by Monica James
I am powerless and surrender.
He eats me out while I ride his face, screaming in wanton desire. A surge whips through me, and I arch back, bucking forward. Anchoring one hand on his washboard abs, I snare his hair with the other and coerce his mouth to work faster, his tongue deeper, and he happily obliges.
All reservations are long gone as I chase my release. And when Saint bites my clit and slaps my ass hard, I come with a thunderous cry. My body undulates, and I ride the wave because nothing has ever felt this good.
Saint continues to suckle me, my arousal coating his face. The aftershocks rock me for minutes, but when I finally come back down, another hunger burns. I watch as he wipes his lips deliberately before sucking his fingers, licking my arousal clean.
The sight sucker-punches me, and I slide down his body, frantically pulling down his shorts.
When his enormous cock springs to life, I gasp. I’m suddenly afraid I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, figuratively speaking. He is impossibly masculine with soft dark curls highlighting his straight, thick, deliciously plump cock.
“You don’t have to,” he hoarsely says, peering down at me. But that’s not the issue. I don’t know where to start.
“Tell me what you like.” I bite my lip nervously.
He groans and cups my flushed cheeks. “Just go slow. It’s been a while.”
I nod, understanding what he means. Yes, he had sex with some random woman, but this is different. This is more personal in some ways as he’s allowing me control. And for someone who wouldn’t allow me to touch him just days ago, this is a big step.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He lifts his hips so I’m able to remove his shorts. Completely naked out here in the wilderness feels nothing but natural. I sit back on my heels, examining him from head to toe. From the rise of his chest to his well-defined abs, he is a true vision.
When my attention lands between his legs, I’m unable to conceal my hunger. And neither can Saint.
“Fuck,” he hisses, tipping his chin upward.
His desire has me reaching out and gripping his cock gently. It twitches in my hand. We both need more.
I begin to stroke his shaft, the heat from his skin almost burning me alive, but I like it, and I increase the tempo. He is so thick; it takes me a while to find my groove, but when he reaches down and places his hand over mine, encouraging me to squeeze him harder, I’m quick to catch up to speed.
Saint likes pain, just as I like to be punished, a fact I wasn’t even aware of until I met him. Him smacking my ass as I came on his tongue has me increasing my rhythm, whimpering when I see a drop of moisture glisten at his plump tip.
Groaning, I work on instinct and bend down to lick it off. Saint’s hips jolt off the ground as a guttural moan leaves him. His taste is spicy and sweet, and I want more.
Brushing my hair to one shoulder, I wrap my lips around his cock and slip him into my mouth gradually. Tears sting my eyes as I try to take him all in, but it’s impossible. I pause, savoring the feel of him.
“Ahгел.” He sighs, his trembling body evidence he’s holding back.
His voice, his taste, the feel of him surrendering, everything about this explodes around me, and I relax my throat, taking more of him in. He hits the back of my throat, and I gag, but when he attempts to pull out, I hold him and encourage him to move with me.
Drawing back, I cover his root with my hand and begin to move my head up and down, using my tongue and mouth, just as he did to me. He grunts and begins to buck his hips, fisting my hair when I increase the tempo.
I sample him, stroking and sucking, the combination leaving me slick once again. Even though he uses my hair as reins, I know it’s to control the speed so he doesn’t go in too deep, too fast. He’s holding back, but I don’t want him to.
I intensify the movements of my lips and hand until he’s groaning, thrusting into my mouth wildly. If possible, he seems to grow larger, and I whimper when a salty sweetness lingers on my tongue.
A string of Russian leaves him, which I can only assume are curse words because they are heavy with lust and a desperate need to come. I hollow my cheeks, squeezing him tightly, and he roars, his hips rocketing off the sand.
His response spurs me on.
I tongue the underside of his shaft while drawing back and suckling his round tip. “Fuck, ahгел. I’m going to come.” He attempts to push me away, but it’s music to my ears.
I slide my lips back down over his shaft and bob madly, breathing deeply through my nose as he thrusts his hips. With a piercing growl, he quickly brushes me aside, and I watch in awe as ribbons of come coat his stomach.
His breaths are labored, and his cheeks are flushed as his body ripples with the powerful orgasm I elicited from him. The vision will forever be singed onto my soul.
“Fuck,” he pants, sagging into a well-sated mess, squeezing his eyes shut.
Unable to resist, I cautiously trace my finger through his arousal, mesmerized by its texture and what it’s capable of doing—creating life. His eyes pop open as he watches me, breathlessly. I draw my finger to my mouth, and when my tongue darts out for a taste, Saint hums low.
I don’t know why I just did that, but it’s apparent I’m changing, but who am I changing into?
“Come here, ahгел.” Saint drags me down beside him, curling his naked body around mine. As we fall into a deep slumber, the question lingers—who are we both changing into?
Being with her erases the pain, and I will move heaven and hell to protect her. I will figure out another way to save Zoey, but I can’t give her to Popov.
She is mine.
She always has been.
Day 34
“WE LEAVE TOMORROW morning.”
I never thought I’d hear the words, but Saint did what he promised—he made a raft capable of getting us off this island.
We worked for two solid days, day and night, as time was the enemy. We didn’t know if that plane was Popov’s, but we worked like it was. We didn’t speak about what happened between us because we didn’t need to.
The gentle touches, the longing stares, they all amounted to what we both felt. Getting off this island was even more imperative now because I need to know if what I feel for Saint is real.
When I watch him drag the raft from the water, his strength never more commanding than now, I know what this is. We have bonded over the most heinous circumstances, but somehow, under the horror, I’m stronger. I could have surrendered to the darkness, and I almost did. But I survived because I need to know what the next chapter of my life is.
“You okay?” Saint brushes the hair from my brow, interrupting my thoughts.
I shake my head to clear it. “Yes.” I smile, leaning into his touch. “I can’t believe you did it.”
“We did it,” he corrects, running his thumb along the apple of my cheek. “I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you. Thank you, by the way.”
“It’s only come about a week too late, but you’re welcome,” I tease while he smirks. “I might wash before dinner.” We are running low on supplies and have been limiting our bathing. But now that we’re finally leaving, I plan to depart this island with clean hair.
“Take your time. I’ll have everything ready by the time you’re done.”
“The last supper,” I say, a touch of sadness to my words because I don’t know what’s ahead of us.
Saint sighs, before bending forward and caressing the cross at my throat. “The last supper where we eat fish,” he quips, instantly easing the mood. “Go.” He gives my lips a quick peck before turning me around and slapping my ass.
I yelp and hustle forward, desperate to get away before I ask for more.
I grab my things and make my way toward the pond. We’ve had some brief rain, which has been enough to keep the water fresh, but I will be glad when I can stand under a warm shower.
There are a lot of things I look forward to like socks, using a toilet, and eatin
g a buttload of chocolate, but the most important is I wonder what’s in store for Saint and me. He’s told me he will let me go, but what does that mean for us?
He would never leave Zoey, which means I will return to America while he’ll return to Russia. There is no way I am setting foot in that country, so I what? Wait for him to come home? This should be the least of my problems, but it seems to be the one weighing the heaviest. What awaits him? I gulp at the thought.
When I reach the pond, I take one last look around my sanctuary because no matter what, good and bad, I will never forget my time here. Things haven’t been easy, but I can leave with the satisfaction of knowing I did everything to survive.
I take my time, floating on my back as I stare into the heavens. It’s hard to remember the woman I once was because so much has changed. I still don’t know what I will do about Drew, but I know he has to pay.
Going to the police would be the sensible thing to do, but a blood-thirsting voice inside me whispers he deserves something much worse. Shaking away that darkness, I wash before quickly getting dressed.
My choice of clothing is slim, but this green summer dress has proven to be my favorite. It’s pretty, and it reminds me of my former life, a life which now feels alien on my skin.
I don’t know where this doom and gloom has come from. You’d think I’d be happy to get off this island, but the unknown scares me. Here, things were simple, but out there, in the real world, I will have to face what I’ve done.
Zoey comes to mind. I was supposed to be the key to her freedom, but the only freedom I’ve granted is my own. Saint will still be a prisoner, and so will Zoey.
My stomach twists at the thought.
I can’t help but feel sorry for her. She never wanted this, any of it. But she was forced into slavery, and in turn, she lost who she was. I can still hear Saint’s anguish when retelling his story. He got his sister back, and she finally escaped from Popov’s mind games, but now, thanks to me, they are back to square one.
How can I celebrate my freedom when I know it comes with a price?
There has to be some other way, a solution where we all win. But the only winner is Popov because a man like him doesn’t lose.
Sighing, I brush my fingers through my hair, leaving it loose so it can dry.
I suddenly feel so disheartened. Saint will suffer because of me. How can I go back to my comfortable life knowing that? I can’t. I need to talk to him. There has to be some other way where things aren’t so bleak for him. I can’t live with myself if there isn’t. But the truth is, unless Saint delivers me to Popov, he will never be free.
Slipping into my tennis shoes, I quickly make my way through the terrain, the need to see Saint overwhelming me. I almost can’t breathe. A shadow overcasts me, and when I peer into the sky, I hear a sound which tears my heart into two.
“Ahгел!”
Something is gravely wrong.
Adrenaline soars through me as I run, frantic to get to Saint. When I hear my name again, panic overcomes me. “I’m coming! I’m here!”
The blood whooshes through my ears, and my heart is in my throat as I continue running faster than I ever have before. I duck and weave my way through the forest, knowing the route like the back of my hand. But when I see Saint storming toward me, I come to a screeching stop.
“You have to hide!” he screams, waving his hands for me to turn back around.
“Hide?” I question, panic strangling me. “Why?” When he reaches me, he grips my bicep and attempts to drag me away. I yank from his hold. “What’s going on?”
His eyes are wild, his breaths labored. It can only mean one thing. “He’s…here.”
Two words shouldn’t be able to change your world forever, but those two simple words have.
I stagger backward, my mind reeling as I shake my head. “No, that’s impossible.” But it’s not. Thanks to my SOS, I led the bad guys straight to us.
“Please, ahгел.” He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and draws me into him. He kisses my forehead with a quiver. “Please hide. I’ll tell them you’re dead, and I will send someone to get you. I promise.”
Everything is spinning out of control, but in the end, Saint stuck true to his word, confirming what I always knew—he’s a good man. He has the opportunity to save himself and his sister, but he’s chosen me.
Tears fall freely because no one, no one has ever done that for me before.
I throw my arms around him, hugging him tightly. I never want to let go. “Thank you,” I whisper, nestling close and committing our connection to the deepest place in my heart.
I will never forget this…and it’s because of this…that I can’t.
“Go. Please.” He lays frantic kisses all over me, and I close my eyes, relishing in his touch. I don’t know when I will feel this again. Our seconds are precious, and I will savor every one. “I will come find you. I promise.”
But I can’t hide forever.
Pulling from his hold, I place my palm to his cheek. I will never forget him. “I now know why you’re called Saint.”
He blinks once, confused. I soon seal our fate.
“I can’t.”
“You can’t?” he repeats, eyes wide.
“I won’t allow you to sacrifice everything for me. How could I live with myself if I did?”
“Obey me!” he orders, but I’ve made up my mind.
“Forgive me.” Before he has a chance to ask what I’m asking absolution for, I raise my leg and knee him in the balls, catching him unaware. This was the only way I could escape.
He grunts, clutching himself, his face turning red as he slumps forward. He reaches for me with one hand, but I dance out of his range and run like a woman possessed—I run toward what my fate always was.
“Ahгел!” His pained cries only have me running faster because I won’t be the cause of so many people’s demise.
I think about Saint’s parents, about Zoey, and about Saint. They now have a chance to live a normal life. I once thought I would never give up everything and sell my soul for another like Saint has done, but as I run toward the shore, I now know that I would.
A white yacht comes into view, preparing me for what I’m about to do. Just as I’m about to emerge from the trees, ready to face my destiny, I’m dragged backward and slammed into something warm, something which sings to my heart. “Don’t be the hero. This is what you’ve always wanted. Your freedom.”
I sag against him, crying the last of my tears. “I found something I want more.”
The air is heavy, our hearts beating to a frantic staccato.
Closing my eyes, I confess something which cements who I am. “…You.” Regardless of his crimes, I want him because he is mine.
A stunned gasp leaves him as his grip slackens, allowing me to take the last step, which, ironically, is the first step toward the end. The sun shines brightly, but it does nothing to thaw the chill to my bones.
I can hear Saint walking behind me, but I don’t have the guts to face him. I pick up Harriet Pot Pie and wait with my head held high.
The huge yacht is one you’d expect to see a Hollywood starlet lazing on in the sun as the paparazzi have a field day taking her picture. It’s definitely a lot nicer than the one I was on a lifetime ago. But I suppose being a Russian mobster does have its perks.
When the door slides open and a man in white chinos and a short-sleeved shirt emerges, I wonder if maybe Saint was wrong because this man doesn’t look like a bad guy. He’s wearing a pair of Ray-Bans, so I can’t see his eyes, but I certainly am not getting the psychopath vibe.
However, when a slender woman with long dirty blonde hair in a red bikini saunters out, her arrogant nose tilted to the heavens, I can’t say the same for her. She makes my skin crawl, and when her gaze narrows on me, I shrink backward.
Who are these people?
Saint answers my question for me.
“Zoey…”
What?
That’s Zoey? I don’t know what I was expecting, but I certainly wasn’t expecting her to look like she was moments away from ripping out my eyeballs.
“Hello, brother.”
What the fuck is going on?
The man removes his sunglasses, and the air is suddenly thick with supremacy. He instantly rouses a ball of nerves inside me. “Hello, Saint. I was so worried we had lost you. Luckily you had the good sense to leave me a way to find you with that SOS.”
The anger rolling off Saint leaves me breathless. But eventually, he puts an end to my questions. “Hello…Aleksei.”
The world crumbles around me, and my knees buckle. This is my kidnapper? This man isn’t by any means the monster I envisioned him to be. I instantly let Harriet Pot Pie free. She doesn’t need to bear witness to this.
Saint’s fingers instantly wrap around my bicep, stopping me from falling into a messy heap. But regardless, I still feel seconds away from passing out.
I watch on in what feels like a hallucinating state as Aleksei and Zoey descend the ladder and make their way toward us. I’m impressed he can scale the narrow rungs in his brown Italian loafers.
Saint stands by my side, never letting me go. I’m thankful for this touch because I need it. They stop a few feet away.
Aleksei doesn’t hide his appraisal of me. I instantly shuffle my feet. He makes me nervous. His astute blue eyes scan over me, as he no doubt wants to look at his prize.
He is younger than I thought he would be. In his late 40s, I’d guess, and in good shape. He’s dressed sharply, and his cologne smells like sandalwood. His wavy dark brown hair is slicked back, exposing his strong features and full lips.
Some may call him attractive. Zoey certainly does.
She makes her stance clear as she huddles close to him, eyeballing the fuck out of me. I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong.
Saint said she was ready to go home, but her body language does not display that. “So this is the bitch who is supposed to take my place?”
I blink once, my mouth agape.
“You definitely got screwed, darling.” She loops her arm through Aleksei’s, grinning victoriously when my cheeks flush. Aleksei seems to enjoy the possibility of a catfight.
