My Cruel Salvation (Fallen Saint # 3) - J. Kenner Page 0,16
surviving for another day despite all my bad choices, so that I could wake in the morning and tell Fate to go fuck herself.
“Tell me,” he demands his finger pressing harder so that I gasp with longing. “Tell me why.”
I actually blush, and I’m so not a blushing girl. “I told them no.”
He eases back, his lips tracing a path down my spine. “Will you tell me no?”
“Never.”
“Why not?”
“I want everything from you, Devlin. And I—don’t you know that with every man I fantasized about it being you?”
“Tell me.”
I frown, shaking my head a bit.
“Tell me one of your fantasies.”
I bite my lower lip, thinking of one in particular after a night in New York when both Alex and Devlin Saint had been on my mind. “You remember when I told you about the time you were in New York, and I was so angry because some fucking billionaire named Devlin Saint was building a foundation in my hometown right in the spot that Alex and I considered our own?”
“How could I forget?”
He eases me up, then leads me to the bedroom area, shutting the bookcase behind us. I expect him to strip, but he doesn’t. He just stretches out on the bed, his back against the headboard. He’s entirely dressed, and he urges me forward, then tells me to straddle him, so that I’m kneeling over him. He puts his hands on my hips and gently rocks my body, sending tremors through me as he continues to speak casually, as if completely unaware of the effect he’s having on me.
“You went out that night,” he says. “You wanted to burn off your anger and your memories by picking up some asshole and fucking him.”
“I picked the wrong guy,” I say, moaning a little at the way his rock-hard cock presses against his slacks and teases my clit. “And a white knight came to my rescue.”
“I was so furious with you.” He practically growls with the memory. “Furious and frustrated, because I wanted to toss you down in that alley and fuck you myself. God, El, I wanted to slam you against the wall of that alley and fuck you so hard your screams would rock the city. I wanted to take you to the edge, to make you truly afraid. I wanted to be the one who fought your demons with you, and yet I couldn’t tell you a damn thing.”
“I never had any idea it was you in that alley,” I admit. “Not consciously, anyway. But I think part of me knew, because I had this fantasy. I played it in my head so many times after that night, over and over, alone in the dark.”
“Tell me.” His eyes are hard on mine, their intensity matching the sensual edge in his voice.
I put my hands on his shoulders, my eyes locking on his as I grind myself against him. His hands go to my breasts now, teasing my nipples as I try to speak despite the rising climax threatening to overtake me like a tsunami. “He followed me home,” I say. “That man in the alley. He’d told me to leave so he could take care of the guy who’d wanted to hurt me.”
I tremble with the memory, knowing full well I could have died that night. I draw a breath, moaning as he tweaks a nipple, then force myself to continue, my voice rough and halting. “He, he broke into the apartment. The stranger who saved me, I mean. I don’t know how. But in the fantasy, I’m changing for bed, still shaken, freaked from what had happened. I’m naked and I hear a noise behind me, and I turn. And he’s there. Standing right there behind me.”
I’m breathing hard now, the memory of the fantasy coming back fast. “He got close, and I could smell him. It was your scent—Alex’s, I mean—and I was so confused. Then he looked in my eyes and said, ‘if it’s danger you want.’”
“What then?” He’s unfastening his slacks, tugging the zipper down. I rise up, then moan when I look down and see that he’s freed his cock. He’s so hard, and my body clenches, desperate for him. I meet his eyes, and he nods—one short, quick movement. I’m so wet that it’s easy, and we both gasp as I lower myself, taking all of him in, then rocking slowly as he strokes my clit, both of us breathing hard, our eyes never leaving each other.