Ruthless Saints

She shakes her head, strands of her hair sticking to her skin. “Can’t.”

“You can.” I let go of her and turn her onto her back. Lowering myself over her until our bodies are touching from chest to toes, I enter her again. I move my hands down, and parting her with my thumbs, I rub my pelvis against her clit every time I sink in deep.

“Yes,” she whimpers, her fingers finding the hair on the back of my head.

Feeling her breasts rub against my chest and her warm skin touching mine, it pushes me closer to my own release.

I press my palm against her clit, and rub her hard as I resume hammering into her.

Pressing my forehead to hers, I whisper against her mouth, “Come, baby.” I nip at her lips. “Come for me.”

She tightens her hold around my neck and pushes herself up against me, and then finally, she starts to convulse, a high-pitched scream tearing from her.

My own orgasm chases hers, and I ride it out with my eyes locked on Hailey’s.

This time when we come down from the ecstasy, there’s no smile blossoming on Hailey’s face. Instead, her eyes begin to shimmer, and then she buries her face in my neck.

“Did I hurt you?” I ask, worried I was too rough.

She shakes her head, and her voice sounds small as she says, “Just overwhelmed.”

I shower the side of her head with kisses as I wrap my arms around her.

With Hailey vulnerable in my arms, a new emotion unfurls in my heart. It’s fragile and raw, and the moment I feel her tears on my skin, it shoots its roots right through my soul.

HAILEY

I don’t mean to cry, but with Carson holding me as if I mean more to him than life itself, I can’t keep the tears back.

Still filled with him and his body covering every inch of me, I’ve never been happier. My body is spent, and satisfaction buzzes over my skin.

I lost myself in Carson as he consumed my soul and dominated my body. I have no idea how much time has passed. I don’t care if I’m missing my shift at the bar.

What overwhelmed me was when he whispered ‘come, baby’ to me, and my body listened. Up until then, my body was frustratingly refusing to reach climax. But when he whispered the order, it felt like I came apart at the seams.

I shattered with the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had.

With his eyes never leaving mine as we found our pleasure, it felt like our souls connected.

Maybe I’m just overemotional from having the best sex of my life, but I can’t stop the words from spilling over my lips, “I love you.”

I’ll probably regret saying it to him once my mind is clear and my hormones aren’t a mess.

Carson moves back, and his eyes find mine. He doesn’t look uncomfortable because of what I just said, but he doesn’t acknowledge it either.

Instead, he pulls out of me, and then he gets up and tugs me off the bed. “Come.”

His fingers weave with mine, and then he leads my shaky legs to the bathroom. He turns on the faucets in the shower, and once the water is warm, we step under the spray. Instead of using a cloth or loofah, Carson squirts body wash onto his hand and works it into a lather. He begins to wash my body, working his way from my shoulders down to between my legs.

I’m sensitive, and as if he knows this, he keeps his touch gentle.

When he reaches for the body wash again, I say, “Let me.” I take the bottle from him and squirt some into my palm.

Starting with his shoulders, I get a good look at his body and the tattoos as my hands glide over his skin.

“I always thought hermits were old men sitting on the porches of their cabins with their hunting rifles, threatening to kill anyone who trespasses on their property,” I say as my fingers trail over his abs.

Lifting my eyes to Carson’s, I smile. “Not hot men with tattoos who are wild in bed.”

He lifts his hand to my face and brushes his thumb over my cheek. “Do you feel better?”

I scrunch my nose. “Sorry for crying all over you.”

Carson’s fingers move to my chin, and then he leans down and presses a tender kiss to my lips. Lifting his head, he asks, “Why did you cry?”

“Any girl would cry after having three orgasms,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood. Carson just stares at me until I admit, “I just felt emotional.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”

His hand moves to the side of my neck. “You said you loved me.”

Shoot.

“Ah…” Feeling a little self-conscious, I lower my eyes to his chest, “Throes of passion and all.”

Carson’s thumb presses under my chin, nudging my face back up. When our eyes meet, he asks, “So you didn’t mean it?”