33. Saint #2
Sweat builds at my neck where her fingers are clenching, and my insides burn with need for release as I continue devouring her like a savage.
Wild, messy, irate blows from my cock have my Letterman not only scratching, but shredding against the tree, and Hendrix’s bun coming half done in a mess on the side of her head.
Looking so. Fucking. Beautiful. Even when she shouldn’t be.
With spasming legs, her orgasm spills all over my cock, the warmth and wetness making it a lot easier to drive in and out faster.
“Ah! Saint!” Hendrix screams, and I’m over giving a shit if the cops hear. She’s got me crazy enough to kill, anyway.
Goddamn. Hearing my name flying helplessly past her lips like this is the sweetest, most addicting form of ecstasy. So much, I’d rip the ears off every motherfucker just to set it as my ringtone.
“Say my name again, baby. I love it.”
“Saint…”
I rear back, then surge deep inside Hendrix, grumbling, “Fucking. Again.”
“Saint…” She breathes, and this new, submissive nature of her voice fuels a raging fire inside me.
“Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
I surge again. “This time with my name.”
“I’m yours, Saint Lavell.”
My balls turn to solid rock as I deliver my final strokes, and the need to crush my lips to Hendrix’s is magnetic.
“Give me all you got, Letterman,” she mutters into our tight kiss. “Show me how bad you wanna be mine too.”
I thrust a final time, then still as the pressure in my groin erupts in thick, almost painful spurts. “Fuuuckkkkkkk,” I groan, pressing my forehead to Hendrix’s as my cum spills inside her pussy.
We stay this way as we ride the wave together.
“I can feel your cock twitching inside me,” Hendrix says when our breaths even out. “Have I ever told you how hot that is?”
“You haven’t…” I respond with a tired chuckle. “But by all means keep hyping up my Royal Cock.”
After a dramatic eye roll, Hendrix attempts to wiggle free, but I ring my arms around her waist. “Where do you think you’re going? I’m not ready to be outside of you yet.”
“To get my underwear…”
Nudging my face into her neck, I mumble, “Thirty more minutes.”
“Saint.” She slaps the back of my head playfully. “We have to go.”
The girl’s obviously right, since I can hear the sounds of radio chatter in the distance, telling me we’re minutes away from a lot of company.
“Fuck, fine.” I pull my cock out of Hendrix and step back to help steady her on her feet.
“Tissues?” she asks in a hurry.
“Inside pocket.”
Stealing a couple from the pack, I get my shit sorted and spend the rest of the time on the lookout as Hendrix cleans herself up.
“Such bullshit.” She huffs, tossing the empty bag of tissues at me. “Everything is made easier for you guys.”
“How the heck is that my fault?”
“A little Boyfriend 101.” She taps my cheek with her hand. “Everything moving forward is gonna end up your fault. Especially when I’m on my period.”
“Now that is such bullshit.” I draw Hendrix closer by the small of her back, kiss her, then dip her backwards fast.
“Oh my God!” She squeals and snorts a hideous laugh I’ve never heard before.
“Okay…I think I found it.”
“Found what?”
“The first ugly thing about you.”
One would think being told you have a terrible laugh would deter you from repeating it. But nope. Not my little Jimi Hendrix. She’s gone into a full-fledged snort fest.
“You’re a fucking mess.” I shake my head and straighten her. “Now let’s get outta here before animal control comes lookin’ for us too.”
“Tell me what the fuck happened,” my father snaps with folded arms over his night robe.
It takes a lot for Vic Lavell to resort to cursing, but when he does, you can bet one hundred percent of the time it’s at night and because of me.
The call from him came not minutes after we dodged the cops and peeled out of the Crescent Point parking lot, hollering something about assault charges, trespassing, and other shit parents worry about when their eighteen year old kids break some bones and laws.
He went on rampaging the entire eleven minutes it took us to reach Levi and Theory, who were celebrating their grand escape at a local McDonald’s.
Assholes didn’t even bother getting Jimi or me a McNugget. I was hungry as shit after all the cardio.
Whatever, I’m over it.
Something I wish my father would be, but he insists on continuing the scold sesh in the middle of the mansion foyer.
Fresh out of holy fucking his wife, I’m sure.
The four of us stand in a line as we face the four of them—him, wife, half asleep sister-in-law, and, you guessed it, the Italian.
Who looks more than willing to pistol whip me.
I wish the motherfucker would, so I can knock his ass out and spare myself the headache of another round of Dad’s bitching.
“What in the world were you thinking, Hendrix?” Her mother demands, eyes wide and furious. “Hurting that… girl …the way you did.”
Look at that…not even Dad’s irritatingly upbeat wife can hide her distaste for Seven.
“I-I can explain…” Theory cuts in with a finger in the air, but before I can silence her my father beats me to it.
“You, young lady, will stay quiet.”
“B-but, Daddy—”
“No ‘buts’ Theory!” his voice booms, and damn I haven’t seen him mad like this since he caught me fucking the Catholic out of an altar girl.
“I don’t know how you managed to slip past Stanley, or the security system, but mark my words where I stand, baby girl.
I will find out. Fix it. And you will no longer be able to walk anywhere without my eyes glued to you through every street camera in the damn city! ”
Tears well in my sister’s eyes, but she knows enough about our father’s abilities than to speak another word.
When he realizes he made his point, Dad turns an icy glare on my best friend, who I notice from the corner of my eye just removed his hand from Theory’s back.
Comfort’s to be expected, given they’ve always been close and she’s upset, but Theory is older now, and changing , so Levi’s gonna need to learn some new boundaries before I rip his hand off and feed it to the Italian in a stromboli.
“Leviathan,” my father beckons him with a curt nod. “I spoke to your father…he wants you at the hospital right away to check on Theory’s friend.”
By check on, we all know Mr. Creed means to figure out if we’ll be paying or killing the bitch quickly so the hospital can cover it up.
When Levi refuses to move from Theory’s side, Dad notes it as much as I do and gives him a pointed look. “Now, son.”
Yeah…I’ll definitely be pulling time away from fucking Hendrix to remind Levi who’s the actual brother here.
Finally heeding the command, Levi juts his chin at me, then takes off to the front door, pulling his cell phone out of his jeans pocket.
“Now…” My father lets out a sigh as he regards his stepdaughter, knowing enough about her now to expect a slew of witty clap backs. “Hendrix, I need you to tell me exactly why you hurt Theory’s friend.”
“Annalie is not my friend!” Theory ignores her own warning and blurts out, “N-not anymore.”
“Why?” June asks impatiently, but Hendrix doesn’t allow Theory to answer for her this time.
“Because that twatwaffle said some terrible shit.”
“About who?” Hendrix’s aunt jumps in on the third degree.
“Theory and Saint.”
The sudden allegiance comes as a surprise to only three of the adults in the room, mostly because the fourth one’s a dick and can’t understand shit unless Hendrix translates for him.
“She spoke about you too, Jimi,” I remind her, not out of spite but out of frustration. This girl spent so much time during the car ride here enraged over what Annalie said about us, with barely a mention of what the bitch said about her.
In plain truth, Hendrix is the only person in this room who deserves to be defended. But for some, most likely stubborn, reason, she refrains from doing it herself.
Well, she’s about to get utterly pissed the fuck off by me, then.
“Whatever.” Hendrix waves me off dismissively, but I’m no longer in the mood for games.
“Annalie spent all of last year and the past two months body shaming Hendrix, threatening her, making up bullshit rumors about pet fetishes and sex meets with Lloyd.”
“The janitor?” Hendrix shrieks.
“Really, Jimi? That’s the one you focus on?”
The parentals look on as though they’re not sure whether to celebrate the return of our banter or be mortified by it.
Hendrix’s aunt Poppy steps in front of her to rub her arm. “Did Annalie really say those things about you, kiddo?”
“The janitor one is news to me.”
“That sleazy. Little. Skank.” Poppy seethes. “I will fucking shank her.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say Hendrix got her temper from the stray twin.
“Poppy!” Hendrix’s mother gasps.
“Oh, fuck off, June,” she shoots out with a furious gaze still on Hendrix. “You’re lucky I’m not marching over to that hospital and cutting the little twat’s face completely off.”
Well, shit.
Maybe there are adoption papers in her future somewhere.
“Alright, alright. Let’s refrain from any more violence,” my father says, back to his usual turn-the-cheek as he focuses on Hendrix.
“I’m very sorry to hear the things this girl put you through, Hendrix, but what you did couldn’t have come at a worse time.
You know we’re dealing with a lot right now. ”
“Yeah, well, kinda hard to weigh the scales when neither you or Mom are choosing to be honest with me. Or at least Saint.”
Guilt takes another nasty bite out of me, even deeper when Hendrix casts a protective glance my way. I eat that shit down just as hard to keep up pretenses.
My father lets out a tired groan. “Look, I speak for all three of us when I say we’re happy to see you guys on better terms. Defending each other like family should. But this type of violence, Hendrix? It’s no good for anyone, as honorable as your intentions may be.”
Hendrix’s mother’s got an eye on her vibrating cell phone, but agrees with my dad.