Page 138 of Broken Saint

The second she’s bare for me, I shuffle into position between her thighs and push the head of my cock inside her.

She’s already soaked for me. Feeling it sends a powerful surge of lust straight to my dick, making it harder than I’m sure it’s ever been before.

My need to take her hard and fast is all-consuming.

But that’s not what this is.

This is so much bigger than a quick fuck and an intense release.

So. Much. Fucking. More.

I push inside her with a groan, letting the warmth of her velvet walls surround me and suck me deeper.

With our eyes locked as we connect, a million silent words and promises pass between us.

I drop over her and she wraps her hand around the back of my neck, guiding my lips back to hers as I slowly thrust into her, hoping that she can feel the significance of this moment as potently as I do.

Time and the outside world cease to exist as we move together, less concerned about finding our releases as the connection between us grows.

Who knew it could be like this?

Kane and Luca every time they physically or literally slapped you upside the head, you moron.

“Colt,” Ella gasps, ripping her lips from mine as her pussy contracts around me.

Resting my brow against hers, I find her eyes again, hoping she can see how much she’s slaying me right now.

“I love you, Bombshell. I’ve always loved you.”

“Colt, Colt,” she chants as my proclamation sends her crashing over the edge, dragging me right along with her.

We stay locked together, our limbs entwined long after our releases have subsided, but no words are said.

They’re not needed.

But eventually, Ella breaks the silence.

“The press knows about me. About us.”

I still, my arms tightening protectively around her.

While I might not have been actively trying to keep her away from that side of my life, I haven’t purposely pushed her into it.

She’s been so broken, so vulnerable since she arrived here. I knew that being thrust into the limelight, thanks to her connection to me, was going to be the last thing she wanted.

It’s going to bad enough when she’s ready, but forcing it on her before we’ve had a chance to figure this out wouldn’t have been fair.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“It’s okay. It’s inevitable when I’m hanging out with Seattle’s most eligible bachelor.”

I shake my head. “I fucking hate that title. I’m so glad it no longer fits.”

“Oh?” Ella asks curiously.

“Nope. Haven’t you heard? I’m dating this hot-as-fuck blonde girl who’s got luscious curves for days. I’m fucking obsessed.”

“Colt,” she breathes.