Butsomehow, Malcolm has a connection for a plough, and he’s waiting for them to clear the road through the woodland, which should be done by tonight. I no longer ask questions about who that man has links with; something might come in handy for me one day.
I feel like Saint and I’s relationship has shifted over the week. It’s more intense, a deeper sense of love and understanding than ever before. I pine for him, even when he’s in the same room as me. He always looks at me adoringly, but now it’s like if he looks away, I might disappear.
His eyes are always on me, and I do the exact same thing to him.
There’s no more hidden truths between us now; our worth to one another has been laid out bare. Bloody, tattered hearts and all.
We’re getting closer and closer to that happily ever after; it’s so within reach, I can taste it. And fuck anyone who tries to get in our way. You don’t want to cross either of our paths.
And you’d think being stuck with each other for all these hours might change all of this, that the confinement might stir us crazy, wanting to spend less time with each other.
But when you have no current leads, only two people left to hunt down instead of multiple, and can’t leave the area…
You end up glued to your man like a pair of obsessive, tortured lovers.
My palms slide against the shower screen. I feel like I’m fighting for my life as the steam billows through the air, my handprint sliding and clearing through the condensation. I can barely see into the bathroom, we’ve been in here that long.
“One more, baby. You can give it to me.”
He slides into me once more, my pussy taking every inch, snatching the last bit of oxygen my lungs desperately needed. “Fuck. Saint, I can’t,” I whine as I struggle to keep my hands against the glass, back arching and rising on my slippery toes to meet each pound of his hips.
It’s a struggle to open my eyes. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s either fucked or licked an orgasm out of me.
I swear I hear knocking on the door over the water showering around us, but it could just be my sanity, asking if it needs to take over.
I pretend I’m not home.
“How have you not come yet?” I ask him, and it makes him fuck me harder.
“Because,” he bites out, hands gripping my wet hips and my ass bouncing off him, slapping loudly as the shower beats down on us, “I’m holding until you give me one more.”
“You’re fucking insufferable,” I pant, pushing against him as my core throbs.
His laugh is dark. “Don’t lie, I know you’re loving this.”
I am, I really am. Though my vision’s blurring, and I swear if I untense my jaw, I might drool.
The bang gets louder. Maybe that was—
The bathroom door swings open, the handle hitting off the tiled wall. “Saint, your dad wants us in the meeting room in twenty minutes.”
“Get out of my fucking room, Rex!” Saint roars, picking up his pace.
His hand grips my throat, arching me back at an awkward angle so I’m staring up at his devil-like eyes. I’m grateful you can’t see through the glass, and I can’t hear what Rex muttered back, but the steam in the bathroom swirls as the door slams closed.
My swallow works around his tightening grip, barely able to get the words out. “We should…Oh fuck, Saint.”
His hand hooks under my thigh, lifting above my hip as each stroke builds that pressure inside me as he hits off that spot. “Come on, Indie. Be my good girl and come on my dick one more time.”
And just like all angels obey their gods, I do too.
Saint catches me when my body buckles under the delirium, letting me visit his stars as he comes right behind me, whispering wicked praises in my ear as I wade through the aftershocks.
I whimper as he pulls out of me, feeling lightheaded spending so much time in what now feels like a sauna. He kisses my cheek, slapping my ass. “Make sure you keep my cum inside you,” hegrowls as he leaves the shower, totally unaffected by his form of torture that he too had to bear.
He really is a masochist.
I’m out of the shower within five minutes and towel myself off, slipping my shaky limbs into my underwear and drying my hair the best I can. I use the towel, seeing as I don’t have time to use the dryer, because Saint is a fiend and I can’t walk around naked without him rugby tackling me.
