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Wrapping my hand around the base of his shaft, I swirl my tongue around the head, loving the deep groan that rips from his lips and the way his hips jump from the lounger.
“Fuck, Angel,” he barks when I finally take him in my mouth. “Argh fuuuuuck,” he groans, his fingers twisting in my hair, sending a bolt of pain down my spine. “Your mouth. Fuck. I’ll never get enough of this.”
“Good. Because you’re not going to get the chance,” I confess before sinking back down on him again.
I might be inexperienced with this, but I’ve learned quickly what he likes. Where to lick, just how hard to suck, and in no time at all, his length is swelling between my lips, getting ready to blow.
“Fuck, you suck me so good, beautiful. Your mouth is sinful.”
Just before he falls, there’s a bang that sounds like it comes from inside the house. But not wanting it to end here despite the way his eyes widen as they hold mine, I don’t let up.
I take him deeper, suck him harder, and not a second later, his low groan of pleasure rumbles around us as he comes down my throat.
Sitting up, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, his taste filling my mouth as I swallow him down.
“Fuck yeah,” he pants, dragging me forward by my hair and crashing my lips to his.
His tongue barely touches mine before there’s another bang and a shout.
“Fuck.”
Before I know what’s happening, I’m thrown down on the lounger with such force, I damn near bounce off the other side.
By the time I look up, Daemon is already hiding around the side of the sliding door and peering inside the dark house.
He looks like freaking James Bond, standing there. If James Bond was almost eighteen and incredibly freaking hot, that is.
“What is it?” I whisper.
He waves his hand at me to shut up before slipping into the house.
My heart jumps into my throat as he’s engulfed by the darkness, and my panic ratchets up a notch.
“Oh shit,” I breathe quietly as I sneak toward the doors, desperately trying to hear anything that might be happening inside.
Low voices filter down to me, but I have no chance of hearing what they’re actually saying. My heart is beating so hard it drowns out everything else going on.
My hands tremble at the thought of the Italians finding us. Of them coming here to get me.
My stomach churns as I think of Daemon being caught, of them taking him too. Of them hurting him because of me.
My legs move without instruction to my brain, and I quickly find myself skirting around the edge of the living room toward the unit where Daemon stashed both his and Alex’s guns after we did some target training on the beach yesterday.
I cringe when the drawer squeaks, but a second later, a loud pained cry fills the house and I move faster.
Daemon.
Holding the gun at my waist, I move toward the hallway. A loud bang and the shattering of some furniture make me jump, but I force myself to stay calm.
Daemon is lethal. The best soldier Dad and Uncle Damien have ever had.
If anyone can handle whatever is happening in the kitchen right now and keep me safe, then it’s him.
But I refuse to cower like a weak little lady. Because I’m not. Cirillo blood runs through my veins, and I’m determined to prove myself. To not just be an heir-bearing airhead who can’t protect herself and those she loves.
My steps falter at that realisation, but I don’t have time to dwell on the weight of it right now. Especially as another loud bang and wail hits my ears.
Rushing forward, I pull back the safety on the gun just like Daemon showed me and step into the doorway.
