Page 58 of Obsession
“You are going to sit on my face and scream like the pretty man you are.”
Heat floods me so fast I can feel it in my ears. “Saint.”
He grins and lies back fully, one arm folded behind his head like he hasn’t just detonated an alliance breakfast and threatened half my bloodline in a parking lot. “What?”
“I’ve never...” The words fail because I don’t even know how to finish them without my face catching fire. “Why?”
“Because you’re mine,” he muses, “and I want everyone in this clubhouse to fucking hear it.” Saint’s grin widens. “Now come sit on my face.”
I start to strip slowly, hands shaking as I hesitate on the shirt, a low, aggravated sigh pulling from his throat.
“Jesus, Sín. I said sit, not put on a goddamn show. Get over here before I drag you.”
The impatience in his voice makes my stomach flip. I yank the shirt off, shove my pants and underwear down my legs, andclimb onto the bed. My thighs tremble as I swing one leg over his chest, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his head. Saint’s hands lock onto my ass immediately, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he drags me forward until I’m hovering right over his mouth.
“Look at you,” he growls, breath hot against my hole. “Already ready for it.”
His tongue spears into me without warning. A sharp and broken cry pulls from me, my hands flying to the headboard to keep myself upright. Saint doesn’t ease in. He fucks me with his tongue, licking and thrusting while his hands spread me wider. The wet, obscene sounds fill the room, louder than the blood rushing in my ears.
“Keep your hands on the headboard, Sín,” he snarls against my skin. “Don’t you fucking let go. And don’t hold back your sounds. I want you so fucking loud your father hears every single one.”
The rational part of me knows that Canon would have left already but…
I moan helplessly as he spears his tongue deeper, curling it, devouring me like he’s starving. My cock is rock-hard and leaking against my stomach. Saint’s grip on my ass tightens, pulling me down harder onto his face, and I can’t stop the broken cries spilling out of me.
“Saint—oh fuck—Saint—”
He wraps one big hand around my cock and strokes me in time with his tongue, his thumb swiping over the slick head on every upstroke. The dual assault is too much. My thighs shake violently, my hips jerking as I ride his tongue and fist.
“I’m—fuck—I’m gonna—”
I come with a shattered scream, painting the headboard in thick ropes while my ass clenches hard around his tongue. Saint keeps licking me through it until I’m trembling and oversensitive.
I sag forward, forehead pressed to the cool wood. A few seconds later I feel the hot splash of Saint’s come across my back. His hand presses there, smearing it into my skin in slow, possessive strokes like he’s marking me inside and out.
I pull off his face on shaky limbs, still trembling, and collapse beside him. Saint grins up at me, lips shiny and swollen, eyes dark with satisfaction.
“Well,husband,” he muses, his voice rough, “I definitely think any lingering Rogues will have gotten the hint after that.”
I cover my face with both hands, mortified. “How the fuck am I supposed to face your club tomorrow?”
Saint laughs, the sound full of every filthy thing he still wants to do to me, and drags me closer until I’m half on top of him. “If you don’t think they haven’t already heard you over the last week, you’re wrong. You make a lot of pretty sounds, Sín.”
He presses a kiss to my temple, then nips at my ear before reaching over to the side of the bed where I discarded my clothes. He pops back up and produces the small velvet box before flipping it open, revealing two thin silver rings.
My eyes widen as Saint pulls one out and grabs my hand to slide it on to my ring finger. I just stare at it, seconds later, Saint thrusting the box at me and holding out his own hand. “What…”
“We’re making it official. I’m not letting anyone else get stupid with you, Sín.”
I carefully pull the ring out and slide it onto Saint’s finger, the man crushing his hand around mine and dragging me into a filthy kiss. “You sweet, sweet sin.”
Oisín
Bytheendofthe first week after the wedding, I understand that bliss looks different in Obsidian than it does anywhere else.
There are no flowers, no slow mornings, no gentle domestic rituals that belong to people who have clean histories and quieter lives. Wedding bliss here is Tally setting two plates near the end of the bar without asking whether I’m hungry. It’s Demo saving me a seat and then talking so long about a botched garage repair that I forget, for a few minutes, that some of the men around us still pause before using my name. It’s Moth calling Saint’s office directly and asking for my eyes on a route sheet instead of asking Saint whether I’m allowed to look. It’s waking in Saint’s bed with a silver ring on my finger, new aches in my body, and the strange awareness that the clubhouse has startedmaking room for me even while half the people inside it are still deciding whether they trust the shape I occupy.
Distrust is easier to live with than I expected. The Rogues distrusted everything in me that didn’t look like aggression: softness, silence, hesitation, the habit of noticing instead of pushing. Obsidian distrusts access. Blood. Information. Canon Ward’s name attached to mine like an old debt someone forgot to close.
