Saint
I didn’t mind the rain.
The way it showered and rinsed the earth clean. The way it offered a fresh and renewed start. The way the skunk of earth could be smelled after its conclusion. The way it left a misty fog behind that emanated from the ground like magic. No. The rain didn’t unsettle me.
Storms did.
Boisterous and unforgiving, with bright lightening ripping across the sky, storms wreaked havoc on my senses. The crash of thunder rattled my wits into overdrive, causing me to stim, curling my toes, flapping my arms, and banging my head. Shit that I hadn’t done in quite some time.
And then there was the wind. It had the nerve to push through, howling like some untamed rabid beast, wholly felt, sometimes heard, but never seen. All elements of the inevitable storm rapping against my home. Storms were too unpredictable. Too loud. Too dangerous.
As a grown man, I knew I was safe from the formidable weather. It wasn’t fear that set my senses ablaze. It was the noise. Loud noises triggered my nervous system into overdrive. Thanks to Dr. Gibson, I understood why, but the knowledge hadn’t assisted me in soothing my nerves.
In comparison to the storm, the beach was wholly opposite. The persistence of waves colliding with the shore, the whisper as it retreated into the ocean, the predictable nature of high and low tides as the water synchronized with the moon—the beach presented order. Order, for me, presented predictability. In predictability, I found peace.
Tonight, the storm raged against the beach. Its violence upset my order, ushering in uncertainty and chaos in place of the tranquil home I’d crafted. In the rainy season, I usually covered in a weighted blanket and permitted myself to be devoured by sleep somewhere along the timeline of tossing and beating my head with my fist.
No such luck this evening.
It was too damn hot for a weighted blanket.
I didn’t find head-banging as appealing, either.
Tonight, my self-stimulation hungered for a gentler approach.
The presence of a woman in my bed could have helped offset my disrupted state. Snuggling against the warmth of her body, losing myself in the depths of her well, listening to her sing... Horny and overstimulated, all of it could counterbalance the unsettled state my body was in.
The woman in my home likely had no interest in engaging in such activities with me. She was a paid actor. Once everything blew over with this Javi business, we’d go our separate ways. She’d be one million dollars richer, and I’d be alone again in the massive home I’d erected on the beach.
Resigned to a night of no sleep, I rose and padded downstairs to the kitchen. Void of moisture, the dryness behind my eyes, and the lining of my throat requested water. The incessant painful pulsing in my head that accompanied that dryness confirmed my suspicion of dehydration. My body was parched and in search of moisture in all areas. Filling a glass with filtered tap water, I drank away the desert, downing that first glass like it was the first and last I’d ever consume. Just as I motioned for a refill, the sound of movement upstairs halted me.
Her footsteps were light and likely imperceptible to the average set of ears. Out of the room, down the hall –further to the opposite end where my room was– and against the first step, her little feet paced. My hypersensitive, military-trained ears registered her every move as she descended. Her arrival on the bottom floor prompted the end of my torment as heaven commenced in her presence. Dressed in a nightdress covered by a gown, she summoned it closer after noticing me in the kitchen.
My wife.
Internally, I chuckled at that. Only on paper, I reminded myself, but at least I could admire her.
Her skin was like caramelized sugar right before adding the cream—thick, rich, velvety, warm brown, looking all edible and sweet. Despite the bite I knew her sweetness held, I wanted a taste.
“Hey… What are you doing up so late?”
Her raspy voice floated across the marble floors, holding evidence of sleep. She moved to the cupboard to grab a glass and then filled it with filtered water from the tap.
“Same thing you’re doing,” I tossed, nodding my head toward her glass.
Never mind the fact that I was a grown-ass man disturbed by the weather. She didn’t need to know that. It was after twelve, and the storm threatening to make its appearance earlier finally took root. My night would be restless regardless of how many cups I drank.
“I went looking for you,” Victoria announced, taking a gulp from the glass she held, explaining her misdirected footsteps that I registered upstairs. Her robe spilled open, placing her nipples on display through her dress. The cream-colored fabric of the nightdress was so sheer, leaving little to the imagination. I could see the outline of deep brown areolas, the curve of her breasts, the valley between them…
“Saint?” She vocalized my name, elevating my head and disrupting my filthy thoughts.
“Yeah, Beauty?”
I granted her the brief connection of my eyes before flitting them away. The connection often caused physical pain, prompting my eyes to dart elsewhere. Another thing she didn’t need to know.
“Did you hear me?” She asked sweetly, inching closer to where I stood with my hands folded in front of me and my weight supported against the counter.
“Looking for me?” I repeated her statement, licking my lips.
“The storm woke me up. I know it’s silly, but I couldn’t fall back to sleep. As I was walking down the hall, I realized you had never really shown me around since I’d been here. This house is massive. I don’t even know where your room is.”
She’d stepped dangerously close to the opening between my legs, peering at me with those deep brown rounds.
“I can show you now. Come on,” I offered, making a move to push up off the counter, but Victoria didn’t budge. Firmly planted between my legs, she peered at me, running the pads of her fingers along my arm.
“Come on or cum on?” She asked, using that strangely sweet but seductive inflection and getting impossibly close to my growing hardness. Pressing her softness against me, she made it difficult to think about anything besides her. Outside, the storm raged on, but a distraction presided over my thoughts in the form of a five-foot-five chocolate vixen.
“Victoria.”
I glanced down to full lips and heavy-lidded eyes that swatted thick lashes in my direction.
“A few weeks ago, you asked me a question I didn’t answer.”
Shit.
She was toying with me. Getting her lick back for the way I’d teased her on the patio. It was far too late for games, especially considering I didn’t play those. I had no desire to return to bed alone. I was sleeping good tonight. The conclusion was forgone the moment she stepped between my legs. She wasn’t going anywhere else.
My hand flew to her neck, gently cupping it and lowering my head until my lips brushed hers. “What was that answer?” I asked, pulling her closer by the waist and pushing away the robe that covered her shoulders until it fell to the floor. My fingertips shifted to the straps of her nightgown, prepared to tug those down where they’d join the robe.
“Yes. The answer was mmmh.”
My lips covered hers before she could finish her response as my hands fell to her hips, dipping lower until I located the heat between her legs. She whimpered when I brushed against her drenched panties, widening her stance and allowing me access. My tongue slipped into her mouth, brushing against hers, dipping deeper, tasting everything that made her her. In tandem, my hands moved, slipping past the seat of her panties and stroking against her soaked outer lips.
“Saint,” she howled much like the wind violently begging for attention outside.
Pulling my fingers away from the storm taking place between her legs, I raised my hand to my lips while she looked on. That clear slipperiness coated my fingers, begging me to taste. With haste, I sucked her nectar from my digits, prompting a moan from her lips. She tasted like all the water I needed to get through the night.
In a fluid movement, she was lifted her over my shoulder. I moved to the stairs, carrying her to the bedroom as she squealed. As we journeyed up the stairs, I took my time palming her ass and discarding the thoroughly soaked panties that kept me from feeling her warmth.
“Saint?”
“Yeah, Beauty?” I asked, slowing my pace as my fingers reentered her heat from over my shoulder.
“Hurry up!” She fussed, squirming against my touch.
When we finally made it to the bedroom, I tossed her across the bed, vaguely remembering I didn’t have any condoms on me. I kneeled down to the floor, pulling her thighs until her pussy was flush with the edge of the bed. Gently brushing her clit with my nose, I inhaled her scent, committing it to memory.
“Saint!”
“Hmm, Beauty?”
Her pussy was a beauty, too. Bald and bare, it was obvious she took care of her kitty. Thick chocolate lips contained pink sweetness. Her swollen clit peeped through, and I imagined sucking it into my mouth. Freshly glazed like a donut, my mouth watered for a taste, a nibble, anything.
“Please, make me cum.”
Like an incantation had been muttered, I unleashed my tongue, sliding it across her center. Her thighs jerked and quivered as I devoured her like the starved man I was. She lifted her head to watch me in action with her mouth slightly parted and her eyes heavily lidded. I licked and slurped that pussy like it was my last meal.
Victoria grabbed a pillow, covering her face to hide the ecstasy it revealed. Biting down, she attempted to muffle whimpers and cries that couldn’t be helped if she tried.
“Let me see that pretty face, Beauty,” I urged, stopping only to remove the pillow.
Removing the obstruction revealed perfect white teeth digging into supple lips. Her eyes were squeezed tight as she panted against the flicks of my tongue. Clitoral stimulation was undoubtedly her weakness. It was guaranteed to drive her to her zenith.
Inserting a single finger inside her and then a second, I beckoned for her orgasm to rise against moans and sighs. I kissed behind her knees. I bit her thighs. I sucked against her clit, sending her into a fit of hysterics.
My fingers plunged deeper, harder, faster as my mouth went wild against her clit. And then her pussy talked back, fussing, gushing, jumping, and pulsing in my mouth.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,” I praised, watching the performance against her quivering thighs.
While she was splayed out across the bed, fighting to catch her breath, I left the room briefly, returning naked and sheathed in a condom. Victoria’s eyes bloomed at the sight of me, but she said nothing, simply scooting back on the bed until she was against the pillows.
She lifted her nightgown over her head, peeling away at the last bit of fabric between us. Completely naked, I combed over her body, taking in every curve, every striation, every bit that made Victoria her. She was breathtaking, from the mole on her left jowl to the piercing of her right nipple down to her blush-pink toes. She was a sight to behold.
With my left hand massaging my length, my right hand caressed her leg. Leisurely, I inched between her thighs, watching as she touched herself. The storm continued outside, livening the bedroom with its boisterousness and light, but as I lowered to connect with Victoria’s eager lips, it all played on the fringes of my mind like background noise.
“Put it in,” she insisted, rocking her hips and grinding against me.
We’d been kissing, grabbing, and moaning for several seconds as I delayed the intimate connection. With my hands guiding my length, I toyed with the tip at her entrance, enjoying how she squirmed with need. With my eyes trained down, I watched as she got wetter, forming a small puddle from that perfect storm. The intensity of her desire to feel me inside urged me on.
Exhausted from my teasing, Victoria thrusted upward with immaculate timing. She caught the head, swallowing me in that warmth. I groaned, slowly inching myself in. Not really stroking, I pushed until I was fully seated inside, and we both sighed.
Victoria wasn’t interested in waiting, however. Repeatedly, her walls clenched around me, encouraging the first stroke. Slowly, I slid out to the tip and stroked my way back in. Again and again, I repeated the movement, enjoying the way she whimpered and brushed her fingertips across my chest. She clenched harder, longer, and faster, forcing me to increase my rhythm. My movements built into a steady, slick harmony as our bodies collided as one. Again and again, I slowed and then sped up, never allowing her to catch her breath.
Sweat beads dotted my skin.
Victoria contorted her face.
I quickened my pace.
Tracing the place of her nub
With pressure, I rubbed
With intensity, she cried out
Until every decibel died out
To a steady hum in sync with the stroke of my thumb as it drummed and swiftly made her become dumb–I mean drunk on pleasure. She got even wetter, felt even better, and I could feel her cumming. Twitching and jerking, she worked every muscle, expelling her wetness… compelling my erectness to follow the leader.
I collapsed on my back, pulling her close, fully engrossed in the strokes of manicured fingertips running through my pussy-stained beard.
Freeing myself from her grasp, I grabbed a wash rag from the bathroom. I cleaned us both, watching as she reached for me to rejoin her in bed.
“Where are you going?” Drowsily, she petitioned for me.
“To my bed, Beauty,” I revealed, planting a kiss on her lips.
The light of her afterglow diminished slightly upon my revelation. “Stay with me.”
The slackness my body recently acquired fled me with haste as my features went rigid. How could I explain to her that I needed the familiarity of my bed to sleep?
I couldn’t.
Not with those puffy supple lips and lustful sleepy eyes beseeching comfort. So I gathered her in my arms and carried my bride to the opposite side of the hall. She melted into my king-sized bed, looking like she belonged there. When I climbed in beside her, she tossed a leg over me, resting her head against my chest until she was dozing peacefully. Organically, my hand traced the length of her thigh.
Outside, the storm continued painting the sky in blackish blues and grays, but I remained unfazed in a blissful daze, a sleepy haze, and wholly amazed by my current predicament.
To hell with a weighted blanket. This was a thousand times better.
I woke up to warmth. Not from a weighted blanket. Not from the heat of a thigh. It came wet, sloppy, and disrespectful on her knees as she bobbed and weaved. Inch by inch, Victoria took me in her mouth, slobbing, sucking, and licking until I was fully alert and able to appreciate the professional quality of the job she was giving. My hand crept through her afro, gripping –less for guidance and more for the enjoyment of the position– and she continued, up and down.
“Victoria.” Groggily, I groaned, lifting my head to absorb the view. Up and down, she was making a mess, which was really the only way to do what she was doing.
“Call me wifey, Tori, or Beauty, Saint. We’re well past formalities now,” she floated in between sucks with this look of lust threaded with satisfaction.
Our gazes fused, and she stuck her tongue out, teasing the head and tracing along my shaft. She looked so sexy doing what she was doing. Giving me a smirk, she planted her lips around the head and sank back down as her hand milked from the tip to the base. It was the best way I could have ever expected to wake up.
“Tori, baby,” I groaned, covering my face with my arm as she sucked me into an orgasm.
Pungent smoke blew in my direction, permeating the air around me and birthing the wry expression on my face. Seated in the wide chair, my father toked his cigar as if it were the last breath he’d take. When his face met mine, he sat the bundle of tobacco down.
“Close the door, son. We were waiting on you.”
Doing as was requested, I took one of the seats across from his desk. Sincere sat in the right seat while Supreme stood across from us beside our father.
“Good to see you, Saint. I didn’t think you’d surface from your little slice of heaven so soon,” Supreme toyed with a grin.
It had been a little over three weeks since our trip to Indonesia and my sham of a marriage. Admittedly, I’d been enjoying the hell out of Victoria since that night we first had sex. When either of us weren’t at work, we were screwing each other’s brains out. The sexual chemistry was insane. She had a week off before she returned to work, and we’d made the most of that time, -learning each others’ bodies. It had been so long since I’d enjoyed the comfort of a woman that I was basking in her company.
“Whatever,” I tossed, brushing the top of my head with my palm.
“So, is she still your wife on paper only, or are the two of you–”
“That’s none of you nigga’s concern, Sincere,” I grimaced. “Did we come here to discuss my wife or business? Because if Victoria is the topic, that shit is off limits,” I clipped, feeling insanely defensive and beyond ready to leave. I was missing out on my lunchtime quickie fooling with my family, and I wasn’t too pleased about it.
“Ooh. My wife. Aight. You got it, bruh,” Sincere teased.
“Victoria?” My dad chimed. “That’s a good old-fashioned name. Maybe you should bring her by for the cookout next month. She is family now, after all. I know your mom would love to meet her.”
Void of a response to offer him, my father cleared his throat and then said, “Anyway, let’s get down to business. Javier is gone. A new distributor has taken over, and the Miller family is free and clear of the drug trade. Legitimate men.”
“Who is the new distro?” I asked.
“Not us,” my dad responded. “That’s all that matters. I don’t want to hear shit about any of you doing anything drug-related behind my back,” he warned less to me and more to Supreme and Sincere. Those two were more involved than I was in all things concerning distribution. They’d gotten a fair monetary parting gift to step down from everything.
I’d never gotten involved with the family’s drug dealings. Heading off to the army didn’t exactly permit me such idle time. I knew how to kill a man, though. The army contracted me to do so on countless occasions. The closest I’d gotten to any illicit dealings with the family business was when I downed Javier.
“I brought you all here to discuss the expansion of our family’s name into the city. Now that we’re free and clear, it’s important,” he revealed, lifting his cigar again.
“Paramour needs to know we still run this town, albeit in a more positive way. So far, everyone has been doing a good job with the transition. Supreme is setting roots with the realty company. Sincere is doing music production, Serenity has the gallery, and you, Saint… Have you considered branching out?”
My father summarized everyone’s ‘accomplishments,’ making sure to diminish the fact that legitimacy wouldn’t even be on the table to discuss had it not been for me. Somehow, he still managed to single me out as if I weren’t doing enough.
“In what way?”
“A business. A lucrative venture that can be passed down from one generation to the next. Drug money will eventually dwindle, and we’ll all need to be secured in what we’ve decided to pursue,” he explained.
“Can I not just be a marine biologist?” I asked, my disdain evident on my face as I checked the time on my watch.
“What will you pass to your children with that, Saint?”
My face dipped into a scowl at the assumption. “What children? I –”
“Come on now, son. I haven’t seen you since that girl stepped foot off the plane. It’s only a matter of time before she’s knocked up, hauling around a belly for us all to marvel at.”
Tori and I had been fucking a lot. We’d long since discarded condoms and were putting it in whenever the opportunity presented, which was frequent as hell. The relationship was purely physical, though. We never discussed the prospect of kids, but I knew I didn’t want children. Not knowing whether I could pass autism down through my genes taunted me and further solidified my stance. Considering the marriage arrangement, I assumed Tori wasn’t interested in kids with me either. It wouldn’t make sense to bring a child into our bullshit. That would only further complicate things for no reason.
I hadn’t shared the financial part of my marriage agreement with my family, so they weren’t aware that my nuptials had an expiration date. When the time came, Tori would go her separate way as if we’d never known each other, and she’d be a million dollars richer. I could come up with an explanation for my family later on. Everything was simple and would remain so. That didn’t mean we couldn’t enjoy each other physically.
“I’ve been busy,” I tossed, feeling slightly cornered and overstimulated. My toes began curling to mitigate some of the anxiousness I felt. Again, we’d landed on the subject of me and Victoria. The fact that she and I were such a hot topic proved that my departure time was looming.
“Oh, weknow, Saint. You’ve damn sure been busy. You missed the sibling dinner last night,” Supreme tossed.
Once a month, my siblings arranged dinner or an outing for us to reconnect with each other. The idea was birthed from Serenity, who’d begun to complain about feeling lonely and like she had no brothers after everyone moved out of the estate. With everyone enmeshed in their personal lives, it was easy for us to drift apart. Letting down our baby sister wasn’t an option. Forgetting our closeness was inconceivable. The sibling dinner ensured that it didn’t occur.
“That was last night? Are y’all sure the dates didn’t get mixed up?” I asked, checking the calendar on my phone. Sure enough, it was there in bold print. I distinctly remember silencing the alert as I indulged in my own dinner, greedily planting my face between Victoria’s legs.
“Damn. My bad, y’all,” I offered, palming the crown of my head in guilt.
My dad chuckled. “I’m happy for you, Saint. You come up in here looking freshly fucked without an ounce of stress in your body. Keep that pep in your step. Go back home to your wife. Think about bringing her to the cookout. The family would love to meet her.”
“Are we settled on the scores about Victoria?”
Since we’d returned to the potent discussion of my wife, I directed the question toward her safety with Javier’s people. The day we married confirmed her safety with my father’s people. There was no concern there.
Javier had a brother, Jorge, who’d worked alongside him. The likelihood of him seeking out vengeance for his brother’s demise was high. Victoria was one of the last people around Javier before I took his life. I didn’t need problems with his brother.
“Saint.” My father’s face crumpled into a dismaying frown. “As you stated earlier, that’s your wife. You should have settled that score.”
My eyes darted around the room to my brothers for support, but I located none. If what my father was telling me was the truth, I’d been sloppy in my endeavors. Victoria had a detail on her for her protection. Sam had maintained his distance, making sure not to alert her of his presence, but if there was a possible threat lurking amidst her comings and goings, it meant I would need to suit up and handle that shit myself.
“Why didn’t anyone contact me about any of this?” I fussed.
“We did.” Three synchronized heavy bass voices resounded around the room, reminding me of the several missed and unreturned calls I had over the last week.