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Slightly excited about the evidence of my success, I grabbed the base of Saint’s shaft and pulled my hand forward. I traced my mouth’s movements with it, not stopping until my fingers rounded his head every time.

Backward.

Forward.

Backward.

Forward.

“Mmmm. Shit. Rom— shit.”

Backward.

Forward.

Backward.

Forward.

In a split second, my back was against the sheets again. Saint hovered over me. His heavy eyelids sagged with desire. Wonder. Wilderness.

“Fuck you learn that, Mellow?”

I shook my head, unsure of what he was referring to.

“Good. Keep that shit between me and you.”

At the entryway of my garden, I felt a hose.

“Saint–” I swallowed, tensing at the mere thought of pain.

“Shhhhh. Relax, baby.”

I relaxed against him. Loosened my limbs and unclenched my butt cheeks.

“It won’t feel good. It won’t feel good at all, but I prom–”

Before he finished his sentence, he pushed into me. The sharp pain shortened me two breaths. I searched for oxygen. None was available.

“Urrrrrrrrrrggggggghhh–” I gasped, feeling my entire body catch fire.

“Mellow,” Saint groaned, stiffening completely.

He was regretful of his decision. Of his entry. Of his invasion.

“Fuck,” he grunted.

His chastisement was saddening. Alarming, even. He began to pull back, fully prepared to dislodge himself. I wrapped my hands around his wrist as my eyes blurred with tears.

“Focus on me,” I begged, feeling the tears run down the sides of my face, “Look at me, Saint.”

My voice was barely above a whisper when I loosened my grip on his wrists and placed my hands on his cheeks. I pulled him closer, pressing my lips against his and my eyelids together.

“Please–”

“Rom–”

“I want this,” I reminded him. “I need this.”

He nodded. Hastily, he slammed his lips against mine. My tooth nipped the skin, causing my bottom lip to bleed instantly. The pain lingered, making the pain between my legs less prominent. Less consuming.

In.

Out.

Saint inhaled my blood. It rested on his tastebuds. Slid down his throat. Mingled with the contents of his stomach. He was officially mine. I’d marked him. Sealed our union with blood.

When our lips disconnected, his made a home next to my ear. Mine next to his. My hands rounded his neck. Everything was changing inside of me. Around me. For me.

“Mmmm.”

In.

Out.

As the pain subsided, I discovered pleasure as the replacement.

“You feel so fucking good, Mellow,” Saint moaned in my ear. “Fuck, baby.”

“Uhhhhh–”

His strokes were slow and fluid. My lubrication made his attempts feel effortless.

“Yessssss.”

I grabbed his face and brought him back to my lips. I pushed into his mouth, silently pleading for the warmth of his saliva and tongue.

“Mmmmmm. Mmmmmm,” I groaned into the hollowness of him.

In.

Out.

“Shiiiit,” Saint mumbled. “Shit.”

His strokes grew closer in delivery. I could feel him penetrating me so precisely, ending somewhere in my stomach. My body was engulfed in flames.

I lowered my hands to his arms and ran them up and down. His veins protruded. His elbows were locked. He was struggling to keep himself together.

“Mellow–”

In.

Out.

“Saint,” I whimpered into his mouth.

“I ca– I can’t– I don’t wanna pull out,” he confessed.

“Then doooooooon— uhhhh.”

His wrist flexed, helping to get his hands underneath me. He hugged my body, dancing around my mouth with his tongue. An ocean full of tidal waves crashed into my shore. Overwhelmed and completely undone, simultaneously, I felt a quiver in my belly.

In.

Out.

Saint peeled his chest from mine. Cool air filled the space between us, hardening my nipples. They stung from their rigidness. Sensitive to the touch, I shuddered as his fingers wrapped around the right one.

In.

Out.

His spine arched and his body contorted for his mouth to meet the round pebble. His breath against my skin was like a silk blanket cast over my entire body.

“Uhhhh.”

He took me into his mouth.

In.

Out.

“Sai– Saint–”

Like a contortionist, his freehand slid between us.

His thumb pressed my sensitivity button.

I gasped in disbelief at the overstimulation I was subjected to.

It was beautiful. It was heightening. It was fleeting.

And, it was good. I chased the high he was intending for me to have, rocking my hips against him.

In.

Out.

He was massive. He pushed into my walls, separating them each time they tried reconnecting. He parted my pussy like the Red Sea. From my broken hymen and flood gates opening, I’m sure that’s exactly where Saint assumed he was.

“Mmmm. Mmmmm– Uhhhhhh.”

His name signified his entitlement. Saint . He was far from it, and so was I. Still, I knew he deserved to be there. To be here. He was next to Godly in my book. Though it wasn’t the bible, it was my life’s log. I’d mark him down as the second man to walk across waters. My waters .

In.

Out .

“Plea— please .”

“Goddamn, baby.” Saint’s deep grunts were sending me to new heights.

My stomach and chest caved simultaneously. The knots doubled as my body numbed all over. I reached the pointe of no return. I was hoisted all the way in the air. Not physically.

Mentally.

Emotionally.

Sexually.

Intimately.

My soul climbed out of my body and touched the ceiling. Saint’s was right there next to mine.

“Fuck, baby, I’m cumming. I’m cumming.”

***

Water cascaded down our bodies as we stood underneath the showerhead. No words. No nothing. Just the swaying of our bodies from one side to the other. My head rested on Saint’s chest. His arms were wrapped around my waist, holding me closer.

Chest to back .

The tunes from my new playlist played softly in the background. This moment was enough for me. It was rich. It was warm. It was comforting. It was affirming. It was quiet. It was loud. It was still. It was slow. It was grounding.

“How do you feel, Mellow?”

“Comfortable,” I admitted.

Saint rubbed his hand up my stomach, stopping at my neck. He wrapped his fingers around and pushed my chin upward with the back of his hand. I opened for him, welcoming him inside my mouth.

Deeply.

Hungrily.

Relentlessly.

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“The gift. It’s the best gift I’ve ever received. I won’t ever forget it.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I can’t.”

He kissed me. His freehand lifted my backside from below. Saint touched me gently, analyzing my body and making sure that comfort coated me.

“Does it hurt?” He asked.

I shook my head. “No, but I can feel– I know you’ve been there.”

“Expected,” he said before plunging his tongue into my mouth again.

“Uh–” I gasped as he entered me.

“Fuck,” he groaned, freeing my lips. “Fuck you feel so good.”

With his hand around my neck, his mouth on mine, and the water washing away our sins, Saint took me in the shower.

And, then, in the bed just as I began to close my eyes.

And, then, in the morning, when I reopened them.

And, then, in my foyer as he dropped me off.

And, then, in his bed after his game.

And, then, in his kitchen before he took off for a 3-day away run because they’d advanced in the playoffs.