End Game

Chapter Twenty-Five

I swallowed hard, trying to gather my thoughts, but his proximity made it nearly impossible to think straight. "Saint... we should—" I started, but my words trailed off as he shifted slightly, his hand pressing just a little harder against my thigh.

"We can eat later," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His hand remained where it was, teasing, but not pushing further. "Baka lang gusto mo pa ng massage..."

Damn his massages!

Saint's hand lingered on my thigh, his touch deliberate but waiting, as if he expected me to say something—to give him a proper response. But I couldn't. Nakakahiya! Ano? Sabihin kong gusto ko nga? Eh, gusto ko ba?

My mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts, and all I could do was stand there, heart racing, breath shallow. I knew what was coming, could feel the tension between us tightening with each passing second.

I bit my lip, trying to hold back the shiver that ran down my spine, but my body betrayed me. I didn't know how to respond—didn't trust myself to speak.

Saint seemed to pick up on my hesitation. His hand moved again, sliding up from my thigh to the waistband of my jeans. I gasped when his fingers deftly unsnapped the button. My pulse quickened, and before I could process what was happening, his hand slipped inside, his fingers brushing against the thin fabric of my panties.

Nakarating na siya sa ganito noon. Pero iba ngayon! Ibang-iba! O baka dahil masyado nang matagal iyong nakalipas kaya medyo limot ko na kung ganito rin ba ang pakiramdam. My breath caught in my throat as he touched me, his fingers hovering over the sensitive spot that made my body react involuntarily. Muli kong naramdaman ang kaniyang mga labi sa puno ng aking tainga, bumubulong.

"This is the breakfast I want,"

I moaned softly, my body responding to him without my permission. The heat of his fingers through the fabric of my panties was too much, and I could feel myself melting into him, my resolve crumbling.

Saint cursed softly, his breath hot against my neck as his fingers found my clit through the damp fabric. I shivered again, my hips instinctively pushing forward to meet his touch.

"Damn," he muttered, his voice filled with frustration. "You're always so wet for me before... like a fucking dam ready to burst every time I touch you."

His words sent a wave of heat coursing through me, and I couldn't stop the soft moan that escaped my lips. His fingers pressed against me more firmly, teasing me through the fabric, and I could feel the ache between my legs growing with every second. My body was screaming for more, and I hated how easily he could pull these reactions from me.

"You like that, don't you?" he whispered, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles over my clit. My breathing grew ragged, my knees threatening to give way as the pressure built inside me.

I managed a soft whimper, unable to form words, but the sound seemed to be enough for him. His other hand came up to gently cup my breast, squeezing lightly as he continued to tease me, his body pressing closer against mine.

"Every time," he whispered against my skin, his voice a low growl. "I wonder how wet you'll get for me. And you never disappoint, Andrea."

His fingers moved with agonizing precision, pushing my panties aside. Dinama niya akong lalo doon. The sudden sensation of his bare finger brushing against me made me gasp, my body reacting instantly to the touch. He wasn't rushing, wasn't forcing anything inside—he was just rubbing me, slowly, sensually, his middle finger tracing the wetness that had already pooled between my legs.

I shivered under his touch, the soft friction sending electric sparks through my entire body. He must have noticed, because he let out a low, approving growl.