Page 53 of The Ripper

“To what, baby?” I licked up her neck.

“I never…” my eyes widened, and my heart skipped a beat.

“Never been touched by a man?” I cupped her pussy in my hand and allowed my middle finger to rest at her entrance. “Never been fingered?” I continued as I pushed it inside her. “Never been fucked?” I grinned, watching as the heat spread over her cheeks when she shook her head.

Fuck. Me.

My nostrils flared, and I was close to losing every last ounce of sanity.

Sure, I’d assumed it before, but I thought it was just a wish in the back of my head, that burning want to be the only man in her life. A fantasy only a sick man would come up with. Could it truly be possible that my angel had waited for me all these years?

The fact that she was still a virgin drove me wild, and my head spun out of control as I let go of her breast and removed my hand from under her T-shirt to grab her throat, turning her head towards me to claim her mouth with mine.

The way I devoured her lips was in direct contradiction to the slow thrusts of my finger inside her. Part of me was rough, downright savage, while another part was gentle, refusing to cause her any pain.

“Why?” I rasped over her mouth.

She trembled under my touch, her voice breathy as she answered.

“None of the men I’ve dated met my standards,” she whispered softly.

This time, when I added a second finger, her insides clenched, pulling them deeper, and I swallowed each of her moans before they could break the silence.

“You waited for me, huh?” I pulled her bottom lip between my teeth, biting down on it before letting it go. “Tell me you did,” I tightened my grip on her neck as she struggled to hold in the noises.

“I… I did,” her breathing fanned over my face.

“Fuck,” I kissed her again, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as I reveled in the feel of her wetness. “You looked amazing with my blood on your skin,” I whispered over her mouth as I picked up the pace and used my thumb to circle her clit.

Her eyes widened, black swallowing the green as she gripped the armrest with one hand and my arm with the other.

“I can’t wait to see how good your blood will look on me when I replace my fingers with my cock.”

With those words, her eyes rolled back. Her nails dug into my forearm while her other hand clawed at the chair and she came, clamping down on my fingers so hard that I thought she wanted to break them.

When I pulled them out, I let go of her neck and gripped her chin between my fingers, holding her head up, showing her how I couldn’t resist the urge to suck them into my mouth like a man starved, even though I knew it would seal both our fates.

Arella was like playing with fire, searing and all-consuming.

Her taste on my tongue was heroin, and like any other addict, I couldn’t stop after feeling her euphoria. I would always want more, crave more, and no matter how much she would give me, it would never be enough.

I picked her up from the chair and sat down with her in my lap, her breathing still uneven as she laid her head on my shoulder. Slowly, I pushed my hands under her T-shirt and moved my palms up and down her back, caressing her skin and humming an old Russian lullaby as I pressed my lips to her forehead.

Her eyes slowly fluttered closed, a satisfied smile nestled on her lips as she drifted into sleep, and in that moment, I knew that I wanted to see her like that for the rest of my life.

“You’re a kinky motherfucker, you know?” my brother’s voice made me snap my head towards him, then back at her to make sure she didn’t hear him.

She didn’t, and I flipped Klaus off, then slowly stood up and carried her out of the infirmary.

CHAPTER 10

WHEN ANGELS CRY, DEMONS PRAY

ARELLA

When I woke up, I was no longer in the same room, but lying on a small mattress with black sheets, a slightly scratchy blanket covering my body. I rubbed my eyes and sat up, the material falling off my chest, sending shivers down my spine. Then, when I looked down at myself, I wanted to die of embarrassment as I noticed my clothes, or lack thereof.

That asshole.

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