom. I didn’t exactly plan this. But if you need me to, Fae, I’ll go get some, okay? I’ll —”

 I shake my head, clutching onto his muscled obliques, rubbing my heels over the backs of his naked thighs. “I don’t care. I don’t want anything between us.”

 God, not anymore. I’m tired of being apart from him.

 But he has more to say. He has more to tell me when I want him inside of me.

 “I’m still cl —”

 I put my hand on his lips then. “I know.”

 We’re way, way past that now.

 And he’s relieved to see that bit of trust in my eyes because his breaths puff out on my palm and then he does what I’ve been wanting him to do for weeks now.

 He fucks me.

 Or prepares to.

 Staring into my eyes, he grips his cock and lines it up with my core before dipping his slippery head in. I grip his shoulders and wait for him to breach me, and in the next breath, he does.

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