Chapter 12 Amberly
AMBERLY
My mind and body screamed at me to stop.
To halt. To fight, because this wasn’t good.
Because it would hurt. But my heart told me to keep going.
I’d dreamt of Saint for years in those molded beds.
Those dusty hotel rooms. My mind somehow, in its unconscious state, kept reminding me that sex was glorious.
That sex didn’t hurt. That sex wasn’t from the Devil, and wasn’t used as a weapon to punish disobedient children like my parents always taught me.
I trembled as my shorts fell to the ground.
I shivered as Saint’s lips fell against my ankle.
My eyes fluttered open and I watched him as he kissed up my leg.
I watched as goosebumps prickled my skin.
I watched as his eyes found mine.
“Oh,” I breathed.
“Is this okay?” Saint murmured.
I nodded quickly and his eyes closed. His hands found my hips, and the entirety of his palms engulfed them.
My head fell back into the cushions of the couch as his breath panted against my pussy.
It was warm. It made my body shiver. And as his fingertips pulled my damp panties off to the side, I arched into his tongue when it fell against my clit.
“Shit,” I hissed.
I reached for his hair, fisting it as I pulled him closer.
This didn’t hurt one bit. This felt amazing.
Like my first time did with him. His hands meandered around my body, massaging my breasts and stroking along my stomach.
He quickly slid my thighs over his shoulders, opening me up as the couch cradled me within its cloud-like grip.
I rolled against his lips. His stubble tickled my pussy folds.
I hadn’t felt this good in years and something quickly tightened in my gut.
“What—I—Saint—I’m—I’m gonna—”
My body locked out and my thighs fell against his cheeks.
My hands shook in his hair as I held tightly onto him, trembling for dear life.
His tongue flicked my clit effortlessly.
My body spiraled into an endless, beautiful abyss.
And as the foggy haze lifted from my mind, I figured that was it.
That he’d want me to return the favor now.
Except, he didn’t stop.
“Saint. Saint. Saint,” I gasped.
Something breached my entrance and I jumped. I shoved myself back into the cushions and my eyes fell open. I gazed down at him, feeling him stop as he looked up at me with those ice blue eyes of his.
“No-no-no-no, don’t stop,” I begged.
He grinned as I watched his finger sink into me.
Oh, it was just him. And his touch ignited a fire in my gut.
I watched him pump his finger once. Twice.
Three times, before he added another. My jaw unhinged in silent pleasure as his tongue fell back to my pussy.
He pressed deeply into my clit, stroking my wet walls with his fingertips as I bucked ravenously against him.
And before I knew it, that tightening sensation happened again.
“Oh—oh my, gosh—Saint—it’s—you—I—”
“Whenever you’re ready, beautiful,” he murmured.
“Shit,” I choked out.
I spiraled again. Stars burst in my vision as my toes curled against his back. My juices dripping down my ass crack, creating a mess underneath me. But I didn’t care. The only thing I cared about was getting Saint closer. Was feeling more of him.
Was exploring his body for the first time again.
His fingers slowly slid from between my legs and his tongue slowed its ministrations.
I gasped for air, sinking back into the couch as my legs fell limp around his shoulders.
He massaged me. His hands softly massaged my thighs as he pulled away from me, allowing my legs to fall closed.
And even though I wanted to pull him back to me, I couldn't move.
I felt too good to move.
“How’s this feel?” he asked.
I nodded slowly, unable to speak as his hands worked their magic.
He massaged my thighs, working his way down my calves before coming to my feet.
I moaned out into the room as tears crested my eyes.
It’d been so long since I’d felt… good. Just genuinely good.
And here I was, with a man I hadn’t gotten off my mind in years, and he was massaging me.
Paying me attention. Treating me with kindness instead of hatred. Respect, instead of control.
“Thank you so much,” I whispered.
My voice hiccupped and he slowly dropped my feet.
He scooped me up, and away we went. Back down a hallway before we entered into a room.
I tucked my head underneath his chin as a door closed behind us, and already I felt tired.
Worn. Haggard, but in a good way. I sighed as he settled me down onto a bed, then pulled the covers over me.
“Don’t go,” I said softly.
“I’m not. I promise,” he murmured.
I heard the sounds of clothes falling to the ground before the covers beside me moved.
And when I felt his chiseled muscles fall against my back, tears rushed down my face.
I turned around and buried myself in him.
In the warmth. In the strength. In the thickness of his muscles and the taut pull of his skin.
He wrapped his massive arms around me, and I sighed with relief.
I allowed the tears to fall as he stroked my hair, delicately avoiding the bald patches I had underneath my hair.
He kissed the top of my head, trying to tell me it’d all be okay now. That I was safe. That he wouldn't let me go unless I wanted him to.
And I started wondering if I could tell Saint what really happened to me. What was really going on.
What I really needed his help with, if he was willing to help.
“Please, tell me what happened to you. I—”
I looked up into his eyes, watching his dance between mine. He was so eager. So curious. So… worried. At least, I thought that was worry in his eyes. I hadn’t seen that look in someone’s face in so long, though, I honestly wasn’t sure.
You can’t tell him everything. He’ll hate you for it.
“I needed the money, Saint,” I whispered.
He paused. “Why?”
“Because my parents kicked me out.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why would they do something like that?”
“I just—started becoming rebellious. Doing things they didn’t want me doing. Engaging in things they didn’t want me engaging in. My grades slipped. Going to church and running me through the ringer of our pastor didn’t help at all. Only made things worse.”
I watched him sniff out what was a lie and what was truth like a damn dog before he nodded. I knew he knew I was lying. At least, partially. But I couldn't tell him the whole truth. He’d feel like an asshole. Like all this was his fault.
He’d probably think I was a bad mother, too.
“Did they just snatch you off the street, then?” Saint asked.
My eyes fell to his chest. “I met a man named Vlad. And he was nice, at first. Treated me well. But, you know, things don’t last like that. Abuse crept in. Manipulation tactics.”
“Did he force you to work on the streets like this?”
I nodded slowly, unable to look him in the face. “Yes.”
He vibrated with fury. “Why didn’t you ever contact me, Amberly? I could’ve helped you.”
I scoffed. “After my parents kicked me out, you were the last thing on my mind. I mean, no offense, but I was kind of trying to figure out how to sleep in dumpsters without smelling like one.”
He crooked his finger underneath my chin and pulled my gaze up to meet his.
“Which is why you should’ve come back to school. Told me what happened,” he said.
“After stealing glances at you in class and screwing around with you once? I mean, it wasn’t like we were exactly friends back in high school.”
He winced, and I knew my words had hurt him.
“I’m sorry, I just—”
“I get it. It’s okay,” he said.
His finger fell away from my chin and I wished with all my might I could take back my fucking words.
“Saint, I’m sorry,” I said.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re right,” he said.
“I wish I wasn’t.”
“Me, too.”
His hand slid down my body before taking up camp against my waist. And as I closed my eyes, I drew in a deep breath.
“I mean, it just would’ve been awkward, right? Coming up to you, smelling like garbage, telling you I needed your help?” I asked.
“Did you think I wouldn't have helped?” Saint asked.
I shrugged. “I don't know. I’d just been kicked out of my home by the two people who were supposed to love me unconditionally. That kinda fucks with a girl.”
He snickered. “Cursing. It suits you.”
I giggled. “I’m glad you approve.”
He paused. “So, why didn’t you come back to school and tell someone what happened? Why just disappear?”
I shook my head. “You wouldn’t understand. I can’t—”
“I’ve understood so far. What’s a little more?”
“You know what happened, and that’s that.”
“My parents kicked me out too, you know.”
My eyes shot up to his. “What?”
He nodded slowly. “I come from an ultra-religious background, like you. My mother had me in confession more times as a kid than I care to count. They saw a hickie you left behind on my neck and threw me right out onto the street. If there’s anyone on this planet that would understand your story, Amberly, it’s me. ”
I paused. “I got you thrown out?”
He shook his head. “No, you didn’t. My parent’s ultra-conservative ways got me thrown out.
Especially after rebelling so hard during my teenage years.
I know you’re lying about your rebellion, though.
You were the sweetest, kindest, most innocent girl back in high school.
I don’t know what you’re hiding, but know I’m here once you want to talk about it. ”
“My parents found your hickie, too,” I whispered.
He cupped my cheek, and I felt all the love, sympathy, and compassion in the world bleed from his skin to mine.
“I’m sorry for all you went through because of me,” he murmured.
I shook my head quickly. “Just like it wasn’t because of me that you got kicked out, it’s not because of you that I got kicked out. Or that my parents didn’t take me back.”
He paused. “Wait, you tried to go back?”
Shit. Stop running your fucking mouth, Amberly.
“That’s why I didn’t come back to school.
They threw me out over Christmas break, and I tried coming back to them.
But when they didn’t take me back, I had to go seek shelter for the winter storms. There was no school at the time.
Just homeless shelters and women’s shelters I could take advantage of during the harsh temperatures,” I said.
Though, I spoke it a little too quickly.
Saint stared at me for a long time, and I cowered underneath his gaze.
But when I attempted to pull away, he pulled me back to him.
He wrapped me up in his arms and pulled the covers over us, tucking us in as we shared the same pillow.
His eyes danced between mine as he tried to read me.
Tried to squeeze out what I hadn’t told him yet.
But he didn’t toss anymore questions my way.
“When you’re ready to talk more, I’m here, okay?” he asked.
I nodded softly. “Okay.”
“Just stay the night tonight, and in the morning, I’ll take you anywhere you want—or need—to go. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Good. Now, get some sleep.”
And as I slipped off into an effortless slumber, I had my first nightmare-free night in six and a half years.