Page 24 of Indigo Deception
The first touch of his mouth sends lightning through me. I arch off the bed, a strangled cry escaping my lips. His hands grip my thighs, keeping me spread open as he devours me like a starving man. His tongue is relentless, circling, flicking, building a pressure inside me that threatens to shatter my very being.
When my legs shake, he pulls away, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Not yet," he growls, crawling up my body to capture my mouth in a searing kiss. I taste myself on his lips and moan.
He tugs at the hem of his shirt, "I fucking love you in my shirt, but I need this off. Now!” he commands.
I raise my arms, letting him pull it over my head. His eyes darken as he takes in my naked form, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined."
Before I can respond, his mouth is on my breast, tongue circling one nipple as his fingers tease the other. I arch into him, desperate for more contact. My hands tangle in his hair, holding him to me as pleasure courses through my veins.
"Angelo," I plead, not even sure what I'm asking for.
He seems to understand, though. In one smooth movement, he sits back on his heels and pulls his own shirt over his head. His chest is a work of art—sculpted muscle dusted with dark hair that narrows to a trail disappearing beneath his sweatpants. I reach out, tracing the contours with trembling fingers.
"You're overdressed," I whisper.
He smirks, with that arrogant expression that simultaneously infuriates and arouses me. "Patience, Little Auditor."
But I'm done with patience. I sit up, hooking my fingers into the waistband of his pants, tugging him toward me. "Now," I demand.
A flash of surprise crosses his face, followed by a grin that can only be described as wolfish. He stands, shoving his pants and boxers down in one swift movement.
My breath catches. He's magnificent—all lean muscle and tanned skin. And he wants me. The evidence of that desire stands proud between his legs.
"Like what you see?" he asks, but the cockiness in his tone is belied by the vulnerability in his eyes.
"Come here," I answer, holding out my hand.
He joins me on the bed, covering my body with his own. The feeling of skin on skin is electric, setting every nerve ending ablaze. His mouth finds mine again as his hand slides between us, fingers exploring, testing, preparing.
"Angelo," I gasp as he hits a spot that makes my vision blur. "Please."
He reaches for a condom in the nightstand drawer, sheathing himself. Then he's positioning himself at my entrance, his eyes locked on mine.
“Fuck!” I breathe as he enters me in one powerful thrust.
The sensation is overwhelming—pleasure edged with the perfect amount of pain. He stills, giving me time to adjust, his forehead pressed to mine, breath coming in ragged pants.
"You feel incredible," he groans, and then he moves.
His rhythm is deliberate at first, controlled. But as I match his movements, raising my hips to meet each thrust, that control fractures. One of his hands grips my hip, the other braced beside my head as he drives into me with increasing urgency.
“If it's going to feel this much better every time we fuck, I will not let you out of my bed,” he growls, his voice strained.
He rolls his hips, grinding against my clit, and a whimper escapes my mouth.
"Look at me," he commands as he feels me tightening around him. "I want to see your eyes when you come."
It's his undoing that triggers mine. The moment his rhythm falters, his body tensing above me, I let go. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over me, his name a chant on my lips.
He follows seconds later, my name—the wrong name—a groan against my neck as he shudders inside me.
We lie tangled together as our breathing slows, his weight a comforting pressure. Eventually, he rolls to the side, pulling me against his chest. His heartbeat thunders under my ear.
"Stay," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple.
I should say no. Should make an excuse and retreat to the guest room. Instead, I nod against his chest, letting his steady breathing lull me toward sleep.
Just before consciousness slips away, I feel him trace patterns on my bare shoulder. "What are you doing to me, Sarah?" he whispers.
