End Game

Chapter Twenty-Five

"I like that," he murmured, his voice husky. "I always like how you shiver every time I touch you."

I couldn't answer. My breath was coming in short, ragged bursts, my mind spinning from the intensity of the sensation. He wasn't even inside me, but the way he was rubbing me, the way his finger moved against me, was already too much. My hips instinctively rocked against his hand, seeking more, but Saint kept the pressure just right, controlling every movement, keeping me on the edge.

"Fuck, you're so sensitive," he muttered, his lips brushing against my neck. His free hand slid up my torso, gripping my waist tightly as his fingers continued their slow, deliberate pace. He bit down lightly on my shoulder through my shirt, the sudden pressure of his teeth making me moan softly, my head falling back against his chest.

I could feel him against my back, hardening more with every shiver that ran through me. The thickness of him pressed against me was impossible to ignore, adding another layer of intensity to everything happening. His hips shifted slightly, and I could feel the full length of his erection pushing against me, his body responding just as eagerly as mine.

Saint's finger never faltered, rubbing me in slow circles that drove me insane. My body was trembling under his touch, the pressure inside me building to unbearable levels. Every time he moved his hand, it sent another wave of pleasure crashing through me, and all I could do was close my eyes and let it happen.

"Is this what you needed?" he whispered against my skin, his breath hot on my neck. His voice was teasing, but there was something darker in it, something that made my pulse quicken. "Just me, rubbing you like this? Feeling how wet you get?"

I moaned softly, my body arching into him, desperate for more. But Saint didn't speed up. He kept the same, torturous pace, drawing out every little shiver, every gasp that escaped my lips.

"You like this," he whispered again, his voice full of that same teasing edge. "You love when I rub you, don't you?"

I couldn't speak. My body was already too far gone, completely under his control. All I could do was grip the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning white as I tried to steady myself. His finger continued its slow, sensual rhythm, rubbing me in all the right ways, and I knew I was completely at his mercy.

And Saint knew it too.

"Fuck, I'll make you scream."

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat as Saint's hands gripped my waist and, in one swift motion, he flipped me over and lifted me onto the counter. My scream of surprise quickly morphed into something else entirely—something needier, more desperate—as he hastily pulled my jeans along with panties down, his eyes darkening with lust as he stared at me.

He looked at my wetness like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, his gaze making me feel both exposed and completely desired at the same time. He had never seen me like this before. It was all new to the both of us.

My folds were slick, aching for more, throbbing with the need only he could satisfy. I could barely breathe as he parted my legs wider. Mas humigpit ang kapit sa akin ni Saint nang hindi ako kinakitaan ng kahit anong pagtutol.

He leaned in, kissing my cheek, just shy of my mouth. I moaned, tilting my head toward him, wanting him to kiss me, to feel the heat of his lips on mine. But he teased me instead, his lips grazing my skin, trailing down to my jaw. I groaned, frustrated and on edge, desperate for him to give me what I craved.

"Saint..." I whispered, my voice a breathy plea, but he didn't respond with words. His lips continued their torturous path, skimming down my neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.