SAINT BAPTISTE 2: the soul ties series

Chapter 1

“Another one?”

I leaned up on my elbows and tossed my head back. “Uh huh.”

Soon after, my mouth was filled with the auburn tinted tequila that stung on the way down my throat. I was offered a lemon wedge. Pushed it away the minute I felt it touch my lips. I didn’t want it. Didn’t need it. I didn’t want the liquor diluted. I wanted to taste it. Needed to. Needed to feel... something. Because, the minute I laid back down and their hands were on me again, I felt nothing. All over again. Where were the fireworks? Where were those tingles? Those chills? The excitement? The... everything? Why couldn’t I feel them? I mean, actually feel them?

For a second, I wondered if it could’ve been the liquor throwing my senses off but naw, it wasn’t. Liquor with the right man, always went straight to my pussy. It wasn’t that I couldn’t feel them. I felt them. I felt every single stroke of their calloused hands across my smooth skin. I just.. I couldn’t feel them. Not where it counted. Not the way he made me feel. However, I suffered through it.

Yes. Suffered.

The touching, without feeling... it was repulsive.

Years ago, I would have been thrilled to finally be inside of thee Pandora’s. Shit, I would have been on my knees with three dicks beating against my smiling face the minute we walked into the room. It would have been dick sliding down my throat instead of liquor. Wouldn’t have needed it to feel anything. That was years ago though. I wasn’t that girl anymore. I mean... I thought I was. Walked in feeling like her. Commanded the room, like her. Did what Fun girl Kiki used to do—made niggas drool and succumb with no effort. I had thatextra boost in confidence. That extra umph in my step..

However, the minute I walked off that beautiful elevator the realization of where I was headed hit me and fun girl Kiki left. It didn’t take me long to realize that she was just another mask. A mask I found at the bottom of the liquor I polished off hours prior. I wasn’t in the right space to handle this. I wasn’t ‘her’ anymore.

I needed to end it.

Needed to tell them to stop.

Needed to push them away.

Needed to find him.

But then I remembered...

I wouldn’t have come here if he hadn’t done what he’d done. He... she touched him. She put her mouth in places... on him. He—he gave himself to her... in front of me. I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t stop. Because he’d win, and he couldn’t win. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t show him how much he’d hurt me, even if me proving that meant hurting myself more.

Life didn’t make sense anymore. I didn’t make any sense. Nothing did. I didn’t feel like myself. Sadly, it was because I wasn’t. I was a stranger, watching from the outside. Watching as the life of this poor sad girl spiraled out of control. She was crumbling. Completely. And instead of helping her, I just watched the destruction. Watched as ‘this girl’ did the opposite of everything she wanted to do. Watched as she continued down a very slippery slope of self-destruction, further and further away from the person she wanted to be. Further and further away from the life she really wanted to live.

Vulnerability had never been good for her. It was easier to wear masks. Easier to pretend she was happy. However, the identity of the fun girl was the easiest. Was. Not anymore. Tonight, she realized more than ever that she couldn’t be her anymore. That identity no longer served her. That mask... the slutty, seductive one made up with sexy bright pink ‘come fuck me’ lipstick, and bold makeup was deteriorating. The material, it was chipping away. Wilting. She couldn’t wear it anymore. It broke away the minute the door to the VIP suite she actually wanted to share with him, closed. But do you think they noticed? Of course not. She didn’t even look alive. You think they noticed her crumbling? The way he would have? No. They couldn’t see her. They didn’t look at her the way he did. They were just doing what she told them to do. Fuck her. However, that wasn’t what she really wanted.

Shewanted him to save her.

Shewanted him to grip her by the chin and correct her. But... he didn’t. He... he gave himself... parts of him that belonged to her... to that bitch... in front of her and.... and... made her... made me... do this. Made mecrumble.

“Damn you smell good,” said one of three, with his face buried into the side of my neck. He had the voice of the one who’d fed me liquor. I didn’t know his name. Didn’t know the names of any one of them, honestly. I just picked them.

When we walked into Pandora’s, people did what people always did when I walked into rooms.

Gravitated.

Toward me. Men and women. I was fucking infectious. Men loved me and well, women did too. But women I was always leery of. For good reason. Their attraction was usually based off insecurities. However, one thing I noticed almost immediately about the women of Pandora’s was that they had a certain ‘thing’ about them. That ‘thing’ that made it easy to tolerate a conversation with them. They were free. Sexually liberated and confident. They had the bad bitch aura, too.

Rue, the thick fine ass dark skin bad bitch who blessed me with this suite, especially. I told her I had a one-day pass and twenty minutes later, she came back with a key to a VIP suite and told me to have a fucking ball. When she gave me the key, my first thought was Saint. Sadly. In the back of my mind, somewhere beneath all of the ego, I foolishly hoped he’d get his mind right and fuck me into submission. But he had other plans, apparently. He wanted to play games. Silly, amateur games of checkers. And well, I decided to play chess.

While he foolishly got his dick sucked by a botched body bitch, I walked around Pandora’s and hand-picked three of the finest men by running my hand up the middle of their pants. But see, realistically, I didn’t want to play chess. I didn’t want to play games at all. What I truly needed, only he could provide. But I hated him. I couldn’t tell him I needed him. Couldn’t be soft. Refused to be vulnerable. However, I didn’t have to be vulnerable with him. He could see me. Through me. Soul deep. Saint knew... he knew I needed him. He just... He just didn’t care.

I took a deep breath.

Focus, Kiki.

Closing my eyes, I tried to enjoy the kisses on my neck. His lips were soft. His short, thick beard, scruffy. And he smelled nice. That was a plus. However, the one between my legs annoyed me so got damn bad. The prickly hairs on his five o’clock shadow dragged against the skin of my smooth legs with every kiss he made up them. The other one, he was passionate. Passionate, unrushed, and selfless. He made sure to spend an equal amount of time on both nipples as he gave them soft, delicate, wet kisses.

When the one between my legs ran his hand up my thigh, pushing my mini dress higher than it already was, I sucked in a gust of air and held on to it. My heart raced. Literally pounded against my chest. I needed to leave. Wanted to. But I couldn’t move. However, if I wasn’t pinned to the bed by that paralyzing fear, I still wouldn’t be able to leave. At this point, I was trapped. I’d come too far to tell them to stop, hadn’t I? Not because I cared that much about ‘winning’ some stupid game I never wanted to play to begin with. I couldn’t leave because I invited them here. Whispered freaky shit in their ears, promised them head and toe curling, mind-blowing, orgasms. Told them they could use me, and cum all over the titties they couldn’t stop drooling over. I literally put my pussy on a serving dish for them. Shit... Gift wrapped it for them too, with a nice little bow and all. Just to take it away? Just to tell them to stop?

I couldn’t.

So... I relaxed. Lived through the discomfort and arched my back, leaning toward the one sucking my titties. At least he took his time. At least he knew what the fuck he was doing. If only he could make me feel beyond the surface he would be good enough.

Seconds later, the one at my necked moved. Decided to share my titties with his friend. I didn’t have to look down to know which one he was on because they felt distinctively different.

“Ay, Baptiste. You know the rules man, you can’t be doing this shit.”

I swallowed at the mention of his name and closed my eyes.

That Baptiste had to be my Baptiste, right? How many Baptiste men could there really be at a place like this? Walking the same hall I walked, headed in the direction of the room I was in?

It was him.

Had to be. I felt it. He was coming. Finally. For a second, I thought he’d left. I thought what I’d done had been too much. Thought after seeing me with them, he abandoned me and left me to fend for myself. He could’ve. If he would’ve, I would have had to accept that. But he hadn’t. And my God, I was so grateful.

“Save me,” I whispered, barely moving my lips.

“What was that baby? Taste you?” Asked the one between my legs, slightly slurring over his words.

I didn’t say anything.

In response, I pulled my knees closer together, hoping he’d get the hint. He didn’t. He gripped my thighs and placed kisses on my calves, while his friends continued to attack my nipples. I laid there... frozen, waiting. Hoping... praying that when Saint walked in he saw me. Truly. And this time, he’d choose to save me instead of ignore me the way he had earlier.

At the sound of the brass doorhandle rattling, my heart began to thump heavier against my heaving chest. My breath got caught up in my throat as I peered at the tall, black door, through the small slit in my cracked lids. I gripped the bunched-up sheets beneath me as panic gushed through my entire being, afraid that he wouldn’t see me.

If he walked into the room and did that thing... if he looked at me with those eyes... those, piercing fuckers that saw through the depths of me, I’d be okay with that. I’d—It would be okay. But, I just... I wasn’t sure he’d see me. And that scared me. Because if there was a time that I needed him to see me most, it was now.

I looked down at them and noticed how they just, kept at it. It was almost as if they were in a trance. I had one on each titty, with their eyes closed lazily swirling their thick wet tongues around my nipples. While the one between my legs continued his slow trail of soft kisses up them, inching closer to the inside of my upper thigh.

My heart began to pound. Literally race.

Why...why hadn’t they stopped? Why didn’t they care? Did they not hear what was going on? Did they not hear what I had? The doorknob rattling? The mention of his name? A name that was well-known through Pandora’s? Maybe... Maybe I was hallucinating? Was I tripping? Had I fuckin’ imagined it?

The room started to spin a bit as the multiple shots of tequila began to hit me at once. I was tripping. Losing my grip with reality.

“The fuckin’ key,” Saint demanded, that Haitian accent thick, drenched heavily with anger.

“Ay! This room is occupied!” Yelled the one who’d been on my titties first. “Fuck goin’ on around?—”

Before he could say another word, the door suddenly opened. The bald one stopped the trail of kisses up my thigh and the slithery tongue swiping against my cold nipples came to a halt. Everything stopped and they were on their feet within seconds.

So, I wasn’t imagining things. This... it was real.

Like before, that titty sucker spoke up again. Not only was he passionate, but he was bold too. Five years ago, I would have had a time with him. “Fuck. Baptiste. This you? Shit.”

Saint didn’t say anything.

The minute he stepped into the room, his eyes were on me. When his eyes met mine, there was enough fire behind them to set the entire city ablaze. It sent a shivery chill down my spine; the most feeling I’d gotten in the room all night and he hadn’t laid a fucking finger on me.

Saint continued into the room, gun in hand, exuding intimidation. The tension was heavy. The three of them put their hands up and backed away. However, Saint didn’t give a fuck about them. His eyes were on mine. They hadn’t wavered since they found them. It was as if we were the only two people in the room, the way we were fixed on one another.

When he made it to the side of the bed, he made a few adjustments to his gun, tucked it inside of its holster, and gripped the top of his slacks before crouching beside me. I hadn’t moved. Couldn’t. That fear of going unseen had crippled me. Left me cemented onto the bed, rendered me speechless, too. I couldn’t read him. Not completely, anyway. The only thing I could see was fire. That fire... it was horrifying.

I had never felt so disgusted and exposed in my life. The top of my fuchsia pink, sequin strapless mini dress was pulled completely down. And because I was cemented into the bed, held down by the sheer terror of not being seen I left it like that.

Saint hooked his thumbs underneath the top of the dress and delicately tugged it up. I exhaled a shaky breath, when his thumbs accidentally brushed against my nipples, sending a shiver down my spine, as he swept by them. Tingles shot through me at an instant. It was like my body didn’t respond unless his hands were on me.

He lightly gripped my jaw, tilted my head back and did that thing. The thing that only Saint could do. Looked throughme. Into the depths of me. Tonight, I didn’t shy away from it. I didn’t hide. I didn’t snatch away from his touch. Didn’t put a wall up. Couldn’t if I wanted to, anyway. They crumbled before he walked in. I was open. I prayed he’d be able to see beyond those fiery flames of rage and see me. Truly. Hoped he see her. It. My soul, calling out for him. Begging him to save her. To save me. To save us.

As if he could hear my thoughts, I watched as those horrifying flames were extinguished. He released my jaw and his eyes traveled down the rest of me.

“Padone’m,” He mumbled with his eyes locked on mine as he brushed the pad of his thumb over my slightly parted lips.

That was new. Whatever he said... I’d never heard him say it before. It wasn’t as easy to translate as tét zozo, kaka, or cheri. Whatever it was, he meant it. There was too much passion in his eyes for him not to.

I should have pushed him away. That would have been the logical thing to do. He just got his dick sucked by someone else in front of me. I should have been pissed. Should have slapped him, honestly. But I didn’t. Instead, when he pulled away to stand, I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. When our lips connected, I moaned. And just like that, everything I wanted to feel with them, I felt with him.

I could feel.There were fireworks.There were tingles. There was passion.Excitement existed. I came alive. Shit, we came alive.

Each time his thick, wet tongue slid along mine, it left behind traces of those 1942 shots I watched him toss back an hour ago. 1942 shots he drank like water. The same way I’d drank that auburn-colored tequila ‘what’s-his-name’ fed me a minute ago. I wondered if Saint drank to feel too. Wondered if he felt what I felt. Wondered if I made him feel. Wondered if she made him feel... with those big, saline filled lips wrapped around a dick that belonged to me. Wondered if he felt nothing at all, the same way I felt nothing with three sets of hands on me. Wondered if my hands were the only hands that made him feel, like I could only feel with his on me.

My ego told me yes.

Shit, my ego told me a lot of things. Logical thinking didn’t exist when I was with him.

I was delulu, remember? Especially when we were like this. In sync. Rhythmically kissing, our tongues doing that passionate, sultry dance. His hands gliding across my sweat dampened skin, those strong fingers running up the back of my head. With so much fucking passion that I was honestly tempted to snatch my wig off to feel the pads of them against my scalp. God. He ignited me. Set my soul ablaze.

That’s what Saint muthafuckin’ Baptiste did to me.

No one else could do that. That was why my body didn’t work unless his hands were on me. Big ass hands that knew just where and how to touch me. I loved and hated it at once. The way the floodgates just... opened for him. My pussy was a fucking faucet for him.

No. Not a faucet. There wasn’t a faucet with enough pressure that could compare. Other niggas got the faucet. Saint muthafuckin Baptiste got Niagara Falls. Nah. Not Niagara.

Victoria Falls. Niagara didn’t have a damn thing on Victoria.

He went to pull away. And like before, I gripped the collar of his Tom Ford shirt and pulled him toward me. He resisted and slid his hand from the back of my head to the front of my neck where he softly gripped me and pulled me toward him until our lips met. He always wanted to be in control. Hated when I tried to lead. Even in something as simple as a fucking kiss. He pulled his lips away from mine in the subtlest of ways. And when I advanced forward again, hungry for more of that tequila tainted tongue, he slightly tightened his grip on my neck. Just a tinge. Not too much, but enough for me to get the message. Enough to get me to open my eyes.

It wasn’t until one of the security guards cleared his throat that I remembered we weren’t alone.

“On behalf of Pandora’s, we extend our most sincere apologies for any inconvenience or disappointment this may have caused you. Please grab your things and allow us to escort the three of you to the eleventh floor to enjoy complimentary services of your choice.”

Pandora’s’ damage control was impeccable. Something like this, happening at an establishment as refine as Pandora’s could be detrimental to their reputation. However, I was sure whatever the hell was on the eleventh floor would make up for Saint stealing me away from them.

They walked out and then we were alone. Truly. As alone as we felt with five sets of eyes on us a minute ago. Somehow the tension thickened. Should have lightened. Would’ve expected it to with the extra men out of the room. But... it hadn’t. And Saint’s hand hadn’t left my throat.

“You see now?” He asked as he brushed his thumb along my jawline. His tone was low and rough. Almost flat and emotionless. If I didn’t know him, by the tenor of his voice, I would have assumed he was calm. But I knew he was the furthest thing from it. Saint’s poker face was astonishing but one thing he couldn’t hide from me were those flames. Those flames gave him away every fucking time.

“See what?” I whispered, leaning into his touch as his pensive stare landed on my lips.

“What I’ve been trying to show you,” he replied, as his eyes slowly crept up to meet mine.

Jhene Aiko’s ‘Pussy Fairy’ sultrily wafting over the hidden surround sound speakers faded out, leaving an eerie silence in the room. His question lingered in the thick air as he continued to do that thing. Stare into me. Deep, with flames continuing to grow behind his eyes. It was intimidating. Panic raised from the pit of my stomach and my heart began to pound. Shit. Maybe I should have gotten my ass up and left the room with those big ass security guards.

I tore my eyes away from his and put them on that locked door. I wondered if I’d make it if I tried to run for it. Or if all of the liquor I had tonight would catch up to me. But then, he loosened his grip, and sensually ran his thumb over the side of my neck. I looked away from the door and again, my eyes met his. Those flames were subtle. Fickle. Flickering with uncertainty. The softening of his eyes told me I was safe. In that moment, with his eyes locked on mine and his thumb stroking my racing pulse, I knew I was the safest I’d ever been.

God.

He knew me. Knew just what I needed when I needed it.

Confirmation. Reassurance. Security. Comfort. I didn’t have to say anything. Didn’t have to give him any cues. Just... laid there existing. And he knew. It was as if he stole pieces of me every time he bore into me with those fucking eyes of his. Stole pieces of me and tucked them into a box for safekeeping to untuck for times like this. Moments of fragility. Vulnerable moments. Tiny slithers of time where I was like puddy and could easily melt in his hands. Tonight, on a night that I should have been sturdy and strong, like walls of steel, I wasn’t. I was weak. Couldn’t stand at all, actually. But that was okay, I didn’t need to stand. Didn’t need to make a run for it. Because behind those flickering flames inside of those penetrating brown eyes he used to steal pieces of me with... I stole fragments of him too.

“Yeah, I see,” I whispered, with a lazy smirk.

I was sure we were referencing two different things, but I saw what I needed to see. Clear as fucking day. Behind those feeble, wavering flames I saw a man who didn’t know what the fuck to do.

With himself. With me.

Didn’t know if he wanted to caress me, kiss me, kill me, leave me, or fuck me.

He shook his head and pulled back as an attempt to resist me when he knew got damn well I was irresistible. “You don’t. But?—”

I gripped the collar of his blazer and pulled him harder than before, forcing him on top of me. “I do.”

I immediately wrapped my arms around his neck, locking them there. He tried to pry them a part. I mean, of course, he did... he had to show some resistance. But he didn’t try hard he enough. If Saint really wanted to get away from me, he could. He just, he couldn’t give in to me too easily. I had been such a bad girl, and he was being too nice to me. Too gentle. I didn’t deserve that. I deserved to be punished.

He didn’t deserve me neither.

He deserved to be punished too.

But tonight, there was no room for ego.

No room for pride.

For either of us.

I needed him.

And he needed me, too.

“I see,” I whispered against his lips with a pause before slithering my hand between his legs to grab his hard dick. “And,” Pausing, I pinched my bottom lip between my teeth. “I feel...just. How. Bad. You. Want. To. Fuck. Me.”

He dropped his head with a deep breath, grumbled a few things in that Haitian Creole I loved to hear him speak, and fucking struggledto resist me. Despite how much shit Saint talked, he was weak. Evidence of defeat weighed heavy on his broad shoulders.

“But you can’t just fuck me, right? I don’t deserve it, do I?” I teased, as I slowly caressed his dick through the thin fabric of his slacks. “I’ve been such a bad girl, haven’t I? And bad girls should be punished.” I leaned up a bit and sultrily whispered into his ear. “So, punish me. Punish me and then... fuck this pretty phat pussy. Just the way you want to. How ever you want to. Every hole. Use me. Use them. They’re yours. All of them.” I paused and leaned closer to his ear to make sure my lips brushed up against his earlobe when I whispered, “All of me.”

With tears in my eyes, I begged for the dick. I needed him to give me something. I couldn’t leave Pandora’s wearing the same stains I wore when I walked in. I couldn’t walk out of the door with that... shit... on the surface. Even if that meant fucking a nigga who’d shoved his dick in another bitches mouth right in front of me.

I wore desperation like a fourth layer of skin where Saint Baptiste was concerned.

Tonight, I did.

‘Da nile’is a river in Egypt, ain’t it?

If desperation was the fourth layer, denial was the fifth.

I wore both every got damn day. Not just tonight. It was easier for me to blame desperation on tonight after the day I had. On a day that I needed the ugly shit reburied, after realizing that only he could give me what I needed to bury it. I was pathetic.

I was a lot of things.

More than any of it, I was broken.

And only he could fix me. Back-to-back shots of tequila hadn’t. Three fine ass, big dick men couldn’t. But... Saint could.

Saint was a fucking magician.

I released him and laid flat on my back with my arms stretched out. Legs too. I presented myself to him, as if I was on a platter. Gave him space and opportunity to use me in any way he desired.

He didn’t move. Didn’t say anything either. The tension continued to rise, and I just laid there in silence, arms out, waiting for him to use me.

The sound of skin slapping, guttural moans, and echoes of pleasure from other rooms traveled through the cracks, spilling into our space. However, even that began to dissipate. Soon, there was just silence. The only sound I could hear was the racing of my own heart as we did what we did. Stared at one another. Well... As he did what he did. Stared into me, stealing pieces of me with every passing millisecond. My heart raced with every little piece he took. But... I let him. Because the longer we stared, the more I stole from him too. The more I took, the easier it was for me to extinguish those fleeting flames.

Eventually, they vanished, and he gave me what we needed.

I arched my back and moaned when he aggressively pulled my dress back down and attacked my nipples. Fuck. His mouth was so got damn wet as if he had been salivating. Literally hungry for them. I gripped the back of his neck when he roughly dragged his teeth along the left one, mercilessly tugging on it. It hurt so got damn good.

“Earlier... You told me I was afraid of something. What am I afraid of again, amou?” He asked before biting and pulling again. His tone was... husky. Low, rough, and almost as intimidating as those piercing eyes of his.

Amou.

AmouI could translate as easily as Cheri and the others, too. Love. Had never heard that other stuff. Wondered what that was...

“Padone’m. What does?—”

“Mmh. Mmh. Answer me,” he pressed before tugging on my nipple with his teeth again.

I continued to ignore him. Instead, this time with a moan, hoping that would be good enough to distract him. But it wasn’t. Of course. When his mind was set on something, it was set. Saint pulled his lips away from my titty and roughly slapped it. It stung so got damn good.

“Hm?” He grunted, before pinching my nipple, tugging on it, with his eyes locked on mine. I closed them. He told me to open them. I refused. He tugged harder. I moaned. I was at the edge of cumming, and he hadn’t even touched my fucking pussy yet. “Repeat that shit you said to me over the phone.”

“Sain—”

His hand was between my legs before I could get the last syllable in his name out. Leaning in, he wrapped his freehand around my neck and ran the one between my legs up my inner thigh. When his fingers grazed my bare clit, I inhaled and dug the back of my head deeper into the soft pillow.

Fuck.

He caressed her. Delicately, with the tips of his fingers.

“Mmhmm. You missed me, didn’t you?” He whispered into my ear, steady stroking my clit. I knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t talking to me. He was talking to her. He was always nice to her. Me? Not so much. My pussy got the best treatment. And tonight, I was okay with that. What he didn’t provide emotionally, I was always overcompensated sexually. He couldn’t commit to me, but he committed to her. He gave her everything. Passion. Delicacy. He was always committed to giving her every little thing she needed. And tonight... that was okay. Tonight, I needed it. The rest of me didn’t matter.

He slithered down my body and roughly pulled my legs further apart. I gasped when he rubbed his face against my pussy; the softness of his thick beard against the bare skin felt so got damn good. Saint gripped my thighs and groaned into my pussy before he began to speak against her. His tone was low. So low that if it weren’t for how quiet the room was, I wouldn’t have been able to hear him.

“Mmhmm,” He mumbled, before placing a kiss on my clit. “I missed you too, baby.”

He always missed her.

But, what about me? Did he miss me, too? Before I called him earlier, we hadn’t talked or seen each other for weeks. Had my pussy been the only thing he missed? What about the rest of me? I closed my eyes and exhaled, deciding that there was no room for raw feelings. Not now. Not tonight. They had already been raw enough. I was too close to getting what I needed to miss the opportunity by involving feelings.

He ran his tongue up the slit in my pussy and I gasped at how good it felt. If he missed me or not didn’t matter. At least he missed her. At least he couldn’t resist her.

Again, he grunted, and dug his fingers deeper into my thighs as his grip tightened.

“Tell me...”

That was for me. It was easy for me to decipher between the two. When he spoke to ‘her’ his tone was filled with lust. Compassion. Hunger. With me... it was disdain. Disappointment. Anger. And... pain? Couldn’t have been pain. I could’ve imagined it. I was drunk after all. But pain and I were very well acquainted. I could recognize it anywhere. And tonight, I heard it in his voice. Saw fragments of it hidden behind those fainting flames in his eyes, too.

Our eyes met and like always, his held me captive. I couldn’t look away. Those flames dared me to repeat what I’d said earlier. They urged me to. The words were on the tip of my tongue. But I couldn’t speak. The heaviness of his gaze had rendered me speechless. Nearly breathless. Did he really want me to say it? Was he testing me? What the fuck was this?

“I don’t?—”

“You don’t what? Remember? You said I was afraid of you givin’ my pussy to another nigga,” He interrupted before lowering his eyes between my legs. He licked his lips, leaned forward, and clamped them over my clit. I arched my back as he softly sucked on it. “But you don’t respond to anybody but me. Ain’t that right, beautiful?”

He was talking to my pussy again. With every word, his soft wet lips swiped against my clit and made me shiver. He let go of my thighs and pressed his fingers against the lips of my pussy before separating them. I watched as his eyebrows furrowed before he grunted and went back in.

“Ohhhh,” I moaned, as his tongue swept across my clit.

I shuddered. So got damn good. He was right. She didn’t respond to anybody but him. He was her favorite person. Shit, she liked him more than she liked me. He treated her so got damn good.

“Mmmhmm,” He mumbled before he went back to sucking and licking on me as if my pussy was his favorite popsicle. “You can’t give this pretty lil’ pussy to another nigga because she only wants me.”

He then grabbed my waist, pulled me further down the bed and pushed my legs back before hooking his arms over my thighs to trap me in position. I shivered when he ran his thick wet tongue up the slit of my pussy before softly sucking on my clit. He was right. She didn’t want anybody but him. I hated it but God... I loved it. He knew just how to handle me. Aggressive, but gentle too. Only he could get it just right.

I gasped and kept my eyes on the dark ceiling. He was talking again. About how creamy she was. About how sweet she was and how he owned it. I said nothing. Just laid there with my eyes on the dark ceiling while he stole pieces of my soul with every swipe of his tongue. Saint gripped my ass cheeks, spreading me wider, before he clamped his lips over my clit and sucked on it with the perfect combination of aggression and tenderness. I lost it when he lifted my ass from the bed, and he slipped one of his fingers inside of it.

“Mmmh,” He murmured, as I began to squirt on his tongue. “Good girl.”

I clenched the silk sheets, balling them up in my hands, as he took me on yet another earth shattering, body quivering, squirting orgasm he didn’t shy away from. He kept his face in it. Stayed planted. Moaned. Drank from me. Gripped my thighs. Sucked. Slurped. Dove his tongue deep inside of me. Wanted more. He was greedy. Couldn’t get enough of it. He gripped my waist and pulled me further down the bed, suffocating himself with my pussy. He groaned, moving his head from side to side, licking and sucking until he eventually got exactly what he wanted.

More.

“Mmm! Fucccck!” I yelled. My fucking voice quivered.

Vibrated as that vicious orgasm whirled through my entire body.

Who could do that?

Saint muthafuckin’ Baptiste could.

Saint muthafuckin’ Baptiste could do a lot.

He was a magician, remember? Saint muthafuckin’ Baptiste the got damn magician.

He made me—every part of me—do unimaginable things.

Falling in love, after vowing to never fall in love again, was one.

He pulled back on the aggression with a subtle kiss to my clit, as I began to come down from the greatest orgasm I’d ever had in my entire life. He loosened his grip and gently kissed back and forth between my inner thighs. Once my breathing steadied, I opened my eyes to look down at him. He was between my legs, eyes closed, resting against my thigh, with the same hold on me as before. Tighter. In a way that said he didn’t want to let go.

There was something in the air. It wasn’t tension. It was lighter. However, it held a bit of weight. The kind that made your entire body fill with warmth. I could call it love. I was delulu but there were limits to how delulu I was. Saint Baptiste couldn’t love me. Not just because he was Saint Baptiste but because I was Naoki. I wasn’t the woman men fell in love with. I was the woman they went to when they wanted to have a good time. They fell in love with what I gave them. The sweet, slippery good shit between my legs.

I sucked in a gust of air, and he lifted his head. Those eyes met mine and I tried to look away before he did that thing. Before he could still more pieces of me.

But I couldn’t.

His eyes didn’t hold me prisoner like they always did. I couldn’t look away because of it. That something that lingered in the air. It was in his eyes, too. I tried to look away again. But shit, I couldn’t. I wanted to run so got damn bad, but... I was stuck.

We all but set Pandora’s ablaze just to end up here. Stealing pieces of one another., exchanging wordless, forbidden love you’s. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Who else could give me this? Who else could give me fireworks? No fucking body.

Saint placed a soft kiss on my inner thigh that traveled up the rest of my body. When his lips finally touched mine, we both exhaled, catching each other’s breath. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he gripped the back of my thigh, bending my leg. Our eyes met again and… those wordless I love you’s screamed at me. The words were at the tip of my tongue. Wondered if they dangled off the edge of his too.

It was the liquor.

Had to be the liquor. He couldn’t love me, right? I imagining, wasn’t I. I was tripping. Had to be.But my God if he didn’t, what was it? When I called him a magician, I didn’t tell a lie. It was in his touch. It was in his kisses. He with oozed it. He… made me glow. Every inch of me. From the inside out. That was the simplest way to describe what it was that I felt when he touched me. I felt everything. The tiny creases in the prints on the pads of his rough hands as they glid across my skin with skill. The beating of his racing heart as his chest pressed against mine. The hunger he bit back through every unrushed kiss we shared. Tonight especially.

He was fucking magic.