“In case you missed it, I’m willing to have sex with you,” I tell him, flat-out pushing my shyness aside.
He laughs softly, slowly setting the wine aside.
I start for him in anger. “Saint! I hate you! I am throwing myself at you here! At least fucking catch—”
He yanks me down on him and presses his mouth to mine. “Shh. I think I like you mad.” Then he sweeps his tongue into my mouth. He pulls me over him, adjusting me with his hands on my ass. He sucks on my tongue, and the low sound he makes along with his greedy sucks give me the most exhilarating, delicious sensations I’ve ever felt.
“You do want me,” I breathe.
He lifts me up in his arms as if I weigh nothing, and I hang on with my limbs around him as he carries me to his room. He lowers me down on the bed and I sink into all that softness. Then he edges back, his breathing as ragged as mine. His eyes are green lava. All the pent-up desire of the past weeks is about to explode inside me.
“Malcolm,” I beg as I pull open his shirt and pop his buttons free. He stands at the edge of the bed and lets me get on my knees and push it off his chest. Then he quickly shrugs it off his shoulders and lets it fall while I run my fingers up the grooves of his abs, his flat chest, pressing my lips wherever they fall. I manage to free his belt and throw it aside too. He pushes my hair behind my forehead, and I ease back on the bed, locking my hands on his nape so that he has no choice but to follow me down. He sweeps his head down and his lips are hot, tasting my mouth as he slides his hand up the side of my body. His mouth goes downward as his hands go upward.
He nips at my breasts and uses one hand to unhook my bra, his breath hot on my skin and his tongue wet and warm.
“God, you did that with one hand?” I gasp.
I feel his smile against my skin as he reaches between us and rubs one nipple with the pad of his thumb. And then his smile is gone and so is mine, our breathing starting to change as the air between us heats up.
My head rolls a little on the bed as he licks one nipple and then the other, waves and waves of pleasure rolling through me.
“Dibs,” he says as he runs his tongue down my navel. Its soft, wet strokes tickle me as it goes into my belly button. I laugh a little, then moan when he goes higher to lick my nipple again. Then he’s tugging my panties down my legs. His eyes go even darker when he pushes my thighs apart and visually drinks in my wet folds. I stay there, memorizing the raw need on his face as he takes me in, my breasts heaving, my * swollen, my hair spread behind me.
“Relax,” he says when I try to close my legs as he slides his hand up my thigh. “Relax,” he says again as he pushes his middle finger inside me. It feels so good I almost leap off the bed, but instead I arch and let a moan of ecstasy escape me.
“Don’t be shy with me, I want to look at you. I want to hear you let go,” he murmurs huskily in my ear as he rubs his finger inside me and then sucks one nipple into his mouth. Pleasure shivers through me.
He smiles, coos down at me, and caresses my * with his middle finger once more. Slick sounds mingle with my breaths as he eases his finger into me. “So beautiful, I can’t wait to be in here.”
He rubs little circles over my clitoris with the pad of his thumb, and my hips start rocking up to his touch.
Catching my lower lip with my top teeth, I look at the bulge under his slacks. I want it so bad, in my hands, inside me, he’s so beautiful. I want to go up on my knees and pull him out, see and touch him, lean and kiss the tip, then open my mouth, taking everything I can, the whole shaft. I want him to groan, I want him to never forget me.
But the arousal Saint stokes in me is so powerful, I’m nearly paralyzed in sensations, shivering.
His eyes are a green no living plant can compete with. He kisses my breasts, suckles me, sucks me. He pets and rubs my clit, the pleasure out of this world. I come quickly on his fingers. He holds me in his hand. “God, look at you go off for me,” he rasps. “You’re beautiful—do you know how beautiful you are?”
“I feel beautiful right now.”
When he reaches for his slacks, I whisper something encouraging like “please”—god, I’m so unoriginal. But I can’t think. I’m throbbing with need, desperate for him to fill me.
The frustration of all these nights and days, the knowledge that this is only a stolen moment, temporary, only makes me ache for it more.
He tugs the zipper of his slacks downward, and I’m in complete museum-quality silence. He looks like he works out every day of the week, his chest ripped, tanned, gloriously defined and perfectly shaped, muscles rippling with every yank. A sound of need leaves me as he pulls down his slacks and I get to see him. A storm of desire racks me as he comes closer. His cock is bigger than anything I imagined. I lick my lips, anxious, my eyes running up his length, up to the swollen head and the glistening drop of semen at the tip.