Page 234 of Never Fall for an Angel

“You going to come for me?” I nip the line of her jaw, my tongue darting out to lick the perspiration off her throat.

Fuck, I love that I can get her like this after everything. Her nails digging into my abs, her hands cuffed behind her as she gives herself to me fully. Trusts me fully. Frantic little moans spilling from her lips with each thrust of my cock bottoming out inside her ass.

“Yes . . .”

“Ask me to make you come, Mila,” I order, rubbing her clit faster. “Show me how pretty you can beg for me.

“Please, Christian, make me come!” she cries, and I damn near break at her pleading.

She sputters when I tighten my fingers, crowding over her until my front is completely molded to her back. She sputters, her face growing red as I suck the air from her lungs and bring her body to the breaking point.

Her throat works to swallow underneath me, and when I tighten more, cutting her oxygen off completely, her eyes roll into the back of her head, and a choked gasp leaves her lips. Her ass clenches around me as the first waves of her orgasm crest, and wetness coats my fingers, but I don’t stop.

I release her throat the moment her eyes roll back into her head, and she nearly collapses in my arms. I’m not ready to come yet, but she feels too fucking good. I shove inside her, milking my cock with her ass as I set a brutal pace.

“Fuck, Mila,” I grind through my teeth, my head falling back as the orgasm steals every little bit of fight I had left in me.

A rough growl slips from me, and I press my mouth to the curve of her shoulder, biting down on the flesh as my cock fucking explodes. My entire body tightens, my cock shooting inside her as her ass continues to milk me as I come. I freeze, everything in me drawing to a sharp point as my ragged heartbeat pounds in my chest.

“Fuck,” I grit, fucking tremors rolling through me when I slowly slip out of her.

I’ve never come that hard in my fucking life.

Unfortunately, watching my come leak from her ass only makes me want her more.

I bend down, placing a kiss on her shoulder right over the mark where I bit her. She’ll have a bruise there, and I like the image it paints in my head. At this point, I’m thinking of tattooing it on her so everyone knows she’s mine.

Mila shivers beneath me, little aftershocks moving through her when I slip from the bed and immediately go start the shower. When I return to the bedroom, I find her sagging against the sheets, her eyes closed, and her breathing still heavy.

“Baby, let me see.” I uncuff her hands, rubbing the red marks on her wrists, and she whimpers as the blood flows back to them. I press my lips over the marks and then slip my arms under her to carry her to the shower.

A bath would be better, but judging by how heavy her eyes are, I know she needs sleep. Stepping into the shower with her, I gently place her on her feet and work on cleaning her off. Sheshivers under the spray, and I pull her into me to hold her up. I press my lips to each part of her I wash, giving her little praises as I go because I know how much she likes it.

“You did so fucking good, baby. So good.”

She looks up at me, smokey eyes boring into my soul. I expect tears like the first time I fucked her pussy, but instead, she’s looking at me like at me with something I know I don’t fucking deserve. Trust. Adoration. Like I hung the fucking moon.

She still thinks I’m a good man. Despite my actions, she still thinks I won’t break her heart.

She doesn’t realize I’ve never been a good man, and when the time comes, she’ll hate me for what I’m going to do. She deserves better than me, but it won’t matter in the end.

She’ll never have to be afraid again . . .

After tomorrow, she’ll never have to be afraid again.

No one prepares you for what love really feels like.

The maddening obsession to watch another person be happy. Safe. The knowledge that there’s a single person walking around with your heart inside their chest, and at any moment, someone could snatch it away.

I’ve never been a sentimental man. I couldn’t be. I’ve never needed another person to survive.

Until now.

If loving her makes me weak, I don’t care. I’d gladly do it all over again to see the way her eyes lit up when I first told her I’ve loved her for the last five years.

Looking at her asleep on the bed, her lashes cast shadows over her cheeks. Her lips part over her soft, even breathing. It’s notlost on me the difference in her now versus when I first came back into her life. How timid she was. Scared of her own shadow.

I’m also not forgetting how fucking numb to the world I was before I came back into her life. How I didn’t give a shit what happened to me.

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