Page 20 of Unhinged Little Angel

“Sit.” I give Dante a nudge towards the sofa.

I’m expecting the glare I get in return. What I’mnotexpecting is how much sexier it looks when his lips are kiss swollen and his pretty cock is still sticking out from between the folds of the robe. More shocking still, he actually listens, striding over and sitting down with a defiant little huff. Once he’s seated, he gathers his billowing robe into his lap to hide his erection and then he waves towards the door like royalty making a demand.

“Be good and fetch breakfast for me.”

I rumble a laugh. “You’re asking for it, Angel,” I warn, coming up with a dozen ways to show him how much more fun he’ll have if he lets me be the Dom he’s desperate for on my way to the door.

The room service cart is parked right outside, and a pair of garment bags are hanging from the door. Good, I won’t have to hurt any of the hotel staff.

“What’s all this?” Dante eyes the garment bags curiously as I bring everything inside and nudge the door closed with my foot.

“I ordered room service before I went to sleep last night. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered a little bit of everything.” I roll the cart over to him and start pulling the covers off each plate.

“No, what’s that?” He nods at the bags.

“You didn’t think I was going to stand up on our wedding day in a wrinkled suit or anything with a UFO printed on it, did you?” I tsk.

“You got me an outfit?” His face lights up. Not with rage or lust, but with genuine excitement. What else could I do to make him smile like that? He pushes the cart aside and jumps up, grabbing for the nearest garment bag and unzipping it in a frenzy like a child on Christmas. “What…?” His expression turns to shock and my stomach sinks.

“If it’s not what you want, we can go shopping before the wedding. There’s plenty of time.”

“No, it’s perfect.” He shakes his head slowly, looking dazed. “How did you know?”

He rubs the soft white lace between his fingers and gently touches the pearl beading. The white slacks that go with it are more traditional than the top, but I thought they would go together nicely. And, of course, a pair of red heels to finish thelook. There’s nothing like the air of confidence my angel has when he’s wearing a pair of stilettos.

“Sparrow texted me a picture of the top the other day. He said you were looking at it but that he thought you didn’t buy it because of the cost. I remembered it last night and they have the same store here, which luckily had it in stock in your size.” I unzip my own garment bag to check on the suit I bought. I had to buy off the rack, obviously, with so little time to plan, so I decided to stick with a simple black suit.

“Why? I mean, why would Sparrow text you that?” His eyes darken and he drops the outfit onto the couch. “Did you have him following me?” Dante hisses, drawing himself up to his full height to get in my face.

“No, Angioletto, I don’t have anyone following you.”

“So why would he be reporting back to you about clothes I want but can’t afford?”

“If I had to guess, it’s because he knows how I feel about you, and underneath his murderous exterior, he’s secretly a hopeless romantic.” I’m sure he would pull a knife on me for suggesting such a thing, but all evidence points to him having a small soft spot for my crush on Dante.

“How you feel about me?” His eyebrows pull together and he frowns.

“I told you last night,” I remind him, putting a hand on his hip and backing him up towards the couch. When the backs of his knees hit it, I give him a nudge and he topples down. I lean over him, bracing my hands on the back of the couch. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you on stage.”

“You and every other gay man in Wildcliff.” Dante’s eyes harden and his jaw ticks. “I hate to ruin the illusion and everything, but that’s the point of strippers. We take off our clothes and shake our asses so your dick gets hard, and youthrow money at us. That funny feeling in your pants isn’t love, it’s just business.”

It wasn’t his clothes coming off that made it impossible to look away from him. Sure, I liked the way his hips moved and how the lights danced over his bare skin, but that wasn’t what kept me coming back night after night for years. He’s not ready to believe that I fell in love with his rage and his painfully sharp tongue, not his body.

“You’re wrong,” I whisper, pressing a hard kiss to his mouth.

Dante sinks his teeth into my bottom lip and I groan, licking into his mouth with the aching need to devour him, to tear through every ounce of stubborn resistance he has and make him see the truth.

Patience, I remind myself. I have a lifetime to prove to him that I’m not like the men who have made him feel like nothing but a piece of meat.

“Now, say ‘thank you, Sir.’”

He bristles. “Thanks.”

I chuckle. “What am I going to do with you, Angioletto?”

“Marry me to save my ass and probably live to regret it thanks to my shitty attitude and inability to play nice with anyone?”

I hum, my lips twitching with another grin. “At least it’s a nice ass.”

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