Saved and SAINTified (81 page)

“More than well.” Jagger shoved his hands in his pockets. “But anyway, thank you for the offer, you know, the full time offer.”

“And what is your decision?”

“I think I like it here in
California. I think I want to stay.”

“Okay cool, but don’t try to change the topic. I don’t feel like reading you. I’m in a hurry, so just spill it.”

Jagger laughed. “Well, yeah, things have been going really well and ... I ... think she might be the one. I think you were right. You should be a professional matchmaker,” he joked.

Saint laughed. “Nah, it’s not my forte. I just got lucky with you. I just had a hunch about you and her. I’m glad it is working out. It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“What? The sex? Awww man! It was amazing!”

“No.” Saint burst out laughing. “Not that—being in love, the feeling of being in love, man. Nothing beats it. You look brand new.”

Jagger turned away.

“Oh, so you were all ready to tell me about boning her, but you act like you’re flabbergasted when it comes to affairs of the heart ... You’re in love.” Saint grinned, looked down at the floor then gradually approached the door where Jagger stood close by.

“I am,” he freely admitted. “Completely.” A smile burst across his face. Saint touched his shoulder.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day, Jagger. You make sure you do what you need to do to keep her happy. As long as she is deserving of your trust, don’t put that wall up ever again. Remember how you feel right
now,
right this second. Let that be your guide, the thing that brings you back at one.”

“Yeah, I will. I don’t want to lose her, Saint.”

“I know. Once you find the one, and that’s threatened, you’re never the same. You were able to get over your ex, because she wasn’t the one intended for you. It hurt like hell, but you were more upset about the betrayal versus her being gone after all was said and done. Jagger, once you find your soulmate, that’s it. Things won’t always be easy, but it’s always worth it.”

And with that, the two men walked out the door, talking and laughing ... and politicking the work agenda for the week, the way Rainbeau Kinghts of the round table, often do...

“Are you hot? I’m hot.”
Xenia asked as she stood up from the bed and checked the thermostat in their bedroom.

“Ya damn st
raight I’m hot, just look at me, tippin’ on my dick!” Saint teased.

Xenia
rolled her eyes. “Childish!” She laughed. “These are some crazy California temperatures lately.” She returned to the bed and sighed as she plopped her head down on the pillow. “You’re missing her, aren’t you? And she isn’t even gone yet.”

Saint
slowly closed his phone and set it on the nightstand.

“Yeah, I do
, but she insists on going back to Egypt. She said she misses home. That’s where she was born and grew up; all of her friends are there. I can understand that.” Saint nodded and smiled, trying to be diplomatic and sympathetic, though his sadness consumed him. She was someone he expected to see in the mornings, to have interesting conversations with and be told words of wisdom that no one else could give. He’d miss that. He’d miss
her
. Beset was scheduled to leave in two days. She refused to allow them to make a big production out of it, nor throw her a party or do any festivities. She insisted that the pleasure was all hers, and though she loved Saint and his family, she desired to go back to her native land.

She knew it was safe now, and she wanted to be in her homeland and see it free in her lifetime.  During the course of those last few weeks,
Saint had assisted the Egyptian Angel Children in forming their council and gave advice to the best of his ability. He wanted them to thrive and be successful, and he wanted to have no part in it once they were on their feet. He also reassured that once Isis got a bit older, he’d get the moral permission needed. So many things had happened, mostly good, but Beset’s pending departure hit Saint hard—especially after he had to fully accept that once she was gone, she wouldn’t be returning. She repeatedly expressed her gratitude to Saint for saving her life—not understanding that she was truly the Angel, not the other way around.

“I look at you sometimes, and I think to myself
Saint, I would just lose my mind if I lost you, baby.”

Saint
looked earnestly at his wife, hearing the slight trepidation in her voice. They’d been through so much together; it was starting to take its toll on her in a brand new way. She knew she’d signed up for adventure, but nothing that would bring her so close to looking death in the eye. Regardless, she loved him and she wouldn’t leave, despite her fears. He didn’t want any more drama, but he knew that his lot in life would demand an upheaval from time to time—some unforeseen matter that he’d need to address in a drastic way. It was the way of his gift, the nature of the beast, and he’d accepted his calling in life years ago. Nevertheless, it tore him up how it affected his family.

Xenia
was strong, and she’d hang in there, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t human, that she didn’t hurt or worry.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. That’s the whole reason for this. You say you need me, and I
know
I need you. The children need me, the Rainbeau Knights of the Round Table and the Queens need me. I have to stay on my toes and in the game. I still have a lot of work to do.” His eyes narrowed as he looked down at her lips. “I’d like to work on
you
right about now though.”

He glided to her side of the bed, causing the white, smooth sheets to gather around his thighs
, until he swung his legs over her velvety thighs.

“Mmmmm
.” He ran his lips along her chin, easing his way up to her face, aglow from her nightstand light.

After the harrowing ordeal
to restore Beset to the land of the living, he’d slept two days total, only rising to shower, take restroom breaks, light a fire for his wife and child, and forced meals from Xenia. He spent the next week getting back into the groove of things at work but he had never been fully recharged. He and Xenia had been left to quickies, more than he’d like, the boys barely let them out of their sight and were just now beginning to relax and feel safe in their own home again.

But now
, it was time. He shoved her nightshirt up, exposing his meal. He felt his rod stiffen, like iron against the softness of her feminine, downy groin. He continued to kiss all along her face, then wrap his ankles around hers, pinning her under him. There was no room between them for even a whisper to float past.

He gave a
satisfied smile. She knew she was in trouble, big trouble. So he pressed his pelvis against her, thrusting, grinding the fabric of his boxers between his rock-hard dick and his wife. Oh no, this would be no quickie. He hoped she’d had a good nap earlier, because she’d have needed that reprieve to refuel.

“What are you going to do to me?”
she asked shyly as she traced the side of his face. Her warm, Scope scented breath tickled his hairline.

“I’m going to tease you
... taste you ... take you ... I’m going to take my everlastin’ time ... and,” he turned serious, “Xenia...”

“Yes?”

“I need to feel your fucking pussy clutch my cock.” He was no longer trying to be pretty with romantic words. His dick meant business.

“Mmmm.” She smiled, her
lips curving as he forced his groin against hers once again, pressing firmly, making her feel what he had to offer.

“Don’t try to move
... don’t try to get away ... don’t beg for help,” he teased, smiling as his hand drifted to her breasts. He removed his boxers and hers, too. Her oversized nightshirt with ‘Tweety Bird’ on it soon flew off, just like the animated creature, to the side of the bed, to join his dark green and black pinstriped underwear and her silky pink panties.

“Let me taste your fuckin’ tongue
.”

T
he words dripped out of his dirty mouth like honey. Xenia opened her mouth, and he thrust his tongue inside, moaning as he gripped her tightly. His kiss was rough, demanding, had him draw her even closer to his hard, taut body. The muscles shifted in his back as he settled into a more comfortable position. He gradually reached up, fawning over the curly twists of her kinky soft hair, then pulled the tresses with might, causing her to whimper as he left her mouth and licked hard against the side of her neck, down to her breasts to feast on the luscious chocolate mounds.

“I love your tits, so goddamn beautiful
.” He sucked each one, taking turns and gently rotating the nipples in his sweltering mouth, making her moan and twist underneath him. He threatened her with his body, forcing her down, staying in control. He wanted her
his
way...

His lip grip and sucking became more determined, harder, and wetter against her
warm flesh. She screamed her pleasure when he feasted on her breasts over and over again, stroking lightly across her collar bones and shoulders, his hair ruffled by her nomadic fingers.

“Shit, baby
,” he murmured, his erection growing unbelievably larger and harder. He felt her shudder.

Ohhhh, she is going to get it good tonight...

He left from her breasts, rose onto his knees and flipped her onto her stomach, cradling her around her belly as he hoisted her into the doggy-style position. Before she could breathe another breath, Saint knelt behind her and jammed his long, hot tongue into her pussy, causing her to yell even louder and slam her fist against the headboard. He pulled her ass cheeks further apart, exposing her crack while lapping and sucking at her pussy, making it drip and cream the goodness he’d been dying for. Sitting back, he watched her fountain run before returning to his scene of the wet crime—swallowing it down, not getting enough as he pushed his face in her fleshiness, nose deep, overdosing on her pheromones and the intoxicating aroma of her saturated pussy. It was his favorite flavor and fragrance; if he died right at that moment, he’d be in bliss...

“Your pussy tastes like cherry pie
... mmmm.” His continued to eat and eat, until he had taken in the last drop. Pure gluttony. Xenia tore at her pillow and thrashed about, out of control. He kept catching her and placing her back into the position he desired.

“
I told you not to move. Do I need to restrain you, Xenia?” he warned. The tone wasn’t comforting—it was a delicious threat. Xenia coyly looked over her shoulder with a raised brow.

“I don’t know.
Do
you?”

A
brief pause.

You asked for it.

Saint rose from the bed, disappeared and returned in a flash with handcuffs and a spreader bar. Oh, things were about to get
real...

****

Saint flipped Xenia onto her back. He grabbed her wrists and handcuffed her tightly to the bedpost. He could see by her startled expression, the twisting of her bottom lip and the ‘deer in headlights’ expression, that this was a surprise. These antics typically took place in the red room but Saint decided to christen the bedroom as well tonight with her sweet sighs of mercy.

He pushed her legs far apart, and placed the spreader between her ankles, along with the matching black iron cuffs.
Xenia smiled, then that faded as she soon realized he wasn’t done.

“Yeah, you thought that was it, huh?” he taunted.

He grinned, revealing the other item in his hand—the thigh spreaders. She huffed and bit her bottom lip, her eyes glazing over in anticipation with a dab of trepidation. He always knew she was at pitch level of excitement with these sex games, but there was always a small inkling of fear due to the unknown of what he may have up his sleeve.

He crawled over her, like a wolf
upon a rabbit, and in a blink of an eye, the nightstand light was turned off, though he never moved his hands….

In the pitch dark, he heard her whimper and the sheets mov
e along her bared flesh. He gently touched her nipple, making her jump. They were still soft and warm from his earlier sweet oral devouring. He traced her body with his fingertips, then settled at her navel, lavishing her bellybutton with a flick of his tongue. She squirmed with abandon, exciting him all the more. Her breaths accelerated and could see the glistening sheen from her teeth and full, glossy lips in the murkiness.

“I’m,” he kissed her delicately along her left hip, “going
,” another sweet peck on her upper thigh, “to,” one more, right along her groin, the soft strip of hair tickling his chin, “fuck ... you ... good! Make you scream. Make you beg. I’d told you during the very first time I made love to you, that you’d never want another man’s dick inside of you again after I got done with you. I marked you, baby. I’m a permanent tattoo across your very soul.”

She shook, bucking into his body as he gripped her legs.

“Saint! Saaaaiiint!”

“Louder!”