Page 9

“Fuck, Miyori ,” I growled, my voice low and rough, strained from need. “You’re driving me fucking crazy with your mouth.” My head was swimming, my vision tunneling. Every nerve in my body was tuned to her lips, her tongue.

My head dropped back with a groan, my fingers tangling in her hair instinctively. Fuck, her mouth was warm—wet—perfect. Her tongue swirled over the head, teasingly, and I couldn’t help the way my hips jerked up to meet her mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” I panted. “Take it all, Lil Saint.”

She moaned around me, the vibrations shot straight up my spine. I felt my cock throb against her tongue, growing even harder with every suck. Her nails dug into my thighs, anchoring me as she took me deeper. I nearly lost it right there.

“Fuck, Miyori , you’re so fucking good at this,” I gasped. I could barely breathe. Her lips were stretched around my shaft, her throat worked against the head of my dick. She gagged, and her mouth got wetter. "Fucking hell." I was losing control—fast.

She looked up at me, her big eyes gleaming with something wicked, something powerful. And damn if I didn’t love it. She knew exactly what she was doing to me.

My thighs tensed. I could feel it coming, the build tightening in my gut, the heat rising too fast.

“Lil Saint , I’m gonna cum,” I warned, voice barely steady, my fingers curling tighter in her hair. She had it loose today, in a wild curly afro. I tried hard not to snatch the strands.

She didn’t stop. She went harder—faster—her tongue was relentless, her lips tight, She sucked me like she hungered. I couldn’t hold back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I shouted, my hips jerking up one last time as I spilled into her mouth. My whole body trembled, muscles locking, breath caught in my throat. She swallowed everything—every fucking drop—and then licked me clean.

When she finally pulled away, her lips were swollen, her dark plum lipstick smeared. She looked like a fucking masterpiece—filthy, nasty, and proud of it.

“Did you enjoy that?” she asked, smirking.

I couldn’t even speak. I just nodded, chest heaving, still trying to recover from the way she completely wrecked me.

She climbed onto the sofa. I pulled her into me.

“You weren’t home when I got here,” I said when I caught my breath. I had wanted to ask her why when she first got home, but her lips had been a distraction and seeing them wrapped around my dick had taken precedence.

She blinked, something close to annoyance flashing in her eyes. “The nurse who was supposed to replace me was late.”

“You could’ve texted.”

“I didn’t think you were coming tonight.”

“You could have texted me,” I repeated myself, which I hated doing—but would for her.

She rolled her eyes.

“You need to quit that job,” I said.

She snatched her head back like I’d hit her. “Excuse me?”

“You’re overworked. You don’t like saving people anymore. I don’t like that so much of your time is occupied. Stay home. I’ll cover everything.”

She laughed once, softly. “Oh, you’ll cover everything?”

“Yes.”

“And what do I do while you’re off playing mob boss and playing husband at your actual home?”

My eyes narrowed. I hated when she reminded me of the reality of our situation. “You rest. You cook. You wait for me.”

She was quiet for a moment.

She frowned. “I don’t know.”

Her phone rang before I could respond, her sister’s name flashing on the screen. She was calling from the rehab.

“Hey, Maya,” she answered quickly, and I resisted the urge to snatch it from her hand and hang up.

I watched her whole face shift into something softer, more open—and I hated it.

It was irrational. I knew that. Jealousy this deep made no fucking sense.

But I didn’t care.

I didn’t want her smiling like that for anyone but me. Not her sister. Not her friends. Not a fucking soul. I looked away.

Her voice dropped into that big-sister tone she used whenever Maya called. I tucked my suddenly softeningdick back into my boxers.

“No, no, you’re doing great. I’m proud of you. Eight months clean is huge. ”

She laughed. “I’ll send the candles tomorrow.”

I leaned into the sofa and tuned her out.

When she hung up, she turned toward me.

“What? Why do you look ready to kill someone?” she asked.

I couldn’t tell her the truth. That I was jealous of her sister. Because if I told her, she’d think I was crazy. She’d run.

And if she ran, she’d force me to chase her.

And when I caught her, I wouldn’t be kind.

I pushed up off the couch, jaw tight. “Quit your job,” I nearly growled, heading down the hall toward the guest bedroom in the three-bedroom condo I’d bought her.

She didn’t say anything, but I imagined she had a look of shock on her face.

I didn’t turn to check.