Page 109 of Never Fall for an Angel

He reaches for my hand, tugging me to my feet, and I stand on wobbly legs, my pussy crying out at the friction from my panties.

“Bend over.”

“That wasn’t for me,” I gasp, and he just swats my ass, pushing me to stand between his legs. He shoves me towards the desk, standing behind me. He places a hand on the center of my spine, bending me down to rest my shoulders and cheeks against the flat surface.

“This isn’t either.”

He swats my ass before slipping my jeans down my legs. I shiver in the cool air of the room, despite how hot I am, when the phone rings from beside me on the desk.

“What?” he snaps, sinking down in the chair behind me with the phone pressed to his ear. My cheeks flame that someone is calling him while I’m standing in front of him, ass on display and his come on my face. “I’m in the middle of something.”

There’s a pause as the person says something else on the phone, and he runs his fingers over the soaking-wet seam of my panties. I grit my teeth, biting down on my arm to keep quiet when he slips them to the side and slides a finger inside me.

“I have something time-sensitive on my desk, and you’re keeping me from it.”

There’s another pause while he pumps his fingers in and out of me, slowly drawing out the torture, before he hangs up with a rough breath.

“Christian—” I start, but it ends with a moan when he runs his tongue through my folds.

My eyes roll back in my head, and my front bows off the desk. Holy shit.

“You enjoyed sucking my cock, little devil.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.

“Yes,” I breathe, my fingers gripping the other side of the desk while he dives back between my folds with a deep groan of satisfaction. He swirls his tongue up to the tight ring of muscles at my ass, and I jerk forward on the desk before his hands lock my hips in place.

“Breathe,” he instructs, his voice rough, and something presses against the hole, stealing my breath away. I shudder when his thumb enters me, his tongue immediately going back to my pussy as he fills my ass.

“Christian,” I moan, my eyes screwed shut from the pleasure barreling through me. My legs shake with the effort to hold me up, and I’m so close to coming I can taste it. “Please.”

His thumb moves in and out of me slowly while he licks my clit in lazy strokes. He closes his lips around the nub, fluttering his tongue, and my legs threaten to give out.

“I’m going to fuck you here soon,” he breathes against my skin, slipping deeper inside me, and my pussy clenches in response. “You want that? You want my cock in your ass?”

“Yes,” I breathe, actively working to breathe as he continues his assault on my body.

“Fuck, I’ve been dreaming of you,” he grits, and I don’t even know if he realizes what he’s saying before he closes his mouth around my clit and sucks me into his mouth until I’m gasping underneath him.

I can’t stop the orgasm from shattering me into a million pieces. I cry out, my voice hoarse and my hips bucking wildlywhile he milks the pleasure from my body. I collapse to the surface of the desk, shaking, and he has to hold my legs up to keep me from falling to my knees again.

I shiver when he pulls me back from the desk, placing me in his seat before crossing the room to grab a box of unopened tissues from a drawer in the corner.

Of course, they’re unopened. I doubt Christian Cross would ever get sick.

When he returns, my heart is racing, and my skin is damp with perspiration. It all happened so quick, but now that it’s done, I’m waiting for him to kick me out.

Instead, he surprises me when he gently takes my hand, pulls me to the edge of the seat, and kneels down in front of me.

“Let me see,” he murmurs, a strange tenderness in his voice that I’ve never heard from him before. I tilt my head to him, and he wipes the drying come from my face and the makeup that ran from under my eyes. Keeping my gaze, he then gently cleans between my legs, and it’s enough to make my cheeks burn brightly.

“Okay?” he asks, his eyes betraying his carefully concealed concern. I wait for the fear to slip through me, my throat closing over painful breaths, but . . . nothing comes.

There are the usual thoughts.Whore. Broken. Damaged.

But when he tucks a curl behind my ear, searching my gaze with a fine-tooth comb, I realize, no matter what his reasoning is for bringing me here, he’s the only person I would choose to heal with.

Christian is all man. Rough and hard. The darkness in the light.

He’s also seen every one of my horrors, my nightmares, my inability to be touched when I first walked into the cottage, and he’s never made me feel like I was anything other than me.

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