Chapter twenty one
Aria
Saint wasn’t stupid. He knew I had been up to something. He had me sitting in his office with him, calling himself watching me after he found me in the maze. That was six hours ago. He’d made phone calls, read files. My skin felt tight under his scrutiny, but I wasn’t about to show it. I just didn’t need him searching that maze.
He was sitting behind his desk with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a file in the other.
I shifted in my seat—a settee next to a wall full of books—pretending to read Anna Karenina . His head rose in my direction, eyes narrowing slightly.
“Are you ready to talk about what you were doing in the maze?”
“I was just walking, Grim.”
His jaw clenched at the use of one of my many nicknames for him. I wanted to laugh, but that would piss him off further.
I needed a distraction. Something big enough to throw him off his game. I knew his weakness. His eyes had already strayed from my face to my tits, and then moved up and lingered on my mouth. He was mad, but he wanted to touch me.
I was willing to exploit his lust to get him to move the fuck on.
I stood and walked around the desk, my hips swaying just enough to catch his attention. His eyes followed me, dark and unreadable, but I saw the way his jaw tightened, the way his grip on the glass flexed.
I slid between him and the desk, dropping down to my knees in front of him, my hands trailing up his thighs. He didn’t stop me, but he didn’t encourage me either. He just watched me, expression carefully neutral, like he was waiting to see what I’d do next.
I lifted his shirt and brushed my lips against his abs before reaching the band of his joggers, tugging them down. No boxers. What was with him and his dislike for underwear?
He let me pull his dick out. He was already hard, and hot to the touch. A drop of precum oozed from the tip.
He ran two fingers slowly along my jawline.
“What are you doing?”
I raised my eyes to meet his. They were damn near lolling shut from lust. I stroked his shaft once, from root to tip.
“You want me to stop?” I dragged my tongue across the head.
“N-no…” He stuttered, and that shit sent a thrill through me. My pussy started getting wet.
I was officially into this.
I eased his dick into my mouth, inch by inch, gagging when the head touched the back of my throat. He groaned, his head falling back against the chair as his fingers tangled in my hair.
He threaded his fingers through it, getting a good grip as I bobbed my head.
Then his grip tightened. He drove his hips upward until he was fucking my throat. My lips stretched around him, my eyes watered as I struggled to take all of him.
I gagged.
He didn’t stop.
"Fuck, baby," he growled, voice thick.
I gasped for air, my head buzzing from the iron grip he had on my hair, my nipples hard, my body wound impossibly tight.
He pushed deeper, holding my head so I couldn’t move.
His pace quickened. My throat burned, my lungs desperate for air, forcing me to breathe through my nose.
"I’m close, Princess..." His voice was nothing but gravel and sin.
I already knew. I could taste it—the salty promise on my tongue.
"Suck it out," he demanded, fucking my mouth.
I poured everything I had into it, my hands gripping his thighs as I worked him over.
He came growling. Held me there until I swallow all of him and cleaned up the mess.
Finally, he let go of my hair.
I pulled back, wiping my mouth.
His thumb dragged along my jaw, smearing a drop of what I missed
The look in his eyes was that of rapture. He was wrecked. Undone. Owned.
He sagged into his chair, then reached down and pulled me up onto his lap, his arms wrapping around me as he buried his face in my neck.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Princess,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin.
My pussy was throbbing.
“Can I sit on it.” I asked seriously.
He pulled back, his eyes searching mine.
“What did you leave in the maze?”
“Nothing,” I said, my voice steady despite the way my heart was pounding. “Fuck me.”
I leaned in, trying to kiss him.
He moved his head.
He had a one track mind.
“You didn’t just suck my dick because you wanted to so badly. You’re too fucking stubborn.” There was a pause. Then—“Something’s in that maze.”
“You’re being paranoid.”
“Fine. Keep lying. ” He stood with me still in his lap, then set me down on the edge of the desk, grabbing his keys from the drawer before walking out of the room.
I heard the lock click behind him.
“Fuck, I should’ve just done nothing.”
I didn’t even bother moving. I knew what he was going to do. I sat there, my legs dangling over the edge of the desk, my mind racing.
I didn’t know how much time I had until he found my phone, but I knew it wasn’t much.
It didn’t take long for him to come back.
He walked into the room holding my phone, his expression unreadable.
“It’s dead,” he said, holding it up. “How long has it been dead?”
I didn’t answer.
“Who did you text and when?”
I shook my head.
His fingers tightened around the phone. Then—crack.
The phone hit the wall. Shattering.
He scowled at me, crossing his arms. “It doesn’t matter. I doubt you got a call out with the signals blocked.”
I swallowed hard, hoping the fake look of surprise on my face was convincing.
“But if you did. For the next three days,” he said, voice low and dangerous, “I won’t let you out of my sight. And if whoever you called shows up, I’ll kill them the moment they step foot here. And you’ll have to live with that.”
I just stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest.
Finally, he just walked away, slamming the door behind him and locking me in again.
He came back a few hours later.
“It’s time for bed,” he said and left me to follow him to his creepy room.