Saint (Angelview Academy #1) - E.M. Snow Page 0,56
long enough to order, “Get your hands back on your tits. I want you to touch them while I make you come.”
I’ve only slept with one other guy in my life, but he never bossed me around during sex like this. He was gentle and slow—at least, until I became an irredeemable monster in his eyes. While part of me thinks I should bristle and snap back that Saint doesn’t own me, a deep, darker part of me wants to submit to him. To obey. I give into that part and pull my shirt up as he resumes ravishing me. Yanking down my bikini top, I let me breasts fall free and cup them again. The rougher he gets with his mouth, the rougher I get with my hands. I’m pinching and tugging at my nipples and squeezing my breasts until it almost hurts, but that delicious edge between pleasure and pain only makes me hotter.
“Saint…” I gasp his name like a plea.
“You should’ve left when I told you to,” he snarls against my flesh. “You’re an idiot for staying when I told you to go.”
How could that be true, when staying led me to this?
“I’m going to make you fucking regret not listening to me.”
He takes my clit between his lips again as he moves his hand to press a finger at my entrance. He teases the hole as he sucks me, then presses his thick digit inside without warning. He pumps it in and out, flinging me into madness with this finger while he continues to torment my clit. Another finger slips inside to join the first, and I gasp.
I undulate my hips, desperate for more. More friction. More torment. More everything. Wild, keening noises keep slipping from my mouth, but I’m too lost to be embarrassed by any of the sounds I make. He’s driving me toward what I know is going to be the more powerful orgasm of my life, and nothing else matters to me in this moment than the promise of that earth-shattering release.
I’m climbing higher and higher—so close I let out a frantic whimper.
“Saint, fuck, I’m almost there … please. Please.”
At my words, his pace becomes savage, and suddenly I’m tumbling over the edge into a sea of pure ecstasy. I scream as I come, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through me like a tsunami. Saint is merciless as he drags my orgasm out to a tortuous degree. I’m too tender and sore and finally have to push at his head to get him to stop and let me go.
He stands up, his expression radiating smug, male pride. Reaching down, he casually pinches my nipple, which makes me gasp.
“Damn, Ellis. For such a stuck-up bitch, you sure come unglued when your pussy’s getting—”
“Don’t,” I rasp, and a slow grin forms on his bronze features.
“Eaten,” he finishes.
I don’t even care that he’s being a vulgar dick again. That felt too good, and I’m too blissed-out to give a shit about what he says. I lean up on my elbows and take him in. He’s breathing heavy, his hair’s sticking up around his head, and his face glistening with my juices. I like that. I like how messy I made him. I let my eyes travel down the length of his torso to the front of his jeans. There’s a sizeable bulge there, and my sex clenches at the thought of making him lose control.
Sitting up fully, I reach for the button of his jeans, ready to return the favor. His hand comes down and snatches my wrist, stopping me.
“What—”
“Have some respect for yourself.” His tone has turned cold and his eyes narrow as he releases me and steps out of my reach. “You can go now.”
I stare up at him, floored.
“B-but I don’t mind…”
“I said get out,” he snaps, jabbing the same finger he’d just used on me at the door.
Startled, I slide from the desk and right my clothing, pulling up my bikini bottoms and shorts quickly. Why’s he doing this? Why’s he got to ruin this, just like he ruins everything else?
Dressed, I turn toward his door without a word. Before I leave, though, like the masochist he keeps accusing me of being, I pause and glance back at him over my shoulder.
“What are we now?” I demand. I’m proud that my tone is stead and strong. The last thing I want is to look weak in front of him. “After this, has anything changed?”