“Shit…” She felt a stream of pussy juice trail down her inner thigh as her excitement reached a fever pitch.
“Your legs, knees, ankles and feet are mine…and you know what else?”
“What?” she answered timidly, bracing herself.
“This pussy…” He ran a finger down the crack of her lips. “This pussy…Xenia,” he said, his voice cracking. “This pussy is owned, baby, it’s mine! Say it…”
“It’s your pussy…”
“Say it louder! Let me know you believe that shit. I’m not playing around with your ass, Xenia!”
“It’s your pussy, Saint!”
“You’re damn right it is!” And with that, the heat on her back was suddenly gone. She screamed so loudly and gripped the tub so hard as her body stiffened from his hard intrusion. He pushed deeply inside of her, making her gasp for breath as his possessive hold on her neck grew tighter, more domineering…nastily jealous and hanging on the edge of insanity.
“Uhhhhh! Uhhhhhh!!!” He thrust deep within her, over and over again, causing her body to violently jerk forward. “Uhhh, baby!”
She slid a hand across the floor and gulped, trying desperately to catch her breath as his warm, thick dick filled up her pussy, tight against her wet walls. He pumped in her so hard and deep, she knew she’d surely lose her mind.
“Saint, damn!”
His large hand clutched to her neck as he forcefully brought her ass into his thrusts, making her body accept every damn thick centimeter he had to offer.
“Stop running!” he yelled as he lay on top of her back, pressing his chest into her. His wet groin met her ass cheeks over and over again. His soft pubic hairs brushed against her as he slowly exited her, then within a flash, that brief glimmer of kindness was replaced with more heavy hitting fucking. “Uhhh! Uhhh! My mothafuckin’ pussy!”
She couldn’t see him, but it was obvious in his movements and the demanding words trickling out of his nasty mouth, the man was driven. What began as a day of play was ending in a fatal attraction. Sure, he’d fucked her hard before, plenty of times, but this was a tale of ownership—a reminder that Saint was stingy when it came to her, and though he knew she wasn’t a game or a toy, he wanted her all to himself. So he did what he had to do from time to time…stake his claim, as a little cue to her in case she decided to get any ideas…
She smiled because she loved it. Got off on it. Swollen pussy lips, back to back orgasms, a big, hard, heavy dick inside of her that not only fit the bill on dimensions, but the damned man knew how to use it…
He slowed, slipped his hand slowly from her neck, his fingertips gliding delicately past her shoulder blade and down her back. Then, his touch left her. She didn’t dare look back.
“Every damned morning when I leave for work, I quit you…and every damned afternoon, I relapse…” he said, sounding as though high on something.
She wasn’t sure what the words meant, but the tone of his voice, the barely leashed control, stole her very soul. Her heart skipped, as she searched her mind, trying to decode his ramblings while under the sexual influence. Still, she didn’t ask him anything. He wouldn’t leave her hanging. She bided her time…
“Mmmmm! Oh God!” she screamed when he suddenly entered her again, this time at an angle, hitting her sweet spot deep within. She hung on for dear life.
“Baby, shit! I’m so in love with you…” his voice trembled as he held her hips steady and dove into her over and over, bringing her to the brink. “You just don’t know… Shit your pussy feels so fuckin’ good!” He quickened his pace, his hands gripping harder.
“I try to concentrate at work, tell myself to focus, but I can’t get you out of my mind, baby…”
Ahhh, that’s what he meant…
And then she melted in his grip as his lips trailed down her back, kiss after kiss after kiss. He held her so tenderly, while his dick continued to power drill deep within her. How beautifully contrary it was. She felt herself slip away, almost unable to keep her position. Knowing her inside and out, he heeded the nonverbal warning and hitched his arms around her breasts and hoisted her upward, all the while remaining inside of her, pushing, pumping, fucking her with all of his might. Her arms hung to the side as he kept her hooked to his temple, pressing into her ass with each powerful lunge while his hands roved over her breasts and cupped them.
“Shiiit! Oh God!” Her head spun; the room seemed to be moving while she remained still. It couldn’t be, but the orgasm had caused some opiate type effects as it began in the central cortex of her brain, trailed past her hardened nipples, down her stomach and crash-landed smack dab in the depths her pussy.
The chakra orgasm had commenced…
~***~
“That’s good, baby…” Saint murmured in her ear as she slid against him, unable to keep her own weight up. He looked over her shoulder. Her eyes were half closed; yet she wasn’t incapacitated. He’d felt it too. As he moved in and out of her, he connected once again on their primal levels, but his soul connection to the woman, spurred by a deep seeded jealous rage, a seed planted from the ex and now this little tryst of sorts, had caused him to need to dial into her very core. It wasn’t planned, it simply happened. He hated it and loved it at the same time. His body felt grateful, but his mind was remorseful. Jealousy was a sign of weakness, a belief in an existing threat that the very woman he needed for his own survival would somehow be tempted by the likes of another. He knew that was bullshit, he knew it deep inside of his heart, but his flesh didn’t and he needed to ensure the woman wasn’t going anywhere.
He’d already had a sample of what it felt like to be without her, the threat tangible, stinking of an unhappy ever after thanks to his own blast from the past, Payton. The woman had almost ended his life—because Xenia was his life and though Sinclair was not someone Saint considered a major player, he understood that underestimating the underdog was oftentimes a grave mistake. When he touched that man’s hand, he felt the desire in him for a slice of vindication and the level it had grown to was nothing to dismiss or scoff at. It wasn’t about Xenia anymore, it was bigger than that. His fight was with Saint and Xenia was simply the catalyst, but how could he tell her such a thing? The fucker was out to get him, and he wasn’t sure what his next move would be, but in the meantime, he needed to be inside of his Queen, to feel what they were, to be reassured because he simply couldn’t trust himself to not do something unbefitting of who he tried to be: a lighter, sophisticated version of himself.
“Ahhhh….” Her weeping broke his train of thought. He continued to hold her up, forcing his dick in and out of her at a slightly slower pace, then, blindly ran his hand over her cheekbone, feeling the orgasmic tears that trailed. She’d been hit, had, bagged and delivered.
He needed to cum, it was time. Hugging her tighter to him, he braced his arms under hers, pushing her head slightly to the right and nestling his cheek against hers.
“Uhhh! Mmmm, baby!….Uhhh!” He lunged upward, faster and faster, making her jump to each heart-pounding thrust.
“You’re fucking me so hard…” she whispered, her energy zapped. “Damn Saint, it feels so good…”
She looked and sounded doped up, and in a way, she was.
“You know how I like it baby. If I’m not balls deep in you, then I feel like I’ve missed out on something… You okay though, right?” He slowed a bit, waiting for her response, knowing sometimes he could get a bit carried away as he got caught up in the moment.
“…Yesssss, baby…I’m…fine…” He felt her face crease into a smile as he rode her softly. That soon ended for after her reply, he thrust inside of her again, making her scream and shudder.
“Ahhhh!” He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth as his balls constricted, totally lost inside of her. Her hot wetness throbbed against him, pulling him farther inside while another orgasm made her shake and tremble in his arms. He hustled to keep her afloat but she went limp, her voice now slurring words and phrases that made no sense…she was spe
aking in tongues.
“Uhhh! Uhhh! Uhhh!” He kept right on until he reached his peak. “Uhhhhhhh!” Pushing her against the side of the tub, he pounded her ass, his pelvis pushing into the soft twin globes, sure to leave them reddened and warm from the sweet invasion. “I’m cummin’, baby! Uhhhh!”
His semen shot inside of her, yet he continued to pump until he was totally drained and there was nothing to spare…
After a few short moments, they slid into the water, his arms still securely around her. He moved backward to the opposite end of the tub. His eyes felt heavy; he could barely keep them open as he stared up at the beautiful, intricate domed ceiling. He likened this euphoria to heroin, without the horrific addiction and process of blood swirling in needles.
After a few moments’ rest, Xenia appeared to regain her bearings. She lay between his gaping thighs, her head on his chest.
“Baby…” she said, breaking the silence.
“Mmmm hmmmm…” Saint responded, his eyes still closed and the deep desire to sleep a bit longer within him.
“Thank you for the chakra orgasm.” She laughed lightly.
“You’re welcome.” He grinned. “But, you know it’s not something I can just deliver on demand. It happens when it happens and as you see,” he yawned, “it knocks us both into sleepy land.”
“I know, but it is so worth it…” He could hear the smile in her voice. “I’ve never had any of this until we got together, Saint.” She moved her leg, causing the water to ripple. “I can’t believe I never knew about passing out during oral sex, chakra orgasms and all of that. I considered myself a sexually educated woman, but this was all new to me.”
“Well, baby, I mean, those things don’t happen to everyone and they don’t happen all the time. I try to teach men, the Rainbeaus, that a woman’s orgasm starts in her mind. Once we are connected with your minds, everything else will follow. I’d been flirting with you all day, the build up. We planned this fun little excursion, and…I just needed to be close to you and alone with you, so,” He shrugged his shoulders as he lightly ran his hand up and down her arm, “it was bound to happen I suppose.”
It had happened several times since they’d been together, but it would always take them both by surprise. When all seven chakras were touched through the act of intercourse, this was the end result. The lucky ones would reach four or five, but when all seven had been kissed, well…the body and mind would go sexually berserk.
They grew quiet then. Saint leaned forward and drained the water. He hugged her just a bit tighter, folding his arms around her possessively, curling his thighs around hers, enclosing her to him. They both fell asleep, and in that state, Saint entered her dreams.
She was carefree, stress-free, though thoughts of their children with Mama Pam did enter her mind several times. He needed her to be okay, to be at peace, for her serenity calmed his own troubled soul. He could feel it. Something sneaky and slimy was crawling around, scoping him out. Was it Sinclair getting a wild hair up his ass and wishing Saint to suffer? Possibly. It felt like more than that however, as if ancient trade winds were whirling past him, warning him of things to come. No, it didn’t smell of Egypt; this felt closer to home. There were loose ends that needed to be tied, and this time, he wouldn’t be foolish and go in with no direction. No, there was no need for that. He had friends, his children, his father. He was no longer alone and would face whatever danced around on the horizon, waiting to snare him into some ultimate bullshit…
~***~
CHAPTER SIX
Jagger kicked his feet up and twisted from side to side in his black bomber jacket as if he had a kink in his spine. The brute cracked his knuckles and rubbed his neck, all the while keeping a smirk on his face. Saint glared at the bottom of the man’s black boots, propped up on the edge of his custom desk. Near the vast window behind Saint’s desk stood Lawrence, looking out contemplatively.
“So, I say we meet him,” Jagger offered, his lips still twisted, eyes glowing, sniffing no doubt for a confrontation.
“Lawrence, you know I trust you.” Saint reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a cigar. He ran the torpedo shaped beaut under his nose and breathed in its essence, briefly closing his eyes. Lawrence turned and approached him. A small dancing flame, reminiscent of a hot belly dancer the way the damn thing swayed, blazed on the tip of the man’s index finger. Saint grinned at the sight, placed his cigar to the flame and took his first intoxicating puff. Lawrence placed his finger in his mouth, snuffing out the fire, before turning back to the window, looking out at the world, arms crossed. His long black hair, which reached to the middle of his back, lifted and swayed as if in a breeze. Saint looked up—the damned air conditioning vent was going high speed, putting a chill in the room.
“He is determined to meet you eventually, Saint, with or without your permission. It is an honor. The healing and cleansing are secondary, believe it or not,” Lawrence said.
“Okay.” Saint pushed his leg forward and leaned back in his leather chair, exhausted. It had been a long day at work. Back to back meetings, putting out fires. A Queendom conference and two Rainbeau conferences were approaching, and five hate crimes were under investigation. “Tell me everything, Lawrence. I want to know who he is, where he came from, what you know about him and Jagger, if you pick up anything odd you let me know immediately.” Saint pointed to the man, whose eyes now glowed so light blue, they almost looked clear.
Jagger nodded in agreement.
“Of course.” Lawrence slowly paced the room. “His name is Krishna.”
“What?” Saint threw his hands up as he swung his chair in Lawrence’s direction. “No last name?”
“Nope. We just know him as Krishna. Your personalities are vastly different, however, he is similar to you, power strength wise, only he is a shaman, like my father. He was born in a small Indian village called Dhani. It is very rural, and the people there live simply. He is approximately sixty-eight. That makes him thirty-six in Angel Child years.”
“I thought everything was divided in fives.” Saint looked at Lawrence as he asked for clarification on his math.
“Yes,” Lawrence paused briefly before continuing, “our age progression lessens once we hit thirty-five, or the time of full knowledge, whichever comes first, but he was born during an eclipse, and for any Angel Child born during an eclipse, age calculation is divisible by even numbers…in this case, eight years. So, you have sixty-eight, divided by two, which is thirty-four, and then you have the regression, in this case, eight years to whatever that is, which leads to a physic, psychic and physically manifested age of thirty-four.”
“Lucky son of a gun!” Jagger’s laughter cut through the seriousness, causing the other two to shoot him a look. He shrugged and nonchalantly placed his hands on his thighs. Saint looked over the man’s clothes.
Ripped jeans. I told this motherfucker to stop coming in here looking like the ringleader of an illegal gun show…
Saint turned his attention back toward Lawrence. “My apologies, Lawrence, please continue.”
“Yes, so Krishna has known about you for approximately five years now, according to what he told me. He did get wind of the situation in Egypt, but he was very busy at the time and couldn’t pay you a visit, as well as to see Isis, as he wished.” Lawrence paused once more, standing directly under a recessed light that made his hair dazzle in shades of shiny blue and ebony. His coal black eyes looked like onyx, and his quiet, soft-spoken voice was that of a storyteller. Saint knew that this man Lawrence spoke of was important to him, and for that reason alone, he had to give reverence. “He is a spiritual advisor, a healer, a medicine man, if you will. He is, for lack of a better comparison, our Gandhi. He has been accused of witchcraft. He has no need for witchcraft. All of his healings and demonstrations are not contingent upon anyone but himself.”
“…And he is from a small village in North-West India…Dhani. Interesting.”
“Yes.” Lawrence exhaled then to
ok a seat in a nearby chair, He gripped the arms. “Saint, he wants to bless you. He said it should have been done long ago, but he now has the time. This is such an amazing offer.”
Lawrence looked at Saint curiously and glided his finger over the bridge of his nose as he appeared to lose himself in thought. “You know, I’ve been picking up a vibe from you. I want you to come by my house soon so we can discuss it.” He shot Jagger a look as well. “You too. I think we need to go over some things and talking about Krishna reminded me of it.”
Both men nodded.
“When does he want to come or am I to meet him somewhere?” Saint asked, redirecting the conversation.
“He would like to come sometime in the next two or three months. He blesses all of you.”
“All of me?” Saint placed his cigar down in a clear, breast shaped ashtray.
“Yes, the ones like, well, like you…the prevailing ones. It is crucial. You are one of the most potent, therefore, the most endangered, the most feared, the most respected.”
“Saint, we already told you, there aren’t many of us like you. With all that power comes great responsibility,” Jagger added as he nodded in Lawrence’s direction.
“And that is exactly why I want you and Jagger to come by, Saint. I think you need some information. I’m getting that pull anyway and it would take too long to get into it right now. Back to Krishna though. He—”
“Lawrence.” Saint’s lips curved upward as he shuffled nervously through his desk. “How in the hell do you know all of these people? It’s like you got these weird mothafuckas on spiritual speed-dial.”
Lawrence gave a slight grin and looked down at his shiny black dress shoes. “Over the course of my life…you know,” he shrugged, grappling for words, “my family, especially my father as I told you, was very much into history…the story of our people—Angel Child history. I know all that I do, through him. My father was well respected in the community and I’m blessed to be given the same reverence. Anyway, because you are one of the most powerful, you are more used to taking care of some of these earthly issues.”
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