Page 86 of Never Fall for an Angel

“Shipwreck,” he repeats.

My throat threatens to close when his fingers hook in the waistband of my thong, his thumbs dragging the material down my legs. He leans back, pulling them off completely until I’m exposed to him, and tosses them behind him.

His gaze centers on my open thighs and heats to a scorching burn.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, bringing his lips back to my skin. He continues to press kisses and swipe his tongue over my inner thighs, avoiding my pussy completely. When I arch my back in an effort to move him closer, he nips the tender flesh of my thigh.

“Patience, little devil,” he warns, and my cheeks burn with the heat of a thousand suns. “Can you do that for me?”

God, why does he have to be so hot when he speaks like that?

“Yes.” I’m only a little embarrassed about the breathlessness of my voice.

“Good girl,” he says again, and it’s at that moment I realize I’d do anything to hear him call me his good girl.

Holding my gaze, he slips his hand between us, his thumb swirling through my arousal and coating his finger when he dips it inside me. He continues to kiss up my thigh, getting higher and higher, and just when I think I’m going to lose my mind, he delivers the first swipe of his tongue, licking me from where his fingers enter me to my clit in one fluid motion.

My head sinks back into the couch, my eyes fluttering at the sensation.

He lets out a satisfied groan that rumbles straight through me to my core.

“Fucking perfect,” he breathes against my pussy, swiping his tongue through my folds and spearing it inside me.

Those old familiar feelings start to rush in through the cracks. The voices telling me to fight him off. To rake my nails across his face and fight with everything I have. My hands tighten to fists in the throw and the couch below, my mind running rampant now that he’s touching me.

“Focus on me, Mila,” Christian murmurs from between my thighs. He pulls back, slipping one long, thick finger inside me instead. “Feelme.Not them. They can’t get to you.”

I nod, sucking in a breath through my rapidly closing throat.

“They’ll never get to you again,” he continues, pushing his finger in and out of me, letting me adjust to the size. “Just feel whatwe’redoing. Whatwewant.”

Smile for the camera, little whore.

“Please,” I whimper, but even as I beg for him to stop, I know I don’t want him to. I knew what I was asking for when I came down here. I knew the struggle it would be.

I also knew that the moment he made me come this morning, I didn’t want to live in the shadows of what they’d done to me anymore.

Christian shakes his head, his eyes boring into mine.

“You know how to make it stop, Mila.”

I nod, drawing my lip between my teeth. I know if I said the word, he would stop, no questions asked.

Keeping his fingers inside me, he reaches for the book still on the coffee table, placing it in my hand.

“Read.”

“What?”

Has he lost his mind? I can barely form a coherent sentence.

“Read it aloud while I make you come.”

“Christian . . .” My voice is husky with both want and devastation. The hair on the back of my neck stands up like those demons are hiding just beyond the reach of the light from the fireplace.

“Do you trust me?”

Do I trust him?

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