Page 27 of Saint's Preciosa
The first swipe of my tongue against her sweet pussy has her gasping. Her hands fist the sheets. I take my time, learning what she likes, coaxing sounds from her throat that urge me on. Her innocence is intoxicating—every reaction genuine, unfiltered. When she finally comes apart in a shuddering orgasm, my name on her lips like a prayer, I feel a satisfaction deeper than any I've ever known.
I move back up her body, gathering her against my chest, holding her as aftershocks of pleasure still ripple through her. Despite my own arousal, hard and insistent against her thigh, I make no move to take things further. Tonight is about her. About trust. About showing her that with me, she'll never be taken for granted.
"Sleep now," I murmur against her hair, feeling her body grow heavy against mine.
"But you didn't..." she begins, her hand sliding tentatively down my chest.
I catch it, bringing it to my lips instead. "There's time for that later. Rest now."
She wants to protest, but exhaustion wins. Her eyes drift closed, her breathing gradually evening out.
I watch her as she sleeps. My woman in my bed, trusting me to keep her safe. It's more than I deserve, but I'll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of her.
Chapter11
Luna
"And then she threw her other shoe at him!'" I finish telling Angel and Sophie about Saint and Abuela’s contentious relationship, sending them both into fits of laughter.
"Oh my god," Sophie gasps, wiping tears from her eyes. "Your grandmother is my hero."
“I love that woman,” Angel agrees, taking a sip of her wine.
Several days have passed since Saint brought Abuela and me here, and while she's still groggy and bedridden, Doc says the antibiotics are working. Her fever has broken, and her breathing is less labored.
The three of us are seated at a corner table in the clubhouse's main room. I can’t remember ever sitting around chatting, laughing, and relaxing like this. This is a first for me.
“She’s warming up to this place," Sophie says optimistically, cradling her wineglass between her palms.
"I think it helps seeing other women around," Angel adds thoughtfully. "Shows her we're not just some... "
"'Den of iniquity run by godless heathens?” I supply, unable to suppress a smile.
Angel snorts. "Right, that. Seeing Sophie and me probably helps her realize this place might not be what she imagined."
I nod, gratitude welling up in my chest. "I can't thank you two enough for how you've cared for her."
"Honestly, she’s a sweetheart,” Sophie says enthusiastically. “You’re really lucky to have her.”
The casual acceptance of Abuela—of me—by these women still feels surreal. Here, in this unlikely sanctuary, I've found something I never expected—friendship.
"So..." Angel's voice takes on a teasing lilt as she leans forward conspiratorially. "Speaking of men who throw themselves in front of flying shoes, how are things going between you and our fearsome Sergeant at Arms?"
Heat rushes to my cheeks immediately. "I, um...good, I think?"
Sophie and Angel exchange knowing glances.
"You think?" Sophie raises an eyebrow, her smile gentle but mischievous. “Except for club business, the man hasn't left your side for three days."
"And, I noticed he glares at any of the brothers if they so much as look at you,” Angel adds.
"That's just...he feels responsible," I suggest weakly, though my heart speeds up at their description of Saint's behavior. “You know, since he was the one who brought us here."
Both women stare at me for a moment before bursting into laughter.
"Oh, honey," Angel says, placing her hand over mine. "You really don't know, do you?"
"Know what?" I ask, confused.
