Page 141 of Never Fall for an Angel

He spreads my legs wider, and I reach for the button on his jeans, ripping them open and fisting his cock. It’s impossibly hard and hot in my hand, and he pushes me off when I stroke him from root to tip.

Withdrawing his fingers, he grips my hip in one and his cock in the other, stroking it through my folds. My eyes flutter when he brushes against my clit, and when he notches himself at my entrance, a tingle of awareness slips through me.

I’m doing it. I’m really fucking doing it.

“Lighthouse,” he reminds me—and then he’s filling me in one push. He bottoms out halfway, and I cry out at the intrusion, the size of his cock burning with friction as he slips back out, only to drive back inside with a grunt.

“Fuck . . .” he rasps, his hands on my thighs, keeping me spread wide for him with bruising strength.

My back bows off the table, my pussy sucking him in greedily despite the sting of taking him so quickly. He pushes past all my barriers.

The thoughts cling to the corners of my mind, fighting with me to push him off. To rake my nails across his face and fight with everything I have. My hand tightens to a fist where he’s pinning it to the bed, my mind running rampant now that I can’t move.

I shake my head, gasping for breath through my rapidly closing throat.

“You’re okay, Mila. Just relax and let me in.” He pushes further, and heat floods my core, and I bite my lip. A shiver rolls through me, a single tear slipping down my cheek to my hairline. It burns, but it’s a good burn, feeling him stretch me as he rocks inside me. “You feel so fucking good,” he rasps, pressing his lips to the racing heartbeat in my throat. “You’re going to come like such a good little whore on my cock.”

Smile for the camera, little whore.

He shakes his head, his eyes boring into mine from above.

“You want me to stop? Just say the word.”

“Please don’t stop.”

“Look at me, Mila.” My eyes spring open, meeting his. “Your pussy, your ass, your fucking heart? It belongs to me. And the piece of shit that hurt you? He better hope to fucking God he’s dead by the time I get to him.”

He drags my hips up, aligning us so his cock brushes over that most sensitive part of me. He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, the table rocking back and forth with how hard he’s fucking me.

“Christian . . . oh my God,” I gasp when his thumb finds my clit, circling the sensitive nub until my eyes roll back into my head. The chill mixed with the pleasure rippling through me sends a shiver down my spine, and my teeth chatter from the euphoria.

One of my hands grips the edge of the table, the rough wood digging into my skin, while the other grips his, holding my thigh. His fingers wrap around mine tightly, holding me while he fucks me ruthlessly.

“Fuck, you’re fucking perfect,” he rasps under his breath, his head kicking back with a groan. Beneath his shirt, his muscles ripple with the force of his thrusts, like a savage dark God who’s hellbent on sucking the soul from my body with a single orgasm.

I claw at the table, desperate to grab something and hold on, but there’s nothing. Nothing but him and what he’s doing to me and the spot he’s hitting inside me so deep, I didn’t even know it existed.

So I fall, succumbing to the pleasure as it rips me to shreds and a feral cry tears past my lips to rival the storm outside.

The orgasm is strong and intense, stealing my vision, my breath, my fucking soul until I collapse on the hood beneath him.

“There’s my good little wife,” Christian murmurs in my ear, crowding over me, his cock still buried inside my pussy.

I groan when he slips out of me, lifting me up into his arms and carrying me toward the couch. My legs lock around his hips, and I say a silent thank you to whoever invented hip slits in dresses. His hands cup my bare ass, his fingers dangerously close to my center, driving me mad.

Unable to stop myself, I lean into him, pressing soft kisses against the scratches I’d left on the side of his neck. My lips tracethe column of his throat, and his grip tightens to near-bruising strength when I nip the pulse point just beneath his ear.

A small tremor moves through him, his breath hissing out through his teeth, and a small smile of triumph pulls on my lips that I can do that to him.

He deposits me on his lap, falling to the couch, and my legs straddle either of his. I try to adjust, and his hands come to my hips, holding me steadfast above him. I shiver in his arms from my wet dress and the little electric aftershocks of my orgasm still rippling through me.

“Don’t run, little devil,” he rasps, eyes glinting in the moonlight overhead as he pushes my soaking wet dress up around my hips. “I’ve barely gotten started with you.”

A water droplet slips between my breasts, and he leans forward, capturing it with his lips, a heavy groan rumbling through him when I jerk against his cock.

His arm bands around my back, his other under my ass, and he tugs me forward, pealing the top of my dress down with his teeth before sealing his lips around my nipple.

My head falls back, the wet tendrils of my hair curling over the curve of my ass, and I whimper at the graze of his teeth. I slip my hand between us, stroking feather-light touches over his cock before moving to the buttons of his shirt.

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