Page 23 of White Wings of Desire

I slam my head back into the dirty sheets, surrendering, and press my feet against his shoulders, lifting my hips off the mattress and grinding against his face. He offers me his tongue, and I take it. I rock my hips until I find the perfect angle that makes my core burn and leaves me starving for more. A series of high-pitched moans slip out of me while I use him however I want, pushing myself on and on, my core throbbing with the building orgasm.

My legs tremble as I push myself over the edge and lose my balance. My legs drop down his back, and I squeeze them shut at the pleasure of my orgasm crashing down on me, trapping his head between my thighs; his face remains squeezed against my aching cunt. Dragging out the pleasure, my hips rock against his face, his nose nudging my clit. Soft whimpers are the only sounds I'm capable of uttering as I slowly come down from the high. The lingering adrenaline from our chase and the intensity of my orgasm are too much, and my mind goes numb. My breath comes out in ragged pants.

Loosening my grip on his head, I allow him to pull back and push himself to his feet. My eyes land on his face, glistening with the leftovers of my arousal. God, he looks absolutely perfect, drenched in me. I focus on his mouth, how his tongue darts out and wipes his lips clean.

"You're my new favorite snack, baby," he says, followed by a low chuckle. My heart flutters in my chest. No man has ever said that to me. Most of them didn't even want to give me head. Meanwhile, he dived right in and enjoyed it himself?

He reaches for the straps of his bulletproof vest, and I push myself up into a sitting position, placing my hand on his to stop him. "Don't," I say, my voice soft but pleading, "Please leave it on. I like it."

Deep wrinkles crease his forehead, and his face twists in confusion. It takes a moment for the meaning of my words to sink in, but then the lines on his face soften, and a small chuckle ripples from his throat. "Whatever you want."

His hands drop down to unbuckle his belt, undo the button, unzip his fly, and push the waistband of his tactical pants and boxers down just far enough to free his hard cock. My mouth waters at the sight, the head red and shiny with pre-cum. I move further back on the mattress and spread my legs for him, planting my feet flat on the mattress. He gladly accepts the invitation and climbs onto the bed, taking his rightful place between my legs, hovering over me, one hand resting on the pillow next to my head. His other hand slides between us, holding himself in place. He pushes the head of his cock between my folds before pressing up against my opening. My cunt eagerly swallows him whole as he thrusts inside me. I shut my eyes and toss my head back into the pillow, a soft moan escaping my lips as he pushes in.

A familiar warmth pools in my core, and I feel my muscles pulsate around him. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down, bringing our lips together in a feverish kiss that he eagerly responds to. Caught up in the battle of our tongues for dominance, I’m oblivious to the movement of his hips as he glides out of me, only to slam back into me with a forceful thrust. I break the kiss, crying out at the sudden, brutal force of his hips slamming into me. My body rocks against his, one leg draped around his hip, while I claw at his scalp, my fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair. His hot breath tickles my skin with every grunt as he thrusts into me. Breathy moans fall from my mouth in the same rhythm as his strokes.

The eerie silence of the night is disturbed by our animalistic screams and the wet sounds when our hips collide. The old bed creaks beneath us, the feet scraping against the wooden floor, and the headboard banging against the wall. Neither of us cares about the possibility of the bed breaking, so caught up in the moment that we have forgotten the world around us.

"Noah." His name rolls off my lips, loud and raw. Buried deep inside me, he freezes. With his eyes wide open, he stares at me. Panting, his chest heaves heavily. His face is impossible to read. No sign of whether he liked or hated that I called his name. I realize my possible mistake and swallow the tight knot in my throat. A tiny, fearful little voice creeps into the back of my mind, reminding me that he could snap at any moment. "I–" I’m cut off before I can get a single word out of my mouth. And all I can do is scream as he continues his relentless assault, thrusting into me even harder than before. I wrap my arms around him and cling to him, sinking my fingers into the fabric of his vest.

He leans down, his hot breath brushing against my ear. "Mine," he says in a whisper. "You're mine now." He slips an arm underneath me and grabs a handful of my hair, forcing my head back, exposing my throat. "Do you hear me? Who do you belong to?" he asks in a raised voice, yanking at my hair.

"You," I say, struggling to form even such a simple answer in between my loud moans.

"Good," he says, the vibration in his voice vibrating through me as he rolls the letter R. "I won't kill you as long as you're good for me." A cold shiver runs down my spine at the sensation of his hot tongue licking across my ear. My muscles contract around his cock as he continues his powerful rhythm. Balancing on the edge of my second orgasm, I feel overwhelmed, and tears trickle from the corners of my eyes. "Answer me," he demands.

"I’ll be good," I cry out between soft sobs. My whole body shakes as the orgasm hits with full force, and I scream out loud and cling to him.

"Good girl." He purrs directly into my ear, chasing his own orgasm, and with a few more hard thrusts, he buries himself inside me. I feel every twitch of his cock and the warmth of his cum filling me, setting my cold body on fire. He hovers over me, watching me cry with a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "My little Dove," he says, running his thumb over my cheek, wiping away the tears.

Chapter 22

Noah

As they say, pride comes before the fall.

I didn't even realize that I had chased her that far from the cabin. Or maybe it only feels that far because I have to carry her all the way back with my injured shoulder. The bleeding has stopped, but the wound still throbs from the pain, and my vision is still blurry. Even though I took the antidote to her poison, it still found its way into my bloodstream; I couldn't prevent it. It is working, but the battle inside my system is taking more of a toll on me than I expected. I definitely need to catch up on some sleep.

I look down at her unconscious and cold figure in my arms, carrying her bridal style, with her head resting on my healthy shoulder. She passed out not long after we were done. Sure, we could have stayed in the hut for the rest of the night, but her body was already freezing, and it would have been too much trouble to keep her warm in that place. Especially knowing there is a warm, cozy house nearby. Besides, I can't risk her friends noticing that she's missing. Just the thought of the questions that we'd have to answer if I brought her back in the morning is enough to make my skin crawl. I already have a perfect little lie planned for tomorrow morning. It will be so much easier that way.

I perk up at the sight of the forest clearing in front of us, and the cabin comes into view again. Instead of going straight back into the house, I circle the property and head for my car, which is now parked in the driveway next to her friend's car. The lights of my Q8 flash up, unlocking itself the moment I come within range of the sensor. A quick kick under the bumper and the tailgate swings open on its own. I lay her down on the padded surface next to my gun case, careful not to disturb her slumber. I toss my pistols and rifle into their intended cases and grab the small bag with my first aid kit and a set of my spare clothes.

My eyes land on her, fast asleep in the back of my car. My fingers tingle with the urge to slam the trunk shut, jump in the driver's seat, and drive back home. Turning around, I look at the cabin where all the lights are out and her friends are still asleep. It’s almost four in the morning. No one is awake to see me kidnap her. But as soon as they realize she’s gone in the morning, I would be in trouble. The last thing I need is for them to file a missing person's report for her. That would only make things more difficult for me, and I have no more patience left to deal with that. So, I will continue with my original plan and just infiltrate their little circle.

I lift her back up, close the trunk with another kick under the tailgate, and head to the back of the house, kicking the still-open patio door shut behind us once we’re back inside. After a quick search, I find the downstairs bathroom. I turn on the faucet, and while waiting for the water to heat up, I slip off her nightgown and get out of my own clothes. Scrunching my nose at the sight of her knees in the proper lighting for the first time tonight. A wave of anger directed at myself washes over me at the sight of her bleeding, dirt-covered skin. My poor little Dove is injured because of me.

When the water is nice and warm, I lift her into the shower and sit her up against the tiled wall. I grab the shower head, crouch down in front of her, and start rinsing off her knees, making sure the wounds are perfectly clean to prevent any future infection. The moment I move on to her torso, she stirs, her eyelids fluttering open. She’s awake but too weak to realize what is going on.

"It's okay, close your eyes. I will put you back to bed soon," I say, trying to sound gentle and soothing, and she nods her head. I shouldn’t waste too much time. As much as I’d like to enjoy the sight of her naked body a little longer, I really should get her to bed. After cleaning her up, I wrap her in a fluffy towel and prop her up against the bathtub before taking a quick shower myself.

With all of our belongings and her in my arms, her limbs wrapped around me, clinging to me as if I am her lifeline, I head upstairs to what I think is her room. With a soft thud, I kick the door shut behind us and drop our belongings at the foot of the bed before pushing the blanket aside and lowering her onto the mattress.

I could really use a smoke right now. I turn, but her slim fingers wrap around my wrist, stopping me from leaving her side. "Don't go," she says, hardly audible.

I intertwine my fingers with hers and give her hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere. I just have to take care of some things first." The throbbing in my shoulder reminds me that I need to take care of my injury, at least a little. I can't stitch it up myself, but I should at least cover it up for the night. I can worry about proper care when we get back to New York.

Letting go of her hand, I grab a large band-aid and the small bottle of iodine ointment from my first aid kit and begin dressing the raw wound. Checking in on her, I see that she is struggling to keep her eyes open, her lids drooping every few seconds as she watches me. As soon as I'm done, I take a look at the pack of cigarettes sitting on top of my fresh clothes. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It won't kill me to skip one. It might even add a few precious minutes to my lifetime. But I still can't deny the craving for that delicious burning sensation in my lungs.

Her soft mumbling startles me, and my eyes snap to where she is lying on the bed, hugging the blanket close to her naked chest. A small smile finds its way to my lips. This is better than any kind of cigarette, alcohol, or other drugs I don't do. I have my Dove. She’s mine now, and there’s no way I’ll let her get away again.

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