TAKING THE FALL - the Complete Series (34 page)

Her pussy is swollen with need and I know she’s so close to cumming. “Just a taste, Mama, you know I’ve got to have you on my tongue when I’m fucking you.”

I dive into her pussy and get it all over my face. I lick and suck her fast because my cock is dying to get back inside her.

“
Oh, fuck! Saint, get in me! Now!”

I pull back and sit up, rip off the condom, and then line my cock up at her entrance again. I send my dick home in one long thrust, and she shouts out my name. I fuck her hard because it’s exactly what she needs right now. She needs to feel the excitement and adrenaline. Jeanette wants a reminder that she’s alive and in control, and I’m all too willing to give it to her.

Her hands come up and grip my hair. She counters my thrusts with hers and we fuck like our lives depend on it. I lock eyes with her and she nods her head. She’s close, but doesn’t want to ask me for it. She just wants me to do it. And I will. If my Mama wants to cum, she gets to cum. I won’t tease her unless that’s what she wants. With me, she never has to ask.

I reach down and strum her clit with my thumb. It takes three strokes before I feel her orgasm start and her pussy begins to squeeze my cock. Her legs lock and she throws her head back, shouting her release. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than my girl getting off.

Her orgasm triggers my own and I spend inside of her. Jeanette’s hungry pussy sucks every drop out of me, and I can’t hold my weight off of her much longer. Once I come back to earth, I roll to my side and immediately pull her to me so that we face each other.

“
Thank you,” she whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear. I play with her hair and pet her body as she drifts off to sleep in my arms.

JEANETTE

It’s been too long since I’ve woken up in Saint’s arms. That feeling of being utterly safe—I haven’t felt that since I lost my parents. I roll over to see his face. He looks like he’s been thoroughly fucked. I guess he has been. I can’t remember how many times we went at it through the night. I would attack him only to be woken up hours later with him pulling me back on top of him. One time I passed out on top of him with him still inside me, only to be woken when he started thrusting in and out again. I wanted to imprint him on me. I almost want it so I can’t run from him again.

My Saint. He was nothing like I was prepared for and everything I could have dreamed of. He would come into the library while I was working. He would just brood in the corner. I didn’t know why he came in all the time, and he seemed so out of place. He was dark, and held an edge to him. Every time I looked at him, my nipples hardened. That was all it took to get me going: one look.

He was the kind of man I went for. Well, the kind I went for now, anyway. I thought I had him all figured out. It drove me crazy at first when I couldn’t get his attention. I made frequent suggestive comments to him but he never reacted. He was always so focused on his laptop, working away for hours on end. And then, like clockwork, he would look up and scan the library. His eyes would pause on me for a moment, but then quickly moved on. His gaze never lingered on me long enough to make me think he wanted more.

Little did I know he was well aware of me. It became quite evident when he grabbed me one afternoon, pushed me up against one of the bookshelves and asked “Do you wear those fucking skirts to drive me nuts?” I simply pushed him back against the stack of shelves behind him. I reached under my skirt and pulled my thong down my legs. I handed him the fabric, but before he could respond, I walked away. “I won’t tell if you smell them,” I tossed over my shoulder. I saw him from the corner of my eye as he put them to his nose. Dirty fucker.

We had plans for a date soon after.

Lays told me I should watch out for him. She said he looked like a man who would keep me if he wanted me, regardless of my thoughts on the matter. But I don’t let men keep me anymore…or so I thought. What do moms tell their daughters? To stay away from those bad boys. Even my own mother told me that. The difference between the bad boys and the good boys is the bad boys show you who they are. They don’t hide their true nature behind a suit, impeccable manners and a few college degrees. Nope. You know what you’re getting with them. All I ever wanted was a good time, to show myself I was free after I got out of Nick’s grip, but Saint made me want more. I got a taste of it with him, and those dreams I had pushed down for so long started to rise again. Saint made me think I could have what I always wanted, what had been ripped away from me. And then, when some of the truth came out, I thought I’d been tricked once again—tricked into believing something that wasn’t real, something I could never have.

I felt gutted when I realized he’d entered my life under false pretenses. I went and fell for another man who was hiding who he really was. This time the betrayal hurt worse because I actually loved Saint, and I wasn’t supposed to be that dumb girl anymore. I was strong now, independent. I used men. They didn't use me. I always liked the sweet, smart guys. It’s why I went for Nick, but with Saint, I got it all: the bad boy who was so good to me. I didn’t even know how to react to the things he did for me. And talk about smart. Saint was as fucking sharp as a goddamn blade.

I don’t know how he did it. He bulldozed into my life while still letting me feel like I always had control. How he does this I have no idea. I tried to shake him loose at first, but then he started throwing those “Mamas” and little jokes at me and he had me caving every time. But when I found out he was in my life because he was watching Lays for Carter, I lost it. I wanted him gone. I didn’t want to look at him because it reminded me of all of it—of how I was made a fool of once again. But the worst part was that it drove me crazier when he was gone. And then I only got madder.

Saint couldn’t win either way. He’d show up and I’d give him hell, or he wouldn’t show up and I would just be more pissed the next time I saw him. I was miserable and I wanted him to be miserable with me. But every time I tried to hurt him, it was like he didn’t care. It wasn’t that he didn’t care because he was done with me, but because if I wanted to throw blows, he was more than happy to take them for me. All this did was make me love him more. See? Sharp as a fucking blade.

Stretching one of my arms, I can’t tell if my body is sore from last night’s marathon fucking or because of the hits I took yesterday. It doesn’t really matter. I enjoy the burn. The aches Saint left on me might be sweeter, but the ones I earned yesterday reminded me that, this time, I fought back. I didn’t run.

Slinging my leg over Saint’s body, I move closer into his embrace. When he found me yesterday, when I saw he came for me, I knew it was time to stop fighting him. It was time to stop hurting us. Life is too short. Saint is nothing like Nick. He wanted to save me from pain not cause it. For a moment I thought my life was splintering apart again, that the loss of control was slipping through my fingers once more. There’s nothing like thinking you have no power. It’s an all-consuming fear. But deep down I know Saint would pick up my splintered pieces and put them back together again. Or help me put them back together if I let him. If I let him in. I can see now I’m fighting the inevitable. Because I think he would wait forever for me.

“
You look like you’re thinking really hard, Mama,” he says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“
You knew you would get me back, didn’t you?” I whisper, not looking up at him. He knew I would be back in his arms.

“
I’m pretty sure I told you that the first night I had you, or rather you had me.”

I can’t help but laugh at the reminder. I did have him. With the bad boys, they don’t like when a woman takes control in the bedroom. I’m normally okay with that because, hell, it’s only one night. As long as I cum, what does it really matter? Not Saint, though. His surrender was real. I told him to get on my bed and hold the headboard because I was going to fuck him, and he did it without pause.

He’s also right about being his that first night. At first I thought they were words said in the heat of passion, but come daybreak, Saint’s naked ass wouldn’t leave. It became impossible to kick him out because he would drop to his knees and growl, “Mama,” before shoving his mouth between my legs. Then I found myself saying it was time for him to go just so he would do it again. The joke was on me.

“
I love you,” he whispers. I know he does. I also know I’ve never said it to him. Climbing on top of him, I straddle his hips, look down at him, and finally say it. “I love you too.”

A smile pulls at his lips, and crinkles the scar on his cheek. “I know you do, Mama.”

“
Then why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, playfully slapping his chest.

“
Can’t make someone tell you they love you.”

“
I make you tell me all the time.”

“
Different, Mama. Everyone knows I love you. Ain’t
no hiding it.” True. Saint seems to have no shame when it comes to me. I love that about him. Never do I have to choose my words with him, or pretend to be something I’m not. He would never cut me down or make me feel less than I am. It’s ironic that, while Saint might be on his knees for me, he’s the one with all the strength.

“
We’re going to do this aren’t we? The whole babies, marriage, happily ever after?” I say, getting serious again.

“
Told you that the first night too. Only thing now is you gotta let me give it to you.”

He’s right. It’s time. He told me about his past, and it’s time for me to tell him about mine.

“
You know, I don’t have parents anymore either.” I feel his hands tighten. I never talk about my past. He knows what’s coming.

“
They died when I was nineteen—my sophomore year in college. Car crash. The cops told me they died on impact.”

“
Oh, Mama,” Saint murmurs, and starts to rub my legs.

I can feel the lump forming in my throat start to rise. All these years and it’s still hard to talk about.

“
They were wonderful, Saint. Perfect. It was just us. Both of them were only children and their parents passed when I was a kid. We were this perfect little family, just the three of us. Then I was all alone. It was hard at first, but I had friends who helped me get through it. My family wasn’t rich by any means, but they did okay. I was set up after their deaths. I could stay in school, not have to worry about working. But I was lonely.”

Leaning down, I lay my head on Saint’s chest. I don’t want to look at him for the next part.

“
Nick was perfect too…in the beginning.” Saint wraps his arms around me and holds me in place.

“
I think I was vulnerable—too innocent, too trusting. Now I can see I was an easy mark for a man like him. I was someone he could control. I was a little bit lost and he knew I would cling to him. And he was right. Things moved fast with him. I was caught up in this fairytale. Here was this older man showering me with attention, telling me we would get married, have babies, he would become partner at his firm, and I, once again, would have my perfect family. I wouldn't be lonely anyone.”

“
You’ll get your perfect family, Mama, I promise.”

I shake my head because I know he’ll do anything to give me that. That’s just the kind of man Saint is, I give him the rest of my story. “Everything was great for a while. Then my friends starting saying they never saw me anymore and that they thought Nick was too controlling. He told me they were just jealous because we were so happy. And, to be honest, I didn’t care that he was controlling at the time. He was still wearing his mask, but then it started to slip and his need for control went to a whole new level—from knowing where I was every second of the day to picking out what I wore and even what I ate.”

“
It’s okay, baby. He can’t hurt you anymore.”