Page 69 of My Fallen Saint

He draws up my leg as if in demonstration, and I hear him groan. I draw in a breath, realizing that, with my loose shorts, he must have seen every intimate inch of me.

He bends my leg and settles the inside of my knee against his hip. “Stay like that,” he says, using his now-free hand to trace a path from my knee down the crevice where my thigh hits my torso. Behind my shirt, I close my eyes, biting my lower lip as I anticipate his next move. His finger under my shorts, then thrusting deep inside of me.

But it doesn’t happen.

“Anticipation, baby,” he murmurs, his breath teasing my ear as his finger traces back and forth along the crevice as I shift my hips, silently begging for a deeper touch. “But not just for this,” he says as his fingers finally—finally—graze my pussy, barely stroking my folds. “You want it deeper. Harder. Tell me, baby.”

“Yes,” I say, my voice raw with need. “Yes, please.”

His fingers slip inside me, but barely. Not even up to the first knuckle. Just enough to entice and make my body start to clench. Just enough to get his fingers wet so I feel it when he withdraws, then traces his way up over my mound, around my navel, and then up to my right breast.

His fingers are still slick as he rolls my nipple between his digits, his mouth closing over my breast and sucking hard as he tugs on my other nipple in time with the intensity of his suckling. All the while I’m losing my mind, my back arched, my hips thrusting forward as I press my body against him, shamelessly rubbing my pussy against the bulge in his jeans because oh, God, I have nothing to lose now.

“You want this,” he repeats, pulling back enough so that when he speaks, his breath is cool on my wet nipple. “Right now, you’re mine, and that makes you hot.”

I’m still blind from the shirt over my eyes, pinned in place by the strength in his arms, and utterly exposed. My breath is ragged, my breasts tingling, my inner thighs aching.

I’m totally vulnerable.

“Tell me,” he says.

“Yes.” The word is barely breath. Like the air I’m floating on.

“I like it too,” he says. “Right now, I fucking own you.”

A shiver cuts through me. He’s right. I like this. I like it way too much. I don’t know what upset him tonight, but I’m glad it did. It shifted him. Released him. And, yes, he’s finally giving me my closure.

He releases my arms, telling me not to move, then pulls the tank up over my head and tosses it aside. Then he cups his hands over mine and slowly—so deliciously, temptingly slowly—runs his palms down over my arms, my torso, my waist, then my hips.

Gently, he lowers my leg, which is starting to cramp a bit tucked up around him. Then he traces his fingertip over the waistband of my baggy shorts and very gently tugs them over my hips before letting them fall to my feet.

His eyes stay on mine the entire time, and I realize with a start that they’re sandy brown. My mind is in a muddle, so I don’t think much of it, but somewhere in the fuzz, I wonder if he took his contacts out when he was banging around with such anger and frustration.

That question evaporates from my thoughts as he sinks to his knees, kissing his way down from my cleavage to my pussy, until I can’t keep my arms above me any longer, and I bend over and claw at his shoulders as his mouth closes over me, his tongue taking me right to the edge, until I’m bucking against him, so close, so close, so close—

And then he pulls away, looking up at me with a wicked grin as I’m gasping and trying to get my bearings.

He takes a step back, and I make a whimper of protest. He chuckles. “Oh, no, baby. We aren’t even close to done.”

He peels his shirt off and tosses it behind him onto the floor.

He unbuttons his jeans next, then unzips the fly. I stare, bold and brazen as he strips down, first taking out his wallet and tossing it onto the mattress, then taking his briefs with him as he peels off his jeans until he’s left wearing absolutely nothing, his cock hard and perfect and so damn tempting.

It’s the first time I’ve ever seen it. All those years ago, I’d been too inexperienced—hell, too shy—to really look. Now, as the storm inside me builds, I can’t believe I missed out on ten solid years of amazing fantasy material.

I swallow, already imagining the way he’ll feel inside me, then look up at him, only to find him looking right back at me. There’d been a fire in him earlier. Something fueled by anger. Frustration. I’m not even sure. A need to grab whatever had gone wrong in the world and make it right, even if the only way to do that was to use me as a proxy.

Now, though, that heat has shifted. It’s no longer about anger or control or whatever dark emotion had grabbed him. Now, all I see is desire.

“Why?” I ask, because right then, it’s the only word that can break out past the electrical hum in my head. “Why tonight when you’ve been pushing me away?”

He steps closer, and I instinctively move back so that I can once again feel the wall behind me. “Does it matter?” he asks as he puts his hands on the wall on either side of my head, then bends close. “Do you really need to know? Or do you just need my hands on you? My mouth claiming yours, my cock deep inside you. Is it going to matter at all why I fuck you tonight when you’re losing your mind because I won’t let you come until you call out my name? Tell me, Ellie. Tell me if you really need to know.”

He cups my chin with one hand, then holds me steady as he kisses me hard, his body so close to mine, his rock hard cock presses enticingly against my belly. I groan and open to him, spreading my legs as I open my mouth, then gasping when his teeth graze my tongue as his hands move to my ass. He picks me up, and I think he’s going to fuck me right then. Instead, he carries me toward the bed, then puts me down, my body sliding off of his in a way that makes my knees go weak.

I meet his eyes, and he lifts his brow as he sits on the foot of the bed, leaving me standing in front of him. “What was it you wanted to do on the plane?”

I hear the tremor in my voice as I ask, “Is that what you want?”

“Oh, baby, I want that and so much more.” His words are soft and heavy with promise. “I want you on your knees sucking my cock. I want you tied to the bed. I want to take every bit of power and control away from you. I want you spread wide open for me, mine to pleasure or to hurt. To give to or take from. I want to push your limits, and then I want to watch you come. Right now, though, I just want to fuck you.”

I swallow, his words melting me. I join him on the bed, my legs straddling his. “Condom?”

The corner of his mouth twitches and he reaches for the wallet he’d tossed onto the bed. He meets my eyes, and I wonder if he’s remembering that night so many years ago. I don’t ask. I don’t want to do anything that might break the spell. Because right now, I’m pretty sure I’ll collapse and die if he doesn’t fuck me.

He sheathes himself, and though he’s definitely been running this show, I don’t want to wait any longer. I rise up and whisper, “Now, dammit. Do not make me beg.”

To his credit, he doesn’t, and I lower myself onto him, and I’m so wet and so ready that even though he’s huge, I take him in, relishing the feel of him. The tightness, the friction despite how slippery I am. I rise up, my hands on his shoulders as my thighs work so that I can piston against him, and right then I’ve never been more thankful that I go regularly to the gym.

I arch back, and as I do, his fingers tease my clit, another connection between us, and while I want so badly to draw this out, there is just no way. I’m too close, and I can feel him, too. His cock tightening inside me, his body tensing, his breath coming shallow. And those delicious murmurs of “yes, baby, oh God, yes” as I ride him like my life depended on it. Like I’m heading toward the promised land. And, you know, I think I truly am.

And then—oh God oh God oh God—my whole body tightens and I clench around him, and he cries out, “Fuck, yes,” and I lean forward, my body humming as my head rests against his as the tremors cut through both of us until, finally, I’m no longer seeing stars. Instead, I’m looking down at our joined bodies, trying to figure out if this is reality.

Did I really just fuck the boy I used to love?

Or was tonight just one more fast fuck with a stranger I’ll never really know?