Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father (70 page)

“
She smelled like lilies.”

“Did she? That’s nice.” Xenia moved the cloth real slow, leaving sudsy pathways all over his chest.

“She didn’t see me.” He smirked, eyes still shut. “But after I made her cum, I put my hand up to my nose real fast on the sly, gave her the sniff test to see if her pussy was fresh.”

Xenia
grimaced. These were not the type of confessions she was interested in hearing and she felt uncomfortable, as if she were voyeuristically going through the man’s thoughts. But worst of all, the damn story was about her, and it was so debauched yet lovely at the same damn time. He had no idea what he was declaring to her, and barely even knew who she was, yet here were his confessions.

“
Pussy... It’s the best smell on Earth. Do you know what that smells like?” He looked at her dreamily.

Xenia shook her head,
smiling. “Can’t say that I do.”

“
I wanted to eat her out so bad…find out if she tasted as good as she smelled. I love eating pussy; it is like the best thing to do in the world. I wish I had my mouth on some pussy right this goddamn second…”

Oh my God, help me…this man!

Xenia kept cleaning him, pausing every now and again to keep from cracking up.

“…And then what happened?”
She traced his legs with the cloth, got the black hairs saturated with suds and water.

“I
took her…back to my hotel room, made love to her…and married her.” He opened his eyes and looked at Xenia, making her heart melt. Those gorgeous golden eyes and thick, black long eyelashes were making her stomach flutter, just like the first time they’d made love. After a while, Xenia snuffed out the candles, versus blowing them out, just as she was told. She let the water out and looked at her husband from various angles, trying to figure out how to get him from the tub into the bed without having to call Jagger over to help her.

I can do this. I’ve done it before. But, he had a wheelchair back then. Well,
he is a bit better now, so he can help me…

“Hey Saint, let me help you get out of the tub and get you in the bed, okay?”

“What for? Did the muffins get buttered?”

I just can’t with this fool, tonight!

“Boy, if you don’t get up out of that tub!” She reached down and hooked her arms under his. “Now look, you are a big man, I need you to help me, okay?”

He nodded with a childish pout
.

“I’m going to count to three, and I want you to try your hardest to get to your feet.”

He nodded again, that same sullen look on his face.

“One…Two…Three!” The water sloshed about as he stood and leaned over her, as if it took everything in him to get in that posture
, and maybe it had. She managed to get his leg over the tub and somehow drag him into the bedroom. She thought her back may be permanently hunched as he continued to get heavier and heavier and then she realized what was happening—he was falling asleep, losing himself during the journey. She was relieved when they’d finally made it across the bedroom floor to the bed, and she allowed him to fall over like a big cement ball in a pile of fresh leaves. Pushing his wet legs up, she positioned him just right over a mound of towels she’d previously laid down for his arrival. He muttered something occasionally, but otherwise, he became much quieter as she dried him off and applied soothing lotion to his body. Her throat tightened when she rubbed a little of it into his thick, dark pubic hair. As her fingertips massaged him, he reached down and ran his hand over hers, moaning and sighing, his hips bucking ever so slightly, as if he were gently fucking the damned air.

D
espite the semi-unconscious display, he was still bordering sleep, although it didn’t stop his body from wanting her. She wanted him, too, at that moment—wanted him so much. But she had an ulterior motive, one that was more for his benefit than her own.

Xenia removed her nightgown and robe
and positioned herself between his legs. Taking his cock into her hands, she lightly flicked the tip with her tongue, then paused.

“I’ve got something for you, to make sure you go to sleep with a smile on your face
,” she whispered.

He didn’t respond verbally, but she knew he’d heard her
when she felt his hands on the back of her head. Taking his dick into her mouth, he jumped and moaned throaty and loud. She sucked harder and harder, just like he liked, making him writhe rhythmically beneath her. His hips moved up and down, as if they were making love, following her beat.

“Ahhhhh…” he moaned louder, gripping her hair a bit tighter in his fist. “Ahhhh, mmmm!”

She looked up at him, his eyes were pressed closed, eyebrows dipped, and his face twisted in an angry expression. She knew he was close, just that fast. He seemed to have no control over himself, as if only his body was doing the work, and the real Saint was somewhere fast asleep, floating in a land of physical pain and self-soothing.

“Mmmm!”
He pumped his hips, riding the wave as she held on to him, and kept sucking and licking his delectable, long, fat cock. Suddenly, he gave her hair a harder tug, and clumsily reached for her arm, tossing her off of him. He was strong but messy in his movements and it caused her to chuckle. His caveman antics were enough to render her into a silly fit of giggles. She laughed as he threw her on her back and kissed her neck. Before she could figure out if he was out of his feverish state, he pushed hard and deep within her, taking her, not giving a fuck.

“Ahhhh!”
she gasped and he echoed her, moaned louder, his head on her breasts. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her palms reached low, grasping his hips. The muscles in his ass clenched and withdrew back and forth, tight and fast.

I
t would only be a matter of seconds with the way he was pumping with all of his might, and she didn’t mind. This was his nightcap; it wasn’t for
her
but simply for him… Damn though, he felt so good inside of her…

“I’m…gonna cum
,” he said almost apologetically.

“That’s good, baby,” she encouraged as she met his pumps. “I want you to, honey. You’re not yourself
; you need your sleep right now.”

“Mmmm…”
He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her closer to him as he grinded harder and faster within her. “Mmmm! Ahhhh… here it cums!” He held her tight and let out a sound she’d never heard him make before—a deep, rumbling sound.

“Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!” He shot inside of her, jerking back and forth, filling her up with his warmth.
“Uhhhh! Mmmmm!” He continued on for a bit longer, until he was totally quiet, rested, immobile. She felt his dead weight and her confusion grew. In mere seconds, the man was sound asleep, still inside of her. She’d never seen anyone fall asleep that fast in her life! Trying hard not to wake him, she maneuvered just so beneath him, and after a couple moments, she freed herself from the heavy mass and laid him on his back. She then covered him with the sheets, and tucked him in as if were a little baby. He would be asleep for a long time, just as Jagger had told her, so she gave him one final kiss on the forehead and lips and settled on her side of the bed. Just then, he weakly reached for her hand; their fingertips danced against each other. She paused and looked back at him. With his eyes still closed, he said, “Where you come from, girl?” He smirked.

She
chuckled and pulled her hand away, sliding under the sheets beside him. She propped up her pillow and began to fall asleep.

“I’m not going to…be awake…for a long…
while,” he whispered. The man was truly exhausted and it more than likely took all of his energy to even speak to her at that moment. “I know…who you are now…you the girl from my dreams, that’s where you come from. You are the woman that let me rub her vagina in the park.”

Xenia grinned, then covered her mouth with her hand.

“You are…the best thing…that…ever…happened to me,” he said after a few moments.

And she smiled, falling in love with him a bit more than she ever thought possible. And that was the last she heard from Saint, for quite some time…

~
***~

“Did you take care of that last bit, Ms. Bishop?” Sinclair rolled his thumb over the hood of his car, removing a stubborn smudge as he waited at the carwash.

“Yes
,” came a tense, tight answer.

“Good, because I’d hate to have to expose your ass.” He chuckled. “Now, you
will
be paid. I’m a man of my word.”

“Do you still have my bank information?”
she said, suddenly perked up.

“Of course. I will transfer the money over today. Yes
…” He waved to a man who said he was up next. “We needed to throw everything but the kitchen sink at this bastard. I want IRS, the police, all of those sons of bitches on him like fleas on a mangy dog! He’ll get up itching and scratching for the rest of his natural born life!”

Payton remained quiet on the other end.

“You know…” He stepped back from his car and leisurely placed his free hand in his pocket, flexing his fingers inside the soft, cottony mesh. “I’m surprised you weren’t more eager to participate in this, Ms. Bishop. I had to convince you because certainly,
you
of all people should want to teach Saint a lesson, to tell him to mind his damn business and not fuck with people. I keep bringing this up because it perplexes me. You said I should beware of him and all that other shit, but uh, the man has no power over me. Why are you so afraid of him?” It seemed as if everyone was, and he was the only one with some balls to take the motherfucker down.

“Well, Sinclair, let’s just say that some things are better left unresolved
,” she said casually, like she knew something he didn’t. It bothered him for a quick second, just as Shianne’s irrational ranting and raving did as she boarded her get-away-fast plane. However, he wasn’t ruffled not long enough for it to spoil his fun nor tamper his desire for sweet revenge.

“Every crime must be punished
, Ms. Bishop,” he said with a grimace. “You as a servant of the law surely should understand this.” He paused. “He fucked up my life, and now he needs to know what it feels like to have someone destroy you from the inside out. That’s how I operate. I am getting my forty acres and a mule from someone!”

He was disappointed at her continued silence. She was just like all the others. She was Shianne with a brain, and that disgusted him even more.

“You’re a shady bitch, you know that?” he bit, slick with fresh anger.

“That’s fine, if you believe that, Sinclair
,” she said dryly, clearly not giving a damn. “I think you may have bitten off more than you can chew. You just make sure he doesn’t tie me to this shit.”

“
You really
are
afraid of this motherfucker. I thought I was just teasing. Is that what this is about?” He jumped up and down, invigorated now with at least a cause for her behavior. “Look sweetheart, you have nothing to be afraid of, okay? Your secret is safe with me.” His fingers sprawled across his black shirt, as if he were saying the pledge of allegiance and meant every damn word of it. “We are in this together and I would never rat you out. What I find so perplexing however,”—he spread his thumb and forefinger like a trick’s legs and ran them along the side of his mouth—“is that you weren’t afraid to confront him and then assault him before, but you are afraid now? What happened, Ms. Bishop?” He smiled into the phone, relishing how he was thumping the head of the fear inside of her heart.

He heard her swallow. Clear. Distinguishable.
How he wished he could see her going down!

“As I said,”
she said calmly, “some things are just best left alone. You don’t know him. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.” She was rattled, and he wasn’t fooled by the cool mask she put on—for a moment there she’d been emotionally naked, distressed, and he thrived off of that.

“I’m sure you do…”
He smiled. “And if you’re
ever
in town Ms. Bishop, please don’t hesitate to look me up. You
had
Saint, but maybe you are finally in the mood for a
real
man.”

He was met with the
dial tone. He laughed loud and carefree at her reaction, then watched as his black Rolls Royce received the royal treatment, covered in zesty suds and about to shine like the diamond pinky ring on his finger. Yup, like Ice Cube said, “Today was a good day…”

~***~

Xenia buttoned her navy capri pants and slid her hands over her ass as she stared at her husband sitting up in the bed. He was still lethargic. He blinked a couple of times and stared straight ahead at the partially drawn curtains.

“Okay
.” She approached him like a friendly drill sergeant. “The children have had breakfast and lunch and Jagger has been so gracious to take them to the mall this afternoon. He’ll be over in a little bit. I’m going to take care of you, sweetie.” She smiled at him, but he just kept staring straight ahead, not offering a response. “Let’s get you to the bathroom now.” She slid her hand under his arm and he slowly shook his head.

“No
,” he murmured as he slumped forward, looking down into his lap. “I can do it…”

H
e huffed and gripped the sheets as if they had magical powers to help him rise. She watched the poor man slide off the bed and buckle at the knees, then regain his slumped, hunched posture…only now, he was standing semi-erect. Just then, the bedroom suite doors burst open, filling the room with the sounds of cartoons, Isis’ screams and the unmistakable bounce of a ball. Dakarai raced in with a red racecar in his hand, holding it up like a torch. He barreled toward his father like a cannonball, his black ponytail flapping behind him.

“Daddy!”

“Dakarai, Shhhh!” Xenia warned, grabbing his arm. She could just hit herself for forgetting to lock that bedroom door back.

Dakarai ignored his mother and stared at his father, cocking his head to the side like a dog filled with bewilderment. He pointed
at him, his tiny finger going straight to the source of his curiosity.

“
Ohhhh! Daddy’s thing is
biiiiig!
Will mine get that big when I grow up, Mommy?” He looked up at her, all dreamy-eyed as if asking for a pony. Xenia snatched the boy by his hand and led him toward the doors. She didn’t miss the smirk on Saint’s face after the boy blurted the observation.

“Dakarai,
I told you to stay out there.” She pointed angrily to the open door. “Now wait out in the living room like I told you. I’ll be back out in a second.” Before he could respond, she pushed him out and locked the door behind him.

“’Sani! Daddy got a big ol’ thang! It way bigger than yours, too!”
she heard him shout, surely loud enough to be heard from the hallway.

Saint started to walk
away from the bed, slowly but surely, until he reached the bathroom door. He moved like a hundred year old man on dialysis. It killed her to see him this way. She knew it was temporary, but he was in terrible pain—it had finally set in. He’d tossed and turned the entire night, running a fever and fighting her when she forced him to drink water. His body had taken on the sickness, and now, he was going through healing and being dragged through a bed of rusty needles and nails on the way to the cure. She had no idea how the man thought he was going to handle this by himself. He needed her there; Saint didn’t listen to anyone but her, and at times even that fact was challenged. He paused at the bathroom door, his back to her so she could see his muscles contract under his paled flesh and the angelic tattoo that spanned his back move as if the wings were going to take flight. After taking a deep breath, he shoved the door open. The brightness of the bathroom light illuminated his beautifully masculine form, making him glow like newly minted gold.

“Xenia…”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m sorry about last night.”

Xenia cocked her head to the side and smiled.

“You don’t have to apologize,
Saint. You didn’t know what you were saying.”

“Not just that
, not the words, whatever bullshit may have come out of my mouth…” He sighed. “…I don’t recall too much of what I said anyway, but…I
know
we had sex and…I didn’t have much control over my body. You did something for me…I wanted you, and I feel disappointed. I couldn’t stop it, hold it back. I want you to experience pleasure every time we are together.”

For some who didn’t know the man, this would seem trivial. To Saint
, however, it was vital. The one thing he was good at, consistently, had been tainted. Suddenly, Xenia had regret for taking him there. She was only trying to help, knowing that her sweetheart slept his best after he’d had a good sexual climax. She had no idea he’d take this so hard, the fact that she hadn’t came. She didn’t care, but she understood that
he
did.

“Awww, Saint,” Xenia waved him off,
trying to make it right. “Honey, that was just to help you get some rest. It was about
you
. It’s all good. You can’t judge your performance. You weren’t yourself. This doesn’t count, baby.”

“I was a two-minute man.
I don’t remember much, but I remember
that.
That’s what I’m sorry about, and for any worry you may have had about anything I may have done or told you… I fear I may have said something crude or disrespectful to you, too.” He was really beating himself up hard. It wasn’t just about the sex, but also about the feelings he believed she may have been left with. He hated selfish lovers, and he didn’t want his name hitched to the notion.

“Baby,
really, it is okay I’d do it all over again to give you some rest. You’re still sick and tired, and you’re makin’ something out of nothing.”

“
I love you. Thank you for being so good to me…” he said, then disappeared, closing the door softly behind him.

Xenia stared at that closed door feeling sorry for him in a way she hadn’t expected. This
was where Saint was vulnerable, where he felt weak. Angel Children Healers faced death each and every time they placed their hands on someone and gave up their breath of life. They were not Jesus. They could not touch someone, heal them and be on their way. No, they had to adopt the treacherous gunk, call it their own and force their own temples to deal with it. Saint had more than likely done the same to Krishna. The man had to fight all those demons Saint had chasing him and now Saint did the same—to save her, his soulmate, and his father.

She admired that
he was fighting his condition, working through it. It would take him forever to brush his teeth, but Saint wasn’t one to give up. Xenia looked up to him, revered him, had overwhelming respect for his need to help others. This is whom she was married to, a warrior, and she was his warrior Goddess…

~***~

Osaze sat on his couch, blending into the fabric as if he, too, were from Ikea. He hated  the thing, but the old one had sunk so low to the ground, his behind was practically touching the floor beneath it. He saw no reason to spend money frivolously. If what you had was still functional, regardless of the times or fashion, then you use it until it couldn’t be used anymore. He settled into his new couch, plumping the pillow behind him. The delightful aroma of steamed rice and mixed vegetables made his mouth water as he leaned back and watched the television. He couldn’t concentrate between sneaking peeks at Kyung Mi. The woman refused to leave his side, though he tried to explain to her he was fine. She’d even taken off work, something she
never
did.

They hadn’t spoke
n much about the healing. In a way, he was unnerved by that but in another way, he was relieved. Maybe she accepted it as simple truth, and accepted him as well. Of that, he wasn’t quite sure. It did fill his heart with happiness that Saint liked her, and even tried to help his sweetheart understand. He wasn’t sure his son understood how important his approval meant to him regarding such things. After all, if he had it his way, the woman would be his stepmother, and he felt his son had a say in the matter. He hadn’t brought up marriage, but as time matured, he was planning on broaching the topic. Kyung Mi lived in a tiny apartment with noisy neighbors and people cursing out one another at all hours of the night. All of her belongings and dead husband’s clothing were stuffed in that closet of a space. He’d been there a time or two, and he hated it. A woman like Kyung Mi should’ve been in a house, with room to move about, and a shoulder to lie on whenever she wanted to. He’d bought the damned couch for her, so she had a place to relax, put her feet up and feel comfortable, though he never admitted it to her. She never complained about the ratty old one though—that was Kyung Mi, always accommodating and positive. Yet when the new couch arrived, her face lit with sheer delight and her eyes sparkled like stars.

So now, the time had come for a serious talk.

“Kyung Mi,” he called out, putting the television on mute. “May I have a word with you?”

She visibly tensed, then looked over her shoulder, placed a tattered oven mitt on the kitchen counter and came to sit by his side—her usual warm, sweet smile on her face. He took her hand in his and looked into her eyes, concentrating, hoping and praying this would go well.