Page 30 of His Angel

“God, you’re beautiful,” he rasps, lips trailing a path burning down my throat, along my collarbone, while his fingers dance expertly under my shirt, raising goosebumps on my skin.

I arch into him, his touch igniting every nerve ending into brilliant flames. And when I feel him hardening against me, I move my hips subtly, teasingly.

"Hmmm," he groans, "you're playing with fire, baby girl."

Grinning, I respond, "At the risk of sounding cliché, I like getting burned."

He chuckles, squeezing my ass, forcing me to move on top of him. “My little virgin turned into a harlot.”

“Except, you don’t pay me.” I hum at his taste on my tongue as I lick up the side of his neck.

He tilts his head, giving me more access. “A shame, too. With the way you play, I'd give you a fortune.”

I kiss the hollow beneath his throat. “How come you’ve never asked me about birth control?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

I lean back, eyeing him speculatively. “You know.”

He doesn’t respond, but merely drags a hand down my back, gaze fixed on mine.

“Isaia?”

“Yeah, baby girl,” he finally says. “I know.”

I scoff. “Of course, you do. You know everything about me, right?”

“Where is this coming from?”

I pick at imaginary lint on his shirt, avoiding his eyes. “This morning, my period showing up for the first time in months. You talking about,” I swallow, feeling my cheeks flush, “breeding.”

“Everly, it’s?—”

“Do you want kids?”

He stares at me.

“Because I can’t have kids. I can’t give you that.” It’s like tiny pinpricks into my heart as I say the words.

“I don’t care about that. All I care about is you.”

“But what if one day you start caring about it? PCOS isn’t something that’ll magically go away.”

“Stop.” His fingers bracket the back of my neck. “You’re overthinking. Don’t. All I want in this world is you, nothing more, nothing less.”

I’m about to say something, but he kisses me, swallowing my words, distracting me from my thoughts that always seem to run away with me. I love how he knows me. How he knows exactly what I need when I need it. From my biggest fear to my smallest insecurity.

The comm crackles to life on the counter, Talon's voice cutting through the moment. “Boss, Romulus just landed. Need you at the docks.”

Isaia’s expression hardens, his playful hands stalling. “Fuck me,” he mutters, grabbing the comm. “On my way.”

“Romulus?” I sit upright, frowning.

“Alexius seems to think we’re in dire need of his God complex.”

With ease, he lifts me with him as he stands, and carries me over to the couch, plopping me down on my back and settling between my legs, pressing his cock where I need it. And just to prove a point, he thrusts, and I moan—the point being that I’d happily let the Pope wait just to get fucked by Isaia Del Rossa right now.

“I won’t be long.” His mouth finds mine, and he kisses me hard, languid, a deep dive of his tongue, and I’m all whimpers of protest as he pulls away.

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