Saint Sahvrin’s Soldier
Saint Sahvrin’s Soldier
Bishop went along the hall, opening doors.
“Oh, here,” Beth called across from him. “It’s an office but has a fridge.”
He entered the spacious room, looking around. Definitely one of the Kings’ judging by the expensive furniture and art pieces. His mind returned to spinning worst case scenarios in vivid detail while Beth called out fridge items.
“They have water and apple juice and orange too if you prefer that.”
“Water,” he said, while moving through options to every problem that might happen, looking for the one wrong move he shouldn’t make.
She handed him an orange juice, already opened. He looked at her. “I said water.”
Her surprise flashed before she hurried back to fridge. “I thought you could use the vitamin C,” she said, her angelic tone punching him in the stomach.
She stood before him, fighting to open the water, tears spilling over her cheeks.
“Fuck,” he gasped, pulling her to him.
“Not much has changed with me,” she squeaked in his chest. “Still cry if the wind blows wrong.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t…”
“You’re okay,” she assured in a tiny wail, her need for that to be true hitting like a system override.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he soothed, petting her.
“I meant it’s okay that you’re not okay, you get to be human too?” she fussed, raising the water up that was trapped between them.
He took it and she tried to take the orange juice, but he brought it to his mouth and drank every drop. He tossed the empty bottle over his shoulder and started on the water, her tiny giggle taking a chunk out of his misery.
“Wow, you were thirsty,” she praised, as if having basic needs was a job to be proud of.
He tossed the water bottle next and pulled her to him, kissing her sweet mouth till she became the woman he’d made and the angel he craved. And that bossy girl he’d saved.
“I love every inch of you,” he swore, holding her face in both hands, kissing all the angles. “Every beautiful, blinding facet,” he breathed, feeling her arousal shooting up fast.
“Even the whore side?” she gushed, her hand a vice on his cock.
Lust speared him as he gripped her jaw, feeling the exact shape of her bone structure. “Especially that.”
The punishing need stalking her through his blood turned his mouth and hands into things of reckoning. Because of guilt. Everything about her required it. Her fucking beauty. Her reckless mercy, her illogical love for him. His insanity. That was her too.
“Get out of these fucking clothes,” he shuddered on her mouth.
Her gasp of ecstasy cut something loose in him. A different kind of fury.
He went to the door and locked it. Then turned, finding her standing at the desk. One hand over her womb, the other holding the desk edge. Panties still on. Bra. Both lace. Blood red.
He studied her as every need unfurled in him. Stupid needs. Like understanding how she was everything. Everything chewing at all his hinges.
He eyed the quake in her body. His own pulsed. His cock... his canines. But it was her awkward stance that made his heart pulse. The stance that said this space didn’t fit what her hunger called for. And she was too shy to know that about her hunger, too angelic to speak it. Until he unhinged her.
At the desk, he made a bed for her by sweeping one arm across the surface, sending every item slowly crashing to the floor. Then he scooped up his happy, giggling angel and set her on it.
“I’m eating your pussy first,” he said, turning her so she faced him then stepped back. “But you’re making me.”
She stared at him, eyes hooded, already intoxicated and breathless. “What… about…”
“I gave you a very clear order, ma petite. Your gifts belong to me. Oui?”
She swallowed and nodded. “Oui,” she whispered, scooting back on the desk and putting her feet on the edge.
Her sweet inhibition hit the air in his lungs.
His fucking favorite. It was the part of her she’d only ever show him.
He coveted it with all his being. “You want me to beg? Or you want me to make you open those legs.”
He moved closer as she began that war with her shy self, knees slowly opening.
His eyes zeroed in on the incoming gift while his muscles judged the pace as pure fucking sin. He shoved her to the finish line, palms pressing against her inner thighs, his mouth at hers. “Feed me.”
“Bishop,” she gasped, reaching for his mouth with hers.
He gave it, letting her do all the tasting. “What?” he answered, working his hands under her ass and finding the edge of her panties.
Her breaths blasted on his mouth, her teeth gently nipping, tongue flicking along his lips as he peeled the lace off. He angled his head, opening wider when her moans entered her breaths.
He brought his first three fingers to her mouth. “Wet them, angel,” he whispered.
She went down on them, her greedy suck drawing a groan from his chest. Those tiny fucking whimpers and grunts begging for his worst.
He removed his fingers and gave his mouth back to her, working them into her slick silk. Her lips parted more with a thick, slow moan as he rotated left and right, feeling the tight walls till his hand met her body with a greedy push.
“Fuck it, angel,” he ordered, gently setting the motion.
She latched onto the back of his neck and lifted her hips then grabbed hold of his wrist with her other hand. The position locked him deep inside her, making his cock fucking jealous.
She began flicking and twirling, her moans rising, hand jerking on his wrist, his name on every breath, her kiss getting feral. “I need you,” she mewled.
“So helpless,” he gasped, silently begging her to take control. To take him and have him exactly the way she wanted. “I trust you, angel,” he swore. “To keep me.”
“Oh Bishop,” she breathed, nails digging into his wrist and neck.
“Yes,” he answered, his canines on fire at feeling her power pulsing and hungry.
“Suck my pussy,” she ordered, eyes fire and filth as they locked onto his. “Suck it right now. Then fuck me the way you know I want it.”
His insanity turned on, instantly and fully.
Between her legs, he obeyed with brutal precision, lapping slow and rough at her silk and clit then obediently sucking when she commanded him.
“Oh baby yes, fuck my pussy with your tongue just like that… now suck my clit. Don’t stop,” she gasped.
“I’m going to come all over your mouth, do you want that? ”
Oh fuck, he was gone.
“I want it, I fucking want it,” he gushed all over her.
“Bishop,” she panted, collapsing onto the desk and holding his head in both her hands, opening her legs into a fucking split. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come all over your mouth, oh I’m gonna come, I’m coming, oh God I’m coming!”
He held her body in his hands, sucking the ecstasy from her, feeling it take every inch of her body, her cries going on and on and fucking on.
What a fucking orgasm.
“Kiss me,” she panted, breathless.
It was the only thing that could’ve moved his mouth from where it was. She held his face, and the storm in his blood paused for his angel’s delicate touch. “Your turn,” she whispered.
The words jolted his cock.
“Or is it mine?” She smiled while stroking his face. “Maybe this is a bad idea, you making me use my gift for this.”
He held her jaw, needing something to anchor his hunger. “Why?” he asked, moving his hand to her neck, the feel of silky muscle making his canines pulse.
“I almost made you bite my… pussy,” she barely managed on a whisper.
His lust spiked so hard, it tore a harsh groan from him.
“Oh God!” she gasped at his reaction. “You want that!”
“I want every part of you,” he said, everything shaking on him and in him.
“Then take it,” she whispered hotly. “Take all of it while you fuck me.”
Bishop pulled her to the edge of the desk and entered her with a thrust that shook it. A hungry rage tore from his chest, while her cry pinged his soldier architecture.
Her legs wrapped around him and his palms hit the desk.
His second thrust smashed into the bite matrix and his soldier blasted online, flagging it as combat load with the woman he wrote into its architecture.
He held himself above her, hips and lower spine locked in damage control.
Her gaze cleared a little as she whispered between breaths, “What’s wrong?”
Bishop lowered his mouth near her cheek, his breaths strained. “Nothing with you,” he swore, while he adjusted the parameter. Reclassify for lovemaking.
The architecture hit him with a cold pulse. Protected contact under combat load.
“Bishop?”
Fuck him. “I moved too hard,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “My body caught it wrong.”
Her hand slid up his arm, soft and careful, and the lock bit down harder at the confirmed threat-risk. Her touch, her skin, her scent—it was all written deeply into his protection matrix.
Bishop forced the command down into cleaner terms. Create exception. Intimate contact. Consent present. Distress absent. Injury absent. Maintain force governor. Release spinal lock.
The architecture held for one brutal second then began easing by degrees, giving him back just enough movement to be a fucking celibate brother.
“Is it… from the stuff you did to yourself?” she whispered, sliding her silky legs all over his body.
He moved his hands under her and locked his fingers onto her shoulders, ready to try a manual override. “It has safety locks with you.”
Her legs paused on him with the barest snicker. “Oh my God,” she said, restrained laughter in her tone.
His system seemed to interpretate her response as ride over, releasing cock deflation chemicals.
“Is it… really funny at this second?” he marveled.
Another snicker escaped her as she stroked his face. “I just can’t believe you would put safety locks on your…”
“And I just can’t believe you’re surprised I did.”
Her dreamy smile and sigh came with renewed leg rubbing. “Saint Sahvrin saves me again.” Happy tears filled her eyes and she pulled his mouth to hers. “And Bishop is so mad-mad.”
His anger snapped like a twig at how much she loved that.
He kissed her back. “I can’t fucking stand him right now.”