Chapter 14
“What?”
“Up you go. On the counter, so I can eat.”
“I can’t—what if I break it?”
“You’re not going to break it, Mikey.”
“Well, what about the bed? Don’t you want more room or something?”
Saint shakes his head, leaning in until his lips meet my ear. “I want to feast on you while you sit on this counter. Every day I’m here working, I’ll be reminded of the greatest night of my life.”
Tonight is giving me whiplash.
Saint kissing me and pulling me onto his lap lit my body up in a way it never has. I didn’t think hearing my full name would be so enjoyable, so erotic, but the way it flows over his tongue is better than anything I’ve heard.
I’ve never had someone speak to me the way Saint does. The dirty talk is something I thought only happened in books. I didn’t think people actually said those things in real life.
I fucking love it. My pussy is weeping just from making out with him and hearing him talk.
Ruby’s interruption was a bump in the road, but I like her. I could imagine being her friend if we lived in the same place. I really liked hearing about Saint being Cupid, but now my mind is swimming with a million questions about his gift.
Is it like a sixth sense? How does he know? Is it like reading auras or something?
Does it mean he feels this insane connection between us? Did he feel it as soon as he saw me? If he had, he wouldn’t have waited a whole year to make a move, right?
I don’t know.
And I can’t find it in myself to care or ask about it now, not when he’s begging to devour me, and I can’t seem to get my logical brain online to tell him no. To tell him it’s insane to want to fuck a near stranger so badly.
“Will the counter be cold?” I ask.
“Only for a minute, but I’ll warm you up in no time.”
I brace my hands on his broad shoulders, and I expect him to lift me up, but instead, he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of my sweats. “Can I take these off, sweetheart?”
I nod, and he tsks. “When I ask you something, I need you to answer with words. Understood?”
“Understood,” I gulp.
“Good. Now, can I take these off?”
“Yes.”
Slowly, like he’s trying to savor the reveal of every inch of skin, he slides them down my legs, tossing them to the side once they’re off.
“Mikelle,” he says in a lethal whisper. “You’ve been wearing my pants without any panties on?”
“I didn’t have a change of underwear in my truck…” I trail off.
“It’s hot as fuck,” he declares. Then, he’s lifting me in one fell swoop and depositing me on the counter. He steps between my spread legs, cupping my jaw and kissing me with urgency. Our kiss is heated and passionate, tongues tangling with a fervor, like we’ll die without the taste of the other.
He pulls away and trails his lips down my neck before kneeling. At this height, his face is directly level with my pussy.
Instinctively, I try to close my legs, but Saint tuts. “No, don’t hide from me, please. Let me see your pretty pussy. Spread your legs.”
Doubt creeps in when I realize I’m going to be exposed to him.
I don’t wax because I don’t have the time or the energy to go to the salon.
The one time I tried to do it myself, I did it wrong.
It was so painful I couldn’t wear underwear for three days.
At best, I take my razor to it every couple months.
I’m not bare and hairless down there. Will that turn him off?
“Hey.” Saint’s voice softens and pulls me from my mini spiral. He stands, cupping my face. “What happened? Where did you go, Mikey?”
“I’m not completely shaved, and… I’m embarrassed I went commando in your house, in your pants.”
He chuckles, low and sensual, and it sends a shiver down my spine. “You think a little thing like hair on your pussy is going to bother me?”
“It doesn’t?”
“Hell no. I’ll eat your pussy like it’s my last fucking meal.
As for the commando thing…” He leans in close like he’s sharing a secret.
“I’m so fucking hard thinking about it. I love seeing you in my clothes.
” He rolls his hips, letting the hardness between his legs bump my thigh to emphasize his point.
Lust quickly replaces my embarrassment when I feel the evidence of what I do to him. Of how much he wants me. Attraction isn’t something he could easily fake.
Against all odds, this Viking baker, god-like man wants me.
God, I want him, too.
“Now,” he places a kiss on my nose, “Can I get back to what I was doing?”
I nod, but he quirks his eyebrow. “Yes, please.”
“Fuck, you sound so pretty when you beg.” Like he can’t help himself, he places a drugging kiss on my lips before kneeling between my thighs. “Spread a little wider for me. I need room to eat. I can get a little sloppy.”
I do as he says, slowly spreading my thighs until cool air kisses the damp, heated skin between my legs.
Arousal licks up my spine as he lets out a low moan.
His thumbs slide up my thighs, meeting in the middle and spreading my pussy lips.
He traces gently over my sensitive clit, like he’s exploring me before he wrecks me.
“You know, I used to say red was my favorite color,” he whispers reverently, his eyes flicking up to mine briefly before they lock on my pussy again. “Then I met you and decided it was teal. But pink, specifically the pink of this cunt is becoming a close second.”
Who says stuff like this?
Saint Valentine, apparently.
He tightens the tie on his bun, then tosses my legs over his shoulders. “Hold on tight, sweetheart. I’m not coming up for air until you’ve soaked my beard so thoroughly, I’ll have to take three showers just to wash the smell of you off me.”
I don’t have time to retort because his warm, rough tongue swipes through my pussy lips and languidly brushes my clit, and my hips jolt.
Saint’s grip on my thighs tightens to the point I’m sure there will be little bruises tomorrow. His beard tickles the inside of my thighs with every movement, amplifying the sensations between my legs.
“Oh,” I moan as he flattens his tongue and firmly licks my clit. Bracing my left hand on the counter, my right hand automatically grips his bun. Does this hurt him? Testing the waters, I tug gently, and he groans against my pussy, sending vibrations through my core.
“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Wish I could bottle it up so I could have a taste whenever I get a craving,” he mumbles, lapping at my arousal like it’s a decadent dessert. I want to protest, tell him he’s being dramatic, that he’s just saying things.
But I can’t form a coherent sentence.
One of Saint’s thick fingers traces over the lips of my pussy, and he pulls away long enough to look up at me over the soft swell of my stomach.
“I wish you could see yourself right now. Face flushed, pussy dripping for me while you’re wearing my shirt.
Goddamn gorgeous. How long has it been since someone’s treated this pussy how it deserved? ”
“N-never?”
“No one’s ever tasted this cunt? No one’s ever made you come on their tongue?"
“No one’s ever made me come on their tongue,” I confirm. “I thought it only happened in books.”
Saint’s eyes darken even more, if possible, and his chest rumbles with something sounding like a purr.
“Don’t worry, Daddy’s going to take good care of you. I’ll show you exactly how this cunt deserves to be treated.”
My pussy clenches at his words.
Daddy.
A kink I thought I’d enjoy but never felt brave enough to try with anyone.
“I mean—no, I meant ‘Daddy,’” Saint sighs. “I’m sorry if—”
“I loved it,” I blurt out.
Saints lips, wet with my arousal, tip up on one side. “Yeah? Are you going to call me Daddy? Let me take care of you?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what? Say it, please, Mikey, let me hear you say it.”
“Yes, Daddy. Please take care of my pussy.”
“Fuck,” Saint moans. “Lift up your shirt for me, let me see those gorgeous tits while I make you come on my fingers.”
I do as he says, lifting the shirt above my breasts so they’re exposed to him. My nipples pucker further as the cool air hits them, and Saint curses under his breath.
“You’re a work of fucking art, Mikelle Snowe.”
I’m inclined to believe him, especially when he groans again with his mouth back on my pussy and one of his fingers gently pushing inside me.
I moan at the slight fullness, but it isn’t enough.
“More, please,” I mewl. My eyes roll back in my head when he obliges, adding a second finger. He replaces his tongue with his thumb, rubbing slow circles with the perfect pressure as he kisses my inner thighs.
“I can feel you, sweetheart. Feel the way your cunt is gripping me, sucking me back in. So needy. You’re desperate for it, aren’t you? It’s okay, so am I. I need to feel you come for me, Mikelle. Come for Daddy while I stroke my cock. Make a mess on my counter.”
Saint latches back onto my clit, his shoulder shifting with the movement of him stroking himself.
Fuck, I wish I had a picture of what we look like right now. Saint, with his head between my legs, my hand in his hair, head tossed back in pleasure.
I bet we look hot as hell.
His fingers pump faster, and I give his hair a gentle tug, trying to keep him where he is. His appreciative groan vibrates against my pussy, amping up my arousal and sending me catapulting into an orgasm.
I’ve orgasmed before but not from oral. The pleasure I’m experiencing is different than anything else I’ve ever felt.
Saint adds a third finger, fucking me in earnest. My stomach clenches, and I tug his hair as my orgasm rushes through me.
My eyes flutter closed as I clench around his fingers, and my head falls between my shoulder blades.
“That’s it, so fucking good. Give me all your sweetness. So fucking beautiful when you come for Daddy. I swear I could watch you all day,” he praises, his fingers never stopping their onslaught. Before my first orgasm can even remotely subside, another sneaks up my spine.
“Daddy.”
“I feel it. Let it happen, it’s going to be gorgeous.” He leans forward and places the gentlest kiss on my clit, and I detonate. My ears ring, and stars burst behind my eyes. It feels like some type of pressure valve released between my hips, and wetness coats my thighs.
“That’s it, beautiful. Fuck, thank you for giving that to me. Daddy’s so proud of you,” he grits out, then he groans, springing to his feet and spilling his release on my thigh, mixing with my own.
I’ve seen dicks before. I’ve never thought of one as more attractive than another, but Saint’s cock puts them all to shame. It’s perfect. Thick enough to fill me but not so thick I couldn’t fit him in my mouth. Long enough to reach all the perfect spots but not so long he’d hurt me.
A fresh wave of want passes through me. I want to feel him, so badly.
We’re both panting, chests heaving as we recover. Saint’s beard glistens with my arousal, and I should be embarrassed, but I can’t find the energy, and he looks so proud.
He presses his forehead to mine then tilts his head and slowly brushes his lips against mine. I taste myself on his tongue as they tangle together lazily.
When we finally break apart, my body is spent. The weight of the day is heavy on my shoulders, and I’m ready to go to sleep.
Saint tucks himself back into his sweats. “Let me clean you up, stay here.”
I’m only able to muster a slight nod. Is this it? Our one night together and tomorrow we’ll go our separate ways?
He comes back with a damp paper towel and gently cleans up the pearlescent liquid on my skin.
“So… round two? I want to feel you inside me,” I try to tease, but my voice comes out hoarse, and even I can hear how tired I am.
He laughs softly. “I love the enthusiasm, but I want you to trust me fully before I get inside you.”
“What? But—”
“No ‘buts,’ Mikelle. Tonight was everything I wanted. You may trust me with your body, but I need you to trust me with your heart. I don’t want just a piece of you, I want all of you.”
My tongue feels dry at his confession. I thought tonight was supposed to be a fun, one night thing.
No attachments. We’re getting whatever weird chemistry is between us out of our systems. He didn’t explicitly say it and neither did I, but I figured it was obvious because he lives here in Cupid’s Cove, and I live in Salem.
It’s one thing to let him have my body, I have no problem with that. It’s another thing entirely to let him have my heart.
Even if, deep down, I know I’m halfway there.
Saint Valentine has the potential to destroy me if he decides he doesn’t want me anymore.
Would it be worth the risk?