Chapter 50 50: The Night He Made It Clear
Saint sighed, "Kora, meet Baby Danvers, my co-captain..." he slowed, locking his eyes with Baby, "Baby, this is Kora, my girlfriend." He introduced.
"It's nice to meet you, Baby. Your name is so cute," Kora smiled.
Baby went numb.
He already knew it, but hearing it from Saint directly killed something within him.
He asked himself one question: Why?
Why did Saint do all those things to him if he had a girlfriend?
Just a few hours ago, Saint was all over him worrying like some obsessed and possessive boyfriend just for him to open the door the next second and kiss a girl.
He knew why.
He has always known why, Saint wanted to mess him up in whatever way he could, and owrhaos he figured that hurting him emotionally would be the perfect shot.
He wasn't wrong, Saint had succeeded in serving Baby his own medicine, and damn did it taste bitter?
"Baby?" Kora called, her smile faltering on her face when Baby failed to respond to her.
Baby blinked, clearing his throat, "Goodnight, Kora. Welcome." He said and without meeting anyone's gaze, he went into his room.
Saint didn't miss anything, ĥed watched Baby meticulously, taking note of how he stiffened when Kora was introduced, how Baby spaced out when Kora spoke to him, how Baby avoided his gaze and escaped into his room.
He had an idea of what Baby might be feeling, but then, he had no right to assume such feelings from Baby. It was impossible.
"Babe, are you coming in?" Kora asked, gently tugging Saint's sleeve.
"Sleep first, Kora. You know I love sleeping alone –"
"Come on, Saint. We're not teenagers anymore. We don't have to abide by our parents' strict rules of not sharing a room..." She paused, gently cupping Saint's chin, "There's no one to stop us from doing what we want now. It's just you and I, Saint, we –"
"I know, Kora..." Saint gently removed Kora's wandering hand from his thigh, placing it down on the sofa.
"I know exactly why you're here, Kora. Don't you think it's time we stopped listening to them?" He questioned quietly, glancing over at Baby's door.
Kora believed there was no one stopping them from finally being together, but Siant knew exactly who was stopping him, not physically, but the disapproval was felt from miles away.
Kora chuckled,tickingbheebhair behind her ear, "Oh, Saint. You really believe I'm here because my parents asked me to?" She shook her head, sighing.
"They didn't?" He asked her, raising his brows.
"Oh, they sure did. But only because I told them I was missing you," She replied.
Saint slowly nodded, "Don't get me wrong, Kora. I love you, but –"
"But you don't love me that way," she completed for him, her face turning sad, "For how long, Saint? I've always been open to you from the beginning, and you promised, you promised to love me back... to really love me back. I've kept myself for you, yet, you've refused to touch me. It's really heartbreaking..." She stood, backing Saint.
"Perhaps, I shouldn't have come, perhaps I'll just call my father and tell him this won't work –"
"Kora," Saint stood, hugging her from behind, "Please don't do that." He whispered, kissing the side of her neck.
Kora pressed herself against Saint, sighing softly, "But that's how this feels, Saint. You don't want me." She murmured, grinding her ass against Saint.
Saint knew he had to save the situation or risk his parents' reputation.
"I do want you, Kora..." his hand slid down the curve of her body, pausing under her silky night dress, his fingers grazing her inner thigh, "How could I not want my future wife?" He slowly kissed her sensitive neck, his eyes locked on Baby's door, silently praying he wouldn't step out at that moment.
"Oh, Saint... you're such a tease," Kora whispered, her hand guiding Saint's under her nightdress.
"Touch me," She murmured, spreading her legs and covering her pushy with Saint's hand, "Touch me, baby –"
"Saint... not Baby," Saint corrected, his mood turning sour at the mention of Baby's name.
But he didn't pull away... couldn't. He had to do this.
Kora chuckled, "Just touch me already, Saint." She begged.
She brought Saint's hand up to her mouth and sucked his finger into her mouth, then, she lowered it, almost guiding it inside her when Saint chose to touch her clit.
"Just let me please you," Saint whispered.
Saint's fingers moved with practiced precision over her clit, circling slowly at first, then pressing firmer when her hips jerked in response. Kora's breath hitched sharply, turning into a soft, needy whimper. She clutched the fabric of his shirt with one hand while the other reached back to grip his neck, pulling his mouth harder against the sensitive skin below her ear.
"Yes… like that," she gasped, thighs trembling as she rocked into his touch. Her wetness coated his fingers almost immediately, slick and warm, making every glide obscenely smooth. She was already so worked up — probably had been since she arrived, maybe even since the car ride over — that her body responded like it had been waiting for this exact pressure for months.
Saint kept the rhythm steady: two fingers sliding down to tease her entrance, dipping in just enough to make her clench, then retreating to rub tight, insistent circles over her swollen clit again. He knew the pattern that worked on her; he'd done this enough times before, always stopping short of anything more. Tonight he didn't stop.
Kora's moans grew louder, less controlled. "Saint—fuck—deeper, please—" Her voice cracked when he finally pushed both fingers inside her, curling them upward against that spot that made her entire body seize. Her walls fluttered hard around him, greedy, trying to pull him deeper.
She was loud now — head thrown back against his shoulder, mouth open in a continuous stream of broken pleas and curses. Her hips rolled shamelessly, fucking herself onto his hand while her nails dug into his forearm. The wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out filled the quiet living room, obscene in the late-night silence.
"Oh god… oh god, don't stop—Saint—" Her thighs started shaking violently. She clamped down around his fingers so tightly he could barely move them, and then she shattered.
Her orgasm hit hard and loud — a choked cry, back arching away from his chest, thighs squeezing his wrist like a vice. She pulsed around him in frantic little flutters, slick and dripping down his palm and wrist. For long seconds she just trembled against him, panting, whimpering soft little aftershocks while her body tried to remember how to breathe.