Page 74 of When Hearts Awaken

“I’m going to kill him.” A low, gritty rasp.

Goosebumps appear on my arms. Heat circulates through my body.

“What?”

“You were crying ‘no.’” My breath hitches, and I realize I must’ve spoken my thoughts aloud. Charles dips his forehead to mine, his voice a lethal whisper. “I’m going to kill the bastard who hurt you. I’m going to cut his dick off and make him swallow it as he bleeds on the ground before you.”

My heart slams itself against my rib cage, like it’s desperate to escape, and to my horror, my pussy pulses at his words, the murderous intent in his voice, the wrath and fire in his eyes.

My archangel will avenge me.

I swallow, knowing everything I’m thinking or feeling is probably illogical right now as I’m riding high on my emotions.

But I don’t care. My mind is mad with desire.

“Make me forget, Charles. Make me forget,” I plea, taking his hand and resting it over my breast again.

Raw determination shifts over his face and, with a guttural growl, he slams his lips over mine.

And he takes, takes, and takes, plundering my mouth like a pirate coming across a forbidden treasure.

I give back as good as I get from him. I bite, suck, and swirl at his lips, his tongue, his salty and masculine skin. I allow him to take from me, to obliterate my senses.

This time, I get to choose.

My body. My life.I want this.

His fingers pinch my hardened nipple and I tear my lips away from his to draw in a ragged breath before arching back, needing more of the same sensations. I need his touch everywhere. I want him to take me to nirvana.

“Goddess. You’re a fucking goddess,” he mutters while he plays with my nipple—rubbing, rolling, kneading, the sensations sparking my body into mini convulsions. “I can spend days upon days worshipping you and it won’t be enough.”

He follows suit with the other side as I writhe against him, desperate for more, for both this maddening torture to continue or to end. His cock lengthens, hardening unbearably behind his slacks, each drag of his turgid length hitting my barbell, what used to be an instrument of pain, but now only fans the pleasure gathering in my pussy.

Charles slides his fingers under my dress and up my thigh, the slow graze a sensual torture. He stops as he reaches my underwear.

“You sure?” His fingers play with the cotton, snapping the cloth on my skin. “We don’t need to if you don’t want to do this. Just say no and I’ll stop.”

I look at him, finding his eyes intent on mine. He’s breathing heavily, his abs rippling through his shirt, the necktie of his tux nowhere to be seen. He looks like he’s seconds away from exploding and taking me down with him.

“I’ll stop and it’ll be okay,” he repeats himself. His body trembles and a muscle tics in his jaw. “A true man doesn’t take what is not given.”

I wet my lips, a sultry warmth spreading from my heart to the rest of my body. He’s already taking care of me in his own way. How did I ever not see him? This passionate, sensitive Charles Vaughn underneath the veneer or his forced smiles and surface-level charm?

“I’m sure,” I whisper, arching my hips forward. “Over my underwear?”

A muscle twitches on his temple and his jaw works. He dips his head into a curt nod and seals his lips over mine again.

Our tongues duel and I savor the taste of fine whiskey in his mouth. His hand finds my breast again and resumes his tortuous ministrations as his other hand slowly glides over my thin underwear, my only barrier between his fingers and my pussy.

He touches the spot between my legs, his head bolting up when he feels the piercing protruding from my panties. His eyes darken and burn, and nostrils flaring.

“It’s supposed to be for pain,” I murmur, knowing I’m probably not making any sense to him.

But somehow, I think he understands, because he doesn’t question further. Instead, he flicks the barbell, sending a sharp wave of pleasure through me.

I moan and arch my head back, baring my throat.Kiss me. Make me forget.

“Fuck. Fuck me. You’re going to be the death of me,” he rasps.

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