Page 40 of Saint
I could feel the collapse of her internal muscles around my girth before she thrust her hips forward in acknowledgment. She committed to a slow grind, allowing me to feel every curve and ridge her pussy housed exclusively for me. My eyes locked on her lips, refusing to connect with one another, her lowered lids near glued to one another, and her titties swaying to her immaculate rhythm –still obstructed from my view by the bathing suit top.
The pulsing heart of the sea caused a gentle swell in the ocean. Inside Tori’s sea, I, too, swelled, getting harder as the waves cascaded onto the shore and Tori’s suppleness cascaded into me. As she quickened her pace, her contents spilled onto my base and seeped down my balls. She was a fucking mess below.
Tugging the tie that held her breasts, I freed them from their hiding place, wasting no time hungrily stuffing my mouth with a nipple. Victoria moaned, cheering me on as my teeth grazed her skin. Switching sides, I repeated the feast, listening to the roaring of the waves and the frequent roaring of my name.
Everything was so intense, from the gust of wind on the beach to the feel of her ocean drowning me. The shawl she wore fell from her shoulders, and before I knew it, my feet were digging into the sand where my shorts rested in a puddle nearby as I dug into her from behind.
Both heavily exposed, we carelessly laid waste to our lust amidst palm trees and a cool breeze. Victoria rocked into me from behind, slowly announcing her zenith. Reaching forward, I thumbed the firm bulb between her legs, sending them shaking uncontrollably.
“Fuck Tori. Cum on that dick. I feel you,” I whispered, still thumbing and stroking.
“Baby, it’s cumming!”
“Let it go, Beauty.”
The announcement of her arrival wasn’t needed. I could feel her pussy spitting up, contracting against me. Her shit squeezed and sucked my dick of all it held inside while encouraging me to let off and do the same. Removing myself from her warmth, I was met with the cool breeze of the ocean as my seed spilled into the sand beneath us.
The long pleated black skirt paired with a black bejeweled bustier was fitting for Victoria’s style. She wore a houndstooth blazer bunched at the elbows to cover her partially exposed bust. Platform Gucci penny loafers finished the look. Swaying her frame this way and that, she looked on in the mirror, inspecting her reflection of any disarray.
“How do I look?”
She lobbied for my opinion as I pulled a Margiela button-down over my limbs and proceeded to button the shirt.
“Gorgeous, Beauty as always,” I spoke, never swaying from my task of securing my shirt.
Cool to the touch, slender hands covered mine, stilling my movements.
“You didn’t even look at me, Saint.”
Freeing a sigh, my eyes connected with hers. It wasn’t a simple task, and most people weren’t rewarded such attention from me. Focusing on an individual in such an intimate way wasn’t in my arsenal of strengths. With her, it was different. With her, that connection gave me strength.
“Step back. Let me see you.”
As requested, she stepped away and twirled slowly, permitting me to see her entire ensemble. She stilled and bucked her neck at me, awaiting a response. “Well?”
“You look like a fashion designer, Beauty.”
Her face crumpled at that as she closed our distance and proceeded to button the remainder of my shirt. “What is that supposed to mean, Saint?”
“Was it supposed to mean something else? I meant what I said.”
“So, not conservative? Not trying too hard? Not excessive?”
The barrage of questions was the way she revealed her nervousness. It was yet another fact I’d logged in the Tori manual created from our time together.
“Don’t ever adjust yourself at the behest of impressing another soul, Beauty. Be you.”
She stepped away from me, returning to scrutinizing herself in the floor-length mirror. The knowledge I’d dropped was meant as I uttered each word. Victoria had never been concerned about what anyone thought of her or her appearance. Meeting my family wouldn’t instigate the start of such behavior.
“I see a vibrant, confident, wholesome but sexy woman that I’ve been blessed to call my wife.” Readily, I confessed the words weighing on my chest cavity.
Puppy dog eyes found me alongside trembling, pouty lips. “Saint,” she fussed, inching closer.
“What? I’m serious.”
“I know,” she whined right before dropping to her knees.
Wholly exposed, without pants, she had access to my crown jewels. I could feel her fingers graze over my boxers as she looked up and eyed me greedily.