And that’s all he had to do to completely disarm me.
He helps me out of each layer of material, turning me as my heavy eyes stare up at him.
Fuck, he’s beautiful.
Why does the devil have to be so God damn beautiful?
I don’t know if this novelty will ever wear off; I hope it doesn’t. Those steel eyes have the ability to silence any room I’m in, capturing me and holding me prisoner. I never want to break free from his chains, and it seems as though I’m incapable of being angry either.
God dammit.
I’m supposed to be an independent woman.
My sigh is so deep, my ancestors could hear it.
He raises his brows, eyeing the bed, silently commanding, and I willingly obey. I shift my ass further up the bed, nipples tightening when his full frame drops to his knees on the mattress.
The sight alone has my thighs fighting to press together, but he’s already lifting my pelvis, guiding one leg over his shoulder, the top of my back pressing into the bed.
Saint never takes his hooded eyes off mine, peppering soft kisses from my inner thigh, until he does the same with the other.
The room fills with my heavy breaths; I can’t get them under control. Watching him is having my lungs fighting for oxygen. I’ll allow myself to suffocate before I break our stare.
I’m holding all my weight on my shoulders, and I feel so vulnerable. He’s never had me in this position before, but when his arm bands along my waist, clutching me to his front, warm breaths fan my pussy, and I succumb to the pleasure.
His hot tongue sizzles against my clit, swirling, stroking and flicking until the weight in my lids is too much to fight against anymore. “That feel good, baby?” he whispers, moving his other arm to grip my thigh against his shoulder.
My hands fist the sheet. “Fuck…don’t stop, Saint.”
My neck is craned forward and making my voice so much rougher. All I want to do is throw my head back at the feverish strokes he’s outlining.
Pressing a kiss against my slit, he lazily licks his flat tongue along it, and the butterflies erupt in my chest. “Still mad?”
“Fucking furious,” I moan through the untruth.
Just when I feel the pressure building, I yelp as he nips my clit, sliding both my legs off his shoulders to drop by his sides.
Okay, yeah, I’m mad.
He settles between my thighs, pushing into me in one long thrust. Inked arms cage me in at either side as he rolls into me.
Both of us are hypnotised as we watch where we connect, and he fucks me agonizingly slow. My toes curl at the fullness. Saint drops to his elbows, never losing his pace as he marks my neck each time the sensitive skin meets between his teeth.
“You’re not mad at me, baby,” he breathes against the shell of my ear, and I let my eyes flutter shut when he latches onto my pulse.
“I am,” I gasp, but it pitches when he pushes in deeper, mixing with my whimper. It feels like forever since he fucked me this slow, gentle, and without sinful words being whispered in my ear.
He pants a laugh, tingling my sensitive skin, then pushes up to his hands to stare down at me, slowing his hips even more. It’s unbearable, to the point my pussy is clenching around his cock.
Immortal eyes hold me in place as he watches me, waiting for me to come undone in more ways than one. His throat bobs with the swallow, his voice tight and strangled. “You know how I know?”
My hand reaches behind me, pressing against the headboard to add resistance. “How?”
That soul-shattering flicker of lips makes an appearance. “Because you love me.”
“I do love you.” My eyes threaten to roll back when his thumbs circle my clit, voice husky on my next words. “And I can still be pissed at you.”
His entire body shudders when my nails draw down the ridges of his abs, but my gaze is drawn to his side, my muscles locking up. “Saint. You’re bleeding!” I gasp, spotting the bandages on one side seeping through.
