Saints and sinners the d.., p.25
Saints & Sinners: The Devlin Saint Trilogy, page 25
He shifts his hold on my arms, capturing both my wrists in one of his, then uses the other to trace the cup of the bra I’m still wearing. The touch is as light as a butterfly’s kiss, and I whimper as he teases one cup down, freeing my breast.
“Oh, baby,” he says as he runs his thumb over my nipple. “You like this.”
“Yes.” The word is barely breath. “Please.”
“Please? Please what?” His fingers pinch my nipple and I suck in air as a hot wire of need shoots straight to my core. “Do you want my mouth here, sucking on this beautiful tit? Or do you want my fingers in your pussy?”
I wiggle my hips, because I’m too far gone now, and can’t seem to wrangle even a word.
“Or maybe you want me to fuck you so hard you scream my name and don’t even care if anyone in the other RVs hears you?” I whimper, but he doesn’t relent, just bends closer to my ear and says, “You want it rough? I could flip you over, pull down those panties and spank that beautiful ass.”
“Yes,” I murmur. Damn me to hell, the answer is yes.
“Or maybe I should blindfold you, then tie you to this bed, naked and wet and entirely at mine. To tease, to spank, to fuck.” His fingers dance lightly over my nipple. “To pleasure.”
I tremble, lost in the intensity of his words. But there’s trepidation there, too. The thought of being bound … of being entirely at his mercy…
I swallow, trying to read my own emotions. Trying to separate the craving from the hesitation. Trying to pinpoint the dark shadow that’s making me hesitate, but I can’t put words to it, and I turn my head away, not wanting him to see into my eyes. “Why?” I whisper, because I don’t know what else to ask.
“Because I want to make you feel,” he says.
“I do,” I tell him. “I feel you all through me. Why tie me up?”
He releases my arms, then slides his body down so that his hands are cupping my breasts as he kisses me along the band of my panties. “Maybe it’s more than that,” he says, lifting his head between kisses. “Maybe I like the power. Maybe I want to make you feel good. To watch you surrender. To know I’m taking you someplace you’ve never been before.”
My breath comes in rasps, his words filling my head like a storm.
“You get off on danger? Maybe I like knowing that I can take you there, too. That I can bind you. Have you at my mercy. Own you while you’re completely vulnerable, and then make you come harder than you ever have before.”
“I don’t—I’m not—”
His fingertip traces my lower lip and my breath comes in shudders, making it impossible for me to hide anything from him.
“Don’t pretend you aren’t intrigued. Don’t pretend that even the possibility of this doesn’t turn you on. I saw you, remember? Hell, I touched you.” His fingers trail down from my lip to my jaw, then slowly down my neck. “Just the other day, I fucked you in an alley. And the first night in the parking lot…”
He trails off as that damnable finger once again grazes my nipple. “A stranger touched you, and it turned you on.”
“So?”
“It’s not the danger you need, Ellie. It’s the control. You were in charge before I came along in the parking lot. And how many other men have you pulled from bars? Have you fucked in alleys?”
I turn my head, not wanting him to see the answer on my face.
“You’re searching, baby. Trying so hard to steer that moment. To make it what you need. Not the danger. The control. You calling the shots. You choosing those men. You controlling the scene.”
He strokes my hair, then waits for me to meet his eyes. My pulse is pounding, no longer from lust, but from the truth in his words. A truth I really don’t want to acknowledge.
“But it’s never enough, is it? What you need—what you crave—is for someone else to be in control. You need to surrender, El. You need to go all the way to the edge and then fall over, trusting that you’ll come out okay on the other side.”
I swallow, my breath shallow as I absorb his words, so terrifyingly true. Because he’s right. I do grab control. I cling so hard because I lost so much. But there’s a wall, and I’ve never let myself go past it.
“You can trust me, El. For years, you’ve been holding so tight to control you’ve forgotten about pleasure. Forgotten how to truly feel. To surrender.” He looks me up and down, the penetrating gaze acting on me like a physical caress. “You know I’m right.”
I lift my chin. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because I see it in your face. It makes you scared. The thought of being tied down. Being immobile and blind and vulnerable. But it also turns you on. Tell me the truth, El,” he says, softly cupping my cheek. “Tell me that what I’ve been saying makes your nipples hard and your pussy throb. Tell me your skin feels tight, aching for release. Tell me you want it. The kind of danger where you’re no longer in control. The kind where you can fall, and there’s no way in hell to stop. Where you just have to trust that it will be okay.”
“I—” I begin, then feel like an idiot when tears spring to my eyes. I want it—oh, dear God, I want it. But I can’t find the words.
“I can’t,” I manage to say. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go there.”
I swallow the fear that sits like a lump in my throat. Fear that I’ve hurt him. Fear that he’s going to walk away, irritated that I’ve put on the brakes.
With Alex, I know he’d be okay with it. But Devlin? I’m still learning who Devlin Saint is, and I don’t yet understand his rough edges and dark shadows. He’s dangerous, just like he said. And, damn him, it’s because of that danger that I’m already halfway to the best orgasm of my life. But to take it further? To trust him like that?
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again. “I can’t.”
I don’t realize that the tears have escaped until he’s gently wiping my cheek with his thumb. “Oh, El, baby, it’s okay. I want to take you to your limit—I do. So much that just thinking about it makes me harder than I’ve ever been. But I’ll only take you over if you want it, too.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Oh, baby. Hell, no. Besides,” he adds with a devious grin, “how many times have I told you how I feel about anticipation?”
More tears slip from my eyes, but I’m smiling. Not only because he’s just told me there will be a next time, but because he’s still calling me El, even after I denied him.
“Devlin, please.” I don’t have to say another word. He flashes a devilish grin at me, then slowly—so wickedly slowly—kisses his way down my body until he reaches my panties. He eases them down, but I’m too eager, and kick to move the process along.
He laughs, then holds my legs steady as he settles between them again. He blows gently on my clit, which feels incredible, then he teases me with his tongue before very deliberately rubbing his beard along my inner thigh. I laugh and squirm. Not only from the tickling sensation, but because he’s so obviously teasing me with exactly what I’d said I wanted.
My laughter soon turns to gasps, though, as Devlin turns his considerable skills to my clit, his fingers thrusting inside me as his mouth works an absolutely perfect magic on me until I’m so close that I’m squirming and arching and trying to reach the stars.
I remember the first time we did this. He’d told me to tug at my nipples, and I do that now, and oh, yes, oh, God, yes, that’s the final key to this wonderful puzzle of pleasure. My whole body tightens, then breaks apart, and as it does, I reach down, twining my fingers in his hair and holding him in place as I buck against him, harder and faster until the storm finally, thankfully ebbs.
When reason returns, I pull him up, then kiss him, wanting more still. Wanting a kiss that feels like fucking. Wanting him to explode inside me. “Now,” I whisper. “Please, please, tell me you brought a condom.”
“Your wish…” he says, then leaves the bed long enough to take care of sheathing himself.
“Hurry,” I beg, though that turns out to be an unnecessary request. He’s hard and ready and he pushes my knees up as he slides into me, then presses his hands into the mattress on either side of my head, his eyes on mine as he thrusts deep inside of me, hitting that sensitive spot deep, deep inside so that I build again with him.
This time when he takes me over it’s even more powerful than before. I cry out as my core tightens, drawing him in, milking him, wanting him deeper and harder. Wanting this connection to never be broken.
“Devlin,” I whisper, when I can finally speak again. He’s collapsed onto me, the weight of his body sweetly comforting.
He shifts, then pushes up again so that he’s balanced over me, breathing hard, his face flushed from the intensity of his orgasm. I watch as his eyes open, then see the moment when he slides back into reality and his eyes find mine. “Oh, baby,” he says. “That was incredible.”
We share a smile, and it ignites a whole new spark, sending a new wave of desire coursing through me, though I don’t think I’d survive another orgasm like the one that’s still tingling over every inch of me.
But that heat—oh, God, what I see in his eyes. It’s longing and passion and need. It’s hot and primal, and I want more. So much more. Not just tonight, but forever.
Except I can’t say that. Hell, I’m afraid of even letting him see it in my face. This horrible, guilty secret that I can’t stand the thought that this will end.
Because now that I’ve found Alex again—now that Devlin Saint is in my life—I don’t think that I can survive losing him all over again.
I don’t remember falling asleep, but when I wake up, it’s dark and I’m alone. There’s also a draft, and I sit up, holding the sheet to my breasts to ward off the desert chill.
I tug it off the bed, wrap it around me, then hit the light switch, but there’s no sign of Devlin in the RV. I find him right outside the door, sitting on the rough wooden step that leads up to the doorway.
“Catch the light,” he says without turning around. I do, and the world fades into darkness, coming back into focus as my eyes adjust, the sand glowing under the light of a crescent moon.
“Slide over,” I say, then settle in beside him, my hip pressed tight against his.
Immediately, he slides his arm around my waist, and I lean against him. “Want some of my sheet?”
He shakes his head. He’s wearing only his boxer briefs, and though I’d be freezing without the sheet, Devlin is a man who burns hot.
“I’m not good for you,” he says after we’ve sat in silence, listening to the night and getting drunk on moonlight.
I tense, wondering how much of my earlier thoughts he’d picked up on. Wondering, too, how much he’d been thinking along the same lines. Finally, I say, “You are.”
“You know who my father is. You know some of the things I’ve done.”
I reach for his hand. “I do. I also know you. And I trust you.”
I can’t see his face, but I hear him draw in a breath, long and deep.
“What’s going on? Today was perfect. Did you get a call? A text?”
He turns his head to face me, then kisses me so gently it feels as if I’ll float away. “It’s not that you trust me,” he says. “It’s that you trust yourself. When you take control of a plane. When you drive a car faster than it should go. When you fuck a dangerous man.”
He pulls his hand free, then cups the back of his neck, his head turned just enough so that I can see his eyes, sandy tonight since he’s not wearing his contacts. “You think you’re living dangerously, and you are. But there’s a cap to it. You trust yourself. You trust your own judgment. But you don’t go further. That’s why you wouldn’t let—”
I frown, then shake my head, the smallest of movements. “What are you saying?”
He exhales. “I’m saying that whatever you believe about me, you’re wrong. I am dangerous. More than that, I’m a danger to you. Just being associated with me puts you in the crosshairs. There are people who—if they knew who I really am—”
“I know. Of course, I know. There’s no way you could have shut down your father’s enterprise entirely. If those people knew you were his son, they’d—”
“It’s not just that. I’m—fuck.”
I shift to see him better, alarmed by the heat in his voice. “Devlin?”
He sighs, then rubs his temples as he shakes his head and I try to control the pounding of my heart.
“Dammit, Devlin, talk to me.”
He draws in a breath, then turns his head to look at me, and even in the dim light, I can see the storm brewing behind his eyes. “In bed, I would never hurt you. But in the world? In the world, I don’t have that kind of control.”
“Devlin—”
“No. Listen to me. That’s why no matter what you want—no matter what I want—this is going to end.”
My gut twists, but I can’t argue, even though I want to. But my voice is still choked when I say, “Do you think I don’t know that? I’m not still sixteen and clinging to fantasies.”
“I just want to say it. I want it out there. Because I think we both need to hear it.”
I sag a bit. “Right. Okay. Noted.” I swallow. “The profile is almost put to bed, and pretty soon Roger will insist I work on a story other than just the one about Peter. And I am paying hefty rent on an apartment in New York.” Every word out of my mouth depresses me.
I suck in a breath to gather my courage, then say aloud the truth that’s been twisting around inside me for days. “You’re right. Danger doesn’t scare me. But losing you again does. Devlin, I don’t want to go.”
“I know. But you will. Because even if you stay, you won’t be with me.” He turns to face me. “I will always protect you, El. No matter what the cost. Even if it means I leave you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Is SoCal’s Most Reclusive & Eligible Bachelor Off the Market?
That headline and a dozen variations on the theme scream at us from the screens of our phones as we land at the executive airport. And if that’s not bad enough, each and every headline is accompanied by a photo. Devlin and I in front of the RV with his hand between my legs. Devlin and I in front of the RV with his hand on my breast and our lips locked together. Some clever posters even turned the two photos into a gif, and one even has us burst into flames before the video starts over again.
Most posts identify me as an unknown woman. But one names me and identifies me as a reporter for The Spall Monthly. Which not only makes me queasy, but also makes me want to punch someone.
The only saving grace is that the airport near Laguna Cortez is private. Which means that we’re able to get in the car Anna has sent for us—one with nicely tinted windows—and get hurried past the crowd that has gathered outside the gates, cell phones in hand.
As soon as we’re past them, Devlin lashes out, kicking the back of the empty passenger seat in front of him. There’s a soundproof barrier between us and the driver, but I have a feeling the driver’s not at all surprised by the soundless outburst.
I take his hand, and he squeezes hard. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so damn sorry.”
“What on earth for? For kissing me? Because I’m not sorry at all.”
“For this. All of this bullshit. And for the fact that I took us there.”
“This bullshit sucks, but it’s part of your life. It’s not like I didn’t know that. Hell, I tried to research you before I came. It wasn’t easy.”
“Ellie…”
“And it’ll blow over. You’ve been photographed with women before, right? I’m just one of the crowd.”
His head whips around, and he faces me, his expression fiercer than I’ve ever seen.
“I am,” I insist. “You said yourself I’m going back, right? Whether I want to or not,” My voice is low. Intentionally steady. “You said last night you won’t be with me.”
He doesn’t answer, but he turns slowly forward, then bends at the waist and buries his face in his hands.
I watch him, grappling for something to say, but I can’t find the words. Thousands upon thousands of words in print, and I can’t even conjure one that fits this moment.
For a moment I just sit there feeling helpless, then jump as my phone rings. It’s Roger, and though I consider letting it go to voicemail, I answer it.
“Hey, kid,” he says. “Hell of a day, huh?”
I bite my lip. Apparently he’s seen the posts. “I’ve had better,” I admit.
“Yeah, well, I hope it was worth it, because I’m about to make it worse. I’m killing the profile.”
I wince, my entire body pulling inward in a full body cringe. “Roger, please. Just let me—”
“Not even open for discussion,” he said. “It’s dead. Come on, Ellie. What else can I do?”
“Let me rewrite it. Take out the references to Devlin. Focus on The Beyond Project and not the DSF. Hell, take my byline off. Those women, those kids. They deserve to have their stories told.”
“Yeah,” he says. “They do. And I’m still killing the story.”
Devlin’s looking at me, and I turn away, not wanting him to see my face, because I know this is going to feel like another stab in his back. “Are you firing me?”
“Let’s say you’re on probation. And I need you back here for a new assignment.”
I swallow. “When?”
“Soon.” He makes a rough noise in his throat. “Sorry, kid. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but I’ve got your back. And the best way for this to blow over is for you to get back to the office. I’m only your editor, remember? I’ve got eyes on me, too.”
“Right.” It feels as if all the air has left my body. “Yeah. I get it.”
“Hey. I am sorry. And for what it’s worth, Devlin Saint seems like a class act. God knows his foundation does a lot of good. But, well, you know the mandate, and perception plays a huge part in credibility.”
“I get it.” I sigh. “Thanks, Roger.”
“For what it’s worth, we miss you around here.”
