Page 240 of The Wright Man

The look she gave me—part molten, part mischief—made every muscle in my body go tight with heat.

"Not at all."

Chapter Forty-Two

Maleek

We barely made it through the front door before things got out of hand.

Stumbling inside like horny teenagers, we were all hot breath and tangled limbs—her giggles caught between tongue kisses, my hands roaming without shame. The door clicked shut behind us, forgotten. Angelica had been reckless since dessert, saying filthy shit like she didn't care who overheard. Her hand had been parked on my thigh the entire drive home, fingers creeping up higher every time I hit a red light. I'd had to grip the steering wheel like it was keeping me tethered to the earth.

I was definitely speeding. Definitely didn't give a fuck.

From the second we climbed out of the car, our mouths never left each other. She pressed me into the passenger side before we even made it to the porch, kissing me like she was starving. Now we were bumping into walls, laughing and gasping between kisses, her voice sultry and unfiltered as she murmured against my lips, "God, I hope my dad wasn't peeking through his window when we pulled up."

I groaned. "Angel, please don't mention Cap while my dick's hard."

She snickered into my mouth and wiggled out of her dress in the hallway, letting it fall to the floor like it owed her money. I kicked off my shoes and shrugged off my shirt, catching glimpses of her in that thong as she led me backwards toward the bedroom, one hand fisted in my waistband, the other sliding across my chest.

We left a trail of clothes like a breadcrumb path from the front door. By the time we reached the bed, I was in nothing but my boxers, and she was down to heels and lace.

I had to stop for a second—just to look at her.

Thick, glowing, confident. Bold in ways she never used to be. Just a few weeks ago, Angelica used to look away when I told her she was sexy. Used to bite her lip and swallow her moans, too self-conscious to let go. Now she stood in front of me, tits out, thighs soft, smirking like she already knew how this night would end.

I don't know when the shift happened. All I know is I'm grateful as fuck I got to witness it.

She went to unbuckle her heels, but I stopped her with a shake of my head. "Nah. Those stay on."

Her smirk deepened. "You're so predictable," she purred.

She pushed me gently and I let myself fall back onto the bed, hands behind my head, watching her like I was watching the sunrise over the ocean.

She climbed onto the mattress with deliberate grace, knees straddling my hips, ass perched just high enough to make me strain beneath her. Her curls framed her face like a halo, wild and soft, eyes locked on mine like she wanted to devour me.

"I believe there was some soul-snatching promised," she mused, voice light.

"Nah," I murmured, dragging a hand up her thigh, "Your exact words were 'suck the skin off it.' Don't be shy now."

She giggled like she'd said something polite, licking her lips as she dragged her nails down my chest. "Mmm. Did I say that?"

"You did." I shifted slightly beneath her, already hard and twitching, watching the way her eyes followed the movement. "Go ahead. I'm all yours."

She didn't answer. Just smiled slow, sinful, and started making her way down my body.

And I swear, in that moment—just watching her, knowing what was coming—my whole damn soul braced for impact.

Angelica looked up at me with those big, brown eyes as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of my boxers and pulled them down with slow, deliberate ease. Her smile was downright dangerous—a mix of mischief, hunger, and full-blown confidence that had no business turning me on as hard as it did.

She wrapped her hand around me with a reverence that felt religious. Kept her eyes locked on mine as she licked the tip, slow and purposeful, then sucked me into her mouth like she had something to prove.

"Fuuuck," I groaned.

She sucked me slow at first, deep enough to make me groan, then pulled back with a soft pop, teasing the head with her tongue, flicking and circling. Her fingers wrapped around the base, stroking just right—tight and wet, matching the rhythm of her mouth.

She got nastier the filthier I got. I couldn't stop myself. My mouth was running. Whispering how good she looked, how nasty she was, how proud I was of this version of her—wild and greedy and mine.

"Goddamn... You bouta earn every drop of this nut."