BAD SAINT (All the Pretty Things #1)

Thirteen-6

His eyes flutter, but he eventually shifts from my grip. “I’ll get you off this island. I promise.”

But I want him. Now. “But—”

He swoops forward, stealing the air from my lungs. “No more talking.”

Openly kissing him has my mind turning to mush, so this will do—for now.

We kiss madly, unable to stop touching one another, and it feels so good. My s*x pulses with every touch, and Saint knows it. I’ve never wanted to come more than I do right now. I am on the cusp of begging, but the air is ripped from my lungs when Saint flips us over so I’m straddling him. I have no idea what he wants me to do until he drags me up his body and coaxes me onto his face.

I try to resist, horrified, but I don’t stand a chance when he positions me so my knees are on either side of his head. He anchors my hips so I’m slanted at an angle where he can latch onto my s*x and drive his tongue into me.

I scream, instantly rolling my hips and working in sync with his mouth. He cups my waist while I lean backward, resting my hands against his hard abs. He begins to eat me out slowly, arching his neck and burying himself between my heat. Being suspended above him this way gives me the perfect bird’s-eye view of him pleasuring me to the brink of ecstasy.

He doesn’t rush. He pays attention to every inch of me, suckling and licking. His fingers dig into my hips as I unhurriedly arch into him. Being positioned this way is beyond intimate because our eyes are locked. We watch one another, and I know he’s opted to devour me this way because I’m in control.

I control the depth, the rhythm. He’s handed over the reins. And for a control freak, I can only imagine how difficult that must be. The thought has me moving faster.

He hums around my s*x, the vibrations rocking me deeply, and I groan, bowing backward, running my hands over his stomach. He flicks his tongue over my c**t before sucking gently. I see stars and increase the tempo, ensuring not to go too fast because I don’t want to hurt him. But Saint’s grip on my hips tightens, and he coaxes me to move faster.

I am powerless and surrender.

He eats me out while I ride his face, screaming in wanton desire. A surge whips through me, and I arch back, bucking forward. Anchoring one hand on his washboard abs, I snare his hair with the other and coerce his mouth to work faster, his tongue deeper, and he happily obliges.

All reservations are long gone as I chase my release. And when Saint bites my c**t and slaps my ass hard, I come with a thunderous cry. My body undulates, and I ride the wave because nothing has ever felt this good.

Saint continues to suckle me, my arousal coating his face. The aftershocks rock me for minutes, but when I finally come back down, another hunger burns. I watch as he wipes his lips deliberately before sucking his fingers, licking my arousal clean.

The sight sucker-punches me, and I slide down his body, frantically pulling down his shorts.

When his enormous c**k springs to life, I gasp. I’m suddenly afraid I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, figuratively speaking. He is impossibly masculine with soft dark curls highlighting his straight, thick, deliciously plump c**k.

“You don’t have to,” he hoarsely says, peering down at me. But that’s not the issue. I don’t know where to start.

“Tell me what you like.” I bite my lip nervously.

He groans and cups my flushed cheeks. “Just go slow. It’s been a while.”

I nod, understanding what he means. Yes, he had s*x with some random woman, but this is different. This is more personal in some ways as he’s allowing me control. And for someone who wouldn’t allow me to touch him just days ago, this is a big step.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He lifts his hips so I’m able to remove his shorts. Completely naked out here in the wilderness feels nothing but natural. I sit back on my heels, examining him from head to toe. From the rise of his chest to his well-defined abs, he is a true vision.

When my attention lands between his legs, I’m unable to conceal my hunger. And neither can Saint.

“f**k,” he hisses, tipping his chin upward.

His desire has me reaching out and gripping his c**k gently. It twitches in my hand. We both need more.

I begin to stroke his shaft, the heat from his skin almost burning me alive, but I like it, and I increase the tempo. He is so thick; it takes me a while to find my groove, but when he reaches down and places his hand over mine, encouraging me to squeeze him harder, I’m quick to catch up to speed.

Saint likes pain, just as I like to be punished, a fact I wasn’t even aware of until I met him. Him smacking my ass as I came on his tongue has me increasing my rhythm, whimpering when I see a drop of moisture glisten at his plump tip.

Groaning, I work on instinct and bend down to lick it off. Saint’s hips jolt off the ground as a guttural moan leaves him. His taste is spicy and sweet, and I want more.

Brushing my hair to one shoulder, I wrap my lips around his c**k and slip him into my mouth gradually. Tears sting my eyes as I try to take him all in, but it’s impossible. I pause, savoring the feel of him.

“Ahгел.” He sighs, his trembling body evidence he’s holding back.

His voice, his taste, the feel of him surrendering, everything about this explodes around me, and I relax my throat, taking more of him in. He hits the back of my throat, and I gag, but when he attempts to pull out, I hold him and encourage him to move with me.

Drawing back, I cover his root with my hand and begin to move my head up and down, using my tongue and mouth, just as he did to me. He grunts and begins to buck his hips, fisting my hair when I increase the tempo.

I sample him, stroking and sucking, the combination leaving me slick once again. Even though he uses my hair as reins, I know it’s to control the speed so he doesn’t go in too deep, too fast. He’s holding back, but I don’t want him to.

I intensify the movements of my lips and hand until he’s groaning, thrusting into my mouth wildly. If possible, he seems to grow larger, and I whimper when a salty sweetness lingers on my tongue.

A string of Russian leaves him, which I can only assume are curse words because they are heavy with lust and a desperate need to come. I hollow my cheeks, squeezing him tightly, and he roars, his hips rocketing off the sand.

His response spurs me on.

I tongue the underside of his shaft while drawing back and suckling his round tip. “f**k, ahгел. I’m going to come.” He attempts to push me away, but it’s music to my ears.

I slide my lips back down over his shaft and bob madly, breathing deeply through my nose as he thrusts his hips. With a piercing growl, he quickly brushes me aside, and I watch in awe as ribbons of come coat his stomach.

His breaths are labored, and his cheeks are flushed as his body ripples with the powerful orgasm I elicited from him. The vision will forever be singed onto my soul.

“f**k,” he pants, sagging into a well-sated mess, squeezing his eyes shut.

Unable to resist, I cautiously trace my finger through his arousal, mesmerized by its texture and what it’s capable of doing—creating life. His eyes pop open as he watches me, breathlessly. I draw my finger to my mouth, and when my tongue darts out for a taste, Saint hums low.

I don’t know why I just did that, but it’s apparent I’m changing, but who am I changing into?

“Come here, ahгел.” Saint drags me down beside him, curling his naked body around mine. As we fall into a deep slumber, the question lingers—who are we both changing into?