33. Saint
Saint
I f what happened earlier proves anything other than me being a stubborn asshole for not coming semi clean to Hendrix sooner, it’s that I’m balls-to-the-fucking-wall in love with her.
There. I said it.
Saint Matthias Lavell, with all his fucked up parts, managed to fall in love with a spitfire pain-in-the-ass like Hendrix Zinnia Montgomery.
I’ve experienced a version of it enough throughout my life with my sister and dad to know the signs. Devotion. Loyalty. The willingness to kill or lay down your life to protect. My love for them was born on instinct, surviving eighteen years in waves of deadly explosions.
But my love for Hendrix? It crept up on me.
Became an instinct I didn’t know I was fighting until I had to choose between all of them.
Granted, I saw Theory escaping with Levi and knew then what I know now about the lengths he’ll go to keep her safe for me. It’s logical but doesn’t make the guilt of putting my little sister second an easier pill to swallow.
Accepting what it means? Now that adds a sip of very unexpectedly fresh water. All that’s left for me to do is wait to see if Hendrix is drinking out of the same glass.
If she’s willing to accept me for me and all the fucked up parts I’ve been trying harder now more than ever to fix. Grant me what I know deep down I wanted from the moment she marched into that elevator and refused my attention.
Not only did Hendrix earn my attention anyway, she kept it, and after what she did for Theory and me? She’ll have all of it, and the rest of me, moving forward.
She just needs to say the words.
“Under one condition.” Hendrix raises her chin.
Ultimatum to my ultimatum…I’d expect nothing less.
“Hit me.”
“No more secrets. No more lies.”
On the outside, I remain cool as the other side of Egyptian cotton. But on the inside? Guilt is clawing holes through every one of my muscles.
Honesty. A reasonable request I can fulfill ninety-seven percent of. But that motherfucking three percent? Got its claws in me just as deep.
Doesn’t matter—because there’s no chance I’m losing this girl when I’m this close to having her.
Before I give the claws a chance to out me, I spin Hendrix until her back hits my chest. “You got yourself a deal, Jimi.”
She looks over her shoulder at me, eyes doing that smiling thing I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough of. “Then yes, you caveman, I will be yours.”
“Damn fuckin’ right you will. Call it an act of service for humanity.”
“Humanity?”
“You know…humanity. Humans. Specifically the ones who might try to rizz you up.”
“How the hell am I supposed to put up with such an idiot?”
Using Hendrix’s hand to squeeze my junk, I hit her back with, “That’s what the good dick is for.”
“Pig.”
“ Oink-oink .” I snort into her ear.
This time when I spin Hendrix, I land her back against the tree, picking up one of her legs to settle between them.
“Now where were we? Hm?”
“Hmmmm…” Hendrix bats her lashes, sneaking a hand to unbutton my jeans. “Coming up pretty empty.”
Consider the foreplay suspended due to a painfully hard dick.
“Oh. There’ll be nothing empty about when you come, Jimi.”
With that, I smash our lips together, biting her bottom one open to force myself inside to claim what’s mine.
Hendrix keeps up with my tongue as it whirls around hers, throwing in a nasty bite of her own as she pulls down my zipper.
“I want you, Letterman,” she says in a drunk, breathy tone. “Right now.”
“You really think you’d be leaving here without my cock inside you first?”
Hence the jacket I put on her that’s about to get torn to shreds.
Lowering my jeans just enough to adjust my briefs, I pull out my cock, and Hendrix does the honors of swiping her hand over her pussy before lubricating it.
It’s cold out, but my little Jimi Hendrix is still nice, warm, and wet for me.
Our lips crush together, and we stay this way, not kissing, just breathing each other in as she strokes me.
“Motherf—” I hiss, closing my eyes and throwing my head back as her thumb finds my crown, pressing it like a motherfucking eject button.
She brings the finger to her mouth, and I watch in a craze as her tongue darts out for a taste. “Mhmmmm…” Hendrix moans, looking deadshot at me. “Precoming already for me, Letterman?”
The ability to speak has become a foreign concept, and the only response my needy ass is capable of is squeezing my cock.
Hendrix sucks her finger, the satisfied glint in her eyes making it obvious she knows what she’s doing to me.
I swear to fucking hell I’ve never been one who finishes quick, but this girl, man, makes every part of me desperate to be near, on, or inside her.
And none of us care enough about my ego to wait any longer.
When I kiss Hendrix this time, it’s with pure ownership in the form of rough, greedy swirls of my tongue. Ones that don’t even allow her to come up for air until I’m sucking the entirety of her bottom lip, biting and pulling so she can exhale a cry.
I make sure to scratch my nails along her leg when I wrap it around my waist, keeping her distracted by the pain as I position my cock and drive inside her warm, wet pussy.
Unwarned. Un-fucking-prepared.
Exactly how I was for her in the beginning.
“Ahhhh,” Hendrix lets out a strangled breath. “Shit. I forgot how big you are.”
I ignore the impossibility of that comment, telling myself it’s the sex drunk talking, and pull back, forcing myself deeper even harder.
Hendrix feels so fucking good and molds around my dick in all the right ways to have me forget where we are and who can possibly hear what I’m doing to her. One of which I don’t give too much of a flying fuck if he did.
It’s time for Hendrix’s Italian to learn his place.
And if listening to me ravish his precious signorina is what it takes, so be it.
Hendrix’s back rides the tree higher with each one of my thrusts, making the sound of leather scraping wood fill my ears along with her satisfied noises.
Whining. Panting. Grunting.
Most of which we do as one.
Hendrix’s pussy starts to pulse against my cock, so I bury my face in her neck, biting down to stop myself from growling like a territorial wolf.
“Saint, I…” My name comes out through a gasp. “If you don’t slow down, I’m gonna…” Her lust filled voice trails off, then returns with a “soon.”
Hopefully very soon, because I sure as shit won’t be lasting much longer either if she keeps up with this torture. Something I’ll be sure to make up to her and my ego when we get back to Riverside.
“It’s okay, baby,” I reassure her.
“But I want this to last.” There’s a hint of uncertainty in the reply, and I can’t tell if it has to do with us or an orgasm.
Doesn’t fucking matter, because my answer stands either way.
“It will, I promise.”
This seems to do the trick, because after a few more thrusts and clashing of mouths, we’re lost in messy sex sounds again.
Hendrix arches into me as I wrap an arm around the curve of her back, holding her leg around me so I can angle us the way that drives her crazy.
My hips roll in slow purposeful strokes, taking my time hitting the money spot, and I know I got it when Hendrix’s insides pulse and thighs clench. Every inch of her pussy is choking my cock like a slow squeezing vise.
She lets out a small, pinched sound, then closes her eyes, focusing the way chicks do when they’re close to the finish line.
“Oh…I fucking needed this,” Hendrix murmurs, gripping my ass to drive me in faster. “So bad.”
The orgasm rising at the base of my cock feels more like a volcano about to erupt after being dormant for too long.
A mix of ache and throbbing.
This girl. Is going. To fucking. Kill me. With her pussy.
Then take me to sex heaven where I can fall and die all over again.
A moan I know I should contain forms in my throat, so I use a mouthful of Hendrix’s breast to stifle it.
The fabric she’s got on is thin enough for me to reach a perked nipple, and I waste not a second before nibbling on it, resulting in feminine pants too loud for even my diabolical comfort.
“You better be quiet,” I demand through a second nibble. “We may still have some blue suits roaming.”
“Well, you’re making it too damn hard.”
I grin, switching to kissing lines up her neck. “Could say the same about you, baby.”
“My God…” She moans in half pleasure, half annoyance, but still pulls me closer. “Even during sex you make terrible jokes.”
Through heaving chests, we manage to laugh, but things take a serious turn when Hendrix’s breaths become erratic and she’s mumbling lust filled words.
“Atta girl…keep taking this cock. Strangle it.”
“Almost…there.” She moans through a bite of her lip. “So…close.”
“Fuck.” I look down to where I’m slamming into her, nostrils flaring. “I’m gonna drown your pussy with my cum.”
Hendrix gasps…but only half from arousal.
“Shit. Wait.” She presses a hand against my chest, but she’s as delusional as I am on a bad day if she thinks I’m stopping at the best part.
With short, fast strokes in and out of her, I grit out, “Not happening.”
“I forgot to fill my damn birth control, Saint.”
I yank her face to mine. “Then it looks like you’ll be having my fucking baby, Jimi.”
Me having a kid?
Straight up insane in the Saint Lavell membrane.
I learned enough about my sickness to know where, or who , it most likely came from.
Some kids get eyes from their mother. Hair. Fucking nose.
Me? I got her history of mental illness.
A truth my dad felt bad about and didn’t tell me until I was too far gone into blaming myself.
The idea of passing my monster down the line to a kid was never an option. Which is why the words flying from my mouth so easily have me fucking flabbergasted.
Not enough to stop me from taking this home, though.
“Have you lost your—” Hendrix argues, but it dies with my predatory growl. I completely lose it as I flush her to the tree, slamming my hips upwards. My free hand snakes to her clit and rubs with no mercy, leaving Hendrix without will as she breaks apart for me.