Fallen Saint (All the Pretty Things Trilogy Volume 2)

by Monica James

  A white noise fills my head, and something tilts, setting me off course. I try to sound out the ruckus, but I can’t. It beats against my temple, demanding I stop being so fucking stupid and open my eyes.

  “No,” I whimper, pressing my hands over my ears. “Make it stop.” But it doesn’t, and it never will.

  You’re going to be a good little girl, aren’t you, Willow? Let me fuck that tight virgin pussy. You’re gonna come for Daddy.

  Those repulsive words paved a world in which I didn’t want to live, but I did. I had no other choice because she abandoned me. She chose this motherfucker over me. She is the reason for all of this. I suddenly realize this is all on her, not me. She chose to walk away, and now…it’s my turn to do the same.

  Deadpanning the man who took away my innocence, I say goodbye to the scared little girl who still lives within me, and I welcome this new me.

  “No,” I say, relief wrapping me in her arms. “I will not.”

  For the first time in a long time, I stand tall and am not afraid to look into the depths of hell.

  “No?” Kenny spits, his tobacco-stained teeth grinding together. “What do you mean no? So, you’ll let them kill me?”

  Alek stands on the sidelines, watching me closely. Saint stands ready to spring into action. I only have to say the word. And I do.

  “Yes.” A single word has the absolute power to change the course of one’s life, and for someone like Kenny, it’s come about twenty years too late. But better late than never.

  “Go on.” Alek presents the knife in both his hands. “Kill this pathetic excuse of a man. His life is yours.”

  As tempting as the offer is, when I peer down at my own hands, turning them over and over, I know that I can’t. And Saint knows it too.

  Alek wanted a bloodbath, though, and he won’t be satisfied until blood is spilled. “If you don’t kill him, I will make you.” His threat isn’t empty.

  Kenny thrashes wildly as Lev’s barely able to hold him back. “You whore! You filthy whore!” he screams, showing me that he hasn’t changed.

  Saint’s fists clench by his side as he’s waiting for me to give him a sign, to tell him that it’s okay…to tell him that I’m okay with him being what he is.

  “You wanted my cock. You still do. You wanted me to fuck you, didn’t you? You wanted to feel your daddy’s cock deep inside you.”

  He is disgusting, and I curl my lip, sickened.

  “You are not my daddy,” I snarl, squaring my shoulders, not at all intimidated because I am not afraid anymore. The manacles holding me prisoner suddenly snap, releasing me from the shame and guilt that’s weighed me down for years.

  And when I see Kenny’s fear, when I witness him cowering because the power he had over me is no more, I nod at Alek because this is the greatest gift anyone could give me. Regardless of who he is, I will never forget this because, in a fucked-up way, he’s right.

  This is me taking back my life. Just as he did his.

  “You are nothing.” Those are my parting words to Kenny Smith, the last words he will ever hear because Saint swipes the knife Alek holds and drives it straight into Kenny’s heart.

  I don’t whimper or cry. I simply stand still, watching the life drain from Kenny. His eyes bulge as he gasps for breath. But it’s in vain because Saint never misses…except for the one time. The time he shot me to save me, just as he’s done time and time again.

  Kenny drops to the ground with a thud, and there is no encore. He’s dead. The knife sticking out of his chest is a sure sign of it.

  I thought I’d feel something, but I don’t.

  The room is silent except for Saint’s heavy breathing. He’s standing over Kenny’s body, looking like he wishes he could kill him again.

  Alek clears his throat, as I’m guessing he was not expecting tonight to unravel the way that it did. “Saint—”

  But he cuts him off. “I’ve got it. Aнгел, go to your room.” His back is turned, but I don’t need to see him to know this isn’t negotiable. And for once, I do what I’m told.

  “Yes, мастер.”

  Alek’s eyes widen, but our ruse is up. He knows that Saint killed Kenny…for me. He knew that I couldn’t, and he could. And he did. And for that…I love him all the more.

  A love-struck Juliet smitten with her bloodstained Romeo.

  Many hours have passed since I saw Kenny take his last breath.

  Alek escorted me to my room, and I was surprised when he left me alone. I’m guessing he had some business to take care of because one of his men mentioned Chow. They were speaking Russian, so I’m not sure exactly what the business entailed, but I can’t imagine it would be good.

  Once I showered and changed, I thought I’d fall into an exhausted heap after the night’s proceedings, but I didn’t. I was charged.

  I couldn’t sit still, and I knew why that was.

  I needed to see Saint.

  Once the house fell quiet, I crept from my room and kept to the shadows, avoiding detection by the cameras by skulking in the black spots. He told me his bedroom was the only room not monitored, which is why I’m sitting on the edge of his bed, biting my nails as I wait for him to return.

  I don’t know what I’m going to say to him, but just being in here makes everything better.

  When I see a sudoku book on his nightstand, I think back to the island. Things, in an ironic way, were a lot simpler there. I’d give anything for the simplicity of it because here, although I can have any luxury I wish for, there is one thing I can never have.

  My freedom.

  Even though I was Saint’s prisoner, I never felt that way because how can one be a prisoner when they keep coming back for more?

  “Aнгел?”

  With the slowest of movements, I lift my eyes to take him in because it feels like a lifetime since I last saw him. The bedside lamp provides hardly any light, but I can see enough. Flecks of blood splatter his handsome face and thick neck, and when I continue downward, I focus on his hands, the hands which ended a monster’s life. They’re clean now, but once upon a time, they were not.

  He quickly attempts to wipe away the evidence of where he was, but I jump up and walk over to where he stands, gripping his hands. It’s evident he doesn’t know why I’m here, so he allows me the time to examine him closely.

  “You…you killed him without remorse,” I whisper, peering up at him through my lashes.

  Saint swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement. “He deserved it. And that’s what I do.”

  But I don’t believe that. The tattooed armband proves otherwise.

  “Wh-where is his b…bo—” But I can’t finish the sentence.

  “I took care of it,” he says, shaking his head. “He will never hurt you again.”

  My heart fills with…relief, and Saint mistakes my silence as disgust.

  “Are you angry with me?”

  I blink once, completely confused. “What? Angry with you?”

  He nods. “I’m sorry. I took the right away from you. You should have killed that bastard. It wasn’t my fight. It was yours.”

  “Saint—”

  But he doesn’t let me finish.

  “You’ve known nothing but death since meeting me. You’ve seen me kill. I understand if you want—”

  However, this time, I’m the one who cuts him off.

  Standing on my tippy toes, I press my lips to his, savoring in his sweetness, his trademark scent. “The only thing I want…is you,” I whisper against his mouth, my breath hot against his. “Thank you. Thank you for doing what I could not.”

  “You want me even after everything you’ve seen?” His surprise is clear.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” He pulls away, running his fingers through my hair, familiarizing himself with the shorter cut.

  “Do you want me?”

  “Yes,” he replies without pause, which confirms what I’m about to say. “Always.”

  “Well,
how can you want me when I am so fucked up?” And I am. I know that now. My stepfather’s blood covers Saint, and all I can think about is pressing my naked body to his, desperate to wipe away the last trace of Kenny from this earth.

  He doesn’t deny my claim, and for that, I’m glad. We’ve stripped back the smokescreen until all that remains are Saint and Willow. The way it should be. “Because…your demons dance with mine. They always have.”

  And it’s that simple. What we always knew to be true.

  I don’t know who lunges for who first, but it’s a flurry of lips, hands, and bodies as we tangle around one another, tearing at clothes that just get in the way. When I feel Saint’s flesh beneath my fingertips, a guttural whimper breaks free.

  He is soft and hard all in the same breath, and I want more.

  My nightgown is ripped from my body, and I’m left standing in my underwear. Saint is shirtless, but I need everything between us gone. With deft fingers, I unbuckle his belt while he kicks off his boots. When his zipper is unfastened, we both yank down his pants.

  His cock springs to life between us, pressing me deliciously low.

  Our lips are still locked in a frenzy, kissing madly without taking a breath. But who needs air when Saint is my life source. He walks me backward to the bed, tossing me onto it and falling with me. He breaks our kiss only to trail hot kisses down my arched neck as I open my legs.

  He bites and suckles, and each time he does so, I want him all the more. My underwear are coated with my arousal as I have never been this roused before. He dips lowers, kissing between the valley of my breasts, before detouring to my left and tonguing my pearled nipple.

  My back bows from the mattress as it feels so good.

  He does the same to my right as he walks his hand between us. When he feels the outside of my underwear, he hisses with pleasure. I boldly place my hand over his, coaxing him to go further.

  He does.

  He grips the waistband and tugs sharply, ripping it apart in his hand. It’s such a barbaric thing to do, but I love it. I love that he doesn’t wrap me in cotton wool. I want him to want me as much as I do him. With my breast still deep in his mouth, he works two fingers into me, stretching me wide.

  I am so turned on, he slips inside with ease.

  “Oh, fuck,” he groans from around my breast, pumping his fingers in and out of me. “I want you.”

  I know why he seems to be in a plight, but I don’t care. I arch into his touch, moaning because he is ingrained into me. “I don’t care,” I breathlessly confess, writhing against him.

  But of course, he does.

  “We can’t.” But his resolve is slipping.

  He continues sinking his fingers into me, all the while tonguing my heavy nipples and driving me wild.

  “If he finds out you’re not a virgin, he’ll kill you. It’s the only thing keeping you alive.”

  I’ve heard it all before, but I still don’t care.

  “This is me, feeling alive.” I open my legs wider, crying out when he flicks over my ripened clit.

  “Oh, aнгел,” he pants, lifting his head and slamming his lips against mine. “You will be the death of me.”

  Even though he doesn’t mean that in the literal sense, he’s right. Alek will know Saint took my virginity, which will end in his death. I can’t live with that reality, so I bite his bottom lip before flipping us over.

  On his back, Saint looks beyond epic as he trusts me, awaiting the next move. I take a moment to examine him because he is a vision. His wild and unkempt long hair, and those tattoos and the barbell, I can’t stop myself from devouring every inch of him.

  I bite his chiseled chin, then work my way down his chest. I lick a path down between his pecs before detouring to his nipple. I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw it. I flick my tongue over his barbell, then take his nipple into my mouth.

  A cavernous moan leaves him as he arches into my touch. He threads his fingers through my hair, not appearing to mind my new style. I don’t want to hurt him, but I can’t help myself as I bite his piercing, before sucking softly.

  “Fuck,” he curses, pulling my hair. “Harder.”

  No surprise that he likes pain, so I do as he requests.

  Once I’m done working over his piercing, I work my way lower, marveling at his rock-hard abs. I tongue each ridged plane, growing wetter with each lick. I glide my hands up and down his torso, fingering each raised scar.

  Some would think his wounds mar his perfection but not me; they just add to who Saint really is.

  His muscled V is heaven, and I trace the defined lines, unbelieving how incredibly sexy he is. I slither down his body, stopping at his impressive cock. I’m definitely no expert in this department, but when I push my reservations aside and take him into my mouth, I suddenly feel like a goddess.

  He cries out loudly, thrusting his hips. When he hits the back of my throat, I instantly gag. “Shit. Sorry,” he pants, gripping my chin and positioning me so he can look down at me.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper, mewling when he runs his thumb over my bottom lip. He gently lowers my head back down, but I don’t need encouragement. I want him all over me.

  I work my head up and down, licking his shaft before taking him in deep. I can’t take him all in, so I wrap my hand around his base and begin to pump. The motion combined with my bobbing seems to work because before long, he cups the back of my neck, urging me to move faster.

  Hollowing my cheeks, I frantically work his dick. With each stroke, the fire within me burns brighter, leaving me so wet, my arousal coats my sex. I am so turned on by pleasuring him, and if I don’t ease some of this pressure building in my core, I’m scared I might explode.

  I begin to move my hips against the comforter because it rubs my clit in just the right way. I move my hand along his shaft in sync with my mouth, and when I tongue the slit at his head and a saltiness hits the back of my throat, I moan loudly. As does he.

  The comforter acts as a poor substitute for what I want, but what other choice do I have? I want to come, but I’m frustrated because my orgasm will be lackluster. The only thing which will pacify this yearning is feeling Saint inside me.

  Saint reads my thoughts and presents me with an option which blister my cheeks red raw. “We, we can do something else.”

  My curiosity wins out in the end, and I pull back, him slipping out of my mouth. “Something else?” I have no idea what he’s talking about until he gently squeezes my ass cheek.

  A winded gasp leaves me. “Oh? Oh!”

  He knows the answer, but asks anyway as he doesn’t want to assume. “Have you done that before?”

  “No.” I shake my head timidly.

  He lifts me up, dragging my body along his so I’m straddling him. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

  He rests his large hands on my hips, stroking the flesh on my flank softly as he waits for me to reply. But I don’t know what to say. I’m terrified at the proposal because he barely fits in my mouth. How will he fit in my…?

  “Turn around,” he huskily commands, coaxing me to spin so my back faces him. When I do, he gently pushes on the small of my back, positioning me to lay down. His generous cock bobs inches from my lips, and I instantly want to take him in my mouth again.

  He arranges my legs to straddle his face. He grips my ass cheek before rearing up and suckling over my clit. I cry out and collapse forward, but I soon get my head or, rather, my mouth in the game and wrap my lips around him.

  I begin to move slowly, bucking onto his face as I suck him deeply. The angle allows me to take more of him, and soon, I am working his shaft with speed as Saint eats me out ferociously, ensuring no part of me remains untouched.

  This becomes my new favorite position because we are able to give the other pleasure at the same time. I take; he gives. He takes; I give. Saint then adds a finger to the mix, dipping into my heat and making me cry out around him.

  I don’t re
alize there is a reason for this until he circles that finger coated in my arousal over my back entrance. He gently works it between my cheeks, then fingers over my puckered opening. On instinct, I tense, but Saint’s hot breath slaps against me.

  “Relax, aнгел.”

  But this is so taboo. No one has seen this part of me before.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  And that’s the million-dollar question. Do I?

  When he works his tongue deep into me, all the while circling that finger, I know the answer is no. I don’t. I want more. And to show him what I want, I slowly drive my hips backward. Saint hisses but never stops his tongue as he begins to work the tip of his finger into me.

  My eyes bulge from my head because this feels so foreign. My instinct is to clench, but I relax, allowing him to enter me. It hurts, but Saint distracts me from the pain as he continues licking, sucking, and tonguing my needy sex.

  I continue going down on him, but my movements are jolted because when he buries his finger in deep, I’m certain I’m about to turn to mush. He’s halfway in when he begins to pump in and out slowly. I can feel myself tightening around him, and before long, I am rocking back on him.

  “More,” I pant, my breasts dangling between us as I arch my back, moaning. Never have I felt so full as I bounce against his face with his finger sinking in and out of me.

  And he gives me what I want.

  He increases the speed and depth, and before long, he slips in with ease. “I want you.” And I do. I know it will hurt, but I want to experience this with Saint.

  I don’t know what position to take, so I wait for him to tell me what to do. It’s what he’s good at, and in this case, I don’t mind.

  With one final lick of my sex, he gently removes his finger. “Come here.”

  I don’t need to be told twice, so I turn around, crawling up his body. I frantically press my lips to his, not caring that I can taste myself on his mouth. We kiss like starved animals, which only evokes a deeper burn within me.

  He breaks the connection, only to roll me onto my side. He kisses the side of my neck, all the while spooning behind me. He positions my legs so they sit forward, opening myself up to him. I feel so safe with him at my back as he cocoons me in his arms.