I chuckle, "If those are the extent of your insults, I fear there’s much I have to teach you."
"Bastard."
"Technically, I am not. Though my father would have wished otherwise."
"I don’t want to hear your sob story."
"But I want your sobs, little Gigi." I drop to my haunches in between her parted thighs, lower my head and swipe my tongue up between her pussy lips.
She cries out.
My breath catches, "Fuck, you’re soaking."
"I…it’s a mistake."
"Tell that to your body. You want me, Gigi. You know how that makes me feel?"
I wrap my fingers around her thighs, then thrust my tongue inside her soaking channel.
"Oh, my god," she moans.
My dick lengthens. My groin hardens. I tilt my face, then thrust my tongue inside her cunt again and again. I lick up her pussy juice, swipe my tongue all the way up into the valley between her arsecheeks. I curl my tongue inside her puckered hole and she whines. "Oh, Saint, please…"
"Like that, Gigi," I mutter against the most forbidden part of her. "Tell me what you want."
"You…" she gasps. "I want you…"
I rise to my feet, unzip my pants; shove my hand down my boxers and take out my cock. My blood throbs at my temples, in my balls. "Where..." I clear my throat, "where do you want me?"
She bites on her lower lip.
"Where Gigi?"
"I … I.." she stutters.
My vision tunnels. I swipe my throbbing cock across the valley between her arsecheeks. She shudders.
"Do you want me here?"
She nods.
"Say it aloud."
"Take me, Saint. Please."
Thank Fuck. I draw back, then insert my thumb inside her puckered hole. She groans. I ease my finger inside. She bangs her forehead against the pillar. With my remaining fingers I scoop up some more of the moisture from her pussy, then add a finger to my thumb.
"Oh." Her shoulders hunch. "It’s… it’s…"
What?"
"Different," she huffs.
"No shit." I set my jaw, "I am going to ensure you never forget our first time."
I dip my other palm between her thighs. I cup her pussy, shove three fingers inside her soaking channel, and her entire body bucks. She throws her head back, her hair rippling about her shoulders. "Ohmigod," she gasps. "Saint… I… I…" A trembling sweeps up her legs. Her breathing goes shallow. A whine spills from her lips. "I’m…going to come—" she gasps.
The doorbell sounds and I pull out my fingers.
"No!" Her body jerks as if she’s unable to stop herself. She whips her head in my direction. "Don’t you dare leave me—"
The bell sounds again.
"Sorry, sweetheart, no choice."
I take a step back, lose my footing and stumble. Shit. I’m as off balance as she is. Truth be told… If the doorbell hadn't rung—as I’d planned for it to—I’d have taken her right then, in the arse, then proceeded to tear into her pussy too. Good thing I don’t trust myself around her anymore. Since when have I needed checks and balances around another person, huh?
Since I met her.
Since she’d flipped the entire situation by proposing the one thing I’ve wanted more than anything—to take her as mine, to make her submit, to bend her will to mine, have her shatter around me. Fuck. I drag my fingers through my hair. Who is breaking whom here? I’m no longer sure.
The bell rings again. She straightens, "Saint…?"
I don’t reply. I pivot on my heels, push my dick back into my pants as I walk out of the bedroom, past the living room, and wrench the door open.
A room service attendant straightens. Her face pales. On the cart in front of her is a bottle of Champagne, a bowl of strawberries, and a variety of cheeses and dips.
"Should I wheel this in?" Her voice trembles.
"No," I growl.
"Ah…compliments of the—"
"Leave," I pull the cart into the room.
"The staff and the management wish you—"
"Fuck off—"
"But… Damian wanted me to tell you—"
I glower at her.
She pales, opens her mouth again.
"The fuck?" I jerk my chin over her head. "You tell that motherfucker to stay away from me and my wife and one more thing—"
"Wh…what?"
Sweat beads her upper lip. Good god, isn’t there anyone who can talk to me without looking like they are about to have a coronary? Yeah, that’s where the Seven come in. Fuckers can be counted on taking me down a notch at any time. And her, of course. She can go toe to toe with me. I frown. How dare she? She is going to be taught a lesson, all right.
"Uh… Mr. Caldwell," the waitress stutters.
"Make sure I’m not disturbed again."
I slam the door in her ashen face. Good, no one should be happy today. This wedding isn’t a cause for celebration. It is…a fucking massacre. Mine…and hers. I am sinking into a maelstrom of emotions, caught in a quicksand that threatens to overwhelm me. Soon, I will be in over my head. Only thing? I am taking her down with me.
I shove the cart into the bedroom.
"Saint?" Victoria gasps, "Who…was that?"
"Not your concern."
"Why do you sound angry?" she scowls.
"I’m not angry."
"Are you hungry?"
"Are you?"
"So, you’re hungry." She nods.
"I’m not, and I told you to keep your mouth shut, didn’t I?"
"Definitely hangry."
"I’m not a fucking child," I scowl.
"You’re acting like one." Her lips curve. The glistening flesh calls to me. I could forget all this. I could walk over, kiss her, untie her, throw her on the bed, climb on top of the bed and bury my aching cock inside her soft, gorgeous, heated pussy. I could—
"Saint."
"What?" I growl, shaking my head. Jesus, being this close to her is doing weird things to my head. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am hungry. Is that why I am feeling lightheaded?
She shuffles her feet, "Did you order us something to eat."
I sneer, "I ordered something all right."
28
Victoria
He prowls closer, his footsteps muffled by the carpet as he approaches. The creaking of wheels gets louder—he definitely ordered something. That is a food cart, isn’t it? The clank of silverware,
