Page 31

THIRTY-ONE

LENNON

“Why do you have to ruin everything with your mouth?” I groan as I reach up and splay my palms along his chest to push him away from me, but I don’t get very far because he captures my wrist, circling it with his massive hand and keeping it there.

I’m all too aware that he’s naked from the waist up, his broad chest hard and unyielding beneath me, his skin warm and still slightly damp from his shower.

That tiny, flimsy towel knotted at his waist is the only thing keeping him from being fully naked while he’s nearly flush against me.

I suck in a staggering breath, willing my heart to calm as it pounds wildly in my chest.

God, what am I even doing right now?

I’ve thought the same thing a hundred times since I made the decision to come here.

His chuckle dusts my lips, unfortunately forcing me to squeeze my thighs together because my body is a traitor, and the dull throb between them is only intensifying with each passing second.

How is it possible that he’s this much of a dick, and yet somehow, I still want him to do the dirtiest things to me?

“You haven’t even begun to see the things I can do with my mouth.”

Oh my God.

Before I can even form a rational thought to respond, he adds, “But if you ask nicely, maybe I’ll show you.”

I can feel every syllable as he speaks directly in my clit, pulsing in a type of desperate anticipation that I’ve never experienced before.

Throbbing in sync with my heartbeat.

The furthest I’ve ever gone was with Chandler, and that was… not very far. Over-the-clothes rubbing that was honestly uncomfortable and not at all memorable.

But here I am, ready to throw myself at a guy that I dislike. Strongly.

I somehow manage to clear the fog surrounding my brain for a single moment of clarity. “O-okay.” My voice breaks slightly, a combination of want and a heavy dose of nerves. I twirl my ring around my finger as I add, “But no sex. I’m… It’s off the table.”

His thick brow arches, the smooth space between them furrowing. “But… everything else is on it?”

I nod. “I’m… inexperienced.”

“Yeah? Me too.” The corner of his lip pulls up in a smug smirk, and I roll my eyes.

I’m fairly certain he’s written the book on casual hookups.

“Shut up. I’m serious. I’m… a virgin. And I haven’t really done anything… at all. But I’m okay with everything but sex. I’m just not ready for that yet.”

After a pause, he nods, his gaze dropping to my lips when I press them together, and only then do I realize that I’m still touching him, my palms still pressed against his hard, naked chest.

“I can’t give you gentle and sweet. Not built like th?—”

“I don’t want that. Just because I’m inexperienced doesn’t mean I need to be handled like I’m going to break. I know how to ask for what I want. I think you know that by now.”

I see surprise cross his face before it morphs, changes right before my eyes into something… hungry, a dark expression passing over his face.

With that look, I expect him to kiss me or touch me… something, but instead, he drops his hand from the wall and turns, walking away, the defined muscles along his back rippling with each step.

What?

I’m just about to ask if he’s already changed his mind when he saunters over to the bench and sinks down, arms stretching wide along the back of it like a king taking his throne.

He spreads his legs and plants his feet, eyes pinning me with a look that compels me.

With a jerk of his head, he calls me to him without saying a single word.

Those dark, stormy irises of his eyes seem to burn as they slowly travel down my body, tracking each step I take toward him.

Despite the tremble in my legs, I continue across the locker room until I stop directly in front of where he sits.

He hasn’t even touched me, and yet my body feels like it’s on fire. Untamed flames lick every inch of my skin.

Anticipation coils tight inside of me, pent-up need, desperation for more of what I felt the last time we were together.

Like an addiction that only he can feed.

I can hardly remain still while waiting for him to move.

Speak.

Do something.

Anything.

Finally, when my heart feels like it’s going to launch out of my chest, he leans forward and slides his big, rough palms along the back of my thighs until they’re curved just beneath where my skirt ends.

Torturously slow, he inches them higher, disappearing beneath the fabric and causing my breath to hitch, all while holding my eyes so intensely that I nearly cave from the weight of it.

His thumbs sweep along the bare skin on the back of my thighs, dangerously close to the spot where my ass curves.

I fight back the urge to shiver.

In one swift motion, he lifts me and places me in his lap, my legs falling open to fit around his hips, his mouth hovering over mine.

It feels like an eternity passes as I wait, and he remains rooted in place.

“Are you going to kiss me or not, Satan?”

His lip twitches as he leans forward and gently drags his nose along mine, lips ghosting so close that I can almost taste them, but still… he doesn’t kiss me.

God, the teasing, hands everywhere but where I’m aching for him… It’s maddening.

I’m burning up.

Then he lunges, his mouth colliding with mine and stealing the breath from my lungs.

My hands fly to his hair, fingers tangling in the inky strands.

He teases the seam of my lips, not asking, commanding me to open for him, and obediently, I do.

He swallows down every whimper, every moan, stroking my tongue as his hands find my ass, sliding higher and higher along my back until he’s pulling me flush with every hard inch of him.

My nipples are pebbled and taut, pressing almost painfully against my sports bra. Every brush against the fabric feels like it’s the catalyst for a detonation inside of me.

Saint tears his mouth from mine and leans back, chest slightly heaving. “Take it off.” His eyes drop to my shirt.

God, did he feel them through my shirt?

“Now, Lennon.”

I sit back slightly, reaching for the hem of my cropped top and slowly dragging it over my head, tossing it somewhere behind me. I’ve never been particularly self-conscious about my body, but under his molten stare, my confidence slightly falters.

That is until I watch his throat bob as a rough swallow slides down it, and then his eyes move down to my chest, flaring. His tongue darts out, and he licks his lips.

Jesus, having a guy look at you like… that.

It makes me feel powerful.

And now, I’m even more thankful that I wore my favorite bra today, bloodred lace that clearly he’s a fan of. Red always makes me look good since it’s such a stark contrast against my pale skin.

“I want you to use me to make yourself come.” His low, guttural words send sparks coursing through my veins.

I pause for a moment because I’m not entirely sure how to admit this without dying of embarrassment. Warmth creeps up my cheeks, and his brows cinch together when he notices.

Exhaling, I let the words escape out with it. “I… don’t know how.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I don’t know how to make myself come… because I’ve never had an orgasm.”

I feel his entire body stiffen slightly, almost indecipherably, but it’s there. Something dark passes over his face, silence stretching around us until I can’t even take another second.

“God, say something .”

Finally, he speaks. “With someone else or… ever?”

“Ever,” I say. “I mean, I have tried by myself, but…” I trail off, wishing for the floor to suddenly open up and swallow me whole.

I glance down at my lap, then feel his finger tipping my chin up, forcing my gaze back to him.

“I just can’t. It just doesn’t happen. I’m pretty sure I’m just one of those girls who just… can’t.”

“Bullshit.”

Before I can even ask what that’s supposed to mean, he leans forward and slides his hand into my hair, palm curving around my nape, and pulls my mouth down to meet his, stealing the words altogether.

He sucks my tongue, kissing me like I’m the last breath he’ll have on this earth, until I’m a panting, writhing mess.

“Just like that,” he murmurs when he pulls his mouth away, staring down at me. I’ve been so caught up in the kiss that I didn’t even realize that I’ve been rocking myself back and forth, chasing friction over his erection.

Heat ripples through me when I feel how hard he is beneath me. My God… he’s huge.

Why am I not at all surprised that the man is walking around with that in his pants?

I roll my bottom lip between my teeth, pulling it into my mouth.

The fabric of my leotard is thin, leaving not much of a barrier between us with him still only in the flimsy towel, so each time my hips rock, I feel the head of his dick rubbing against my swollen clit.

God, it feels so good.

Saint feels so fucking good.

I hate it at the very same time that I’m feral over it.

The strangest combination, and still, I’m chasing the high as a result of it.

Saint’s hooded gaze moves over my face as if he’s cataloging every movement, every breath, and I’m not sure what’s hotter… using him or the way he’s watching as I do.