Page 30 of Saint's Preciosa
I comply, watching as he removes my jeans and underwear with careful efficiency. Despite our previous intimacy, being completely naked before him still sends a flush of embarrassment through me. My arms move instinctively to cover myself, but he catches my wrists gently.
"Don't hide from me," he says softly. "I want to see all of you. Every inch."
His eyes travel over my body with such intensity I can almost feel the trail they leave, like a physical caress. Then his hands follow the same path, exploring every curve, every hollow, as if memorizing my body through touch.
When his fingers find the wet heat between my thighs, I gasp, my hips lifting involuntarily to meet his touch.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs approvingly. "So ready for me already."
His skilled fingers work their magic, circling, pressing, sliding inside me until I'm a writhing mess on the bed, my hands clawing at the bedding. Just as I'm about to tumble over the edge, he withdraws his touch, leaving me teetering on the brink.
"Saint," I plead, not entirely sure what I'm asking for.
"I know, preciosa," he soothes, standing to remove his own clothes.
I watch through half-lidded eyes as he reveals his body to me—broad shoulders, muscled chest and arms covered in tattoos, the flat plane of his stomach leading down to...oh.
My eyes widen at the sight of his arousal, thick and hard and long. It’s not the first time I’ve seen him naked, but he's so large that a flutter of anxiety ripples through me.
He notices my expression and smiles reassuringly. “Don’t worry,” he promises, rejoining me on the bed. "I won't hurt you."
He settles between my thighs, his weight supported on his forearms as he hovers above me. The position brings his face close to mine, our breaths mingling as he searches my eyes.
“Once we do this, there's no going back. You understand that, right?"
The intensity in his gaze leaves no doubt about his meaning. This isn't just sex for him. It’s binding. A promise.
“Yes,” I whisper, reaching up to touch his face. "I want to be yours."
Something fierce and possessive flashes in his eyes before he kisses me again, deep and claiming. I feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance, seeking permission.
"Relax for me," he murmurs against my lips as he begins to push inside.
The stretch is intense, bordering on uncomfortable as my body tries to adjust to his size. He moves with exquisite care, advancing by small increments, giving me time to accommodate him.
"Fuck," he groans against my neck. "You're so tight."
He thrusts hard and there's a slight pinch of pain as he finally seats himself fully inside me, breaking through the barrier of my virginity.
“Fuck...” He stills immediately, his body tense above mine. “You were a virgin," he says, surprise evident in his voice.
I nod, my cheeks heating with embarrassment. “I’ve never been with anyone before. I’ve never even kissed anyone else. You were my first kiss.”
“Fuuuck,” he breathes out resting his forehead against mine. “I thought..." he begins, then stops himself. “You worked at the spa. I thought..."
Understanding dawns. "That night was the first night I was supposed to work a party," I admit quietly. “I didn’t want to, but the pressure was intense. I felt trapped."
Fury darkens Saint's expression, his body going rigid above mine. "That fucking piece of shit. If he wasn't already dead, I'd kill him myself. Slowly."
“It doesn't matter now. You saved me." I reach up to touch his face, drawing his attention back to me. “Please don’t be angry. Don’t ruin this. It’s special. My first time.”
His expression softens, the rage receding though not disappearing entirely. "You’re okay?” he asks again. “Did I hurt you? Do you want to stop?”
“No! I don't want to stop," I assure him, shifting my hips experimentally and finding the discomfort has already begun to fade. “Please don’t stop.”
A shudder runs through his powerful body at my words. Slowly, with careful restraint, he begins to move, withdrawing almost completely before sliding back in. Each stroke is measured, deliberate, his eyes never leaving my face as he watches for any sign of distress.
But there is none. The initial discomfort gives way to pleasure, building with each slow thrust until I'm meeting him halfway, my hips rising to greet his.
