28. Chapter 28
Ames
Saint stands in front of me, tension straining his shoulders and arms. Chest and abs.
Fisted hands. He's holding on by a thread, while giving me total control.
The power of it runs through me with white-hot electricity, and it's lightning coursing through my nerves, crackling and demanding that I give in.
If this is what he makes everyone feel— if this is how he offers himself to the people he has sex with— then it's no wonder he can have anyone he wants and they all would do anything to be with him.
I'm giving all of myself to him, too, like everyone else.
"How many people have you slept with?" I ask as I stroke his cock.
He moans. "Why are you thinking of them? I— God— I am not."
"Did you lose count, Saint?"
Jealousy flares up in the pit of my stomach. It tints my blood green. Again, a part of me forgets that Saint has every right to date a million people if he so wishes, and I have no right to covet his attention. His choice. His affection.
"Ames. Please."
His throat wobbles again and I wrap my free hand around his neck .
If I'm going to be possessive, I'll give in to it for tonight. This moment with Saint could be pure ecstasy, and I won't let anything get in the way.
"All my life," I say. "I did everything right in love. I prioritized my relationships with these men who I thought were so sensitive they had to be emotionally mature. I thought I was doing so much better than my parents. All I did was settle."
I slide my hand to his collarbones, and run a thumb over his chain.
"I don't want to settle again." I frown. "Never."
"Never settle, Ames." His voice is hoarse. "The moment you're not happy, you walk away."
He's earnest. Tremors flutter over his chest.
One of my hands still rubs his erection. I set a faster pace and he closes his eyes.
"If you—" he tries. "Fuck. If you are in any— any way unfulfilled—"
"Is my hand distracting you, Gael?"
"I'm trying to— have this conversation with you—"
"Why?" I close my fingers around the shaft as well as I can, and stroke the head with a firm thumb.
Because I can, and Saint offered himself to me, and seeing him struggle makes me feel powerful.
He's giving himself to me. It's all about me tonight.
He groans. "You're— saying something important and— fuck. You're going to make me come in my underwear if you keep this up."
I'm a queen, with the king at her command.
"Open your eyes," I whisper.
He obeys slowly.
I raise an eyebrow. "What makes you think I wouldn't enjoy that?"
"I need to… earn… it…"
I smirk, drop to my knees, and close my mouth over the length of his cock, still trapped under fabric .
"Ames— shit!"
"Such a good boy."
A deep sound makes it out of his throat as he comes. His hips buckle, just once, like in the height of his climax he forgot himself. A wet spot spreads through his underwear.
Pride feathers down my chest as I stand. A cocky smile takes my lips, because I made him lose it. Even now, he restrains himself and keeps himself as still as he can.
"Damn." He breathes fast. Rose colors his cheeks for once. "Fuck. Sorry."
"Don't apologize."
"But I haven't even touched you and I'm not eighteen anymore and—"
"Saint. Don't apologize."
He stops himself.
"How often do you let other women take control like this?"
"Ames. Don't think of them."
"But I am, so tell me. How often?"
It takes him a second to answer. "Never."
Power rushes through me all over again.
I take a step closer to him. "Do you know how amazing it feels disarming you like this? That you only let me do this to you?"
Despite his orgasm, he's fully alert. His breathing is deeper now, but fast.
He studies my face, my eyes. "I told you I'm at your mercy."
"And you want to show me?"
"Yes. Please. I can still be so good for you. It won't take me long to recover, I promise."
"Oh, I'm not done with you." I hook a finger through his chain and pull again.
He's docile and leans closer. "Tell me what you want."
"Show me what I've been missing out on."
"Can I touch you?"
"Touch me."
"Thank God," he says and, in a swift, assertive move, brings me to him .
I'm enveloped in his arms as he kisses me.
Deeply. Desperately. Without missing a beat, he touches me over my clothes first, learning my body again like he did back in the club.
He tests the edges of my clothes and pulls at them slowly.
My skirt comes up before it goes down and to my ankles.
I step away from the black puddle, and he follows me closer to the bed.
His fingers play with the loose fabric of my blouse. "Be careful the next time you wear this."
He kisses my neck, his hands caressing my skin and exploring the structured lines of the bottom half of my bra.
"Why? Jealous of what others get to see?"
I run my fingers through his hair. I want him to be jealous.
"Show off what you have," he says. "Let everyone know just how gorgeous you are."
I feel his words on my skin and I shiver.
"But if I see you in this shirt again, wearing a bra like this again, I will remember how you feel in my hands. Your softness and the texture of your clothes. The taste of your mouth. And I may not be able to help myself."
I moan. "If I don't wear it, you won't remember?"
He takes off my shirt, a small smile on his lips. "I'll remember. This shirt might just break me for a second time."
"I think I like breaking you."
His smile stretches somewhat. He guides me next to the bed, and drops a kiss on my lips.
"Keep breaking me, Ames. As much as you want to."
His hands go around my ribcage and he undoes the hooks of my bra. His hands are gentle as he removes the piece of clothing from me.
"You already have," he says, before he kisses me, hard.
His hands splay and grab me by my waist, only to throw me on the bed.
I fly for less than a second, but it feels like freefall.
By the end, my feet are dangling off the bed.
His lips trail over my jaw, back to my mouth, down my neck, as his hands massage me and his thumbs tease my nipples.
Energy still courses through me, but it has changed.
Now it's the thrill of knowing he wants me.
He licks the swell of my breast, then swirls his tongue on a tip. I moan and let my fingers swim in his hair.
"You're everything," he mutters against my skin.
His words cascade down my skin, a caress that stirs something inside of me. Ease and power entwine and cut through me. My heart skips a beat and gooseflesh appears all over. Such a simple statement. Exactly what I crave.
I may have lost myself in recent years but, in this moment with Saint, he sees me whole.
I get to be me, take what I want, and he wants me to do it.
His hair is silky between my fingers. I pull at it. He groans.
"Let me show you," he whispers.
I want to feel how he sees me. Do as I need to do. Take all he offers.
"Show me," I say.
He licks— kisses— licks down my belly. Closes his mouth on my mound, over the fabric of my underwear. I buckle, and he chuckles.
"Yes, Amelia." He stands between my legs. He pulls down my last piece of clothing, his eyes locked on mine. "Let's see what your body can do."
"Are you that good with your mouth, Gael?"
"Yes." His smile is feline. He lifts a hand in a scouts-honor gesture. "A receiver's hand does a good job at helping, too."
His fingers look long and thick, now that I'm paying attention. I gulp.
He takes a few steps back and takes off his underwear. I sit up on the bed, breathing fast, feasting on the sight of his naked body.
I don't ask him to let me study him but he does anyway. He stands still.
His earring and chain contrast beautifully on the golden tan of his skin, and his deep brown eyes shine with the heat of his gaze.
His generous shoulders and the long lines of his muscles call for my lips and my tongue.
He's trim, but just the right amount to know I would touch flesh rather than stone, and I could bite and get a nice chunk of him between my teeth.
I lick my lips. I have never cared about using my mouth quite this way, quite this much before.
"You want me, Gael?"
The muscles low on his waist are developed, creating a tantalizing handle for my fingers, and a V pointing to a glorious, proud erection.
I want my mouth all over there, too.
"I've wanted you for years," he replies.
My lungs work fast, yet I'm breathless. He's dropping revelations like rain on me, little endearments and praise, and I want more. Craving is too simple a word for what I feel. It's a thirst, an ache, true lust. And in the middle of it, he tells me he's wanted me like this for a long time.
Anything but him and me like this has been a waste.
I'm mending it all tonight.
"Then get on your knees," I command.
I rest the weight of my torso on my hands. I'm so turned on that I fist the bed covers to ground myself.
He falls to his knees. Heat crackles in my veins.
I open my legs further, and devour the way his eyes study my pussy.
"How much do you want to taste me?" I ask. "Beg again."
"Amelia. Please. You're killing me. Let me use my tongue on you. My lips. I beg."
Fire breaks over my skin, burning slow and steady in my lungs. My muscles squeeze on nothing.
"Crawl to me," I moan.
"Amelia."
He goes on all fours.
I gasp, the sound making it through my sandpaper throat. "You are such a good boy. "
I'm so turned on I'm getting dizzy.
I don't recognize myself. I've never acted like this before. Never talked like this before. Saint brings out parts of me I never knew. I don't think they can go back to the shadows again after tonight.
His movements are slow, like a panther on the floor, as he shows me the lengths he'll go to do my bidding.
"Fuck. Please." He moans. "Let me taste you. I'll worship you. I will make your pussy into my altar."
He stops with his face within an inch of me. "I beg you. I need my mouth on you. Please."
"You're so confident." I lick my lips. "And on your knees."