Saint (A Dark Mafia Romance)(34)

I can’t believe I did that.

And yet, at the same time, I can’t believe how hot it was. I’m staring at Connor, his chest heaving as his body coils on the other side of the couch from me. My eyes trace over the hard lines and deep grooves of his body - the muscles rippling beneath skin - skin and muscle that just made me feel things I’ve never even imagined.

Because I know what I just did was wrong, and insane, and probably some sort of Stockholm syndrome thing I’ll be talking to a therapist about later. But for now, there’s only one thought in my head about it: what just happened was hands down, no question, the best sex of my life.

Nothing I’ve ever experienced even comes close to the unbridled, totally unhinged and uninhibited whatever that was that he and I just did. I’ve never been taken like that. No one’s ever made me theirs like he just did, or dominated me completely until I was drowning in the sweet release of it all.

Connor uncoils from the couch, stretching as he stands. He turns his eyes sparking something hungry as he drags them over my own nude form.

“Drink?”

I swallow, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Vodka?”

I make a face. “Ugh, pass.”

“Not in the arson mood?”

I give him a wry smile.

“Whiskey if you have it.”

“Sweetheart, I’m Boston Irish, born and raised in Southie. I’d have to give my membership card back if I didn’t have whiskey.”

He grabs a bottle of something nice looking and two glasses from his bar cart against the wall and strides back over - totally naked and totally not seeming to even care.

I blush as my eyes drink him in, devouring every inch of his perfect, sculpted man’s body.

God, he’s fucking gorgeous, in this dark, scarred, masculine way. My eyes drop to his cock, still half hard between his muscled thighs - thick, and still slick from what we did. I swallow the blush from my face, feeling my body respond and feeling the tingling wetness bloom between my legs.

God, what is wrong with me?

I’ve had good sex before, but I’ve never sat there ogling a dick after the fact.

Hungering for more.

Obsessing over it.

I shake my head, blushing all over again as I realize he’s holding a glass out to me.

“Something catch your eye?”

My face burns.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed, you know.”

“I’m not,” I say quickly.

“You’re blushing.”

And of course, I only blush harder.

“Why don’t you get a closer look.”

Heat flushed through me as my brows shoot up at his words.

“Oh, I-”

His hand wraps around his cock as it starts to throb harder and harder.

Fuck.

I’m so wet, and I want so much more of him, even if he’s just made me come harder than I’ve ever come before.

He moves closer, standing in front of me as I sit on the couch with my legs tucked under me. I look up, meeting his eyes and feeling the throb of heat there.

“Open your mouth, princess,” he growls.

I swallow, my eyes going wide as the heat roars through me.

“Open those sweet lips of yours.”

His hand goes to my jaw, cupping it and running his thumb over my cheek. It traces lower, over my lips, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m opening them and sucking his thumb inside.

“Good girl,” he growls.

I whimper, and I suck his thumb harder, swirling my tongue over it as our eyes lock. He moves closer, pumping his cock as he withdraws his thumb.

“I-”

I eye his cock, still slick from us. I glance up, meeting his eyes again.

“Open your mouth, princess,” he growls again softly.

The rest of my hesitation falls away, and I open my lips and wrap them around his cock. I shiver as I slide my mouth over him, tasting the mix of his saltiness and my sweetness. It’s so damn dirty, and nothing I’ve ever done before. And it makes me feel so filthy in the best possible way.

I moan as I swirl my tongue over him, tasting us even more and inhaling more of him into my mouth. I can feel the throb of desire jolt through me, the heat pooling between my legs as I suck him. His hand tightens in my hair as he groans, throwing his head back.

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart.”

I moan louder, spurred by his words. I suck more of him into my mouth, reaching up to run my hands over the grooves of his hips and abs, and feeling my head spin.

God, he’s such a man. So cut, so chiseled and carved from marble.

I move my hand to his shaft, my small fingers not even touching as I curl them around his thickness. I stroke him as I swirl my tongue over his head, moaning louder now as I squeeze my thighs together.

“Spread your legs,” he growls.