Chapter 6
Saint
She’s barefoot in my shirt, stirring canned stew like it’s a five-star meal, and I’m just sitting here trying to remember how to breathe.
Her hair is still sleep-mussed. Her thighs peek from beneath the hem. Every now and then she hums under her breath, some soft, lazy melody I don’t recognize, and it sounds like peace.
I’ve seen war. I’ve seen hell. But nothing has ever knocked the breath out of me like this woman in my shirt, humming in a safehouse kitchen like the world hasn't tried to break her.
"Smells better than it looks," she says, glancing over her shoulder with a crooked grin.
"You could wear that shirt and cook gravel, and I’d still eat it."
She bites her lip, trying not to smile. Knows exactly what she’s doing.
"Careful, Saint. That almost sounded like flirting."
"Who says I’m being careful?"
Her cheeks go warm, but she doesn’t flinch. That’s what I like about her. She doesn’t run. Not anymore.
She ladles the stew into two bowls and brings them over. I let my hand brush her hip when she passes. Just a touch. Just enough. She’s warm. Real.
"Thanks," she murmurs, settling beside me at the tiny table.
We eat quietly. The kind of silence people spend years trying to build with someone. The wind rattles outside, but in here it’s only the hum of the stove and her knee brushing mine under the table.
After a few spoonfuls, she pauses with her spoon halfway to her mouth.
"So," she says, aiming for casual, "how mad do you think Ava’s gonna be?"
I raise a brow. "For what?"
She hesitates. Looks down at her hands.
"For... this. For us. For letting it get messy while she’s out there trying to fix everything."
My jaw tightens, but I keep my voice steady.
"She’d want you safe. She’d want you happy."
A beat passes.
"I promise, she’ll understand."
Her gaze sharpens. "Will she?"
"She went through something similar with Viper."
Her head tilts. "Seriously?"
"Yeah. She got into a mess. Viper stepped in. Kept her safe. Never let go."
She goes still. Something softens in her expression.
"How does he treat her?"
I don’t even hesitate.
"Like she’s the only reason he breathes."
That lands.
The tension in her shoulders eases. She sets her spoon down and toys with the edge of her bowl.
“You think that’s possible?” she asks. “To be someone’s whole world without being their possession?”
I don’t even blink. “If it’s the right man, yeah. That’s not possession. That’s devotion.”
Her eyes flick up to mine. Whatever she sees there makes her suck in a breath.
“Nadia, you keep looking at me like that,” I warn, “and I’m gonna do something about it.”
She stands slowly. Walks to my side of the table. Climbs into my lap like she belongs there.
I grab her hips, steadying her. My shirt slips higher on her thighs.
“I was hoping you might,” she says, voice soft but sure.
“Careful, love. You’re playing with fire again.”
She smiles. “Then burn me.”
Fuck.
I stand, keeping her in my arms, and set her down on the edge of the counter.
“You trust me?” I ask, stepping between her knees.
She nods. “With everything.”
“Good.” I push the shirt off her shoulder and kiss the skin there. “Because I’m not going to be gentle this time.”
“I don’t want gentle.” Her hands tug at my shirt. “I want you.”
I pull my shirt over my head, toss it somewhere behind us. She bites her lip again, and this time I growl.
“No more biting that lip unless you want me between your thighs in the next thirty seconds.”
She lets go. Smiles. “I’m counting.”
That’s it.
My mouth crashes into hers. My hands grip her thighs, dragging her forward until her heat meets the ache I’ve had since I first saw her in that damn shirt.
She’s already wet. Already ready. And I’m barely holding it together.
I break the kiss, panting.
“I’m not going to last long if you keep looking at me like that.”
“Then don’t.”
“You’re too fucking tempting.”
“Then take what’s already yours.”
Her words are gasoline. I kiss down her neck, her chest, until she’s arching off the counter.
“Saint,” she gasps, her hands fisting in my hair.
“I’ve got you,” I promise. “Every inch of you.”
I slide my hands up her thighs. Her skin is smooth, warm under my palms, and I spread her legs wider, stepping closer. My fingers trace the edge of her panties, feeling the damp fabric clinging to her.
She whimpers softly, her hips shifting toward me. I hook my thumbs into the waistband and yank them down, letting them drop to the floor. Now she's bare, her pussy glistening, lips swollen and inviting. I run a finger along her slit, parting her folds, and she bucks against my hand.
"Saint, please," she breathes, her voice husky with need.
I circle her clit with my thumb, slow and teasing, watching her face contort in pleasure. Her eyes flutter shut, mouth parting on a moan. I dip lower, sliding two fingers inside her, feeling her walls clench around me. She's so tight, so wet, it takes everything not to thrust into her right then.
"You feel that?" I murmur against her ear, pumping my fingers deeper. "This is just the start. I'm going to fuck you until you can't think straight."
She nods frantically, her nails digging into my shoulders. I curl my fingers, hitting that spot inside her that makes her cry out. Her juices coat my hand, dripping down my wrist as I work her harder, faster. Her breaths come in short gasps, body trembling on the edge.
But I pull back, denying her the release. She whines in protest, eyes snapping open to glare at me.
"Not yet," I say, smirking. "I want to taste you first."
I drop to my knees between her legs, gripping her ass to pull her to the counter's edge. My mouth finds her inner thigh, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin, inching closer to her core. She threads her fingers through my hair, urging me on.
When my tongue finally laps at her pussy, flat and broad, she arches with a sharp inhale.
I devour her, sucking her clit into my mouth, flicking it with the tip of my tongue. Her taste floods me.
Sweet, musky, addictive.
I thrust my tongue inside her, mimicking what my cock will do soon, while my fingers pinch and roll her clit.
"Oh god, yes," she moans, grinding against my face.
Her thighs quake around my head, and I hold her steady, unrelenting. I slide one hand up her body, reaching for her breasts. Her nipples are hard peaks, begging for attention. I pinch one, twisting gently, and she shudders, her pussy fluttering against my tongue.
She's close again, I can feel it in the way her body tenses, her moans turning desperate. But I ease off, standing up and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Her eyes are wild, frustrated, but burning with desire.
"Stand up," I command, my voice rough. She slides off the counter, legs shaky, and I spin her around, bending her over the edge. Her ass presses back against me. Soft, curvy, perfect. I palm it, squeezing hard enough to leave marks.
My cock strains against my pants, throbbing painfully. I unzip, shoving them down just enough to free myself. Precum beads at the tip as I stroke once, lining up with her entrance. The head nudges her folds, slick and hot.
"Tell me you want it," I growl, teasing her by sliding along her slit without entering.
"I want it," she says, voice breaking. "Please."
That's all I need. I grip her hips and thrust in, burying my cock to the hilt in one brutal stroke. She screams, her pussy clamping down like a vice, milking me.
So fucking tight, so perfect. So mine.
I pull back and slam in again, setting a punishing rhythm. The counter creaks under us, her body jolting with each pound.
I lean over her, one hand in her hair, pulling her head back so I can kiss her neck. "You're mine," I rasp, biting her shoulder. "You were made for me. Every inch of you."
"Yes," she sobs, meeting my thrusts. "All yours. Harder."
I oblige, fucking her deeper, faster, my balls slapping against her clit. Sweat slicks our skin, the room filled with the wet sounds of our bodies colliding, her cries echoing off the walls. I reach around to rub her clit in tight circles, feeling her tighten impossibly more.
"Come for me," I order, nipping her earlobe.
She shatters, her orgasm ripping through her. Her walls pulse around me, pulling me under. I thrust through it, prolonging her pleasure until she's limp, gasping. But I'm not done. I pull out, flip her around to face me, and hoist her back onto the counter.
Her legs wrap around my waist instinctively, and I slide back in, slower this time, savoring the way she flutters around me. I kiss her deeply, tongues tangling as I rock into her, grinding against her clit with each roll of my hips.
"Look at me," I say, cupping her face. Her eyes meet mine, hazy with lust. "I want to see you when you come again."
She nods, arms around my neck, pulling me closer. I build the pace gradually, then faster, chasing my own release. Her nails rake down my back, and I hiss, the pain spurring me on. She's clenching again, so close.
"Saint—I'm—"
"Come with me," I grunt, slamming deep one last time.
We explode together. Her pussy spasms, drawing out my orgasm as I flood her with hot cum, pulse after pulse. I bury my face in her neck, groaning her name as waves of pleasure crash over us.
We stay like that, joined and panting, until our heartbeats slow. I kiss her forehead, then her lips softly. "You okay?"
She smiles, tracing my jaw. "More than okay. That was... incredible."
I pull out gently, watching my cum leak from her, and grin. "Good. Because this will be our life together."