His Saint (Forever Wilde 5)

Hot damn. Saint was in a mood.

“Babe?” I asked with a chuckle. “Should I strip down before I get to the bedroom?”

I was in the hallway now and decided to err on the side of naked by beginning to unbutton my shirt. By the time I entered the candlelit bedroom, I was topless and half-hard. There was no sign of Saint in our bed.

“Don’t tease me, Saint-Michel-des-Saints,” I warned. “I’m the new master of edging, remember?”

I heard a muffled thump from somewhere above and realized where he was.

My hidey-hole.

I stripped down to my underwear and entered the closet. Sure enough, the trail of keys on the floor led straight to the ladder in the back of the small space. The music got louder as I climbed up.

When I poked my head through the hatch, I nearly fell off the ladder. There, in complete almost naked glory, was the love of my life lazily stroking his hard cock through the thin fabric of a sexy jock.

“Fuck me,” I muttered. “I should have chartered a jet. Had I known this was what was waiting for me…”

“Get up here.”

I finished making my way into the small space. The fairy lights hanging from the low ceiling set off the gold and silver of my key collection. They hung from gold thread, making the entire space glow with a warm and honeyed ambiance that only served to make Saint Wilde look more like a fitness cover model than a… well, hell. He’d actually landed on the cover of a fitness magazine recently. Granted, it was North Texas Gymscape doing a profile on Twist’s new co-owner, but still.

He was hot as holy fuck.

And he was all mine.

“What’re you doing up here in your skivvies?” I asked, reaching forward to snap an elastic strap on his hip. The jock he wore was one I hadn’t seen before. The waistband said Pistol Pete and the straps themselves were red, white, and blue.

“Where are my black sequins?” I teased, crawling forward. “It’s New Year’s Eve, not Fourth of July.”

“Sequins itch. And the selection wasn’t all that great at the thrift shop.”

Had I not known he was joking, I might have gagged.

“I feel underdressed in my utilitarian boxer briefs,” I admitted.

“You’re sexy as hell in anything. Or nothing. C’mere.”

I finished crawling across the piles of blankets to where he lay. As I stretched out between his legs, I took the opportunity to run the tip of my tongue over the defined muscles of his hairy thigh. One of my new favorite things was stopping by Twist and watching the clients drool over him. The first time it happened, I was overcome with insecurity and jealousy.

But then Neckie had burst out laughing and pointed out the undeniable truth. Saint only had eyes for me.

Sure enough, after she told me that, I’d noticed the truth of her words. When I was in the same room as Saint, his eyes were locked on me like industrial magnets. The look on his face was sometimes affectionate, sometimes predatory, but always, always possessive and claiming.

And I loved every minute of it.

His adoration of me had very quickly helped convince me my fears of being unworthy were unfounded. Saint made a big effort to make sure I knew how much he loved me.

Case in point: the naked sailor in my favorite nest.

His grunts of pleasure filled the small space, and I looked up to catch his stormy gaze.

“How’d it go at the gym today?” I asked. “Any takers on your New Year special?”

“It was packed. My personal training spots are full through February already, and the Jumpstart Grinder class is on a waitlist. But I don’t want to talk about work. I want to suck your dick.”

That was enough to finish filling my cock in about half a second. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Suddenly I was on my back looking up at the lights and golden keys spinning idly around Saint’s blond hair like a halo. My underwear was missing, and my knees were next to my shoulders. The sound of Saint’s mouth caught up to my ears right when I felt his beard stubble on the sensitive skin of my rim.

“Jesus fuck,” I croaked. “Yes. That. Mmm-more.”

I held my knees back to give him access to whatever the hell he wanted to lick and suck down there as I squeezed my eyes closed and tried not to shoot off in the first ten seconds. Saint’s mouth moved over my balls to my shaft and ran a hot tongue up its length.

“You smell good. Taste good.” His muffled voice warmed the skin of my inner thigh, which reminded me of Christmas morning when he’d woken me up with his mouth while we were in his grandfathers’ bunkhouse bedroom. Before I’d come fully awake enough to realize where I was, I’d screamed so loudly through my orgasm that half his siblings held up scorecards when we arrived at breakfast.