No Saint (Blood Legion MC Book 3)

by Rie Warren

  Shaking my head, I giggled.

  He pinched my butt. “Right?”

  “Yes,” I squealed.

  We lay side by side then, just touching in a way that should’ve been far too intimate.

  “What about Revenge?” I asked a little while later.

  “Revenge? What about him?”

  “You just seem close. As in shit-talking about one another constantly but more like brothers.”

  “You got the shit-talking part right.” Then he clammed up.

  When I glanced at him, a deep frown pressed between his brows.

  Shrugging off whatever had made him pause, he ran long fingers through my hair and down my back. “We go back some years. Came into Blood Legion together. Probably gonna die bachelors together unless you agree to marry me.”

  Playing along with his ridiculous comment, I propped up on my elbows. “Now, Saint. Is that any way to propose to a lady? When you’ve got her naked in your bed?”

  He grinned fiendishly. “Perfect way to propose if you ask me.”

  “And so I can see why you’re still single.”

  Barking a laugh, he rolled me back down to the bed. “I’m officially changing my Facebook status to taken.”

  “You are not on Facebook.”

  “You got me, baby.”

  I snuggled up to him, and he was so warm and so solid I must’ve dozed off.

  Lord knew he’d worked my body over enough to make me sleepily relaxed.

  Blinking my eyes open, I found him watching me and toying with my hair.

  “What time is it?”

  He glanced at a watch sitting on the table beside the bed . . . next to a box of condoms. “Just after one.”

  I tried to will myself to get up, but I just felt too damn cozy and lazy. I nearly giggled—big burly Saint Baptiste . . . the perfect cuddler.

  “I should go. I’ve got things.”

  He rolled his head toward me. “Oh yeah? I’ve got a thing too.”

  Pulling me on top of him with no warning, Saint situated my pussy directly over his stiff shaft. The size of his cock—hard and filled with engorged veins—astounded me again, and I gasped hotly.

  He tipped a feral grin at me, moving me up his front just enough to work a condom down his length. Then he positioned me astride that girthy dick, and I achingly swiveled and slithered and dilated enough to open up and let him inside.

  Heat flushed through my entire system. I could hardly keep my eyes open as my clit brushed the curly hair encircling his hefty cock.

  I let out a stuttering moan, stretched and charged and full of him again.

  “You look so pretty taking that big cock inside your sweet pussy.” His voice husking out, he gripped my hips, molding his fingers around to my ass.

  I started riding him, undulating like a belly dancer to a different hungrier beat of music than I was used to.

  Wet slickness slid from me to saturate the delicious thickness of his invasion.

  He watched where our bodies joined, his sexy eyes full of a thoroughly unwholesome light that made me clasp down on him.

  All the while his cock drove up to new depths inside me, and he kept me at that maddening slow pace where I hovered just on the edge, where I couldn’t let go.

  “I thought you said you were going to tie me up?” I challenged, but I could barely catch my breath.

  “Next time. This is still the first time.” Gravelly-toned, he bucked up further, driving a harsh moan from my lips.

  My hair whipped around my face when I tossed my head back. “It is?”

  “Oh yeah. And there are gonna be a lot more.”

  With that he spanked my ass with a wide-open palm, the blow shocking me and turning me on even more.

  I fell across him, and he leaped up to capture my nipples—one with his hand, the other with his mouth. His mouth was savage but, below, he rocked his cock up at the most torturous pace. He held me still with his other arm barred around my waist.

  This was too much.

  I wanted to go faster.

  Saint made me take him slow over and over again . . . watching with those glassy narrowed eyes as my pussy swallowed inch after insane inch of darkly engorged cock.

  This fucking—the way he controlled me—was excruciatingly hot and unbearably intense and almost too much.

  It was scary, the way he made me feel.

  It was visceral.

  It was unbearable.

  It was him.

  He was making room inside my body.

  Making room inside my life for him.

  As I looked into his eyes, and he stared right back, I wondered how I’d ever gone without him . . . how I’d ever managed to say no because right here, right now, I was shaking.

  I was shaken.

  I lay completely on top of him, and his legs curled around mine. His mouth nuzzled my hair, his grunts at my ear, words I couldn’t understand because he kept driving up. He kept dividing my flesh with that heavy hard cock so wonderfully solid sliding in, sliding out.

  That PA piercing did me in in the end. The ball kept rolling across the most sensitive spot inside me, the rest of his cock dragging my wet walls open. Overwhelmed, I shattered into shreds of being that coalesced around his big body, and I clung to him, dragging my open-mouthed screams along his throat.

  Saint bore up into me, grinding my pussy down onto him. He almost knocked me off of him, his force that strong at the end when his cum spilled into the condom. His head notched back, and at the last thrust I bit the straining cord of his neck.

  He snarled and shouted, face contorted and muscles rippling.

  It was purely awesome to be so taken, so thoroughly fucked, to be forced to follow his rhythm, which had completely overcome me.

  Heaped on top of him, I kissed his sweaty shoulder.

  His hands cupped my ass, and he squeezed.

  “I could sleep for years.” I mouthed the slurred words against his throat.

  “Good. Then stay with me tonight.”

  Palms on the bed beside his head, I straightened up over him.

  His cock drilled me womb-deep again, and I hissed before pulling high enough his turgid flesh slapped down to his chiseled abs.

  The well at the tip of the condom ballooned full of his cum.

  Damn.

  No wonder he was so smug. He had every right to be.

  A smile on my lips, I brushed my mouth over his, laughing quietly when he tried to crank me closer.

  Maneuvering from his grasp, I rolled aside and sat on the edge of the bed.

  I heard a snap and a flick behind me—Saint getting rid of the used rubber.

  Then his hand curved over my shoulder and quickly found my breast.

  I hustled up from the bed. “Nuh uhn. You get your hands on me again, and I’ll be here ’til dawn.”

  “Sounds like a fucking great idea to me.”

  Searching for my panties, I scoffed.

  I only faced him when he asked, “Looking for something?”

  He twirled the lacy black scrap around one finger. The bedsheet draped haphazardly low on his lean waist, and I could clearly make out the unmistakable outline of his cock beneath the pooling fabric.

  I went to snatch my panties from him, and he pinned his arm behind his back.

  “Saint,” I said in my sternest voice.

  “Ma’am,” he replied with amusement written all over his face.

  Shrugging, I bent to scoop up my dress. “Fine. I don’t need panties.”

  His devouring look made me unsteady on my feet as I situated the dress so it slinked in just the right places as it had earlier . . . sans panties.

  “I suppose you want these too.” I tossed the stockings at him.

  He blinked in surprise then left all three articles—black and sexy—in the center of his bed.

  Standing up, he dropped the sheet, and I quickly turned away from the massive, masculine, mother-freakin’ hot display.

  Saint caused havoc with m
y pulse.

  Saint wreaked havoc with my whole damn being.

  I needed to get home.

  Get home to Caleb.

  “I’ll call a cab.” I leaned over to fix my high heels.

  “The hell you will.” He appeared in front of me, thankfully wearing jeans and pulling a T-shirt over his head.

  Opening the door, he ushered me into the long hallway.

  Loud grunts and high moans crashed from inside the room at the far end, and Saint rolled his eyes.

  “Revenge,” he murmured. “Close your ears so you don’t get tainted.”

  I had to stifle a laugh, taking the hand he offered and following him down the stairs.

  We slipped out a side door and ended up in an alleyway. Out front, he aimed me toward the vintage Harley chopper instead of his vintage Chevy.

  I peeked sideways at him.

  He met me with a grin before handing me a helmet. “Here you go, baby. You been on a bike before?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You wanna drive it?”

  I stared at the clearly pampered chopper then at him. “Hell yeah.”

  He hooted, slapping his thigh. “Didn’t know I had such a speed seeker on my hands.”

  By the wicked glint in his eyes, I knew he was referring to the sex as much as the car and the motorcycle.

  Propping a hand on one hip, I refused to blush. “If you hadn’t kept me waiting for so long . . .”

  “Hey, I was just talkin’ about the rides. Not the one you gave me.” Hand on his chest, he affected a look of innocence he didn’t have a hope in hell of pulling off.

  “Mm hmm,” I muttered, buckling the helmet in place while he did the same.

  “I just want it noted I’m riding bitch for you, Honoré.” He tossed me the key.

  I handed him my purse, affecting a saccharine sweet smile I probably couldn’t pull off.

  “Make that riding bitch and holding a purse,” he grumbled good-naturedly.

  “It could be worse.”

  “How’s that?”

  Straddling the bike, I tossed my hair over my shoulder. “You could be riding bitch, holding my bag, and be sporting a man bun.”

  “True that.” Laughing, he got on behind me.

  Once I inserted the key and turned it to ignition, he mentioned right next to my ear, “Now, you hit the kill switch, baby.”

  Flicking the run switch then holding in the starter button, I waited for the bike to warm up. “I know what to do, baby. You just sit back and hang on.”

  I disengaged the kickstand, got into first gear, and hit the throttle.

  A grin split my lips as soon as his loud whoop filled the air, then we were off.

  His big thighs riding alongside my legs and his hands secured around my waist, I roared through the streets.

  The ape hangers took a little getting used to on the unfamiliar bike but, as I angled forward, Saint slid closer behind me to cushion my back.

  “Fast. Just like you tried to ride me that last time,” his voice boomed like the motor, his dirty words spearing heat inside my so-well-used pussy that began humming again.

  Was it the motorcycle or the man sending vibrations through my core?

  Who was I kidding?

  It was allll Saint.

  Figuring out that I knew exactly how to control his bike, he let his hands wander. It didn’t take him long to start caressing the undersides of my breasts, and the plunging neckline of my dress nearly flapped all the way open.

  I couldn’t blame him. I’d probably be mauling the front of his jeans if I was the one riding bitch.

  Easing off the throttle once I hit my road, I slowed the chopper down so as not to wake Caleb and Momma Joan or alarm the neighbors—they’d gotten used to Reggie riding up and raising havoc at all hours of the day or night.

  And Momma Joan could just save her salacious twenty questions until morning.

  It was almost like Saint read my mind when he smoothed my hair back from my temples after plucking my helmet off.

  He asked, “MJ’s not gonna think I’m a bad man for keeping you out most of the night, is she?”

  I leaned into the crux of his thighs as he sat sidesaddle on his Sportster. “Trust me, Momma Joan’s your biggest fan.”

  “Oh yeah? What if I want you to be my biggest fan?”

  “We’ll see.” Looping my arms around his neck, I lightly nipped at his bottom lip.

  Then my mouth parted, my tongue licked inside, and I reveled in the heat and headiness of his kiss.

  Pulling back with a faint scowl, he tipped his nose against mine. “You’re a hard woman.”

  Nestling deeper into the lee of his groin, I rolled my hips. “You’re a hard man.”

  A groan left his lips before he pushed me back. “Come on. Let’s get you inside, or I’ll just spend what’s rest of the night making out with you.”

  On the stoop, Saint took my keys. He unlocked and cracked the door then took a moment to study me.

  I thought he was about to kiss me again—the blaze behind his eyes unmistakable—but then he simply rubbed the pad of his thumb across my mouth, his hand arching my neck.

  He looked at me in a way I wasn’t used to.

  Like I was unfathomable. Desirable. Like he couldn’t believe I was with him.

  Which was ridiculous.

  His continued perusal made me feel shy.

  “Thank you, Saint,” I whispered, faint from his light touch as his index finger gently strummed against the pulse in my throat.

  “My pleasure, trust me.” He pulled his hand away, shoving both in his pockets and laughing raggedly.

  “What are you going to do now?” I was reluctant to let him go, but then the most humongous yawn made my mouth stretch and my eyes water.

  “Going back home and adding things from tonight to my spank bank.” A devilish light glinted in his eyes, and a delicious languor swept over me.

  Chapter Eleven

  SAINT

  I FIGURED I BETTER walk away from Honoré before I took advantage again.

  She’d looked up at me with such hot yearning . . . then yawned so wide it was like watching her take my cock in her mouth all over again.

  After a final squeeze, I stepped off the stoop and crossed over to my bike.

  I watched and waited until she was safely inside. The door closed after her final wave, and I blew out a slow breath.

  Damn, that woman could ride. Not just my cock, but—holy shit—the way she’d mastered my beloved chopper.

  I’d never been with a babe like her, and I was so fucking far from done with her.

  I rolled the Harley a little way down the road before starting up. I didn’t wanna wake Momma Joan or disturb Honoré.

  Bet I’d worn her out but good.

  I hoped she felt me all over her pussy tomorrow. I was a goddamn filthy bastard for her, that was for sure.

  I was officially on cloud freakin’ nine.

  Cloud sixty-nine.

  Hmm. Needed to add that to my sexual bucket list with Honoré.

  I’d barely scratched the surface with the feisty woman.

  I cruised around a little to burn off some steam, and—yessir—I was flyin’ high. Flyin’ high as I gunned down Thunder Road like it was my own personal victory parade.

  I only slowed my roll when I noticed the bar, which should’ve been closed down for the night, blazing with bright lights.

  Jumping off the bike, I hit the kickstand and stormed inside with enough noise to wake the whole place . . . if the whole place hadn’t already been awake.

  Revenge brandished Angel’s sawed-off.

  Chase waved his bowie knife around.

  Hell, even the Doublemint Twins huddled—half naked—just outside the cracked hall doorway.

  Shattered glass crunched beneath my boots from a tier of broken bottles, and at center stage?

  Ripper.

  The greasy fuck looked downright mental.

  He held his gun at arm’s lengt
h, aim shaky, and his lips snarled back to bare his teeth.

  “’Bout motherfuggin’ time you showed yer ugly face.” His demented eyes had trouble focusing on me.

  Apparently he’d busted inside and proper lost his shit.

  Sol entered, wielding a gleaming meat cleaver. Like we needed more bloodshed in the house of Blood Legion.

  Time for some damage control.

  I stepped in front of Ripper who weaved back and forth but was no less dangerous when completely out of his gourd.

  Warding the others off with my hands waving them away, I ordered, “Sol, you head to bed now.”

  He sliced the dangerous weapon through the air. “Ain’t no one’s g’on tell Sol when he got to go to bed.”

  Because everyone was a fucking hero at Thunder Road, but hell if I’d let anyone else fight my battle.

  Ripper staggered a step forward, firing off a wild shot. The bullet whizzed past my ear then plugged into the wall just to the left of the Doublemint Twin’s identical shocked faces.

  “Lemme at the darkie!” Ripper slavered, tangled hair hanging in his face.

  “I’ll run out and get Slade and Angel.” Chase kept an eye on the enemy and darted to the door.

  “Fuck that. Don’t need you wakin’ the prez and the man about to expect a baby.” The words sliced from my thinned lips.

  Ripper latched onto my words, crazily shouting, “The old lady’s keepin’ my goddamn kid from me!”

  The dude was clearly unhinged but that didn’t mean he posed no threat.

  Fuck, if he steadied his hand just enough, he could cause permanent damage, and not just to the building.

  “Your domestic situation ain’t my problem.” I attempted to grab his piece, but he whirled back and came up producing another gun.

  With both pistols cocked and ready, he staggered twice before locking his balance into place.

  And I pitied the poor woman who had hooked up with the likes of him.

  “Ever’thing in my life is your fucking problem!” the nut-bag screamed.

  “I did my goddamn time because of you.” Jaw tensed, I all but dared him to blow a hole in my head when I leaned toward him. “Debt fucking paid, as if there ever was one.”

  My words goaded the cunt into action, and he bowled me into a table.

  The wood crashed beneath my back and splintered to the floor. I went right down with it, Ripper bounding on top of me.