Page 48 of His Angel

Abruptly, he spears deep, and I gag around him, tears welling up, and he studies me with a dark satisfaction, humming his approval that sends chills racing down my spine. His hand digs into my hair, fingers curling like a vise around the roots.

“You’re a mindfuck, you know that?” He continues to guide me, forcing me to take him in the rhythm he wants. “I’ve never wanted to cherish and ruin a woman at the same goddamn time.” With a pop, he pulls out of my mouth, and I gasp for breath as he wipes away a tear with the head of his cock, smearing it across my cheek. “It’s like you’re my heaven and my hell. But I think I’d prefer hell, because God knows I want to fucking burn for you.”

And just like that, I’m undone.

Not from touch.

Not from action.

But his words. His obsession, his control, and that twisted, terrifying kind of love that makes me feel like the most dangerous thing in his world...

And the safest.

Desire consumes me, and I don’t wait for his command, slipping my mouth around his length, taking it deep, all the way to the back of my throat, and I watch from underneath my lashes as his head falls back, the beautiful column of his throat bobbing as he moans, the sound deep and rough.

“Fuck. Open that throat, baby girl. Swallow my cock. Jesus Christ,” he moans. “Your mouth’s gonna kill me.”

His rough words slap across my skin, his control absolute and terrifying. Something dark unfurls inside me, curling me into a tight ball of lust and desire. I relax my throat, taking him as far as I can, and the deep groan he makes is what I live for.

This—pleasing him—is my sole purpose right now, my singular sweet obsession. The throbbing of my own need, the relentless echo of longing in every fiber of my being—all this to worship him.

His taste fills my senses, a cocktail of musk and something wild that I can't identify, but it's purely him.

He pulls my head back, and I slide off his length with a gasp as he lifts me to my feet, my eyes watering as I look at him.

“As much as I’d love to come down your throat, that’s not where I want to finish tonight.” A hint of a cruel smile plays on his lips as he releases me. His eyes are predatory as they roam down my body, making me shiver in anticipation.

With cruel fingers, he grabs my face, puckering my lips, forcing me to look up as he gazes down into my eyes. An arm snakes around my waist, and I’m sure my legs grow weaker.

“Ready to get wet, baby girl?”

I don’t get a chance to respond when he lifts me off my feet, and we’re catapulted in the air as he leaps.

The air rips from my lungs as we crash into the pool, water exploding around us in a chaotic swirl of cold and warmth. We breach the surface together, his hair slicked back from his face.

My dress is plastered to my skin, and Isaia’s already on me—hands gripping my hips, dragging me against him. The bourbon’s still on his breath, cedar sharp in the damp air, and his eyes are liquid, stripping me bare under the moon’s glare.

“This is gonna be quick. But I blame you for that since you just had to go and suck my cock like a fucking slut,” he growls, voice a blade slicing through the night, and his mouth slams onto mine, teeth clashing, tongue thrusting deep, tasting of sin and control.

My legs lock around his hips, and I claw at his shoulders, nails carving into ink and muscle. He hisses into my mouth, liking the sting, and yanks my dress up impatiently until it’s bunched at my waist.

His fingers find my panties, and water makes it easy for me to lift my legs for him to tug it off. His thumb finds my clit, and I arch, a moan tearing free. “Isaia.”

“I got you, baby girl.”

Water laps at my chest as he pins me to the pool’s edge, concrete biting my spine, his body a wall of heat and menace.

My hands fumble at his pants, still half-on and soaked, and he doesn’t help, just watches me with that dark, feral stare as I free him.

He’s rock-hard, pulsing, and I don’t wait, lifting my hips with ease and guiding him in, sinking down with a shudder that rips a curse from his lips.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, head tipping back, throat bared like a god undone. “You’re gonna make me come so damn fast, and I don’t like it.”

I still. “S…sorry.”

“Screw that.” He grabs my face, dark irises fierce and dangerous. “Never, ever apologize when you take what you need from me. Understand? My cock is yours. Yours to use the way. You fucking. Want.” He forces my head back, and I whimper as he slides his velvet tongue up the column of my throat, along my jaw, all the way to my ear—hot, wet, possessive. “Now fuck me.”

His words light me up, a match to gasoline, and I move, hips snapping, taking him deep, hard, relentless.

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