“I detect something in you.” Lawrence raised a brow, cutting the conversation short.
“What?” Saint sat up in bed, trying harder to block though it was difficult with all the pain medicine flowing through his body.
“You wouldn’t happen to be making plans to pay her a visit, would you?”
“No, not right this second. But her ass is mine as soon as I get outta here. And so what if I was?” Saint snapped in obvious annoyance. He didn’t have the patience for Lawrence’s play-by-the-rulebook attitude right then. Too much had happened and mothafuckas were about to pay. Mr. Nice Guy was a distant memory. “She wants to run around poking holes in brakes. Someone needs to break their foot off up in that ass! She almost killed my wife and as I always say, ‘payback is a bitch and she wants new shoes.’” Saint turned and coughed in his closed fist.
“You’re in no shape to take on anyone right now and furthermore, you know we left a little surprise for her—it’s taken care of.” Lawrence and Jagger regarded one another, an all-knowing look.
“Hmmm,” Saint crossed his arms and gave them a questioning look. “I need to know if this is good enough, if it’s up to my standards. What did you do?”
“We can discuss that later. How are you feeling?” Jagger crossed his arms, echoing Saint’s pose.
“Ready to go, that’s how the fuck I feel.” He was in a bad mood, and he didn’t care who knew. “I know it’s against doctor’s orders, but I need to get home. I can take care of my wife at home.”
“He wants you to stay one more day, Saint,” Jagger insisted as he scrolled through his cell phone.
“So what? He doesn’t know what’s really going on here, and if I told him, I’d be in the psych ward before I could even finish the sentence. Now, hand me that shirt over there, please.”
Jagger shook his head in disbelief, grabbed the white T-shirt and tossed it to him.
“Isn’t that some shit? Xenia is free to go a day early, but they want me to stay a day longer than they said originally. Hell, no. We are getting out of here. I hate hospitals and I got shit to do.”
“Saint, you are a stubborn man. Your body is doing a good job with the self-repair, but you are not up to par just yet. I’m afraid if you go home early, you won’t rest,” Lawrence interjected.
“Well, you might be right.” Saint glanced at him as he slid the shirt over his head. “But, I miss my kids. Xenia is going home today and so am I. They’re not helping me up in here. I’m doped up with a bunch of shit. Once the medicine wears off, I can get some things taken care of. I could be sitting around feeling miserable at home!”
“No, you’d be resting.”
Saint ignored Lawrence. “You ain’t ’bout that life, man,” Saint mumbled.
“What? Speak English,” Lawrence teased.
“You know what the fuck I’m talking about.” Saint grinned. “I gotta do me and anyway, I’m tired of trying to sneak into my wife’s hospital room, get a little kiss goodnight like some teenage boy through his girlfriend’s window only to have nurse Hatchett escort me away—damn barracuda.” Jagger and Lawrence grinned at one another, both obviously stifling a laugh.
“I want to go home and that’s what I’m going to do.”
Jagger dangled his keys, prepared to take his Boss to the moon and back if that was his desired. “Your chariot awaits.”
~***~
…One week later
“That’s sex.” Saint chuckled.
“Huh? What are you talking about, honey?” Xenia placed his folded pajama pants into the drawer.
“Our names—like, if I say, ‘Saint Enters Xenia, it is an acronym that means, S.E.X., you know, the first letters of our names.”
“Oh Lord!” Xenia chuckled. “I see where this is going.” She sat beside him on the unmade bed.
“So…you’re my nurse still, right? Can I get a sponge bath?” Saint grinned wickedly as he bit into his bottom lip and traced her chin with his thumb.
“You’re taking advantage.” She rubbed her nose against his, then ran her fingers through her damp, curly tresses. “…You still want to play nurse.” She grinned. “Do you mind staying home today and letting me take care of you for one more day, then?”
“That’s fine, but I can’t sit here all day, baby. I really need to work from home at least. I tell you what, maybe we can make a deal.” He looked her up and down, his twisted perversions running free and wild.
“Saint, you need to quit!” She giggled as she got to her feet, catching what he was throwing her way. He pulled her to him, lifted her over-sized nightshirt and ran his index finger along the scar on her thigh, now barely visible. She cupped his roving hand with her own, and he stared up into her dark eyes, drifting there. Drawing even closer, he lifted his other hand and ran it softly over her pussy lips, and up and down the thin trail of pubic hair. She simply stood there, letting him explore her fully. Before long, he’d inched over a bit closer, and pressed his face between her thighs, deeply inhaling. His heartbeat went crazy. He looked back up at her, longingly, begging her, wanting her. She remained quiet as she stared back down at him. Sliding his finger in between the moist folds, he slicked it back and forth, ushering a light moan from his Goddess. He glided his finger back and forth, continued to work her up, his digit now drenched with her nectar. He paused, glanced up at her once more and extended his tongue as he pushed her legs farther apart, making room for himself. He heard her swallow right before he licked her clit, then traced the slit with his oral sword. He kept on, twirling his tongue in circles and lazy pathways, and moaned, getting so turned on that his cock hardened in mere seconds.
“Eating your pussy turns me on so much, baby…”
She moaned; her legs buckled. Holding her up, he kept on sucking, harder and harder until she came fast and strong in his mouth.
“Ohhhhh!!!” She vibrated against him, digging her nails into his neck.
He held her steady as he drank from her, his hands grasping her shuddering body, while some escapee droplets of precious pussy punch ran down her inner thighs. He licked a runaway, glistening streak, causing her to squeal, and then returned his attention to her clit.
After she settled, he took her in his arms and leaned her carefully back onto the bed. He removed her shirt and tossed it to the floor. Shoving her legs open, he got on top of her and pushed his dick inside of her, inch by slow inch, making the woman go crazy and scream. Just then, his phone rang. Saint ignored it as he continued with his business—thrusting inside of his woman, driving her wild, feeling her warmth around his cock.
“Uhhh, mmmm baby…” He grinded a little faster.
The phone rang again…
“Isn’t that Jagger’s ringtone?” Xenia said, coming out of her sexually induced haze. “I’ve never known him to call you just for social calls, baby. It might be important.” She sat up on her elbows, and her large breasts fell forward. He wanted to cuss. He wanted to go the hell off and make that man pay. They hadn’t made love since getting back from the hospital and here was his chance, ruined by a ringtone that blared the ‘Ruff Ryders Anthem’ by DMX.
Saint snatched his phone off the nightstand, refusing to pull out of her just yet in case it was little of nothing.
“What?” He kept pumping his hips in short, soft jabs, still making love. Xenia let out a laugh.
“Well, isn’t that a nice way to answer the phone!”
“Sorry, man. What is it?” Saint kept moving, loathe to let the wonderful feeling go just yet.
“I just remembered we are supposed to go out to New York tomorrow for your father. I’ll cancel the flights.”
His dick threw up the white flag of surrender. It was a wrap.
“Oh, shit!” Saint thumped his forehead. He’d spoken to his father a couple times after leaving the hospital, but they never discussed the scheduled healing. He assumed his dad was once again hoping the plans would be derailed. The man didn’t even remind him or bring it up. “Yeah, we can’t fly
out to New York right now.” He ran his hand along his face. “She won’t let me, but I need to stay home and take care of Xenia, or at least pretend to.” He smiled down at her as she playfully stuck her tongue out at him.
“Wait a minute? That’s right…” she interjected, suddenly growing serious. “It’s this weekend? Your and Jagger’s trip to New York?”
“Hold on, Jagger.” He covered the phone with his palm. “Yeah, but I need to be here to watch you, so I’m not going right now. With everything that has gone down, it totally slipped my mind.” He pulled his dick out of the warmth of her body, hating that he had to retreat.
“Saint, you said you feel one hundred percent, and we really shouldn’t put this off much longer. Lawrence even said once you were better, you could go on as normal. Now, yeah, I’m still worried about you, but this has gone on long enough. No…” She flung the sheets off of her body. “Tell Jagger to keep the flights and if there are any seats left, the kids and I will go too, okay? We will all be together. I refuse to allow your father to wait any longer, regardless of his resistance.”
“It is time to get Hassani and Dakarai up anyway,” she said before disappearing into the bathroom.
He peered at the baby monitor. Isis was still knocked out. He smiled as he watched the little girl, her face totally serene. Her soft snores were music to his ears.
“Well, it seems —”
“I heard.” Jagger chuckled. “I can take care of everyone’s flights. Isis gets to fly for free. Lucky girl.” He laughed.
Saint smiled. “Thanks, man. Hey, let me call Lawrence right quick and get some advice since I am getting ready to do back-to-back healings. I may need some special preparation before I go. I don’t want to get winded like I did in years past, before I knew better.”
“Definitely. I’m sure there is something he can do for you. See you tomorrow and tell Xenia to not worry, I’ll take care of it. I’ll send you the flight information for the fam in a few minutes.”
“Alright, thanks. See you tomorrow.”
Saint disconnected the call and got ready to call Lawrence. Pausing, he ran his hand across his forehead in frustration.
The Queen has spoken…
~***~
“Go on, now.” Xenia ushered Saint down into the warm water of the large basin in the master suite bathroom. The children had begrudgingly settled down for their afternoon naps, and she took the opportunity to shower Saint with affection. He straightened his long legs, disappearing into the sudsy waters, full of fragrant, white bubbles. The jets murmured and the delightful jazzy hum of Dave Brubeck’s ‘Take Five’ played while she gathered her lover’s shampoo, the soft, hand-made minty soap he adored, and various lotions. She knelt before him, and motioned him to lean back. He relaxed, his arms hanging off the sides of the tub. His sparkling, golden eyes hooded until they were completely closed. She took a small, white-lipped container and poured water over his hair, saturating every piece before running her fingers through the silky mass of pitch-black strands. She loved touching her husband’s hair. It felt like silk and satin and all the soft, luxurious things that one would want against their skin.
Taking a dollop of the aromatic shampoo, she rubbed it between her palms, warming it, then massaged his scalp and pulled lightly at his hair, her fingertips working hard, but gently. He moaned, his voice low and throaty, and his lips curved in a slight smile. She completed the task then rinsed his hair, using one of her hands as a barrier to protect his sensitive eyes. His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
“Feels good…” he murmured, his body appearing to fall under even deeper relaxation.
Next she picked up a sponge and starting from his neck, caressed him all over, running soap on every inch of his body. She took her time, even going over his fingers and feet, making sure that each stroke, each touch, was done lovingly and proficiently, her true expression of how much she adored this man. She leaned forward, coaxed his legs upward to clean them and kissed his kneecaps, causing him to grin. He was ticklish there, but she couldn’t resist. She got to her feet, grabbed her facial cleanser from her side of the bathroom and glided back over to him. Falling to her knees, she poured some of the grapefruit cleanser in her hand, then went over his face, massaging it in small circles. Her fingertips worked diligently over his prominent cheeks and jawbones. His face was so hard, so unlike a woman’s. She found it enchanting and though she’d seen him practically every day for so many years, she still got high off of his masculinity. The only thing feminine about his face was those damned eyelashes. Long, jet black, and thick—to be truly envied. As she stared at his closed eyes, he cracked a smile.
Damn him. He can still see me…
She smiled back and gently rinsed the cleanser off his face. Sitting back on her knees, she stared at him. He gradually opened his eyes and glanced at her lazily, and reached for her hand.
“This was very nice of you, baby. Thank you.”
She nodded, but remained quiet as she scooted away on her knees toward his feet. Lifting them out of the water, she kissed the top of them, her eyes filling with thoughtful, happy tears. She continued to kiss them, down to his long toes, then paused to look into his eyes as she planted a firm kiss on his ankle. His face tightened and then, she saw it—the vulnerability, the tear streaking down his face, his body trembling with her touch.
She kissed his feet again, her hair becoming wet as she continued on in her worship of him, but she didn’t care. She loved him so much, it hurt…but love isn’t supposed to hurt. Loving the wrong person does, and at that thought, she smiled because in the end she’d opened her heart to the right man. He was her blessing, God’s gift to her, sent to change her life forever. If he ever stopped loving her, she just didn’t know what she’d do but she knew in her heart, he never would, because he’d said it—but more importantly, his actions proved it time and time again…
~***~
“Yes, they were back. Seized more records while you were away.” Jagger huffed as he stomped by Saint’s side. They’d just landed in New York at LaGuardia airport. As they approached luggage claims, he felt himself getting warm all over. The IRS had been crawling all over their Rainbeau Knight lair like roaches on a sandwich left unattended at a deli. He knew to keep his cool, though it was hard. They were being investigated, a full audit was underway, and people were losing sleep. There was a fine line, a breach of trust that could only be narrowly escaped. If it was discovered what they were really up to as an organization, they may not be in trouble for tax fraud, but bigger problems would come their way. There was an intricate privacy system in place. It involved multiple passwords, codes, and fingerprints to even get past the first phase. It had been created by a technological wizard of sorts, a former hard-core gamer and financial system hacker, now a reformed Rainbeau Knight who was notorious for being so good at being so bad. Upon his hiring, Lawrence jumped in and tweaked the system, and even the most sly and proficient would have a hard time deciphering it.
Saint grabbed Xenia and the children’s bags from the claims area. Nearby, Isis twirled around her mother’s legs in excitement. Dakarai was just as giddy, jumping up and down and bringing attention to himself as if he’d never been out in public before. The boy’s notorious gravelly voice was loud as he talked over the noise of passersby.
“Fun! Dat plane was so big, Mommy!” The boy stretched out his arms, trying to mimic the size.
“Did you see all the other ones, Mommy? There was one even bigger than the one we was on.” Dakarai asked excitedly, unable to curb his enthusiasm.
Xenia nodded in agreement with Dakarai, a proud smile on her face. The boy bounced around, his ponytail bouncing with him. He’d gotten a new haircut, with his sides faded. He’d received it only one day prior after much begging and pleading. Saint gave in, and let him keep his long hair in the back. He had to admit, the boy did look pretty damn good like that. It fit his personality.
“Be quiet, Day-Day. It ain’t like Mommy
ain’t never seen an airplane before, dang!” Hassani crossed his arms, a scowl on his reddened face. Much to their surprise, Hassani didn’t want to go to New York, though he’d talked about going since he was told that was where his father was from. Only one thing could suck the joy out of such an occasion, and it had to do with his little heart, full of big love. The little peanut butter colored girl was having a birthday party at school, and he was going to miss it. That irked him to the core, made him say mean and harsh things that cost him dessert and sent him away early to his room the evening before. In the morning, he was still behaving like a beast and received a spanking, something that was rarely done in the Aknaten household. Saint hated that sort of thing. He remembered all too well his father laying hands on him time and time again, when he was simply too small and afraid to defend himself. He remembered how strong his father was, those fists landing across his gut, the hard slaps across the face, burning his cheek and jaw. And then the nasty words, the disgust in his father’s golden eyes. He’d seen Saint as a wild, little knuckle-headed tyrant who was always fighting and getting in trouble. A kid that simply wouldn’t do right.
That experience made him vow to never hit his children, no matter what they’d done. However, Xenia had a different set of rules. It was the only thing they disagreed upon when it came to the upbringing of their children but once he saw Hassani toss a big rugged toy truck at Dakarai’s head that morning in a fit of anger and missed, hitting Isis instead…that was it. He’d made the poor girl wail out in pain and in that moment, all bets were off. His ass got tore up and Daddy was the administrator. Nuff said.
Saint took a moment to stare at his wife as he waited for his bag. He was still in awe at how one could barely tell anything had happened to her at all. The arm sling came off two days after they got back home. The bloody scratches were gone, the bruises healed, and her sight still fine. All that remained was the thigh scar, but fading rapidly with time.
Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father Page 50
