by L. Steele
She bites on her lower lip, "I… I am not sure what that means."
"It means…" I cup her chin, "why don’t we trade secrets, hmm? Hell, I’ll even start with answering your question…" The fuck. Am I actually going to do this?
"What’s your answer?" The skin around her eyes creases.
"That I want neither." I set my jaw. "I don’t intend to have children, and hell, I’m definitely not qualified to be a babysitter."
She pales.
"Does that disappoint you?" I search her features.
Her lips turn down, then she tips up her chin. "It’s what I expected. Besides, it was a hypothetical question."
"Good, then you won’t mind if I ask you another."
Her eyebrows knit together, "What?"
"Why did you ask to become my sub? You could have approached me with another proposition. So why this?"
She draws in a breath, "I researched you, found out about your tastes, about some of the other women." She flushes.
Something hot blooms in my chest, "Does that make you jealous, Gigi, imagining me with another woman?"
She tips her chin up, "You know it does." She places her hand over my cock, “And if you dare look at any of them again, I’ll…" She squeezes my balls.
I groan…then wince. Her jealousy is a fucking turn on. Does she realize that? Sweat beads my forehead. Heat swarms in a knotted coil at the base of my belly, "What else did you like about what you saw?"
"You ..." she swallows, "You had what I was looking for."
"What is that?"
"You are the kind of man who'd know what his woman needs when she doesn’t. You wouldn't allow her pleas to get in the way and that… It’s not easy."
"That's an awful lot you are supposing," I smirk.
"I followed my instincts." Her lips quirk.
The band around my chest tightens. This woman... She is fucking strong... That sassy side of her? Surely, it will be my downfall.
"And what do your instincts say now?" I tilt my head.
"That you know what's best for me." She squeezes her hand around my erect cock and blood rushes to my groin.
"The things you do to me when you say that." I groan. My heart begins to race. "But, you need to recover first."
She shakes her head. "Later. I need this Saint. I do."
I draw in a breath, "One more question, then."
"But..."
"You ask."
She rubs her cheek into the pillow, her fingers rubbing across the swollen head of my shaft.
"Gigi."
"Saint?"
"Ask your question."
"Why do you live in hotels? Why doesn’t a man like you not have a mansion of your own?"
"You heard about that?"
"Summer may have mentioned it." She flushes but doesn’t back down, "Will you answer that?"
I raise my shoulders, "It's too much of a commitment to have a place of my own. Besides, given the hotel chains I run, it seems like a waste not to use the facilities they afford me." I twist my lips. "Nothing like keeping the staff on their toes… Every time I stay in a hotel, I force the management to up their game."
Will she believe me? Can she look past the obvious to what I’m not saying?
She frowns, then jerks her chin, "Guess it makes sense."
My ribcage feels too tight. Can’t she look past the front I am putting up? Fuck that. I had been happy this far, had figured out how to make the most of the cards I had been handed. Had even managed to find a balance of sorts, thanks to my more extreme tastes. Why did she have to come along and disturb that? Why does she make me yearn for more? Bloody hell. I shake my head.
One more chance. Give her one more chance to reveal the truth. Say it, Gigi. Tell me why you’re really here. Confess it and I’ll do what is needed to keep you safe. I’ll do anything to extricate you from whatever situation you’ve found yourself in.
She twists her fingers around my cock.
I place my hand over hers, "My turn to ask a question."
"Right." She blinks, squares her shoulders.
"You ready, Gigi?"
She nods.
"Why did you agree to marry me?"
32
Victoria
* * *
"It’s not like you gave me a choice?" I set my jaw.
"You could have left," he retorts. "It's not like I was holding you captive."
"Weren’t you?" I massage his balls, squeeze the base of his cock at the same time.
"F-u-c-k." Color flushes his cheeks. His blue eyes deepen into the color of azure.
His fingers spasm over mine.
He wraps the fingers of his other hand around my neck in that possessive grasp I’m coming to recognize.
"Who’s holding who captive here, hmm?" His gaze intensifies. He releases his grip on my hand, only to cup my pussy. "Tell me why you agreed to marry me."
I shake my head; he slips three fingers inside my cunt at the same time. Omigod! My eyes roll back in my head; my grasp on his cock tightens.
He circles his thumb around the swollen bud of my clit, and my entire body bucks. A trembling sweeps up from my toes, surges toward my womb.
He pulls out his fingers from my pussy and I whine, "No, goddam you, don’t do this."
"Your answer, Gigi, why did you marry me?"
"Because I wanted to, you asshole." I tip up my chin, "Is that enough for your ego?
"No."
My jaw falls open, "You can’t be serious."
"Oh, but I am, my darling." His lips twist, "Tell me the real reason, and I promise I’ll let you come."
"You’re an unfeeling brute." Anger tunnels my vision.
"And you’re a cunt."
My pussy instantly clenches. Hell, why do these filthy insults from him resonate with that secret part of me? "Fuck you, Saint," I snarl.
"With pleasure Gigi, but first, your answer."
I swallow; a flush steals up my throat. Goddam him for forcing me to bare the part I hate to him. "After we met, I began to fantasize about you." I glower at him, "Once I realized the kind of kink you indulged in...it became worse. My dreams became steamier. Then I stumbled across that woman giving you head in your office...and..."
His breathing heightens, "It turned you on?"
I nod. "When she blew you, and you threw your head back, the chords of your neck stood out in relief, your beautiful chest bathed in sweat, as you gripped her hair and held her in place. You fucked her face and all I could think was... I am going to kill that bitch,” I swallow, then whisper, “and..."
"And?" His nostrils flare.
"And that I want that." I swallow.
His biceps bulge. This was turning him on even more, huh? I tilt my chin up, push my breasts into his chest.
"I knew then that I needed you. I yearned for you to break me, to make me forget about everything else, to force me to remember only the shape of your face, the fullness of your dick down my throat, the imprint of your fingers in my cunt as you made me come. The—"
He lowers his head, blots out the world, then closes his mouth over mine. He robs me of my breath, my words, my will to live without him. He simply takes it all from me. He fucking absorbs every last thought from me. In that moment, he makes me his. He flips me on my back, notches his dick at the entrance to my pussy, then cups the top of my head. Huh?
He plunges forward, burying himself to the hilt with such force that my entire body moves up. My head hits his palm— Huh. Even in the midst of passion, he remembers to stop me from hurting myself— That’s so unlike what I’ve come to expect from this complex male.
He tangles his tongue with mine, brings his other hand down to grip my butt. He slides his thumb into my back hole, pulls out and thrusts back inside of me. His balls slap against my tender flesh as he fills me. He impales me, fills me up, joins me to him with such intensity that tears spring to my eyes. The pressure radiates out from my core, up my body, toward my extremities. Every inch of my skin seems
to flare with a strange iridescent glow. My scalp tingles, my toes curl, and I arch my back, knowing I am going to—
He releases my mouth, glares into my face, "Come for me, wife." His command rips through me, hurtling me up, up, over the edge. The pressure in my chest explodes out; flashes of white blind me.
When I come to, he’s poised in exactly the same position.
"Jesus," I croak.
"You do know that’s also the name Lennon gave one of his cats, right?"
"What?"
"Face it," he rubs his nose with mine. "Your hero, John L, was a cat lady in disguise."
A giggle bubbles up my throat, "I can’t believe you’re telling me this…now…when…" I glance down, "when you’re inside of me."
His dick lengthens, pushing against my inner walls. Another trembling spirals up from where he’s sheathed inside of me. "What the—?"
"You keeping count this time?" He tilts his hips and the head of his dick brushes against my cervix.
"Saint!’
"Gigi," he leans down and licks my lips. "Are you keeping count?"
"Of what?"
He pulls back, then pounds into me, and ohmigod, the climax crashes over me. I throw back my head and a keening cry emerges from my lips. Another shudder rolls over me, I pull back my shoulders, thrust my pelvis up as liquid heat pools between my legs.
"How many was that Gigi?"
"What?"
"How many orgasms so far?"
"Two?"
He clicks his tongue. "Let’s make that three."
His dick thickens inside of me. Holy shit, no way is he still erect. I force myself to focus on his face, his deepening gaze, the dark hair stuck to his forehead, the sheen of sweat that covers his shoulders. I dig my heels into the backs of his thighs, push myself up, and wind my arms around his neck.
His big body trembles, and he braces his weight on his elbow, then slides a second finger inside my back hole. The tension coiled in his muscles vibrates out, the heat from his body intensifies, and his heart beat ratchets up. I turn my head into the crook of his shoulder, bite down on his skin, and his cock jumps. A shudder grips his body and his hoarse cry fills my ears, "Fuck, Gigi." His entire body stiffens, then he comes, shooting hot streams of cum inside of me.
He collapses onto me, his weight pressing me down into the bed. I wind my limbs around him, lick the blood from the broken skin on his neck.
The muscles on his back ripple. He turns and brushes my lips with his, "You’re full of surprises, Gigi."
He begins to pull out and I shake my head. "Stay," I whisper against his lips.
He hesitates, then flips us over, so I am once more on his chest, with him inside of me. I snuggle into him, the warmth of his body a contrast to the air hitting my back. I shiver.
"You cold?"
"A little." I rub my cheek against the fine hair that peppers his chest. He reaches out behind me, the muscles of his body rippling as he pulls the sheet over both of us.
He folds an arm around my back, tucks my head under his chin.
"I have another question for you," I venture.
He stills. "I hate answering questions."
"No shit," I slip out my tongue and lick his skin.
His cock instantly jumps inside of me. I chuckle, "Where do you get this stamina from?"
He folds an arm behind his head, "I learnt a long time ago, that I had better make the most of the moment at hand. You never know what’s going to happen next, you get me?"
I press my chin into his chest, peer up at him. "Does this have to do with the incident?"
"The girls have been gossiping, huh?"
"Summer may have mentioned it in passing."
"What did she say?"
"That it was up to each of the Seven to talk about what happened to them."
His brow clears.
"What was your question?"
"You changing the topic?" I frown.
He draws the hair away from my face, "When it suits me."
I snicker, "Do you always get your way?"
He smirks, "Is that the question?"
"Did it matter to you so much that I was a virgin?"
"Why do you say that?" he asks.
"Because," I run my tongue over my teeth, "since you discovered that you were my first, you’ve forgotten to be as much of a douchebag to me."
He gazes off into the distance, "You’re right." He scratches his chin. "I never expect any of the women I sleep with to be virgins… Certainly, never expected to marry one." He lowers his gaze to my face.
"So it was a big deal for you?"
He cups my cheek, "If you mean, does it appeal to the primal, chauvinistic man in me that no one has been inside of you before me, that I was the first to make love to you? Then, yes. I’d never thought it would be important…and it isn’t… And it is."
I lower my brows, "What do you mean?" He runs his fingers though my hair. His fingertips drag across my scalp. Tendrils of heat ripple from the contact. I turn my head and lean into the touch. "You were saying…?" I prompt.
"That making love to you was more significant than I thought it would be. My being your first was a bonus, but even if I hadn’t been, it wouldn’t have mattered… But you were… And it makes me wonder, why the hell you didn’t sleep with anyone before me?"
"Because I was saving myself for the right man…?"
"Who is probably not me."
"My," I blink, "what’s prompting this soul searching?"
"Let’s see... Was it the strawberries dipped in your cum which may have become my favorite food of all time? Or the mind-blowing sex after? Or the fact that you’ve been so receptive, so responsive to my touch?" He trails his hand down my spine.
I shiver.
He pinches my chin, tips my head up, presses his lips to mine and kisses me. Gently. Softly. Slowly. So bloody thoroughly. My heart begins to race all over again. Wetness pools between my legs.
"Being inside you is my favorite place in the entire world." His dick thickens, punctuating his words.
"Saint," I whisper.
"Let me, Gigi." He nibbles on my lower lip, and pushes up and into me. He makes love to me gently, barely a thrust in his every move, he propels his hips up with enough torque for his hardness to chafe the inside of my channel. He brings his other hand between us and cups my breast, the calluses on his fingers setting off pinpricks of pleasure that travel straight to the space between my legs.
He holds my head in place, then places his other big hand on my butt. "Hold on, sweetheart," his whisper curls around me, sinks into my blood, wafts over, encouraging me to give in, sink in, to open myself up completely, irrevocably to him. His gentleness is so firm, yet so demanding, it’s a complete contrast to the sadistic part of him.
Both sides of his personality are the same, yet different. Both authoritative in their own way. He pistons his hips up and down again and again, hitting that space deep inside of me that he seems to always find with such precision—that sends pleasure shooting up my nerve endings to my extremities. My toes curl, I dig my fingers into his hair, and hold onto his shoulders. "Saint… I’m… I’m..."
"Come with me," his voice ripples across my skin and I shatter, my entire body trembling, melting, spiraling down a tunnel at the end of which is him. Only him. His hoarse cry threads through my subconscious mind, and he comes inside of me. Sleep tugs at the edges of my vision. My muscles relax. He pushes my head down into his chest. His heart beat thuds in my ears. Reassuring. Hypnotic.
"Sleep, Gigi, I'll keep you safe. "
33
Victoria
* * *
Over the next three weeks Saint is true to his word.
He takes care of my every need. He is attentive to me, from the moment we wake up in the morning, when he insists on ordering and eating breakfast with me, often joining me for a quick shower before he sets off for work. So we haven’t had a honeymoon, not that I expected it, but this is close. He doesn't want me to worr
y about anything. He insists I stay in, make full use of the hotel’s facilities—the pool, the sauna, the daily appointment with the masseuse, not to mention the access to the best beauticians in the city in the in-house salon.
I can't remember the last time I felt this pampered.
In the evenings, Saint frequently texts me from the office, commanding me to be naked and ready for him, usually arriving within twenty minutes of the message. And then he'll tease me, often spank me up against the post, arousing me before fucking me with that intensity and the hint of cruelty which characterizes his every move. A few times we’ve indulged in more of the games where he tests my taste in alcohol. I admit, I had more luck with that than with the food. What can I say? Clearly, I am a closet alcohol slut.
He's taken me on the bed, of course... And on the table by the window, on the carpet, in the walk-in closet, where we'd ended the night tangled up in clothes—his and mine.
One night, he'd met me in the restaurant downstairs as I had been finishing dinner. He'd had a drink, then waited until I’d finished dessert. After that, he'd been in in such a hurry, he'd hustled me into the ladies' restroom and proceeded to fingerfuck me against the door. The fear of being caught had been enough to make me orgasm within the first five minutes. Then again, when he'd ripped off my panties and stuffed his dick inside of me. And a third time, when he'd thrust into me again and again with such force that my body had bucked into the door, and he'd commanded me to come in that authoritative voice—the one which has me rushing to obey him. I'd slumped against him after that. He'd stuffed my knickers into his pocket, scooped me up and carried me off to his private elevator, and then upstairs to his bed, where he'd proceeded to tie me spread-eagled to the bedposts, and then... Worshipped my body. There is really no other way to describe it.
He had touched every part of me, kissed every nook and cranny, massaged every curve, rubbed my breasts, nibbled on my nipples, my fingers, my toes—all with that same single-minded intensity, as if he had a point to prove... To himself? To me? He had wrung two more orgasms out of me that night...until I had begged him, pleaded with him, cajoled with him to take me and put an end to my agony... He had finally relented then—turned me around on my arms and knees and thrust into me with such force that the entire bed had jolted. Then he'd proceeded to take me again and again until he'd come deep inside of me. He'd touched a part of that I hadn’t even known existed. Perhaps it had affected him too, for he'd been gone the next morning.