Page 90 of Savage Saint

“Papi, let me feel you.” Motherfuck, that sweet voice should be considered a crime. Whatever idea I had about taking my time and savoring her dies right there.

I’ll make it up to her later. Pamper her my way.

I lift my head and look down at her. At the clothes still covering what’s mine.

Need every fucking barrier between us gone.

Her sports bra has a zipper in the front, and I yank it down, peeling the fabric apart as she arches to help me. It lands somewhere behind us seconds before I cup both breasts, weighing them. They’re perky, spilling over my hands while those tight little nipples in a dusky rose against her golden skin harden for me.

Stunning. Mine.

My mouth closes over her right breast, tongue flicking the stiff peak before sucking hard. Genesis gasps, back arching off the mat while her hand threads through my short hair, pulling me closer. There’s a low, needy sound coming from her plump lips; her scent surrounds me, and I can’t help but mark the skin above her nipple with a quick bite.

She cries out. I soothe it with a kiss before switching to the left, dragging my tongue across the bud, then suck it deep while my free hand plays with the other. Pulling. Twisting the wet tip. Her back rises, a deep flush spreading, and I hum in approval.

I like her blush.

Wonder if her pussy is this heated pink or more like her nipples.

With a sharp smack to the abused tip, I release her bud and tug her shorts down. While my mouth works her chest, making her red and swollen, I toss them somewhere I could give less than a fuck about.

Then I sit back and admire her.

Genesis is naked for me, wearing nothing but the tiniest pair of lace panties. They cover nothing. Just a strip down the middle; most of her mound and labia are exposed, and a slit in the fabric reveals a pearl just above the near-nonexistent gusset, there for decoration and nothing more.

The bead has been sitting just above her clit. Teasing her.

“Perfection.” One word. Nothing could describe the sight lying before me better than that. Soft curls spread out, hooded eyes staring at me with hunger, and soft golden skin waiting for me:

My mouth. My fingers. My cock.

“Santos, please don’t leave me like this.”

“Tell me, Pocket Doc. How do you want me to enjoy you?”

“Your mouth first. Please lick me,” she whines, hips rolling as her thighs open. I watch in slow motion as her soaked lips spread, how her engorged clit swells and a few drops of her juices disappear down her ass.

By the time we’re done today, I’ll have to re-cover the ring, but I’ll keep the liner as a trophy. Maybe I’ll frame the area where her wetness made a mess and put the frame on my nightstand.

“Good girl.” I reward her by removing my pants, my hard cock bouncing off my stomach as I kick them off. She watches me from beneath long, dark lashes. Her mouth open just enough, her small tongue peeks out, swiping across her bottom lip as she watches me grip myself, stroking my length. “Keep your legs spread and don’t move. Let me enjoy you a little before I break you in two.”

“Saint, I…oh fuck,” she whimpers, hips lifting in an offering when I press my face against the thin fabric stretched over her pussy and exhale. She jerks, shaking a little, and I do it again. Slower this time, before letting her feel me through the material as I lick a long, slow stripe over the soaked lace.

Fuck, she’s sweet. It’s mangoes and cream with a hint of something earthier, and I groan against her slick, panty-covered flesh.

Genesis whines, her hips rolling against my face, and I chuckle, the sound vibrating through her. “Please, Saint.”

That’s twice now. There won’t be a third.

Saint is my road name; I wear it with pride, but while I’m between my woman’s thighs, the only name she’ll be screaming is Santos.

“To you, I’m Santos. Say it.”

“What are you⁠—”

I nip her clit through the lace, cutting her off. “Say it. Who am I?”

“Santos.” Low. A kittenish sound. “Please. I need you.”