Free Giving It to the Monster (Saints and Sinners MC Book 4) by Sam Crescent Page B

makes you happy, Natasha.”
    She watched him walk away, and smiled.
    Jeans and one of his shirts it was. She cleaned away the kitchen, smiling so damn much it was making her face hurt. Heading upstairs to the spare room, she took a quick shower, and changed into a pair of jeans, a crop top, and finally one of his checkered shirts with the buttons done up at the middle.
    The shirt smelled like him, and reminded her of the many times she’d gone to school in his clothes. Rumors were always flying around about them, and she hadn’t cared what others said. Being with Saint made all the gossip worth it.
    A quick memory flashed into her mind.
    Natasha was leaning into her locker, grabbing her history books when she felt him behind her.
    “There’s a rumor that I’m tapping this ass,” he said.
    “We’re fifteen, Saint. Everyone likes to think we’re doing the uglies, but it’s not true.”
    He gripped her hips and leaned in close against her, the hard ridge of his dick pressing against her ass. Like so many times before, it made her pause, and sigh.
    “We want to,” he said. “Besides, my shirt looks good on you, and the only way for you to get it on, is if we’re both naked.”
    She stood up and turned toward him.
    “You like the gossip.”
    “Damn right I do.” He cupped her cheek, pulling her in close, and slamming his lips down on hers. “It means I’m the only one who’ll ever get to taste this sweetness.”
    Pulling out of the memory, she made her way downstairs, finding the front door open. Walking out, she saw Saint doing some repairs to her bike. The moment she approached, he looked up, and she saw a flash of heat as he looked at her. The spark that started between them when they were five had never disappeared. It had only gotten stronger, deeper, more powerful and consuming.
    “You ready to go?”
    “Yep. Something wrong with the bike?”
    “Nothing. I just like to mess with it. Make sure it’s perfect.”
    “Have you ever heard, ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’?”
    “I heard that, but if something wasn’t made perfect we wouldn’t have flat screens, cell phones, or e-readers. Some things are made to be improved.”
    “Okay, smarty pants.”
    She stood by the bike as he packed his tools away. Running fingers through her hair, she groaned as he came out with a helmet. “You didn’t think for a second I’d let you ride without one?”
    “I trust your ability to ride.”
    “And I trust your ability to do as I ask.” He helped put the helmet on her head, and smiled. “You look so adorable, cute.”
    She glared at him. “Just what everyone wants to hear. Cute and adorable.”
    “I didn’t say they were the only things I thought of when I saw you.”
    “What else then?”
    “Sexy, desirable, fuckable. Do you want me to go on?”
    “Nah, I’ve got it.” Heat filled her entire body.
    She wanted Saint, and her body was letting her know that the time away from each other, hadn’t changed a thing.
    Saint climbed onto the bike and told her to do the same. Holding onto Saint and straddling the machine, she cursed the helmet she wore. There was a time when Saint would have lived dangerously, and no helmet would have been necessary.
    The ride to the clubhouse was uneventful, and the helmet was too stuffy, and it made her nose itch. She couldn’t let him go, so by the time he parked up, and she had the helmet, she was scratching her nose.
    Saint chuckled, taking the helmet, and placing it on the back seat. He put his arm across her shoulders, and pointed at the clubhouse. “This is my kingdom.”
    She saw a difference immediately.
    The clubhouse she knew before was not what stood before her. There were no broken windows, or graffiti on the walls. The last time she had been here the stench of piss, damp, and sex had hung heavy in the air. The women had been naked, and the men in some form of collapse or drugged-drunk enhanced stupor.
    “Wow,” she said. “This is what you’ve