Page 73 of Savage Saint

My hand slips between my thighs, palm sliding over the gusset of my panties that clings to my soaked lips. I’m sensitive, so wet, and my fingers slip easily beneath the band. The first contact sends a ripple of pleasure through me, and I moan. The sound is low, needy, as two fingers sink deep and my hips gyrate.

I ride my fingers to the memory of his possessive grip, the way his scent wrapped around me while his soft lips skimmed across my cheeks. How, for a second, I felt the tip of his tongue trace where his thumb pressed against my pulse point.

The heat in those honey eyes as Santos gazed down at me.

“Oh God,” I whimper as my orgasm slams into me. It’s hot and fast, and I’m left panting—I’ve never come so fast—and I ride each wave with my fingers buried deep.

Don’t pull them out until the last pulse calms. Doesn’t end, but now it’s a low thrum that lulls me to sleep, and I give in again. Let my mind wander back to him as the world around me disappears and sleep claims me.

“Mami, I’m here!” I call out, stepping into my parents’ home. The door barely closes behind me before footsteps come from somewhere inside the house, and before I bend to slip off my sandals, Dad rounds the corner.

“There you are. Come with me.”

I give him a mock-annoyed look. It should be in the parent/child rule book that when your kids visit, you let them be lazy for the first hour. “Come where?”

Dad laughs, catching my wrist before pulling me back out the door. “Just a quick run.”

“Come on, Pa. I just got here.” Is it whiny? Yes. But I know this man will have me take care of everything he fixed before I leave. “At least let me go say hi to Mami.”

“You can do that after we get back. Come on.”

I laugh despite myself as he literally walks me outside. Even locks the door so I don’t try to run back in. “What do you need?”

“I promise we’ll be quick.”

“You’re making me walk for a beer run…aren’t you?”

“Obviously. You can’t have Sancocho without a cold one.”

Inhaling deeply, the rich aroma hits me, and my stomach growls. Dad hears it and grins. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“It’s been going for about an hour now. Almost done.” He checks his watch and purses his lips in that way people do when working something out in their head. “It’ll be ready by the time your mom is done with the tostones and your brother is back.”

From somewhere inside, an old-school merengue begins to play, and mom starts singing off-key. Horribly off-key.

I laugh, walking beside him toward the colmado. The corner store isn’t far from his front door, maybe eight houses down. “That’s her song for when you piss her off.”

“Yeah. I might’ve broken her favorite coffee mug by mistake.”

“Oh, that’s going to cost you.” She’s had that mug for years. It was a gift my younger brother, Dani, gave her for Mother’s Day when he was six.

“So I’ve heard, multiple times today. She started at seven ten.”

“When did you break it?”

“At seven.”

“You two are sickeningly sweet and…” I trail off, catching sight of a leather vest outside the store. Then, I see the bikes. Shiny chrome. Slick design. Two of them, and Rizos is walking toward the one closest to the open front door.

“Come on, mi niña. I’ll buy your favorite soda for the costly walk.”

“You mean you’ll spend the next fifteen minutes catching up with the owner while I stand there as if I were your security guard?” My response is automatic, but I don’t look away from the club member’s bike. The same man who helped me treat Trino when Saint kindly borrowed me.

I still bristle at that. The audacity of that man.

“…have faith in your old man, Genesis. Have I ever lied to you?”