Fallen Saint (All the Pretty Things Trilogy Volume 2)

by Monica James

  “I don’t have a condom. I’m sorry. I just, I haven’t needed any,” he confesses, his embarrassment clear as sleeping around isn’t high on the agenda for a hitman.

  This is incredibly irresponsible of me, but I don’t care. I want to feel him in the flesh. Nothing between us. “It’s all right. Just go slow.”

  Saint hums low, reaching around my hip and inserting two fingers into my sex. We both hiss at the connection, and I move slightly so he can deepen the penetration. This position is perfect as I am so relaxed. So when I feel Saint shift his hips and spread my arousal around my puckered entrance, I grow lax and brace myself for whatever is about to come.

  Just as he did with his finger, he gently tests the waters, so to speak, ensuring my muscles are relaxed. I know I’m tight, and this will be an impossible fit. “God, I want you. But tell me if you need me to stop.”

  He kisses just under my ear as he presses his blunt head to my entrance. My arousal acts as the perfect lubrication, and with a deep breath, he slowly sinks in an inch.

  “Stop!” I cry out, because I am certain he’s about to split me into two.

  He freezes and curses, angered at himself. “I’m sorry. I’ve hurt you.” When he attempts to pull out, I reach around and place my hand on his hip, stopping him.

  “You haven’t,” I assure him, catching my breath. “I just…you’re not going to fit.”

  “Do want me to stop?”

  “No.” My fears have stopped me from experiencing something I want. And I am done living in fear.

  “You control how deep I go,” he says softly. “I won’t move.”

  He reaches around me and begins flicking my nipple with his thumb, then cupping my breast. He adds his lips to the mix, kissing along my neck and biting over my pulse, helping me to forget about my reservations and just let go.

  He’s still rooted inside me, so when I arch back slowly, he inches in farther. I gasp, surprised that he slips in with ease. The pain soon lessens and is replaced with pleasure as I move my hips, taking his cock into me.

  When he’s a quarter of the way in, he buries his face in my neck, shuddering. “Can I move?” He’s barely holding on. And it turns me on to know I am eliciting this desire from him.

  “Yes,” I whisper, inhaling because I feel so full.

  But that is nothing compared to what comes next because when he shifts my leg to deepen the angle, I’m convinced I will come apart in his arms. He pushes into me gradually, groaning as he sinks into me deeper and deeper.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asks again.

  “No,” I whimper, leaving my body and dancing with this depraved bliss.

  “Does it feel good? The pain?” he adds, reading my wickedness loudly.

  My cheeks blister because God strike me down, it does.

  “Yes,” I reply in a small voice.

  Saint hums hoarsely, his approval sending goose bumps all the way down my spine. “We’re one and the same. The pain is our heroin, reminding us that we’re human.”

  And he’s right. I never knew I toed the fine line between pleasure and pain until I met him.

  “Move with me,” he commands, wrapping his large body around mine. And I do.

  I arch backward, crying out when he’s fully embedded. He pauses, breathing harshly as he allows my muscles to adjust to his size. My channel grips him, milking him because I suddenly want so much more.

  I don’t know what I expected it to feel like, but this is indescribable. We are joined as one. Two hearts. One body. And I want to stay this way forevermore.

  We begin to dance in unison, Saint moving inside my body as the pain disappears and all that remains is this unadulterated desire. His moans crash into me, blanketing us in a world meant for only him and me. He reaches around and begins to stimulate my ripe sex. He is everywhere, all over me, in me, and it’s everything I want.

  A string of Russian leaves him as he begins to move faster, stretching me wide. He pulls all the way out before gliding back in. His movements are lithe, making this feel so fucking good. Covered in perspiration, we are slippery and wet, helping him slide in easier.

  He pulses inside me, and each thrust is my undoing. “Harder,” I whimper, rocking my hips.

  “Lift your leg toward your chest,” he breathlessly instructs.

  The moment I do, I whimper because the penetration is so deep, I can feel him all through my body. “Oh, my god. Saint.” I don’t even know what I want to say. I am lost to this feeling. I am lost to him.

  I arch my back as he continues sinking his cock into me, all the while playing with my clit. It’s sensory overload, and before long, I’m shamefully riding him hard. “You are…everything to me, aнгел.”

  I don’t know if those words are said in the heat of the moment, but I’ll treasure them either way. Saint doesn’t express his feelings openly, so to hear him say this has me chasing my orgasm quickly. He continues to rub my clit, all the while taking my ass and making it his.

  He slams into me, splitting me into two as he wraps his arm around me. I let go and surrender, gasping for breath as Saint claims me as his evermore.

  “I-I…” I want to tell him how I feel, but no words are needed.

  He grips my chin and arches my head back so he can kiss the ever-living fuck out of me. His tongue moves in sync with his cock and fingers, and I am helpless to the pleasure of being owned by this man. My screams are muted by his lips as I come hard.

  He moans into my mouth and pumps his hips fiercely before following me in a wild, sticky mess. His cries are hoarse and hot, and knowing he has come inside me has me whimpering, my body shuddering in debauchery.

  We are breathless, both vibrating with the pulsating energy thrumming between us. In the minutes it takes us to come down, we never stop kissing. Our kisses grow sluggish, but they’re a reflection of our utter bliss.

  Saint suckles my bottom lip before breaking the kiss. “Let me get something to clean you up.” I don’t protest but can’t help but feel a loss when he slowly pulls out of me.

  I can’t move. My body is Jell-O. I am comfortably numb.

  Saint returns a moment later and gently turns me onto my stomach, then cleans me up. I can’t help but draw the parallels as the warm water washes away everything we just did. My captor is now my savior.

  Once upon a time, he inflicted wounds, and now, he’s tending to them gently. When he rubs the washcloth over my behind, I flinch because I am sore. Saint leans down and places a soft kiss over my ass cheek. “You can stay here if you want. I’ll wake you up early so you can go back to your room before Alek comes back.”

  I nod sleepily because I wasn’t planning to leave anyway. Where did Alek go? I wonder.

  Once I’m clean, he pulls back the blankets so we can nestle under them. I settle against the pillow, sighing happily as Saint snuggles in behind me. I’m on the cusp of sleep when I feel the mattress dip.

  “Where are you going?” I can’t keep the panic from my voice.

  “I was going to take a shower. I probably stink.”

  Gripping his arm, I drag him closer to me so he’s spooning me tightly. “You smell like you, and I like it,” I groggily confess. “Besides, you can’t smell any worse than you did on the island.”

  His hoarse laugh stokes a small fire within.

  “That’s true. I would give anything to go back there,” he confesses, running his fingers up and down my arm.

  “Me too. We’ll be okay, Saint.” We both need the assurance because all of this can’t be for nothing.

  “Sleep, aнгел.” He strokes the cross at my throat.

  I’m too tired to fight him, so I do as he says.

  I fall asleep in his arms, and for the first time ever, my nightmares are silenced, thanks to the man who continues to save me time and time again.

  Each day I spend with her, I know that to save her…I will have to let her go. But how can I do that? She is as much a part of me as I am myself.

 
Day 53

  “REMEMBER WHAT I taught you?”

  I can’t keep the grin from my lips because Saint Hennessy has taught me a lot of things. My cheeks flush a bright red, giving away my perverse thoughts.

  He steps forward, facing his broad back to the camera. “Don’t make me take you over my knee.”

  “Is that supposed to be a threat?” I challenge, folding my arms smugly.

  He growls low in his throat, which doesn’t help the predicament in my pants.

  How times have changed.

  Since the night Saint explored my body in ways I never imagined, things between us have shifted. Our touches and kisses, although covert, have been far more open. Whenever no one was watching, Saint was dragging me into a dark corner or pressing me up against a wall.

  Each night, I crept to his bedroom where he devoured my body and also my soul.

  I am lost to him, and each second I spend with him, I fall deeper and deeper under this spell. Alek has been in and out, but overall, he’s been making himself scarce. Saint claims there is nothing to worry about, but I can’t help but feel this is the calm before the storm.

  Saint and I are back in the gym training because I still want to learn how to defend myself, especially after what happened with Zoey. I’ve asked Saint how she is, but he said she doesn’t want to see him. I didn’t ask anything else because it’s clear her anger toward him upsets him. All he wanted to do was help her, but now, things are just so messed up.

  “Aнгел,” he cautions with no bite.

  “Fine.” I mock sigh. “I remember.”

  Saint gets into position, raising the gun toward me. It’s not loaded, of course. He has taught me how to disarm someone with a gun, and now, he wants me to show him how it’s done. I center myself, then reach out quickly and grab the barrel of the gun with my left hand before knocking his hand away with my right.

  The trick to not getting shot is to ensure a fast approach. And I am.

  Saint nods with a smirk. “Very good. What about now?” He gestures for me to give him the gun. When I comply, he walks around behind me, placing the barrel to the back of my head.

  I raise my hands in the air, higher than the gun, and move them from side to side, distracting Saint so his peripheral vision will focus on my hands. In one swift move, I turn quickly, grabbing the gun as I twist Saint’s wrist. If I apply enough force, I could break his finger.

  Once he’s disarmed, I bend my knees and mimic punching him in the throat.

  All of this is done in under a second.

  “I’m impressed,” Saint says, his hands raised in surrender.

  “Thank you. I have a good teacher,” I reply, passing him the gun. “Who taught you how to do this?”

  “I took some martial arts classes when I was a kid,” he reveals. “My parents thought I’d benefit from them, seeing as I was so scrawny growing up.”

  “Do you miss them?” We don’t speak often of his past as I know it’s a touchy subject for him.

  So he surprises me when he answers. “Every single day. Do you miss LA?”

  I shrug because that life seems an eternity ago. “In some ways, I do. But after everything…that all seems so…”

  “Insignificant?” Saint offers as I search for the right word.

  “Yeah.” Because he’s right.

  On the island, he told me he could never go back to living a normal life. I didn’t understand why that was, but now, I do.

  “I most definitely don’t miss modeling.”

  Saint smiles, and the sight is truly epic. With his good looks, he could grace any magazine cover or billboard. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. It’s a cutthroat industry, but it’s also a lonely one. And besides, my look isn’t exactly ideal anymore.” When he arches a brow, I pull down the strap of my crop top, revealing my scar from the bullet wound. “Any imperfection is one’s downfall, and believe me, there are ten other girls more than willing to take your place.”

  Saint steps forward, rubbing his fingers over my wound. I know he still feels guilty for shooting me. “It’s not an imperfection.”

  My skin breaks out into goose bumps because his hands on me always provoke this response. When he shifts slightly so we’re out of camera range, he lowers his lips to my shoulder and kisses the scar. “It shows the world how strong you truly are.”

  I whimper, unable to mask my desire for him. “Saint, don’t,” I whisper because I don’t have the strength to stop this if things escalate.

  “I can’t stop,” he exposes hoarsely, tonguing over my scar leisurely.

  Although we are out of camera range, we both know someone can walk in at any time. But when he grips the back of my neck and kisses my throat, I suddenly don’t care. In this fucked-up place, being with him is the only thing that makes me feel alive.

  And I want him to know that.

  I still haven’t told him how I feel because saying it aloud is so…daunting. But there is no denying my feelings for him as they grow every single day. What I feel is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before, even with Drew. But thinking back to that relationship, I realize how naïve I was.

  I thought what I had with Drew was real, but in reality, I can’t even remember what it felt like being with him. It’s like I’ve replaced his memory because, in the end, he wasn’t worth remembering. But with Saint, he is someone I will never forget.

  “Saint,” I gasp, arching my head backward, offering myself to him. “I want to tell you something.”

  “What, aнгел?”

  The soft bristles of his beard make it near impossible to focus on anything other than his lips on my skin, but I focus because it’s time he knew.

  “I…I…” But my admission will have to wait for another day because when his cell chimes, indicating he has a text, he groans against me.

  “Hold that thought.” He lays a single kiss over my racing pulse before pulling away.

  Saved by the bell, I muse as I watch him retrieve his cell from the bench. When he sighs heavily, I know that is, in fact, the case. “Sara just text me. Alek is headed this way.”

  Sara has been keeping to herself since Hans’s death. I didn’t want to pry because we all deal with death differently, but I’ve let her know I’m here if she needs to talk.

  Saint quickly reaches for the focus mitts, and we get into position. As I’m mid swing, the door opens, but we both ignore it and I continue training. Alek is watching us, which has Saint pushing me harder. He forces me to deliver some quick punches, but nods, indicating he’s going to trip me.

  He doesn’t want Alek thinking I can defend myself because that would put an end to our training.

  I punch high, bracing myself for a fall, but it still doesn’t prepare me for when Saint sweeps out his leg, sending my ass to the mat. A whoosh of air escapes me because he didn’t hold back.

  “I told you to block,” he scolds. “Get up.”

  Before I have a chance to move, Alek glides over like a knight in shining armor and helps me to my feet.

  “Thank you,” I say breathlessly while he smiles.

  “Alek, I didn’t see you come in,” Saint says, slipping off the focus mitts before turning off the music.

  He seems to buy it. “I didn’t want to interrupt your training session,” he replies, his fingers still wrapped around my bicep.

  Saint’s gaze drops to our connection, but he’s soon to recover. “I would hardly call it training. Maybe if she listened, she wouldn’t be on her ass half the time.”

  I hate that he speaks about me like I’m not in the room, but I know why. We both have to pretend, but it’s getting harder and harder each day.

  Alek lets me go, but he’s here for a reason. My mouth suddenly grows dry. “I’m glad you’re both here. I’ve been thinking about this for the past few days.”

  “Thinking about what?” Saint asks casually, sipping his water.

  “You’ve been good to me, Saint. Regardless of the circumstances of
how you came to work for me, I have never seen someone excel at their job like you have.”

  Not exactly a compliment, but I have no idea where he’s going with this.

  “Which is why I’ve made this decision with a heavy heart.”

  Heart? That’s rich.

  “I’m a man of my word, and the terms were clear—you were to deliver Willow to me on the proviso that I grant Zoey’s freedom. As well as your own.”

  Even though I know what he’s about to say, it still doesn’t prepare me for the bombshell.

  “So it’s now time that I delivered. You are free. Both you and Zoey.” He spreads his arms out wide, like he’s liberating a nation, but all he’s done is ensured my imprisonment in this place forever.

  Saint, for the first time ever, seems to be caught off guard as this has come out of nowhere, but has it? We were stupid to think we had Alek fooled. This entire time, the only people we were fooling were ourselves.

  “Alek”—Saint pauses as it seems he needs a moment to gather his thoughts—“I am grateful for the offer, but she needs more training. She isn’t—”

  But Alek elucidates that this isn’t a choice. It’s a warning. Saint leaves now with his life intact, or he never leaves at all, meaning his life will end within these prison walls. “You’ve done your job. I thought you’d be happy. You’ve fought so hard for your freedom; what could be more important than that?”

  And there it is. A test.

  “I am happy. But who will protect you? You need someone you trust, now more than ever with Chow gone.” Saint is grasping at straws because it’s clear Alek has made his mind up.

  He sees us for what we are. He sees that I…love him. Saint is a roadblock, and Alek doesn’t want anything standing in the way. But I will never, never love him, and if he sends Saint away, he may as well kill me now.

  “I thank you for your loyalty, but I can’t have Zoey here anymore. I am done with her.” And with a flick of his hand, he has cast Zoey from his life forever. She has served her purpose, and now that she is no use to him, he will discard her like a piece of trash.