Page 89 of Savage Saint

“Not earned.” Santos moves to sit up, but I scramble over him and straddle his waist. For half a second, I just stare down at him. Then I grin. “Don’t, Genesis.”

“Not my fault you played a silly game and lost.”

“And yet I have the best view, bebe,” he groans, honey eyes hooded and full of heat. Then Santos thrusts his hips up, and I bounce once over him. My breath catches as the hard ridge beneath his jeans presses directly where I’m soaking through my workout shorts. Immediately, I throw my head back, lids closing as a pulse of pleasure rolls through me.

Then my curls are tumbling down my back.

When I open them again, Saint’s sitting up and holding my hair tie, slipping it over his wrist. My hair is damp and wild from the workout, a few loose strands sticking to my neck, but with the way he looks at me, I feel beautiful.

A low hum leaves him. Satisfied. “Much better.”

His hand slides into my hair, gripping a thick handful at the nape before pulling me toward him. The other settles on my hip, keeping me pressed tight over his cock. Heat to throb—he jerks, and I can’t bite back the moan that slips free. His exhale is my inhale, and then I momentarily stop breathing when his mouth sweeps across mine once, twice…a third time before he pulls back enough for our eyes to meet.

“Do you want this, Genesis? Me?” His voice is low and rough. A tinge of feral need slips through.

My response? I catch his lower lip between my teeth. The bite is hard enough to break skin, and he grunts into my mouth. Snaps his hips up when I lick the few drops of blood that spill from the split skin.

“Is that good enough—” I’m cut off as his mouth meets mine a second before I’m flipped onto my back.

21

SAINT

The second Genesis Romero bit me, the last thread of my control snaps.

I warned her. Gave her an out.

My mouth slants over hers the second her back meets the mat, and I slip between those warm thighs, her legs cradling my hips. She’s soft skin, enticing curves—her scent fucks with my head, and I plan to savor every moment of my downfall.

Lick.

Bite.

Memorize.

Her lips part beneath mine, and I take the initiative, my tongue sweeping inside as a broken sound catches in her throat. She tastes sweet. Warm. Faintly like the raspberry soda she loves and something that belongs only to her.

Genesis. My Pocket Doc.

I want it embedded in my fucking DNA.

Her tongue meets mine without an ounce of shyness; she’s just as hungry—tangling and stroking, giving back every ounce of the possessiveness I put into the kiss. And when I nip her top lip and then bottom, soothing the sting with the tip of my tongue, her small nails scrape down the back of my scalp, pulling me closer.

I cover her body with mine, my denim-covered cock against her cunt, and when I roll my hips against her, she cries out. Beautiful sound. So needy. Good girl. “You’re mine.”

A truth I seal with another kiss. Slower this time as I enjoy the slow drag of her tongue and then the little hitch in her breath when I thrust—grind a little harder. That earns me an impatient bite.

“Fucking brat,” I hiss out, my fingers embedded in her hair, tugging hard, forcing her body to arch as I skim my lips from her mouth to her chin and then the base of her throat. There, I suck her skin between my teeth. Hard. To prove a point.

There’s no going back after this.

No walking away.

Pocket Doc shivers beneath me, goosebumps rising across her sweet skin. “More. Please…I need⁠—”

“I have you.” Mouth on her throat, I kiss and nip, exploring the sensitive spot beneath her ear that makes her shiver before moving lower to her collarbones, where a scrape of my teeth has her bucking against me.

Her hands move just as quickly, sliding over my shoulders and down my back, her nails breaking skin whenever I suck on her pulse point. She likes it. The feel of me.