Chapter 36 Saint
Saint
Dangerous - Limi
“Earth to fucking Saint?” Dawson nudges me, jiggling the heavy envelope in front of me.
My mind remains in that gym, the images of Indie flashing behind my eyes every time I fucking blink.
Mentally, I gave myself a slap on the back for holding it together. When she dropped to her knees without a hint of hesitation?
Fuck, I deserved a knighthood.
It makes my dick stand to attention thinking about it.
Clearing my throat, I reach for the envelope.
“Cheers, mate,” I say, plucking it off him and emptying the contents onto my desk.
He sighs, leaning against my desk as he points to each object scattered across it. “Fake driver’s licence, passport, both British and American. Credit card, bank card, and of course, your invitation.”
I flip the plastic cards between my fingertips, huffing a laugh.
We had to make me forty-five, seeing as Dawson bought wigs that were fucking awful.
Shona thankfully could work with my hair that’s been growing out at the sides to make it black and peppered temporarily. She’s well versed in prosthetics for undercover missions and managed to make me look the age in the photo.
I drew the line at putting fucking wisps of dye through my eyebrows.
I’d rather just walk in and blow the place to shit, Rex style. Take each and every one of them out in one go.
But alas, there’s too much at stake, and there’s a risk someone we need could get caught in the crossfire.
Besides, I wouldn’t want the Montgomerys to be handed an easy punishment.
They’ll fucking burn in my eternal hell.
My gaze shifts to the invite, and I pick it up.
“Any updates from Ross?” I ask. We’ve got one of our men working on the inside, has been for two years now.
He’s been within their hospitality staff for their big events. Omnia holds them every quarter; this is the last one before the year is out.
The only opportunity to attend as their society seeps into the criminal underworld, and invitations are extended to existing clients’ associates.
I’m expecting it to be big and to reveal exactly what goes on in the minds of the fucking depraved.
Dawson scoops up the fake identification. “Still no names but overheard the vetting on the new attendees has checked out. You’re in the clear.”
Dawson’s had to squirrel away the last couple weeks building me an entire seedy history, one further away from my current, planting enough trails to make my fake life look legit.
It helps when you already have connections in the criminal world, knowing exactly who to infiltrate to your benefit.
I nod, handing him the black card containing the Omnia black and gold emblem.
He shoves all the contents back in the envelope. “I’m gonna head to the gym and call it a night.”
My brows deepen. “You fucking feeling alright, Dawson?”
The man rarely trains; when he does, it’s not willingly.
He spent the last twenty years doing it, only now to keep himself in the same condition as the rest of us.
My ears bled when he speared the innards out of me about having to do the cold training with Indie and Regina.
He flips me off. “Gina wanted to do a late-night session, seeing as Indie wasn’t up for it.”
My thumb runs across my bottom lip. “Gina, eh? You two getting cosy?”
I’ve noticed them over the past couple of weeks. I genuinely thought it was a shared love for cyber chaos; seems as though that’s brought them closer than I initially thought.
“Fuck off, Saint,” he calls over his shoulder, and the slam of the door seals in my laugh.
As I glance back at my screen, the faint smile that appeared drops like a stone weight.
The Montgomery twins.
Both feeds of them from outside their home are playing from earlier, the camera planted by one of my men still standing strong for all these years.
Unlike the rest of their members, they don’t have CCTV within their homes, only the outside.
A benefit of being a part of the satanic bloodline that created this fucking group of lunatics.
I’ve had it blocked the last couple of weeks, ensuring there’s no evidence of my people driving by. The clip I have right now is replaying on a loop, and I’ve spent the past hour glaring at it, watching them both as they retreat into their homes.
They’ve got three across the state of Kingstone, never visiting the one near the coast, always in Harrison.
Both will follow in their father’s footsteps, worming their way into an authoritative position, continuing the corruption that runs deep in their DNA.
But they have been hiding, and I need to know why.
I should be grateful they’re not as high profile right now. Less attention when they go missing. They’re reclusive for a reason, and I know it’s something to do with Omnia.
I just can’t crack it, and it’s driving me fucking insane.
“Why do you look homicidal?”
That velvet voice swirls around me like silk and lace.
She’s standing at the front of my desk, kitted out in the same attire as everyone else around here. Black cargos, tank top, and a belt to contain more weapons than the angelic glint in her eye would make you believe she knows how to use.
Fuck.
I’ve never found it appealing before, but on her?
She makes it look damn right sinful.
I want to tear every single layer of material off her with my fucking teeth.
Reaching for the screens, I turn them off at the base. “Apparently that’s always how I look.”
I cock my head, watching her. Those eyes are like the rarest crystals staring straight through to my fucking soul, waiting for the moment they can snatch it and hold it prisoner within them.
She already has it; she has everything I am.
Time is irrelevant between both of us. And if there’s one thing she can’t take from me, it’s my word.
And I wasn’t lying when I said I’m going to claim her.
She blesses me with her smile, one that makes her look shy. “You always did have a grouchy look on your face. At least now your actions match it.”
Sucking on my teeth, I stand from the chair, prowling round the desk until I reach her, gazing down at her petite height.
“Awfully brave words for a woman who’s waiting to receive my wrath.”
I scoop her over my shoulder, marching out my office towards my bedroom.
“Saint—”
I cut her off with a hard slap to the ass as we parade through the corridor. I have to dip when I open the door, making sure I don’t knock her out on the wooden frame.
That would be boring; I want to watch her squirm beneath my hold.
Her airy laugh fills the room, and I throw her onto the bed. Could have benefited from doing it a little lighter—her body bounces up off the mattress.
She pushes up onto her elbows, staring up at me as her breathing goes shallow. Watching the rise and fall of her chest possesses me, knowing I’m the root cause.
“You ready to eat your words, darling?”
For a moment, she looks like a deer caught in the headlights, but then a smirk edges her lips, the utter devilishness glinting in her eye arousing the beast inside me.
“Starving.”
I fail to fight a groan. To think she used to be scared to even hold my fucking hand.
I reach behind me, fisting the material to tug my shirt off, then it’s followed by the slow removal of my belt and my own cargos.
Her greedy eyes roam over me, and it’s like the trail of heat scorches my skin as evidence of where her gaze draws.
When it lands on my boxers, my dick instantly swells. I watch as her pupils dilate, and then she slowly starts to remove hers.
I’m like a ticking time bomb, and she’s about to win the award for the slowest clothing removal on the fucking planet.
When she lifts her ass, my hands reach out, grabbing the cuffs of her bottoms, swiping them off in one swift movement.
Her husky laugh grips the back of my neck. “Someone’s a little impatient.”
I smirk, walking over to the bed, climbing over her writhing body to whisper in her ear. “Someone’s got years to make up for my cock not being buried in them.”
She whimpers, and the way it fills my ears causes a subtle shudder to roll through me.
That sound.
It’s addictive, irresistible, and outright fucking intoxicating.
Our lips weave together, and my arm scoops under her back, lifting her to the middle of the bed.
I fucking explore her, everything feeling like it’s the first time, every single inch that I’ve ached to see and feel again.
Tracing my tongue over every bare area of her perfect skin to taste her, my hand mapping the curves of her temptation-definition of a body.
I unclip her bra, and as soon as she throws the material to the side, I dive in, bringing her peaks between my teeth, teasing and biting, then soothing it with licks when she cries out.
Her hand fists in my hair, the other gripping my forearm like she’s clinging on for life.
“Saint, please,” she breathes, her pants fanning over my shoulder blade.
A deep chuckle rumbles from me. “Begging already, and I haven’t even started.”
Her body squirms beneath me, and I leave a trail of wet kisses down her torso, settling between her thighs.
“Spread your legs wider, Indie.”
I watch as her eyes flutter closed, and when she opens them again, they’re heavy with lust.
Wrapping my arms around her thighs, I drag my flat tongue up her slit, and she bucks her hips when I glide across her clit.
“So fucking responsive to me, baby. Has she missed me?”
Just as she opens her mouth to answer, I slide two fingers inside her, sucking on her clit, making her cry fold in on itself in her answer. “Yes…oh fuck, Saint.”
She really has made me a ravenous man; I devour her, her moans filling the room as her head falls back onto the pillow, dark hair fanning over the white material.
My fingers curl inside her, finding that sweet spot that’s got her thighs trembling in my hold. When her back bows, pussy gripping my fingers, I get to taste her orgasm as it rolls over my tongue.
I give her pussy a slap to make her cry out for me again, crawling up her body to find her eyes unfocused as she fights her high.