Page 12 of His Angel

“You have a greedy cunt, baby. It’s sucking me in.Fuck.” He grabs my hair, pulling my head back, and a choked, filthy moan rips out of me as he bottoms out, my walls spasming around his pulsing cock, gripping him like a vise. It’s a gut-punch of pleasure slamming into me with a force that makes me see stars, and all I can do is take him. All of him.

He pulls back just enough to make me whine, a pathetic, needy sound, then rams back in, hard and deep, stealing the breath from my lungs.

“God, I love the sounds you make when you’re full of my cock.”

I moan loudly, my pussy fluttering around his thick length. The sensation is devastating, white-hot pleasure colliding with unfiltered need. His hips snap forward again, relentless, driving his cock so deep I swear I feel him in my soul.

The glass fogs under my panting breaths, my nails scraping uselessly against it as he fucks me into oblivion.

“You hear that?” His voice is a jagged blade of lust slicing through the haze. “That wet, sloppy sound of your cunt sucking me in? That’s how bad you want this, Everly—how desperate you are for me to use this perfect fucking body of yours.”

I choke on a cry, my body shuddering as his shaft drags against every sensitive inch inside me, stretching me so wide I can barely think.

“Try to deny it,” he taunts, one hand sliding up to clamp around my throat, squeezing just enough to make my pulse pound against his fingers. “Go on, tell me I’m disgusting while your pussy’s choking my cock.”

“Fuck you,” I gasp, but it’s weak, broken as I push my body back against him, and he laughs with a low rumble of pure satisfaction.

“You’re as addicted to me as I am to you, baby girl.”

He’s right, and I hate it. I’m soaked, dripping down my thighs, my body screaming for him even as my mind scrambles to hold on to some shred of control while reminding me that he’s a killer.

A killer of control. A murderer of reason.

His grip tightens on my throat as he slams into me harder, the wet smack of skin on skin echoing in the air. His other hand digs into my hip, yanking me back to meet every punishing thrust, my body nothing but sensation and hunger.

“You’re gonna come for me. You hear me? Fuckinggushall over my cock while I split you open.”

The pressure builds, coiling tight and vicious in my core, every thrust shoving me closer to the edge. He shifts, angling his hips just right, and the thick head of his cock slams against that spot inside me that detonates a pleasure that ricochets against every bone.

A scream tears from my throat, raw, ragged, and he groans like it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

“There it is,” he snarls, relentless now, fucking me through the tremors rocking my body. “Give it to me, troublemaker. Let me feel that tight little cunt milk me dry.”

I shatter.

My walls clamp down around him, pulsing wildly as wave after wave of euphoria rips through me, so intense it’s almost painful. My legs buckle, but he grabs both my arms, fingers digging into my elbows, pulling them back, steadying me as he continues to fuck me with savage, greedy strokes, chasing his own release.

“Fuck…fuck.” His voice cracks as he buries himself deep one last time, his cock throbbing as he spills inside me, his hips jerking as he comes. “Jesus Christ, this isn’t real,” he pants, and I’m so full of his cum, I can feel it there, waiting to leak down my thighs the second he pulls out.

“Nothing compares to fucking you. Nothing.” He lets go of my arms, and I sag against the window, palms pressed against the glass, trying to catch my breath, my mind struggling to catch up.

But as the euphoria dissipates, the guilt, the grief slithers back in, and it’s even worse than before.

I lost a friend. A protector. A good man. Because I chose to tell a lie rather than chance the truth. And I just let the man who killed him fuck me like his death means nothing to me. Like it’s not darkening my soul.

What kind of person am I?

Isaia’s not the monster. I am.

As he pulls out, cum dripping down my thighs, a soft whimper rolls past my lips, tears threatening as his hand slides around me, thumb lazily grazing my nipple.

He leans in, lips brushing my ear, voice dropping to a low, guttural murmur that chills me even as it burns. “No one will ever take you from me again, Everly Beaumont. I will carve a river of blood through this world before I let that happen.”

And God help me, I don’t argue because I feel the weight of that vow in my bones, heavy as the blood still staining my memories.

Chapter4

EVERLY

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