Saved and SAINTified (33 page)

The driver nodded, shut the trunk and got back into the driver’s seat.

Saint remained quiet as he held Xenia’s soft hand during the taxi ride. He’d thrown in an occasional smile, while she spoke and pointed out things on their jaunt to the five-star island hotel. The tepid weather, fresh, vibrant hues and smell of the ocean did nothing to calm his nerves. His emotions swung from one side of the pendulum to the other. At various moments, he felt like he’d swallowed gun powder—ready to rip a soul apart. The next, he was fraught with worry over Lawrence and his father’s trip. At that very moment, he knew they were on separate airplanes, flying to the same destination. They’d meet up, and the show down would begin.

He didn’t want to sit idly by, while others went to war for him
. He wanted to be on the front line, and everyone else behind him. Although he’d been forced into a corner, he felt like a coward. His father made it clear before he’d left that he was going with or without his son’s permission. He knew his father was serious and there was no way to talk him out of it. Saint’s stubborn streak was inherited.

He looked down at
Xenia’s stomach and became overwhelmed with love. Gliding his hand over to her body, he placed it right below her ribcage, sighed and closed his eyes. Each day, Isis became stronger and stronger. Her beauty, her light showered him, though they’d never made eye contact. Regardless, he’d seen her and his heart recognized her immediately. It all made sense now, why her conception was so overwhelming and her energy was so strong.

In many ways, she was just like any other baby grow
ing inside of a woman. Xenia was soon to be a mother of a newborn once again. But in other ways, she was dynamic—attached to her very soul was a golden key. Saint desperately wished he could yank it away and cast it into an angry, erupting volcano, never to be seen again, but he understood that that was not how this worked.

The
re were rules that he had never known about, and a world within a world that he was privy to but hadn’t heard a whisper from, until now. The child was conceived with a crown of thorns and chosen many moons ago. It was her destiny. To Saint, she was just his baby girl.

Xenia
was blissfully oblivious. He hated keeping the information from her, but it was for the best. He needed Isis to be safe, and Xenia to be calm. He was going to take care of the situation; he
had
to—to make things right. In the meantime, he relinquished his anguish and became determined to enjoy this time with his Goddess. She deserved serenity and so much more.

****

Later that night...

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look this evening?” S
aint said with a sly grin as he raised his glass of white wine to his pursed lips.

“Yes, several times.”
Xenia grinned. “Mama said the boys have been on their best behavior. I highly doubt it.” She crossed her long, brown legs and slid her cellphone back into her purse.

The
Caribbean style-salsa jazz trio ripped into a town favorite. Feverish applause ensued, the bass vibrating through everyone’s bodies, and the smooth melodies from the strummed guitars weaving a spell to enchant every ear within reach.

“They are good,”
Xenia said without looking over to her right. Saint watched her trying to avoid his gaze, but her budding smile told on her. “Stop looking at me,” she whispered with an airy giggle.

“We’re on vacation,” he said sexily in her ear as he leaned over, wrapping his arm
possessively around her chair. He looked her up and down, perverted thoughts running through his mind like marathon athletes trying to reach the finish line. “Why don’t you come over here and sit on Daddy’s lap?” he asked, patting his thigh.

Where they sat
in the red lit, hazy, congested room, they were away from the stage, but still close enough to see the musicians clearly. Off slightly to the side, hidden under shadows and an in-door, half dilapidated gold awning, Xenia appeared to be assessing the situation before responding.

She drummed her fingers along the sparkling white linen covered wooden table. “S
aint, if I sit on your lap, I want you to promise me you won’t try anything freaky.” She looked at him out the corner of her eye.

“I promise, baby.
I’d never do such a thing,” he said as he gently took her by the elbow and pulled her onto his thighs. Xenia looked around nervously, checking in back of herself.

“I hope I’m not blocking anyone’s view,” she mumbled.

The song changed. This one had an upbeat percussion that rocked their bones with sultry undertones. The African drums grew louder and louder as a male singer chanted and moved his hips rhythmically to the beat. Saint tapped his foot, keeping up with the tempo. He pulled her closer to him, held her tightly around her waist as they watched the show. Trails of cigar smoke floated by, reminding him of his beloved Rainbeau Knights at the Round Table meetings and dinners. The beautiful people were like water-colored memories of his childhood. He smiled inwardly, knowing these were Bomb’s people—this was the rich culture that young man had come from.

Then, like a light switch, he simply drowned in sexually deviant rivers. He pushed the thoughts away, and tried to stay in the moment. With e
ach sharp, melodic turn the musical notes and rhythm took, Saint sank farther. He swayed slightly, instinctively
knowing
the next note before it even arrived. And then, once again, his thoughts shifted to back home, to the gritty, boogie down Bronx.

There he was inside of his mind—reliving his
childhood in the South Bronx, watching his Puerto Rican neighbors and friends do the salsa with their loud radios in the middle of the trash covered streets. They had given him this musical gift. He used to watch daily, from his kitchen window in that wretched, ruined neighborhood. Looking back, he was shocked that anyone could possibly live there, but at the time, it was home, sweet home. Though scary and unfit for any human being, every now and again, a gift such as this had been bestowed—his love for dance was only further encouraged and he’d learned all right, by mere observation.

Xenia
let him bounce her body, just as they did on their very first date, on the merry-go-round’s shiny, black stallion. One blue light caught the shimmer of the jasmine scented cocoa butter she had rubbed into her skin earlier in the day. Saint had watched her preparing for their evening out on the town. He loved to watch her get dressed; it was delightful foreplay and only an appetizer before the seven course fleshy meal to cum...

Xenia looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide. Saint stared ahead, an innocent expression plastered on his face. He kept tapping his foot on the cracked, slanted concrete floor.

“Uh, I think I better go back to my seat,” she said
, clearing her throat.

“Why is that?” S
aint asked nonchalantly.

“I think you know why.”
Xenia’s brow rose.

“He isn’t bothering you
,” Saint said with a sly grin.

“I beg to differ. He is stabbing me in my ass cheek and he feels as if he is having a strong-man contest, trying to lift me clear into the air.”

Saint shrugged, clearly trying to control laughter. “Just ignore him, he’ll settle down.”

“I find that hard to believe. His owner won’t call off the dog hunt.”

“Pussy cat hunt, you mean? Well, he noticed something he liked and wanted a closer look, to investigate. He is a private eye.”

“But he
only
has one eye … and it’s hardly private. I’m fully aware of it gawking at me.”

S
aint finally burst out laughing. “Well, why don’t you just let him have a look around and when he’s satisfied, he’ll leave and you can go on about your business.”

“
You liar. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you.” She shook her head. “All these years I’ve known you, I have no idea how I keep getting suckered into your games and bullshit.”

“You
want
to be conned. Don’t act innocent with me, Mrs. Aknaten. Now, he has a search warrant so are you going to let him in or not?”

“I thought he was just a private-
dick
in some urban office with a box fan blowing? When did he get upgraded to cop with clout?”

“When he grew another inch…
You didn’t feel that promotion? Ahhh, there is another one...”

Xenia
looked down at her lap, totally embarrassed.

“S
aint, if you’re thinking what I
think
you’re thinking, we can’t do that here. Look at all these people around.”

In response,
Saint lifted Xenia a couple of inches off his lap. She heard the sound of his pants zipper going down.

“You better not!” she said between clenched teeth.

He lifted his butt slightly off the seat, readjusted his hold on her and resituated himself. After giving a cursory look around, he ran his hand up her dress, starting at her knee.

“Oh my God, S
aint, don’t!”

Before she could leap off, S
aint tugged her panties to the side. She whimpered, turned toward him, and put him in a stranglehold when he pushed hard inside of her, filling her. Saint moaned low in her ear, his voice almost drowned out by the loud percussion. Saint looked over her shoulder and fixed her dress, disguising it as if it were still in a flowing downward state.

A new song began, this one with stronger bass than the last. Each thump, S
aint would push upward, keeping the rhythm while the drummer laid out a complicated solo for everyone to enjoy. Deep within her, Xenia’s body tingled all over and, she was sure she’d transferred the delicious contagious sensation to him.

She opened
one eye, then the other, and looked around in shame. Much to her surprise, no one seemed to notice them at all. Saint moved as if he were only reacting to the music—the perfect veneer. His breathing became more labored as his hands urgently moved up and down her hips and back. She felt his heart thumping against her chest. He occasionally leaned down and kissed her shoulder, while she cradled her face in the crevice between his neck and shoulder, holding onto him as he slowly rocked her body.

The room
started spinning. Some people stood and started to dance, twirling fast and furious. Saint continued on, unmoved by the changing events. He dug his fingertips into the fleshiness of her behind, over the light fabric of her white and yellow slinky dress. She moved her face a bit lower; just enough so she could turn her head toward his and open her eyes to watch his face. Xenia rubbed his chest over the fabric of his shirt until the top two buttons came undone; the material and chest hair slick and with gathering sweat. His thin platinum chain heated from her caresses and the look in his eyes drove her wild. Saint bent down to kiss her but didn’t relent. His thrusts continued, hard and fast…

****

“Mmmmm, Ahhh,” he groaned softly, burying his head deeper in her shoulder.

Xenia
shut her eyes and moaned—her familiar moan, only muted. Her orgasm was on its way, but he felt her clenching, resisting...

“You want me to help you cum? Nervousness getting to you?” he asked
frankly.

Snaking
up her dress, he pushed her magic button to the deep boom of the percussion. She sighed loudly, biting down on his shoulder blade to muffle her orgasmic scream. Saint felt her body jump and vibrate. He listened intently, not missing her wispy soft sighs as they tugged at his libido, increasing it tenfold as she continued to shake on his nature.

“Press your thighs tight
,” he whispered in her ear as he buried his face in her curls.

The second orgasm must have been stronger for s
he sunk her teeth harder into his shoulder blade, breaking the skin. Saint pushed upward in the tight, soaking wet confines he urgently sought. Xenia shook in his grip as he pushed rapidly upward inside of her, over and over. His speed increased tenfold until he tensed all over and bellowed a loud moan. He sunk back down on the seat, bracing himself until the waves of the climax abated.

They sat quietly, catching their breath as the music continued to play and the oscillating, colorfully clothed bodies bounced around the room, creating
moving shadows in the earthiness of the small but vibrant club. Saint’s gaze rested once more on the musicians while his hands painted idle circles on her back. Xenia kissed the side of his face as he slid tenderly out of her. He hoisted her up discreetly, zipped up his pants and lowered her back down onto his lap in perfect timing.

A few moments passed, just enough for each of them to regain their composure.

“My recently promoted cop didn’t find anything incriminating,” Saint whispered in her ear, a huge smile across his face. “However, later tonight, he wants to return to the scene of the crime. He is insistent upon a thorough investigation. You are hiding contraband and he is intent on finding it. Consider yourself forewarned.”