Saint And Sinners (88 page)

“Okay, do you want to try a little oral sex, first?” She shrugged her shoulders and
gave a half smile, as if she’s forgotten how this worked.

“Anything you want, baby. Do you want me to do you first, or…how do you want it?”
he asked, making sure to speak as softly as she did.

“Um, I think I’ll go first, I mean…” She closed her eyes and regrouped. “I mean, you
can do me first, and then I’ll try you.”

He nodded. “Or, just throwing this out there…” He cocked his head to the side. “We
could do each other at the same time. It may alleviate some of the pressure and anxiety
you have…you know, if you’re receiving pleasure at the same time.”

“Oh yeah.” She nodded in agreement, as if it were a novel idea. “That could work,
okay. How do you want me to lie down?”

“You tell me. Whatever and however you want, baby. We can do a sideways 69 or the
traditional way with me on my back, your pussy over my face or, if you were feeling
a bit more adventurous, I could, uh,”—he pointed across the room—“lay you on the ground
or we could take it into the Red Room.”

She grinned, then lightly laughed. “Well, I think we better take a more traditional
route going into this. Let’s just do it the regular way.”

“Okay, baby.” Saint sighed and leisurely got on his back, not wanting to appear too
needy, too excited. He gripped the sheets in anticipation, balling them tightly in
his fists, craving her pussy so badly. Soon, her lovely ass hovered over his face.
He wrapped his arms around her thighs, locking her into place. “Honey…”

“Yes.” She gently ran her fingers over his dick.

“Do as you wish. If you just want to look at it while I pleasure you, you can. If
you don’t want to look at it at all, you can close your eyes… Just do whatever feels
good to you right now, okay?” He couldn’t help but offer a little advice; it was the
therapist in him, and it would prove important to both of them that this be successful.

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks.”

He gulped as he felt her wrap her hands around the base of it. Even something so everyday
elicited a groan from him. She hadn’t touched his dick in such a long time—that alone
sent his arousal through the roof.

“Mmmmmm…” he moaned as he felt her warm mouth on the head, engulfing it. He squeezed
her ass cheeks in an involuntary response. “Oh Xenia…damn baby…” Soon after, his mouth
was too full to let her know how she was completely driving him wild.

“Ahhhhh!” She began to pump her hips, driving her pussy further into his face. He
savored it, taking her closer, lightly flicking his tongue all over her garden. “Ahhhhh!”
she cried again.

“Feels good, baby?” He paused briefly to check on her, then saw her nod before she
went back to dining on his cock. He found himself slightly disturbed that his typically
drenching wet bride was barely lubricated. Instead of focusing on that too much, though,
he upped his game, hoping to solve that issue once and for all as he plunged his stiffened
tongue deep within her, making her buck and scream out. He felt her shake and quake
within his grip, which turned him on even further.

“Mmmmm!” He began to slightly pump his hips, pushing a bit more of himself into her
hot, wet mouth. “Oh yes, baby!” he yelled before shoving his tongue back within her,
feeling her wetness slightly increase.

Come on, baby… It’s me, Saint, your mate. Come back to me. Cum back to me…

He continued on and then, abruptly, she pulled the plug on the encounter.

“Saint…stop.” She dragged herself from him and glared at him from over her shoulder.
He couldn’t quite describe it, but her twisted, confused facial expression wounded
his heart.

“What’s wrong, Xenia?” He glided his finger along her saturated pussy lips…but he
knew it was mostly from his own saliva. When he slid his tongue across his mouth,
he hated that he couldn’t taste her sweetness along it.

She moved away from him and tumbled off to the side of the bed.

“I’m…not really sure. Let’s try intercourse, okay? I think that might help.”

At that point, Saint wasn’t feeling very optimistic. Matter of fact, he feared he
may lose his erection. The woman looked as if she were on the brink of fucking tears.

“Xenia,” he huffed as he sat up and drew his knees to his chest. He looked down at
the bed, refusing to look into her eyes again for if he did, his ego would break into
a million pieces. “Maybe we should try again in a few days.” He shrugged. “We don’t
have to force this.”

“No, no,” she insisted, scooting across the bed and lying down. “I want to try. Please!”

He slowly lifted his head and looked at her. The damn woman appeared miserable and
desperate. He wanted to please her, make her happy, so against his better judgment,
he complied. In a matter of seconds, he was hovering above her body. She’d slid her
gown to around her waist, causing his cock to swell further at the sight of her beautiful,
svelte breasts. He was reignited, ready to give it another go.

“Do you mind?” he asked as he gently made to cup one, craving to stroke and caress
it.

She shook her head and offered a sad smile. Without further hesitation, he ran his
thumb over her nipples, and was pleasantly surprised to see and feel them stiffen
against his digit.

Hmmm, this may be more promising than I originally thought.

He continued on, seeing her body ultimately responding to his maneuvers. He lowered
his mouth ever so slowly to her nipple, and then peered into her eyes. The woman intensely
focused on him, waiting, wanting. He flicked his tongue along one, drawing a long
sigh from her. Then he cupped the other, sinking his fingertips into the abundant
softness, after which he delicately brought the erect nipple between his lips to nurse
from her, to enjoy the feel of the big, chocolate nub bumping against the roof of
his mouth and tongue.

“Mmmmmm….” He moaned throatily as he finished lavishing one, and switched back to
the other. If no one else appreciated him, Thelma and Louise sure did. And then, like
a blanket of creamy, melted liquor, warmth flowed over him as she ran her fingers
through his tussled mane, urging him on. She arched her back upwards, pressing into
him, the soft thatch of her pubic hair rubbing against his navel. He matched her rhythm,
grinding against her, feeling both of their excitement grow.

Oh God, yes!

The promise of a successful sexual encounter after such a troubling hiatus was real,
on the tip of coming into full swing.

“Put it in!” she urged as she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer.

Without further ado, he reached between their writhing bodies as he stared passionately
into her dark, brown, beautiful eyes. He brushed the dome of his cock against her
lower lips, teasing her, opening her up further for their pending mutual pleasure.
And then, he pushed inside, holding her securely against him as he sheathed half of
himself within her exceptionally close-fitting walls.

“Ahhhh!” she screamed out, her eyes, fixed on the ceiling, growing huge. The woman
gritted her teeth as tears formed in the glossy ducts of her eyes. Big, fat drops
glided down her cheeks, leaving a shiny trail in their wake.

“Xenia!”

“Don’t stop, do it again!” she demanded, her voice echoing in the room as she tried
to grab control of the situation, make him believe she was fine and dandy.

He closed his eyes and swallowed, pulled back, and thrust again within her, this time,
going a bit further inside of her tight, constricting confines.

I’m going to be raw after this…

He wanted to just die. She was nowhere
near
ready; it felt more like her pussy had gone on strike.

“Xenia, I think…I think we better—”

“No!” she continued to cry, and wrapped her arms even tighter around him, possessively
holding him prisoner. “Please try, Saint! Please!”

He swallowed harshly, almost choking on his own spit. This needed to end, it was simply
too much…but then he looked down at her, and those big, sad eyes of hers talked him
into it once more.

“Well, let me get some lubricant, okay?” He ran his fingers down the side of her face,
wiping a tear away.

She nodded as her bottom lip trembled, evidently holding onto a shred of hope that
he’d lost several minutes ago. In the entire history of their marriage, they never
needed lubricant for intercourse. They only utilized it when engaging in anal sex.
The situation made him feel like a fucking failure. He begrudgingly opened his nightstand
drawer, revealing a treasure trove of sexual delights. Fishing around, he finally
found the KY Jelly. With deft fingers, he coated his cock liberally as she watched
on. His dick was threatening to abandon ship. It, too, felt some kind of way about
the whole damn thing. Xenia’s pussy always wanted him, and now, it had clamped down
so tight, it seemed almost impenetrable. He had to push harder than ever to gain admittance,
and once he’d arrived to the party, it became clear as a glass of spring water that
he was an uninvited guest. Nevertheless, the host had begged him to stay after his
arrival, promising he’d be treated to a real good time. So he complied, this time
wearing a wetsuit since swimming was required.

“Ahhhh….” She shuddered and cringed when he reentered her, this time with more ease.
He began to take slow thrusts, watching her expressions, and the sight absolutely
killed him. This was not the look of love. He’d had enough.

“Xenia, we have to stop, baby, okay?”

“No, no, no, please, Saint! Please!” she begged, hurting his back as she twisted the
flesh into tight knots as if he had radio dials over there. She held tight, trying
to keep him within her, blocking his escape. “I’ve
got
to give this to you, honey… I know you need it! Please, Saint!”

“Baby! No!” He twisted and turned, trying to shake himself free. “I can’t make love
to you with you cryin’, in emotional pain! You don’t really want this! What kind of
man do you take me for? Shit! You’re basically asking me to attack you—is that what
you think I want?! I’m losing my hard-on as we speak, Xenia, damn! This doesn’t turn
me on, seeing you don’t want me like that… I’m done, we have to call it a day.” He
slowly pulled out of her, only to hear her cry out and wail even louder. She covered
her face with trembling hands, as if thoroughly ashamed. “Look,” he huffed. “I’m sorry,
Xenia… I didn’t mean to go off, it’s just…” He took a deep breath. “I can’t treat
you like that. I’ll jack off if I need to, like I have been, okay? It’s fine, baby.”

She turned away on her side, sobbing uncontrollably. He reached for her and rubbed
her calf, but the woman was completely inconsolable.

“Damn it!”

He punched the side of the mattress, then gripped it with both fists. A few moments
later, he turned back to her, attempting to embrace her, make it all better. But she
shrank away from his grasp, disappearing within herself…and though silent, her tears
continued.

Okay, this shit isn’t working. I need to breathe for a minute… I need to be able to
think, some fresh air!

“Xenia, honey?”

She didn’t respond.

“Look, I’m heading out for a second…just going a few blocks away to that, uh,” He
snapped his fingers trying to wade through his fucked up mind and find the words he
was looking for. “That art exhibit, you know, the twenty-four hour one. I need to
clear my mind, okay? I’ll be back soon, though. Besides, you probably need some space
right now.”

She still didn’t respond.

“But I’ll stay if you want me to.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “Just say the
word.”

Silence prevailed as his Queen’s body remained turned away from him, and her sobbing
continued discreetly. With a sigh, he rose from the bed and entered their closet.
The next five minutes were some of the worse he ever endured. He stood there, in a
daze, wanting to scream his fucking head off, tell the entire world just how he was
feeling. His eyes burned dark red as he moved about, trying to gain control of himself.
Racing to one side of the enclosure, he grabbed a pair of Roc Soft Raw jeans and pulled
them up his legs, almost yanking the things apart and not caring to put on any underwear.
He just wanted to get the hell outta there, even for only ten minutes. She gave no
indication she wanted him near; matter of fact, he felt as if she
wanted
him gone, fast and in a mothafuckin’ hurry. His eyes blurred with angry tears. He
quickly swiped them away, then grabbed a dark charcoal V-neck sweater and pulled it
over his chest. Finally, he snatched a plain pair of white classic Nikes off his wall
of sneakers…the ones he worked out in as of late.

When he exited the closet, she was gone. He heard noises coming from the bathroom,
sighed, and looked at the disheveled bed. The couple that once playfully argued with
one another about the wet spot left on the fitted sheet after sordid encounters had
nothing but memories now to latch on to. He wished on a hundred stars he could see
a wet spot right then and there, or two or three…evidence that he’d done his damn
job. Xenia’s pussy had fired him. He wasn’t laid off, he wasn’t given a warning, he
was given a fucking pink slip and told to kick rocks. His cock, mouth and fingers
were officially unemployed.

He left out the bedroom, and paused at their garage.

No, I’m going to walk…in the fucking freezing wind. I’m going to just walk.

He hightailed it out the front door, his coal black coat wrapped around his figure,
dark scarf and leather gloves all in place, ready to burst into the brisk midnight
air. Funny, he didn’t feel the damn cold at all. His temple had gone aflame with fury,
confusion and depression, intermingling in his cells, making him a mess, and no amount
of cleanser could wipe his state of mind clean. As he walked, he heard a crackling
noise, but didn’t immediately take note of its source as he continued to pound the
pavement, beating it to death with his steps. Once he reached a ‘Don’t Walk’ orange
blinking light, he paused and looked behind him, as if expecting to see her, and hopefully
with a smile on her face. Instead, there was something else, something that had originated
from his ferocity. Unbeknown to him, he’d left fractures all along the pavement. Each
step he took had made its mark—each incensed, defiled, debilitated, frustrated and
hurting step. Now, his resentment was leaving a blueprint in concrete. He took a deep
breath and tried to reel himself in. No point in holding on to the agonizing anger.
He needed to simmer down, so he could focus. Yeah, the art museum would be the perfect
distraction.