Page 121 of Never Fall for an Angel

“I’m going to show you what I see.”

I shiver from the warmth of his breath against the side of my neck when he lingers, his stubble against my skin bringing goosebumps to the surface. His lips skate down the side of my neck, over my racing pulse point, to my shoulder.

His hands slip along my stomach as he works his way down. My eyes flutter when he reaches the hem, his thumbs dragging over the material of my panties.

My heartbeat quickens, my head falling back to rest against his shoulder when one hand comes up to grip my throat while the other dips inside the waistband of my panties.

“We’re in public,” I breathe, biting back a moan when his fingers dip inside me.

He presses his lips to the side of my face, eyes glinting savagely in the mirror when they meet mine.

“Does that scare you, little devil?” he rasps, voice low and quiet. He draws his finger through my folds, then moves higher, circling my clit.

I bite my lip, a gasp threatening to tear free and grab hold of his wrist.

“Does it haunt you what you do to me? Knowing my cock’s hard against your ass, begging to slip inside you? That I stroke myself in the shower every morning because all I can think about is how pretty you’d look riding my cock?”

“Christian,” I breathe, unable to look away with what he’s doing to me.

He steps closer to the mirror until we’re nearly face to face with our reflections, his other arm wrapping around the front of my shoulders to band my arms to my chest.

“Look at yourself, Mila. See what I see, yet?”

“What?” I pant, my thighs quivering on either side of his hand. Heat slips into my bloodstream, and my hips move on their own volition, rocking against his hand.

“See the blush in your cheeks? The brightness in those pretty fucking eyes? How bad you want to come from my fingers.Feelwhat you fucking do to me,” he rasps, nipping the shell of my ear. “The prettiest fucking girl I’ve ever seen.”

Rocking his hips into me in slow, even rolls, I feel his erection digging into the small of my back.

“Do you know how fucking hard it is to be the good guy? To not fuck you when you ask me to? Take this slow with you?” He changes the angles of our hips, bending me forward slightly until I’m forced to catch myself with my hands on the mirror.

This new angle forces me to meet my own gaze. There are sparks hidden in the gray depths of my irises. My cheeks are pink and flushed, my hair falling around me in small ringlets. My chest heaves with each breath, my body drawn tight as he continues to swirl his fingers around my clit.

“I’m going to come,” I whisper, hoping to God no one out in the store can hear us over the chatter and the loud music.

“Are you?” he drawls, his cock hitting the curve of my ass when he rolls against me. I nod my head, desperate for release, and he takes me right to the edge.

Then, he removes his fingers.

I gawk at him in the mirror, and he places a kiss to my cheek, his lips lingering.

“Feel what it feels like to be me, sweetheart? To want something so fucking badly but know you have to wait?”

“You’re-you’re—” I sputter, the orgasm fading second by second, leaving behind an achiness that I know only he can relieve.

Stepping back, he releases me, tugging my dress down over my hips and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. His eyes meet mine in the mirror, alive with wicked amusement.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, and my cheeks flame. “You’ll get what you want, sweetheart. Just not here.”

Stepping away from me completely, he opens the curtain and grabs the basket.

“And the dress stays on. I like it.”

I watch him walk off, gawking.

It takes a minute before I turn to follow him before I pause, looking at myself in the mirror.

A girl stares back at me. Broken, damaged, and pale . . .

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