Desperation never hesitates... “Please, lick my nipples. Please suck—”
My aching nipple is being pulled into his mouth, his tongue flicking around it, eliciting an appreciative moan from me.
The devil delivers faster than heavenly angels.
Blood roiling, I slide my fingers into his hair, arching into him.
A low groan in his throat, he lavishes my breasts with equal attention and slips a hand down my pants. He rubs me over my panties before dipping his fingers inside, finding me wet and slippery. He massages my throbbing slick clit until I’m panting, writhing, achingly desperate.
Suggestively, I lift my hips.
In tune with me, he pauses his ministrations to pull off my pants and panties, right along with my veryunsexy Crocs.
Grabbing his belt, I breathe, “I want your cock.”
“Do you think you deserve it?”
Before he can stop me, I have his belt undone and his pants unzipped. But he counteracts by applying pressure to my clit with his thumb, making tiny circles. And it feelsso damn goodthat I drop my head back and moan at the ceiling, forgetting the task at hand. “Ohhhh…my God.”
“You don’t deserve my cock.” His voice is tight and gruff as he rubs me closer and closer to the edge. “You’ve never been a good girl for me. Not once. All you ever do is drive me fucking insane.”
“You’ve never been good for me either,” I snap back on a gasp. “So maybeyoudon’t deserve my slick, hot pussy.”
“Oh,miapiccolaregina. You’re the only one I’ve ever been good for. Break my own rules for you. My beliefs for you. Hide, lie, and betray for you.” He pinches my clit punitively. “I’ve been nothingbutgood for you. Ideserveevery inch of this sweet, tight cunt.”
With that, he drops to his knees and covers my dripping pussy with his mouth. He licks and sucks at me, gently gliding two fingers inside. Working me with care and precision as he devours me.
Until my thighs snap together, caging his head. A rattling tremor zips through me like lightning right before my orgasm attacks like a wild animal and rips me apart with teeth and claws.
On and on it ripples. Endlessly. Undoubtedly because it’s been months since I’ve had an orgasm that isn’t self-induced. But mostly because it’shim.
Orgasms are always different with him.
Everythingis different with him.
Once I’m back to earth and my thigh muscles have relaxed, freeing the imprisonment of his head, he straightens and zips up his pants.
“No,” I protest, stopping him from doing up his belt.
He slaps my hand away. “You don’t deserve it.”
“Maybe not, but I want it anyway.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“An earth-shattering orgasm?”
“Eh. Can do without it.”
Jerk. “What do you want, then?”
He seems to think about it for a second before he withdraws something from his front pocket. A knife. A familiar one.
It’s the knife he used to slit the Super’s throat in the apartment that afternoon.
My heart halts and quickly consults my brain on whether or not it should be hammering in fear right now. My brain gives it the all clear. It knows this man would never harm me.
Saint offers me the knife.
