Page 13 of As Angels Sin

Instead, I remind myself of what he did to me. I tell myself that he didn’t even have the decency to put my clothes back on me before he dragged me into that alleyway. I feel a phantom itch against my neck where he stabbed me with a needle.

But most of all, I remember the heartache it took weeks to get over. Weeks of time spent with Simone, who held me and consoled me, because the man I cared about had disappeared. She whispered to me, promising that everything was going tobe okay, and that Crue wasn’t dead, and the mob hadn’t caught him.

My tears were really about Crue’s betrayal. More than once, I nearly let slip that he was the one who’d tried to kill me, but all those times I held my tongue, believing it was the last I’d ever see him.

Now, we’re here. Crue is standing over me the same way he has so many times before. He is knuckle deep inside of me, while animalistic noises rumble through his chest with every flick of his wrist and motion of his deepening finger.

I’m not going to stop him. Especially not with his finger hitting my g-spot, which makes him groan in satisfaction. He searches for it. He blasts my pussy with indescribable pleasure, and he hasn’t even reached his destination. When he finally gets there, I feel the irresistible sensation of his gentle finger strokes, alongside slow starting thrusts. He grazes against the overly sensitive spot inside with every pull out, and slams over it with every push in.

Crue’s grip on my mouth tenses as he picks up the pace. He squeezes my face so tightly; my cheeks start to hurt. But in the swell of my brewing orgasm, I don’t care. He is silencing me with a tight grip, so no one outside can hear the devilish things he’s doing. If he didn’t, the whole house would be woken by the sound of my bellowing. Even his gloved hand, the very same one that kept me silent in my tiny apartment, struggles to contain the noises that are escaping me.

While he continues his increasingly vigorous finger fucking, Crue drops down to his knees. His heavy breathing instantly hits my skin, and his lips follow close behind it. Thigh first, it’s always thigh first, before his kisses carry his mouth to my clitoris.

I latch onto anything I can, which turns out to the edge of the bed, with one hand and the showpiece blanket in the other.My fingers dig into them, trying so very hard to claw their way through anything in their path. My rapid breathing makes me lightheaded, dizzy, even. I feel as if I’m about to pass out.

Maybe I am. I’ve never felt this good in all my life, and I’ve had this monster’s cock inside me.

Crue’s tongue smashes against my pussy, teasing it with long, sharp licks. My entire body starts to tense into one enormous knot as the mounting pressure reaches unbearable levels. Any movement I try to make to relieve the intense pleasure Crue’s driving into me, is halted by his hand around my face.

All at once the knot releases in an explosive climax, and it makes my body writhe viciously across the bed. White hot heat rushes through me, rolling out from my core and extending to every fiber of my being.

I let out a muffled scream, uncaring of who might hear me. Crue, himself, doesn’t seem as bothered as he was before about keeping my mouth closed and quiet. Maybe he wants them to hear. Maybe he knows about my unholy union with Tomas, and this is his reminder that he’s in control. That I’m his.

Always have been, always will be.

His tongue gets to work again, as a gush of liquid runs down my quivering thighs. He laps up every drop with rabid snarls and husk growls. And when his tongue strikes only wet flesh coated in his saliva, hehumphsgloomily because there isn’t more.

As far as apologies go, I’ve seen worse.

Crue stands while I grab the cord dangling from my bedside table lamp and flick the small button to turn it on. I finally see him properly. My heart manages to sinkandshoot into my throat, all at once. He’s wearingtheoutfit. The very same one he wore that night we first met, and the one he wore when he followed me through New York. A black biker mask covers his face — he must’ve pulled it off and then put it back on again in the short time it took me to turn the light on — a black leatherjacket hangs cooly off his shoulders, and he has those gloves on... well, one glove in this case.

This has to be a sick joke. He’s toying with me.

Crue turns his head away from the light and shuts his eyes to hide them from its piercing luminance. He takes a moment to steady himself, before re-opening them slowly as he adjusts.

“I’ve missed you, my Little Flame,” he says casually. As if he had completely forgotten about trying to kill me.

“I didn’t.” It’s not fully a lie, and it’s closer to the truth. Lunacy can only carry me so far.

“Why would you miss yourself?” His brow furrows, but I can see his sheepish grin through the mask. The same one that used to melt my heart and made me long to be with him.

“You’re making a joke? Right now?” I’m not angry. I’m dumbfounded. “You can’t be serious.”

His frown deepens. “I’m not serious. It’s a joke.”

What the hell is going on? Did I fall off the bus in crazy town or something?

“That’s the problem.” I hiss at him; softer than the scream I want to use. I would love to cut him down to the bone, the way he did me, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

I spent a long time trying to make sense of what happened that night. Amid the betrayal, turmoil and disgust, I finally came to a conclusion. It was not one I was happy to arrive at, and it will never make anything right, but Crue said it all along, hewasgoing to kill me.

It was my own fault that I stuck around after so many brazen threats. They didn’t stop me, or my heart, from swooning over the man who is towering over me now. But, although I can understand it, and that’s one hell of a stretch already, I can’t forgive him. Not yet, and probably not ever.

“I don’t understand.” Crue’s brows shift again, but this time inching closer to concern than the confusion.

“You tried to kill me.” Blunt and to the point. My life is in a tailspin already, I don’t think I can handle another obstacle in its path. Whatever this was, and as pleasant as it felt at the time, it can never happen again. I can’t allow it to. I can’t start hoping, because this time, if Crue can’t finish what he started, I’ll die anyway, of a broken heart.

“But I didn’t.” I’ve never heard a man sound like a scared puppy caught in a thunderstorm, until now.

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