His Saint (Forever Wilde 5)

I ran my fingers through his hair. It was longer on top than the sides and I loved running my hands through it. Sometimes when we watched a movie together he’d lie on my lap and let me play with his hair. Most of the time it resulted in a sleeping Saint who would be quickly joined by Milo curling into a tight ball on his warm lower back.

As he licked and sucked, Saint finally made his way up my body to lay claim to my mouth. I grabbed the back of his head and held on, wrapping my legs around his back to keep him still. He devoured my tongue and rubbed his scratchy cheeks against mine.

“Missed you,” I mumbled into his mouth. “Love you.”

I felt his cock slide against mine and groaned.

“What time is it?” he asked. “Midnight?”

“No. Like, seven? I think?” My head was spinning enough to make me unsure, but I remembered it being six something in the car.

“Want to wish you happy New Year’s,” he said before nibbling my ear lobe. “Gonna be a good one.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Best one ever. You and me. Milo.”

My heart soared. “Mm-hm,” I hummed again, arching up into him in search of release. “Gonna be better if we close out this year with an orgasm.”

Saint’s big, warm hand wrapped around our cocks and began to jack us off together. It felt so fucking good, I threw my head back and arched into him even more.

“Oh god.”

“Want to see you come,” Saint said through quickening breaths. “Please, Augie. Can’t… can’t…”

His thumb swiped over the head of my cock, throwing me over the cliff with a gasp. My entire lower body contracted with a bright, searing explosion of nerve endings.

“Fuckkkk,” I cried.

“Yes,” Saint hissed as I felt his warm release against my skin. “Fuck. So good, baby. God, you feel so good like this.”

He leaned in to kiss me some more, slowing it down until it was the barest of brushes against my lips. Finally he collapsed beside me and rested his head on my shoulder. I handed him a box of tissues so he could wipe off his hands.

“Why do you have a box of tissues up here?”

I thought back to the night I’d first met Saint Wilde, when I’d been too afraid to sleep in my own bed but plenty brave enough to masturbate one or five times in my hidey-hole to the memory of the stacked navy SEAL who’d touched me all evening in the gym and then bought me a drink at the pub after.

“No reason,” I said, blushing. “I read books up here. Sometimes they’re tearjerkers.”

“Liar,” he said with a grin. “You got the word ‘jerk’ right, but if you need these tissues for reading, the only book I can think of is Jacking Your Beanstalk.”

“Shut up,” I said with a bark of laughter.

“How To Choke A Chicken In One Easy (Repeated) Step.”

“Oh my god, you’re terrible.”

“Lone Rangering. Dotting the I. Me Before You. Grilling Salami for One.”

“I hate you right now,” I insisted. He was laughing just as hard as I was. Tears streamed down both our faces. “Bet you’re glad we have these now, huh?”

He handed me one to wipe my eyes with. When we caught our breath, he glanced at me with so much raw affection in his eyes, I was shocked into silence.

“That night I followed you home, you know.”

“You did?”

Saint reached out and pushed a piece of hair off my forehead. “I was worried about you. Wanted to make sure you got home safely.”

“Even then?”

“Even then.”

We spent the next few hours teasing, snuggling, planning, and pulling as much pleasure out of each other’s bodies as we could. And when midnight finally came, we were too busy enjoying the moment to even notice it was a whole new beginning.