Page 25 of Saint
In comparison to the storm, the beach was wholly opposite. The persistence of waves colliding with the shore, the whisper as it retreated into the ocean, the predictable nature of high and low tides as the water synchronized with the moon—the beach presented order. Order, for me, presented predictability. In predictability, I found peace.
Tonight, the storm raged against the beach. Its violence upset my order, ushering in uncertainty and chaos in place of the tranquil home I’d crafted. In the rainy season, I usually covered in a weighted blanket and permitted myself to be devoured by sleep somewhere along the timeline of tossing and beating my head with my fist.
No such luck this evening.
It was too damn hot for a weighted blanket.
I didn’t find head-banging as appealing, either.
Tonight, my self-stimulation hungered for a gentler approach.
The presence of a woman in my bed could have helped offset my disrupted state. Snuggling against the warmth of her body, losing myself in the depths of her well, listening to her sing... Horny and overstimulated, all of it could counterbalance the unsettled state my body was in.
The woman in my home likely had no interest in engaging in such activities with me. She was a paid actor. Once everything blew over with this Javi business, we’d go our separate ways. She’d be one million dollars richer, and I’d be alone again in the massive home I’d erected on the beach.
Resigned to a night of no sleep, I rose and padded downstairs to the kitchen. Void of moisture, the dryness behind my eyes, and the lining of my throat requested water. The incessant painful pulsing in my head that accompanied that dryness confirmed my suspicion of dehydration. My body was parched and in search of moisture in all areas. Filling a glass with filtered tap water, I drank away the desert, downing that first glass like it was the first and last I’d ever consume. Just as I motioned for a refill, the sound of movement upstairs halted me.
Her footsteps were light and likely imperceptible to the average set of ears. Out of the room, down the hall –further to the opposite end where my room was– and against the first step, her little feet paced. My hypersensitive, military-trained ears registered her every move as she descended. Her arrival on the bottom floor prompted the end of my torment as heaven commenced in her presence. Dressed in a nightdress covered by a gown, she summoned it closer after noticing me in the kitchen.
My wife.
Internally, I chuckled at that. Only on paper, I reminded myself, but at least I could admire her.
Her skin was like caramelized sugar right before adding the cream—thick, rich, velvety, warm brown, looking all edible and sweet. Despite the bite I knew her sweetness held, I wanted a taste.
“Hey… What are you doing up so late?”
Her raspy voice floated across the marble floors, holding evidence of sleep. She moved to the cupboard to grab a glass and then filled it with filtered water from the tap.
“Same thing you’re doing,” I tossed, nodding my head toward her glass.
Never mind the fact that I was a grown-ass man disturbed by the weather. She didn’t need to know that. It was after twelve, and the storm threatening to make its appearance earlier finally took root. My night would be restless regardless of how many cups I drank.
“I went looking for you,” Victoria announced, taking a gulp from the glass she held, explaining her misdirected footsteps that I registered upstairs. Her robe spilled open, placing her nipples on display through her dress. The cream-colored fabric of the nightdress was so sheer, leaving little to the imagination. I could see the outline of deep brown areolas, the curve of her breasts, the valley between them…
“Saint?” She vocalized my name, elevating my head and disrupting my filthy thoughts.
“Yeah, Beauty?”
I granted her the brief connection of my eyes before flitting them away. The connection often caused physical pain, prompting my eyes to dart elsewhere. Another thing she didn’t need to know.
“Did you hear me?” She asked sweetly, inching closer to where I stood with my hands folded in front of me and my weight supported against the counter.
“Looking for me?” I repeated her statement, licking my lips.
“The storm woke me up. I know it’s silly, but I couldn’t fall back to sleep. As I was walking down the hall, I realized you had never really shown me around since I’d been here. This house is massive. I don’t even know where your room is.”
She’d stepped dangerously close to the opening between my legs, peering at me with those deep brown rounds.
“I can show you now. Come on,” I offered, making a move to push up off the counter, but Victoria didn’t budge. Firmly planted between my legs, she peered at me, running the pads of her fingers along my arm.
“Come on or cum on?” She asked, using that strangely sweet but seductive inflection and getting impossibly close to my growing hardness. Pressing her softness against me, she made it difficult to think about anything besides her. Outside, the storm raged on, but a distraction presided over my thoughts in the form of a five-foot-five chocolate vixen.
“Victoria.”
I glanced down to full lips and heavy-lidded eyes that swatted thick lashes in my direction.
“A few weeks ago, you asked me a question I didn’t answer.”