No Saint (Wild Men 6)

Candies and cream and aroused girl.

It gets my dick so hard I can’t fucking stand it and have to push down on it before I come on the spot. I lash at her tight little clit with my tongue and she squirms, trying to close her thighs, moaning brokenly. I lick lower, stab my tongue into her pussy and she pants, her legs trembling, her scent of arousal growing stronger.

Lifting my head, I grin at her, lick at my lips, and the flush on her cheeks turns a darker shade. She opens her mouth to say something and I pounce, crushing our lips together. She wraps her legs around my hips and it breaks the last of my crumbling control.

Grabbing my cock, I push into her.

Jesus, damn. I groan, helpless to stop the sound from tearing my throat up, the pleasure of just sinking into her blowing my fucking mind to smithereens. She’s so soft, so tight, so damn hot. Bending over her, I roll my hips, sinking deeper, and she arches up, her hands on my biceps, her mouth open and eyes wide.

“Okay?” I make myself ask, distantly recognizing that foreplay was a joke, and that she deserves someone taking their time to get her ready, give her an orgasm or two before the actual fucking happened.

But she only moans and rocks her hips and whispers, “More.”

This girl... She’s spoiling me for any other, and I refuse to look more closely at why. Couldn’t if my goddamn life depended on it when I’m buried in her body, in her tight pussy, and it’s not deep enough.

Never enough, with her.

Doing a little push-up over her, I thrust in and out, starting a rhythm, the pressure coiling in my gut, tighter and tighter, my control fraying more with every movement. Looking down at her pink cheeks, the closing eyes, that soft mouth, I get that feeling again, the one that sends me floundering into unknown territory, and I falter.

Bowing my head, closing my eyes, I try to sink back into my body, into the physical sensations, running away from the tangle of emotions I can’t quite grasp. I buck my hips and rock faster, pounding into her, biting back groans at th

e tight heat, the pleasure. Escaping, closing my mind to it all. Hiding inside her, letting the pleasure wash me away, erase me, forget it all, put it away for now.

I don’t wanna think about who I am, what to do, what I did wrong and how I should fix it. How to keep this girl who brings out these strange feelings in me. Whose smile turns the world so bright.

Heat is building in the small of my back, spreading through to my hips, shooting into my dick and balls. Yeah, this is more like it, this pure explosion of the senses, erasing everything else—everything but the girl underneath me. She burns like the sun, her soft cries and moans sending flares of fire through my veins. The need to come is frying my synapses, but first... yeah, she comes first.

Always.

It wasn’t like that before, hell, never. I’m an asshole, I never really cared about other chicks, and goddammit, I’m back in that confused spot again. I grab one of her legs, lift it higher, fuck her harder to get it out of my system. Whatever it is.

She comes with a cry, clenching like a vise around my cock, and I choke back a howl as my orgasm slams into me, melting my mind, finally snuffing out the weird-ass thoughts and feelings, plunging me into white light.

***

I’m wandering a dark place, with the sound of water trickling, branches of trees closing overhead like a roof. It’s like a temple, I think, a weird-ass gothic church, and when I glance up, I swear I see black skulls lined up in arches, grinning down at me.

I walk faster, but somehow my strides are too slow, as if my feet are dragging in molasses. Plus, I’m smaller, just a kid and as I emerge from the cover of the trees, I know where I am.

The shed.

I stop, my blood going ice cold. Dad is there, larger than life, a giant of a man, swinging an ax. It glints in milky moonlight, leaving a trail of red on the air, red petals.

Red blood drops.

I crouch down, try to hide. Other things glint in the night, strewn on the black earth. A silver swan. A pair of green stone earrings. A pair of green eyes.

The eyes blink at me.

I blink back. Of all the treasures, that’s the greatest, and as I lean forward to see them better, I realize it’s a girl—whole, naked, lying curled on the ground. Her eyes are open, looking right at me, into me, and a smile plays on her lips. She’s beautiful. Innocent. Perfect. Green grass starts to grow around her pale form, swaying in a breeze I can’t feel. I reach for her but can’t touch her, no matter how I strain. Out of reach. Too far away.

She blinks and her gaze is kind and warm and bright—but then the ax hits the ground, shaking it. A roar rises in the air, cracks open into chasms, and I can’t keep to my feet. I fall on my back, staring up at the swirling stars.

Voices close in on me, snarling, sneering faces gathering over me. “Why don’t you give up, Ross? What the hell are you waiting for? Aren’t you tired of being so damn lonely?”

And the ax is in my hand.

I come awake with a gasp, scrambling up to a sitting position, the ax still shining in my mind. I actually have to look down at my hand, clench and unclench my fingers, before I realize I’m not holding anything, let alone the instrument that Dad used to kill...