Page 20 of Watch Me Turn
He leans down to kiss me, and as the heat of his body meets the cool of mine, we melt together for a moment. Creating a balance of fire and ice, and meeting somewhere in the middle.
Just as the kiss deepens, teetering on the edge of all-consuming, I sense the moment to strike. It's a primal instinct, the need to remind him exactly who holds the reins, who the predator is.
In one swift, fluid motion, I twist my hips and heave. The element of surprise, coupled with my superior strength, is all it takes. Angel lets out a choked gasp as his body hits the cushions of the couch with a dull thud.
I'm on top of him, straddling his waist, my knees sinking into the soft flesh of his thighs, pinning his lower body. I brace one hand on his chest and use the other to grip his wrist, holding his hand against the cushion beside his head. My bloodied lips curve into a greedy, satisfied smile.
He blinks wildly, his eyes flashing with indignation and amusement. He tries to buck up—a desperate, half-hearted attempt to reverse the position—but I simply press my weight down, settling him firmly onto his back.
I slide my palm right over his frantically stuttering heart, giving him a gentle, playful shake.
"You're still so human," I sigh. "And even when you turn, I'll always be older and stronger than you."
He slaps my thigh, his lip curling as he grins, "Half human, maybe. But trust me... I'm all man."
"Prove it," I goad.
I shift my weight, a slow, deliberate grind of my hips that makes the breath rush out of his lungs. I hold his gaze, watching the sheer, intoxicating need bloom across his face. His lips part, but no sound comes out, only a sharp intake of air.
"I want you to beg for it," I whisper.
His breath comes out in sharp puffs from his nose as he presses his lips together, straining to contain whatever sound is in danger of escaping him.
"I...don't...beg," he grits out, but his resolve is visibly crumbling. His eyes are softening.
I lick my lips and rock against him.
"You sure about that?" I challenge, reaching between my legs to position him tantalizingly close to my entrance. He groans when I touch him, and his eyes roll back in his head. This is killing me too, but I'll never let him see it.
"Poor Angel. The sad little rich boy's never been refused anything before, huh? How does it feel to be denied for once?" He moans, but I persist, running my fingertip over his skin in ever-tightening circles. "You can't buy or threaten your way out of this one. For once, you're going to have to do as you're told."
"Fine," he mumbles as he writhes beneath me, trying to free his hands.
"Huh? What was that? I didn't quite catch that."
"Go on," he says, his voice a little louder this time, rubbing his thumbs into my hip dips.
"Use your words," I coax. "Tell me what you want. Come on, you're a big boy."
"I want you, Sophia," he rasps. "I want you so badly it fucking hurts. I want to feel every part of you. I want to reach inside you and fucking devour you. I need you. What more do you want me to say? Just tell me, and I'll say it."
I arch my eyebrow, and he looks up at me like a dying man asking to be put out of his misery. The silence betweenus is loaded with electricity. A current thrumming and fizzing between us.
Then he says the magic word.
"Please."
"Good boy."
6
VENOM
With one final, torturous motion, I sink down onto him. A guttural sound escapes Angel's throat—a mix of a groan and a surprised roar—as I take him fully.
At first I thought this was a simple hate fuck, but now I know it's something different.
I don't know what they're teaching these private school boys, but he has no business being this good at sex. Angel is no angel in the sack.
