23. Hendrix #2
I gasp for air when the length of Saint’s fingers plunge inside me, the only thing holding me together being his lulls and praise. “You’re doing so good. I can’t wait for my cock to be inside you.”
“So be inside me.”
The noise he makes is half grunt half laugh. “Don’t tempt me, Jimi. Not when I’m trying to be gentle.”
“So stop being gentle,” I demand, harsher than intended, then regret it immediately when he pauses to read my face.
I don’t want to go bitch mode, not when I’ve got Saint choosing intimacy for me.
But I’m scared and regretful of so many things.
Things I know I’ll have to face in the morning, with or without him.
“Is that what you deserve?”
Talk about a loaded question.
“Of course not.”
“Then stop demanding things beneath you.”
I digest the magnitude of his words, and how easily they rolled off his tongue. What Saint thinks of me shouldn’t mean a thing.
But what he just said? It means everything.
Cupping the nape of Saint’s neck, I yank him to me, kissing him like the world is on fire.
If it’s true this thing between us has to end tonight, then I’m going to make damn sure I savor every minute, and hope the universe makes the transition into being only stepsiblings easy.
Saint’s lubricated fingers continue working me as I get lost in our mingling lips, and before I know it those fingers are being replaced by something hard and wide.
“Keep breathing for me, Jimi,” is all I get before he advances forward, the equally lubed tip of his cock spreading every inch of me.
A sharpness ensues, but feels more foreign than anything, at least until Saint gently moves back and forth to ease in.
“You okay?” he questions, pained, still with millimeter thrusts.
I squeeze my eyes closed. “Mhm.”
Saint keeps his promise by not offering to stop, and I respect it.
Enough to tell him to give me more.
So he does, and a wincing cry escapes me, too loud for being discreet.
“Relax, Jimi.” He sinks deeper. “Don’t push me out.”
Every nerve ending inside me comes to life once Saint consumes me whole, breathing through the pain and pleasure he never fails to bring me.
“It feels...good,” I mumble as he starts gliding.
“You sound surprised.” He smirks. “It’s me.”
“Shut up.” I chuckle, then wince with his first deliberate push.
And after that, it’s smooth sailing.
My legs tighten around Saint’s waist as he picks up speed, spending every second with his lips and fingers caressing me.
“If I told you I’m gonna come, would you judge me?” he asks playfully into my neck.
“Totally.”
“Well, I guess this’ll be the first time I leave a girl disappointed.”
He’s wrong.
Because whether or not I orgasm will never change how much this moment means to me. Or how good it feels to have the almighty Saint Lavell let his guard down.
“Move faster,” I tell him when he paces himself. “I want to feel you come undone.”
“Shit, Jimi. You can’t say things like that.”
Except I can, and it’s easy.
Too easy if you ask me.
Saint picks up the pace, and a moan of relief slips past my lips with the increased friction. I never thought being fucked this way could feel so amazing, or ignite a fire in my belly desperate for more.
Saint’s movements turn erratic as kisses and sweat from our foreheads mix together. Then, with only a few more thrusts he freezes, his dick twitching as his orgasm overflows my insides.
Saint looks down at where we’re connected, catching his breath with a laugh.
“I’m not even sorry.”
I snort, which only makes him laugh louder, the two of us in a fit of hysterics when he rolls off me.
“Surprised you’re not jumping up to change the sheets,” I say as he stares at the ceiling.
“Your room, not mine.”
I smack his chest with the back of my hand. “Asshole.”
“Ouch.” He rubs where I hit him. “Was that payback for not making you come?”
“Didn’t consider that, but sure.”
With his signature boyish grin, Saint pulls me closer by my waist until we’re spooning.
“Any regrets?”
“Want my honesty?”
“Duh.”
“No regrets. You?”
The tips of his fingers dance along the sleeve of my T-Shirt.
“Just one.” He pulls at the seam. “Not taking this stupid thing off.”
Shaking my head, I reach for his arm to squeeze my side, using the quiet moments to think about something Vic mentioned earlier about Saint.
About why he wanted me to stay with him.
How he believes wholeheartedly that his son is capable of being saved, and how I’m starting to believe he may be right.
“Hendrix! You better be up!” My mother’s distant voice wakes me, shortly after there’s a knock at the door. “It’s already past seven.”
What the—?
My eyelids blink slowly as the room comes into view, then get attacked by the sunlight beaming through the window.
“Fucking aye,” I groan, shielding my eyes, looking over to find a sleeping, naked Saint face down on the bed.
My heart lurches in my chest.
“Shit, Saint,” I whisper, shaking him with enough violence to wake the dead. “Get the fuck up.”
“No—” he grumbles, searching behind him for my hand to smack away.
I kick him this time.
“It’s morning, we’re late for school, and my mother is outside the damn door!”
He lifts his head to punch the pillow, then drops back onto it. “Tell her to fuck off.”
“Hen, is everything okay in there?” Mom jiggles the doorknob, and I spring out of bed.
“I’m fine! Sorry. Just getting dressed.”
“Didn’t you set your alarm?”
I know I did but check my phone anyway, finding my alarm turned off.
Damn you, Letterman.
“Must have glitched! I’ll be right down!”
“Okay, baby. Hurry. Darla prepared a beautiful first day of school breakfast for you guys.”
“Mmm…I’m starving,” a groggy Saint says with a stretch.
“Shut up, you idiot.”
“Who was that?” Mom questions.
“Just a video on TikTok!”
“Hendrix, get off the phone and meet us downstairs. Your sister and brother are probably already there.”
Given my… Saint is currently ambling over in his birthday suit, it’s safe to say he will not be greeting me at the dining room table.
“Okay, I’ll be there in a sec!”
Saint towers me, and I keep deadly still, unsure of how this interaction will go since the ominous goodbye feeling is still in my gut.
“Mornin’, Jimi. How’s your ass?” he asks, proceeding to smack it.
Annnd I guess now I know…
“Uggghh! I don’t have time for your crap,” I grumble, then fight a smile as Saint grabs my wrist to pull me to him.
I could try, but there’s no ignoring the morning wood stabbing my abdomen. “What?”
He lifts my chin for a kiss, then walks past me, straight for the bathroom.
It takes me a few seconds of mental recovery before I’m hot on his heels. “No! I have to pee!” I exclaim, and the door gets shut in my face.
“Asshole!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, right before the sound of water pouring onto water and a loud fart makes me gag.
“You need to sneak out…hurry up!”
“Can’t rush brilliance, Jimi.”
“We cannot get caught in the same room.”
When Saint chooses silence, I choose smarts and rush to get dressed, thankful I decided on showering before going to bed.
I’m already slipping into my black blazer when he resurfaces from the royal throne.
“Took you long enough.”
Saint shrugs, picking up his shorts. “Needed to drop a dizzle.”
“TMI, man.”
Another shrug as he slides them on.
My hair is naturally straight, but I put an iron to it anyway, focusing mostly on swooping my bangs.
Saint watches me through the mirror the entire time, even while I apply some makeup, as if we’ve got nowhere to go.
“Skirt’s a little short, don’t you think?”
I stop applying eyeliner, dropping my arms to the side. “Not a fucking chance you’re gonna start this shit.” His lip twitches as I grill him through the mirror. “And nobody can know what we’ve been doing. Got it?”
This may sound like a demand, but it’s really a test.
Wanting to see where Saint’s head is at so I know where to put mine.
In idiot land, I suppose, because the idiot gasps.
“What have we been doing?”
“Get going!” I demand, back to dressing my eyes.
“You gonna do that black pointy cat eye thing?”
Yes.
“Why do you wanna know?”
“Just like it, that’s all.”
“Well…I’m undecided.”
Saint shakes his head in amusement, then stands, finally walking out the damn door.
School discussion is in full swing by the time I enter the dining room, finding Vic, Mom, Auntie Pop, and Theory already halfway through breakfast.
“Sorry I’m late.” I smile awkwardly as I park next to Theory, placing my bag on the floor.
“No worries.” Vic pokes some eggs off his plate, taking a bite. “Your brother’s even later.”
Although without details, Theory isn’t naive to my situation with her brother, which is why I accept her apologetic smile.
“Here you go, dear.” Darla appears at my side, putting a plate of eggs, pancakes, and bacon in front of me, then fills up a glass with orange juice.
“Thanks, Darla.”
She nods and walks away.
“So, kiddo, are you excited for senior year?” Auntie Pop sips what I’m sure is a mimosa.
“In a way, yeah.”
Mom points a fork at me. “It’s gonna be a great one, you just watch.”
“Do you both have your schedule?” Vic asks, and Theory swipes it out of her blazer pocket, waving it at him.
“And you, Hendrix?”
“Yup. It’s in my bag.”
“Great. Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold. School starts in thirty minutes.”
I do just that, as fast as I can without choking, and it’s not until my plate is polished clean of food that I realize how hungry I was.
“Would you like some more, dear?” Darla appears again, ready to take my plate.
“No, I’m good, just gonna finish my juice and head out.”
“Have a wonderful first day.”
I smile at her as she walks away.
Vic eyes the entrance to the kitchen, and somehow, even before he says anything, I feel the energy Saint gives off that nobody else does.
I turn to find him in pristine shape as he adjusts his tie, from blazer to pants that accentuates his physique perfectly. There’s not a tousle in his hair, or bedroom in his eyes.
Not even a wrinkle in his damn oxford.