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Saint likes pain, just as I like to be punished, a fact I wasn’t even aware of until I met him. Him smacking my ass as I came on his tongue has me increasing my rhythm, whimpering when I see a drop of moisture glisten at his plump tip.
Groaning, I work on instinct and bend down to lick it off. Saint’s hips jolt off the ground as a guttural moan leaves him. His taste is spicy and sweet, and I want more.
Brushing my hair to one shoulder, I wrap my lips around his cock and slip him into my mouth gradually. Tears sting my eyes as I try to take him all in, but it’s impossible. I pause, savoring the feel of him.
“Ah???.” He sighs, his trembling body evidence he’s holding back.
His voice, his taste, the feel of him surrendering, everything about this explodes around me, and I relax my throat, taking more of him in. He hits the back of my throat, and I gag, but when he attempts to pull out, I hold him and encourage him to move with me.
Drawing back, I cover his root with my hand and begin to move my head up and down, using my tongue and mouth, just as he did to me. He grunts and begins to buck his hips, fisting my hair when I increase the tempo.
I sample him, stroking and sucking, the combination leaving me slick once again. Even though he uses my hair as reins, I know it’s to control the speed so he doesn’t go in too deep, too fast. He’s holding back, but I don’t want him to.
I intensify the movements of my lips and hand until he’s groaning, thrusting into my mouth wildly. If possible, he seems to grow larger, and I whimper when a salty sweetness lingers on my tongue.
A string of Russian leaves him, which I can only assume are curse words because they are heavy with lust and a desperate need to come. I hollow my cheeks, squeezing him tightly, and he roars, his hips rocketing off the sand.
His response spurs me on.
I tongue the underside of his shaft while drawing back and suckling his round tip. “Fuck, ah???. I’m going to come.” He attempts to push me away, but it’s music to my ears.
I slide my lips back down over his shaft and bob madly, breathing deeply through my nose as he thrusts his hips. With a piercing growl, he quickly brushes me aside, and I watch in awe as ribbons of come coat his stomach.
His breaths are labored, and his cheeks are flushed as his body ripples with the powerful orgasm I elicited from him. The vision will forever be singed onto my soul.
“Fuck,” he pants, sagging into a well-sated mess, squeezing his eyes shut.
Unable to resist, I cautiously trace my finger through his arousal, mesmerized by its texture and what it’s capable of doing—creating life. His eyes pop open as he watches me, breathlessly. I draw my finger to my mouth, and when my tongue darts out for a taste, Saint hums low.
I don’t know why I just did that, but it’s apparent I’m changing, but who am I changing into?
“Come here, ah???.” Saint drags me down beside him, curling his naked body around mine. As we fall into a deep slumber, the question lingers—who are webothchanging into?
Being with her erases the pain, and I will move heaven and hell to protect her. I will figure out another way to save Zoey, but I can’t give her to Popov.
She is mine.
She always has been.
Day 34
“WE LEAVE TOMORROWmorning.”
I never thought I’d hear the words, but Saint did what he promised—he made a raft capable of getting us off this island.
We worked for two solid days, day and night, as time was the enemy. We didn’t know if that plane was Popov’s, but we worked like it was. We didn’t speak about what happened between us because we didn’t need to.
The gentle touches, the longing stares, they all amounted to what we both felt. Getting off this island was even more imperative now because I need to know if what I feel for Saint is real.
When I watch him drag the raft from the water, his strength never more commanding than now, I know what this is. We have bonded over the most heinous circumstances, but somehow, under the horror, I’m stronger. I could have surrendered to the darkness, and I almost did. But I survived because I need to know what the next chapter of my life is.
“You okay?” Saint brushes the hair from my brow, interrupting my thoughts.
I shake my head to clear it. “Yes.” I smile, leaning into his touch. “I can’t believe you did it.”
“We did it,” he corrects, running his thumb along the apple of my cheek. “I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you. Thank you, by the way.”
“It’s only come about a week too late, but you’re welcome,” I tease while he smirks. “I might wash before dinner.” We are running low on supplies and have been limiting our bathing. But now that we’re finally leaving, I plan to depart this island with clean hair.
