Mature content
“You need to leave,” Sienna said, and pushed Saint away before his lips touched hers.
Saint straightened to his full height. Sienna froze as his narrowed gaze locked to hers like a taught cable. She tried to hide her reaction, but her body burned for him. Then she blinked and he turned away, to leave, she hoped. She walked toward the kitchen when the snick of the front doors lock sounded like a detonation. Tingles of heat swarmed through her body. A tsunami of need washed over her, an uncontrolled response. Sienna thought she’d convinced herself she wasn’t at all interested in the sexy man, but her body disagreed. Her nipples tightened. The moisture between her legs grew until she pressed against the cool tile at the edge of the kitchen counter and her legs pressed together. If only she didn’t feel as if the door he just closed and locked was one she could open. But no, she wouldn’t open that door again.
She didn’t want to like him so much though. The fact they met the night before didn’t mean much at the moment. Her mind and body were a contradiction. Sienna shook her head, her fingers gripping the counter until they turned white. She’d tried hard to lock her heart away after Layton betrayed her, but somehow, the small snick on the lock on her front door, sounded more like a bomb that signaled an emotional implosion. Saint’s action minutes ago and his actions last night seemed to break down all the walls she’d built. She didn’t want to build them again. Sienna knew she would have to if she let him in. Dammit!
Her mortar crumbled bit by bit. It’d broken down so many times she’d gotten used to what came after, the loneliness, the heartbreak, the rebuilding. She’d let Layton in after she’d promised herself, after her mother left, she would never let herself love someone again. She always hoped though, one day, someone would stay. But people always walked away in the end. Everyone had.
The one who hadn’t was Megs. Being best friends like they were…Megs had saved her. Without Megs, she would have spiraled into a bout of depression in her teen years when her mother disappeared from her life. Her mother hadn’t cared enough about her to stick around. Instead, she’d lied about going to the grocery store, took what money they had in savings, and had left her with nothing. She feared if Megan hadn’t been there, Megan’s family taking her in, it would have been Sienna’s undoing.
Lost in the past, not wanting to be there and ignoring Saint, Sienna looked around on the counter. She needed coffee. Right now. The automatic task in mind, she went to work. The cabinets banged as she grabbed her favorite mug with the gold star on it, she scooped coffee in robotic movements. Dark grounds fell into the gold filter. The water, cold to her touch, she measured, poured it into the water tank. She pushed the start button and moved to go to the pantry for cereal when she heard Saint’s boots slide across the carpet in a soft cadence. As he drew closer, she swore in her head again. Sienna didn’t want to deal with another man right now. Not for a long time. Maybe ever. Layton’s theatrics had been enough to last her a lifetime. But Saint had been so sweet the night before. She should at least give him a thank you? No! Her doors were closed. She would get her mental mortar out, fill the holes as soon as she had her morning coffee.
Sienna heaved a sigh, resigned. Getting rid of him was going to take longer than she wanted. Before she could move to the pantry, Saint crowded in behind her. Oh boy, she thought. He nudged her with his hips. Then she said without thinking, “Crap on toast!” shivered and tried to hide a groan.
“What’d you say?”
She didn’t respond for a second. Nerves coalesced. She blurted, “Do you want some coffee.” Why she asked him to stay for coffee she didn’t know. She wanted to get rid of him not keep him around. Say no, say no, say no.
“Sure,” he responded, then thankfully, stepped back. “How’s your head?”
“Fine,” she said not turning to look at him.
Sienna got her second favorite mug down–this one with a green circle and a splash of an abstract wash of blue’s–and waited with her back to Saint. Maybe if she didn’t ask him any questions he would drink his coffee and leave. But too soon, Saint asked, “So, what do you do, Sienna?”
She licked her lips, took a deep breath, gathered up her courage to face one of the sexiest men she’d ever seen and turned around.
“Twisted Metal,” she responded.
“You twist metal?”
“No, I co-own Twisted Metal. It’s the name of my jewelry boutique I co-own with Megan. My job is to design the jewelry; Megan takes care of the business side.”
“Cool name.”
“Yeah, we think so.” The coffee beeped, Sienna quickly turned around, and grabbed the coffee pot to give her hands something to do.
“What do you do?”
“I test motorcycles, racing bikes.”
She stayed quiet and poured, stared at her hands as they shook. Wasn’t that dangereous? She cleared her throat. “Oh?” The coffee splattered over the edge of one cup. She was barely able to do a better job with the second one.
“You okay, Sienna?”
“Yeah. Fine.” She heard him move toward her. She turned around and held up both mugs so he couldn’t come any closer. “I guess Layton’s little temper tantrum upset me more than I thought.” That was a lie, of course, but Saint didn’t need to know he made her nervous. Saint’s lips pinched down and his jaw tensed again. “I’m fine, really.” He opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to it, held out his mug, and asked, “Do you want any cream?”
He reached out and took the mug from her hand. His skin brushed hers, slow warmth spread out from the tips of her fingers down to all the right places. Leather and man permeated her senses. She inhaled deep, turned around to reach into the frig for some whip cream and chocolate syrup to doctor her coffee. It was a mocha morning. When she turned around, Saint glanced down to her mouth and watched as she took a sip. Her gaze met his. What she saw made her nearly choke on the whipped cream she’d licked off the top of her coffee. She coughed a few times and Saint took a step forward. Slow as molasses, he took the mug from her hand, set it down next to his own.
“You know I have to taste you now, right,” he whispered.
Sienna shook her head back and forth. She tried to back up but the counter and his arms surrounded her. She shook her head.
“Oh yes. And I think you want me to, don’t you Sienna?”
“Na…no I’m good.” But it was too late.
His hands inched closer becoming a fiery vice. Her breaths grew heavy and her tongue swept across her parched lips. She needed another drink of coffee, preferably with a bit more kick. When one of his hands moved, he captured her head in his palm and stilled her. Her breath caught in her throat. Saint leaned into her, his cock hard, an insistent presence against her belly. It made her want to groan with need but she could control herself, right? She wouldn’t kiss him back. He needed to leave. Her hands moved up to his firm chest ready to push him away, but instead, her nails curled into his shirt and she yanked him closer at the same time his mouth took hers.
Saint controlled the kiss the instant their lips touched. His fingers combed through her hair, the methodical movement added fire to the kindle that already burned. When he wrapped the long locks around his wrist, Saint’s grip constricted any movement. Sienna gasped then moaned into his mouth, trying to hold back, but it was no use. He bent her head back further and she was lost to his demands. Saint nipped her lip, his tongue pressed for entry she obeyed and opened for him, her mind a blank space, her body a willing participant. Sienna would give him anything in this moment. She couldn’t help the moan that escaped the harder he pulled her hair. She begged him for more with small mews that crowded her throat. Saint released her hair. She would have fallen but rough fingers danced up to bare back the dress exposed, he kneaded, molded her curves. His other hand took full advantage of the dress she woke up in, it meandered lower, inched over sensitive, aroused flesh. It maddened her until he grabbed her ass and ground his cock in just the right place. “Ohh!” She hummed into his mouth. He pressed even harder, circling, circling, his hips, with each sound she made. Sienna’s clit throbbed. The molecules of pleasure gathered, tightened, and drew her closer and closer to the apex, that tipping point just out of reach. She edged closer to the precipice, desperate to come. Her body became more frantic as each second passed. The orgasm was almost…almost. Saint pulled away.
“No! What are you doing?” she breathed and tried to pull him back to her.
“I want to watch you come.”
“What?” She said, breathless.
Her breaths came harder, faster, when she realized he hadn’t stopped. His body still tight to hers, her breasts ached against his hard chest. Saint yanked her away from the counter and gripped her ass almost painfully. She cried out. There wasn’t even the tiniest space between them. Her head fell back. His movements got smaller, shaper. He thrust forward and back over and over. Her breaths came in pants now, short, painful. She looked to him, her eyes hooded, his lust for her made her blood boil. That’s all it took. She detonated like a grenade and her body filled with an erotic haze. Inner walls spasmed. Fingers clamped down on his biceps and he held her weight taking her mouth again. That was the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, she thought.
He never let up the pressure on the small bud. Oh God, he has to stop. The sensations made her spasm over and over and then, not taking his eyes off her, he bit her lip at the same time he reached down under her dress, took her clit between his thumb and index finger, and rolled it with enough force, ripples of pleasure continued its assault. Her whimper echoed in his mouth as he kissed her again. Mini orgasm’s rolled over her one after the other. She lifted her head. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus, no more, no more.” She begged.
Saint chuckled, as his lips brushed down across her jaw. His teeth scraped her neck. He tapped her lips with his own, a playful gesture, and then he rested his forehead against hers.
“So responsive.” His head titled back and forth when he leaned back to take her in, his finger followed the same path his mouth did. “I want you at the raceway.”
“Huh,” she said dazed, his words so off topic, the topic being her body still on fire for him. She licked her lips, dry from her screams. He watched the movement like a predator stalking prey. He blinked when she asked, “What raceway?”
“Paulson Raceway. I want to take you out for a ride.”
“A ride?” She squeaked and then swallowed trying to get some kind of composure back.
“My ride.”
“Your what?”
He smiled. “My bike. You got to meet her.” and touched his lips to hers again. She panicked at the affection, pulled back and Saint frowned.
“What? No!” she said flustered. “I’m glad you were here when Layton showed up and I appreciate you bringing me home last night, but I’m not going out with you.”
“I have to disagree.”
“What’s there to disagree about? I don’t know you. And as you saw with Layton I make poor choices when it comes to men. And you’re a man. So, I’m not going to go out with you.” She crossed her arms and dared him to disagree again. She knew she shouldn’t go out with him. Sienna liked him too much. That was the problem. If they went out, she’d make room for him in her life, start to care for him even more, until one day, she wasn’t good enough for him anymore. He’d walk away. No, she wasn’t going to go out with him.
“Right,” he said and shook his head. “I don’t believe you want to disagree.”
His gaze went down to her chest and she tipped her head down, her nipples poked through her dress. She lifted her arms higher to cover the taut peaks. She glared at him. “No, no, no,” saying it over and over again so he’d believe it. “Well that’s too bad, because as I said, I am not going out with you.”
“Hmm. But you want to.”
“No I don’t,” she snapped. “You need to leave,” she said before she could do something stupid, like grab his shirt and drag him up to her bed so she could take full advantage of his big, strong, hard…she glanced down. His erection strained against his slacks.
She must have hummed her pleasure again, because she was startled when Saint said, “I’ll see you in one week. That’s all the time I’ll give you to adjust to the idea of being mine.” And then he headed toward the front door.
“No you won’t,” she said like a frustrated child. Did I just stomp my foot?
“Oh, you’ll see me again, Sienna. If you don’t, who’s going to give you one of the best orgasm’s you’ve ever had.”
Had she said that aloud? “Gah!”
“One week, Sienna,” he called over his shoulder not even looking at her. Then he walked down the front porch, got into his truck and drove away.
She stood there so long she started to get goose bumps on her skin when the clouds divested her view of the sun. Sienna backed up, closed the door, and started toward the kitchen.
She was not going to go to the Paulson Raceway.
Sienna reached for her coffee, but groaned instead. She leaned into the counter. What had she done? Her internal walls warmed again, and she flushed and shivered with a greater need than she’d ever known. The irresistible problem was, she just had had the best orgasm of her life and Saint wanted to give her more.
“Arrogant rock-hard jerk!”