Page 33 of Caged Bliss

“Then that’s a deal. I’ll never put you in danger, baby.” His eyes go serious, a storm cloud brewing. “You are not bait.”

He spits out that last word and I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. I start to ask him what he means, but then his mouth presses against my neck, my chin, and moves up to my lips.

It’s gentle at first. Barely a brush, but it sends a wild cascade of tingles down my spine. I shimmy, closing down any distance between us, and I push my mouth to his, then my lips are open and his tongue is on my tongue, and we’re kissing like we’ve been thinking about nothing but kissing each other for the last day.

And in my case, that’s true.

The man’s mouth does things to me. It breaks me and rebuilds me, it makes me want in a way I didn’t know I could want. There’s a drive behind his kiss, a force that draws me closer, a drag on every drop of my blood.

It pushes me until I’m straddling him again, just like back in room 33, but there are no cameras and we’re not acting, and his hands push up my crop top, then remove my bralette and his mouth finds a nipple, sucking one perky pink bud, and I’m moaning as he kisses me and teases my breasts again.

“I don’t want you to stop,” I whisper, back arching, and I swear that does something to him. If there was hesitation in the way he touched me moments earlier, that evaporates, and he suddenly stands, gritting his teeth as he turns and shoves me back down to the couch, dropping to his knees in front of me.

I kiss him hard as he tugs off my jeans. I’m still in my work clothes underneath, but the itty-bitty shorts come off, too, and his mouth licks and sucks my inner thighs, and when I try to squeeze my knees shut, he shoves them wide again.

“I’ve been holding back,” he growls as his fingers tease my pussy, and my heart’s going wild as my fingers dig into his hair, and I gasp, head back. He fills me and I’m wet, so freaking wet it’s unbelievable. I can’t imagine how I’m here, how he’s between my legs right now, but I don’t want to wake up if this is some kind of dream.

“Are you letting loose now?”

“I’m debating it,” he says and his mouth licks me, tongue gliding up and down my clit. “Fuck, Claudia. You taste incredible. You know how badly I’ve been wanting this? Since the moment I met you, I’ve been thinking about your legs wrapped around my neck as I devour your messy little pussy.”

“Oh my god,” I moan, blinking at his filthy mouth. His talented, incredible, very dirty mouth. “Don’t guys usually imagine, like, sex and blowjobs and whatever?”

“Not me,” he purrs, fingers gliding in and out, driving me insane. “You know what gets me fucking hard? Watching you break.”

And now I’m in heaven.

He goes at me. Fingers deep inside, mouth and lips doing their dance, sucking and driving my clit insane. I’m holding on for dear life and making absolutely brainless whimpers and there’s nothing left in me but pleasure as his words echo in my brain. Break, break, break. God, let him crack me in half, if it’ll only feel half this good.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, fingers fucking me, two of them nice and thick and filling. “I want to taste it when you lose your mind. I want to taste you when you shatter on my fucking tongue.”

I’m done, I’m finished, I’m beyond all rational control, and when his tongue grazes my clit in glorious, back-breaking circles, I give him what he wants. I give him what I need. I come, vision tunneling, muscles trembling, like an explosion breaks in my core and every new stroke is utter ecstasy, until I can’t take it anymore.

He leans back as I sit there panting. I blink and try to focus. He’s looking at me like I’m a painting hanging on a gallery wall, like he’s having a religious moment or a spiritual experience. His hands stay on my knees, and I cover his hands with my own, and if it hurts his injured arm, he doesn’t show it.

“Wow,” I manage to say, which isn’t the most eloquent post-orgasm comment.

But his smile gets bigger. “You liked that.” Not a question. Not bragging. Just a statement of fact.

“Yes, Angelo, I really, really liked that.”

“Then baby, you are really, really a good girl.” He leans forward and kisses me.

And fuck, I smother his mouth, because I love being his good girl, especially if it means coming like that.

It doesn’t last forever. The glow, the intimacy. Eventually, I emerge from my little orgasm-cave and see the light of the world again. I get dressed and he watches me, and I fuss around the kitchen feeling awkward and a little embarrassed, because I haven’t gotten off like that with a man before—well, ever.

“Tomorrow,” he says, stopping me as I try to start loading our wine glasses into the dish washer.

“What about it?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at Cage. You’re working.”

I think about Kayla and Serena in the bathroom. “Yeah, I’m working.”

“Good.” He leans in and kisses me. “I won’t do that again if you don’t want me to. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“No, I mean, it’s okay.” I take a deep breath and let it out. A mafia guy making sure things are good after getting me off? This must be a first. “It’s been an emotionally taxing evening and I’m out of practice.”

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