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FORTY-FIVE

LENNON

“Oh God, Saint… I can’t,” I whine. “ I can’t. ”

He chuckles darkly. “Yes you can, baby. Give me another.”

My God, how does he have this much stamina? It’s obscene.

We’ve spent the entire weekend locked in my bedroom, with him making me come so many times, in so many different positions, I’ve lost count. I’m sore and achy from exertion but in the most delicious way.

I’m addicted to Saint Devereaux, and I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.

His stormy gaze drags down my body in an unhurried perusal, watching as I slide my fingers deeper inside my throbbing pussy.

Looking… but not touching.

Because he wants to watch me bring myself to orgasm.

It’s so hot and something I never thought I’d feel comfortable doing, but he makes me feel brazen and confident in a way I’ve never known.

“Good girl. Rub your greedy little clit. It needs attention, baby,” he rasps.

Even though he’s not once touched me, I somehow feel his eyes on my body, making my skin burn hotter, making the wave of pleasure crest inside of me.

The second I touch my clit, I fall apart, a powerful climax washing through me. My head lolls back, and his name tumbles breathlessly from my lips over and over.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn beautiful, Lennon. Look at you coming apart for me, coating your fingers in your creamy cum.”

I sink into the mattress, unable to move, even as my entire body trembles.

Saint watches me intensely, his gaze slicing through me. When my orgasm finally subsides, I slip my fingers out of me.

He circles my wrist, bringing them to his mouth. “Now, let me taste.”

Even after the orgasm, my clit pulses, and I fight the urge to press my thighs together. My slick flesh is still sensitive and overstimulated.

He wraps his lips around my middle finger and ring finger, and he sucks them all the way into his mouth, tongue laving over my sticky fingers until they’re clean.

Suddenly, I feel his lips moving over my promise ring, his gaze connecting with mine as he slowly sucks it off, never dropping my eyes.

He spits it into his hand with a cocky, sexy smirk.

“Why did you do that?” I mumble, the sound still throaty from my cries.

“Because it’s mine , baby. You chose me , Lennon, and this is me choosing you .”

My mouth falls open, silence filling the room.

Oh my fucking God.

This man just… he just sucked my promise ring off my finger because he’s… because it’s his ?

I’m trying to even wrap my head around that statement, but suddenly, Saint is prowling forward, sealing his mouth over mine, the ring gone, forgotten, possibly never even existed.

The faint taste of me is still lingering on his tongue, and it’s so hot.

If there is one single thing I have discovered in the past week, it’s that there is nothing Saint loves more than to eat me out.

I’ve heard from other girls how selfish their boyfriends are—how they never want to give and only receive—so I wasn’t sure what to expect when it came to this.

But he’s spent the majority of the weekend with his head between my legs.

“Need to be inside you, baby. Right now,” he murmurs with a desperate, frantic edge against my mouth. “Flip.”

The rough command sends a bolt of pleasure charging down my spine.

Obediently, I oblige and flip over onto my stomach. I have no idea how I’ll come again, but the heated look he gives me tells me that I shouldn’t worry.

His palms curve around my hips, and he hauls my ass up. Then, I feel the hot bloom of delicious pain when he smacks my ass, the movement making a gush of wetness pool between my thighs.

Jesus Christ.

His strong, powerful body curls over mine, his lips brushing against my ear. “I’m going to fuck you like I hate you, but it’s only because I know how hard you’ll come, baby.”

That should not be as hot as it is.

It shouldn’t, but it totally is.

I mumble a string of unintelligible noises as he grips my hips hard, his fingertips digging into the soft places as he drags his thick, hard cock through my soaked lips.

“Face down,” he rasps, and I fall forward, pressing my cheek flat against the mattress.

He slaps the head of his cock against my clit, groaning roughly at the sensation, and then he grabs my ass in his hands and spreads me open, cool air hitting my sensitive core.

“Your tight little hole is clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled with my cock, isn’t it, greedy girl? Fuck, that’s hot.”

In a single thrust, he slams inside of me from behind, stealing the breath out of my lungs, my fingers fisting into the sheets below me as he starts to fuck me.

“Oh God,” I whine. “I feel so full…”

It’s never felt like this, so deep, so impossibly filled with him.

Saint’s hips slap against mine in deep, fast, nearly brutal thrusts, fucking me so hard that I’m slowly being inched up the mattress by the force.

“Your pretty little pussy is stretched tight around me, trying to take all of me. But you were fucking made for me, Lennon. There’s no question you were made to be mine.”

His hand slips around my thighs, fingers finding my clit and circling in quick motions that match the time of his thrusts.

“Now, come for me, baby,” he groans. “Come with me as I pump you full of cum.”

It only takes a few more rough swipes of his fingers on my sensitive clit, and I push back against him, an avalanche of pleasure coursing through me as my climax takes me by the throat, robbing me of my breath, making my vision dance behind my eyes.

I hear Saint’s long, guttural groan as a flood of warmth fills me, his cum spilling inside me in thick waves.

It only prolongs my orgasm, sending a flurry of aftershocks coursing through me.

He presses forward as deep as he can possibly go and rotates his hips, balls grinding against my clit like he’s trying to wring out every drop from his body.

“Lennon, baby… fuck. Fuck .”

Once my heartbeat starts to calm and my body feels like a pile of bones, he slowly pulls out of me, and I collapse onto the mattress, my eyes dropping shut in a moment of sheer bliss and exhaustion piled into one.

The bed dips beneath me, and it hits me that I didn’t even feel him leave, but he comes back with a warm, wet rag in his hand, and I peel my eyes open.

Carefully, he spreads my thighs and tenderly drags the warm rag through me, cleaning me. It’s one of my favorite things he does, always taking care of me and giving me the quiet attention that I need after an emotionally charged, intense moment like this.

It means more than he probably even knows.

Once he’s finished, he lies down beside me on the bed. The room around us is mostly silent, only the sound of cicadas clicking through the window.

I feel his strong arm looping around my waist before he hauls me against him, thumb sweeping across the bare skin of my stomach.

It feels peaceful.

Right… to be in his arms.

And I find myself hoping that this never ends.