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“Thank you, God.” There was a God. There had to be, because he was holding an angel in his arms. His Angel. He leaned in to devour her. Fucking devour her when horror washed through him.An angel.Shit. He pulled back and stared hard into her eyes.
“You’re not a virgin, are you?”
Her wrist flinched in his hand, but he wasn’t letting her go. Hell no.
“Why? Does it matter?” She struggled some more, her body twisting away. “Is that why you’re here? Did I look like some virgin? Is that what gets you off? Well, too bad. I’m not.”
Hallelujah. Hannibal would go to church. His aunties would be so proud. But maybe not, if they knew their sinner son returned to the lord to thank him for the woman he was about to commit all kinds of sins with.
“It’s tough; on the one hand, I want to kill the fucktard who had you first. But on the other hand, I want to celebrate. Because I won’t have to take my time and pace myself. Making it easy for you while I die from one slow stroke at a time.”
She arched her torso back. Her brown eyes went golden with curiosity. “And what would you do with me instead?”
“This…” He crushed the next words on her lips. Reveling in the taste of her. Chocolate with the faint dusting of cinnamon covered her bare red lips. He’d thought they were red from her lipstick, but no, it was just Angel. Her perfect red lips and chocolate taste melted inside his mind. Seeping into the crevices and sealing his heart like tar poured over a pothole.
He moaned. Fucking moaned. He’d kill a fucker for saying he did, but he fuckingmoaned. Shit, what was she doing to him? What would she do to him? A tremor went up his spine, and he trembled like a fucking pussy.Was this what happened to his father?
Thenshemoaned and thank you, God in heaven. He wasn’t in it alone. He curled his hand around her neck, pressing her lips deeper against his while he opened her mouth and sucked her tongue. Each swipe against her lips was a match striking. Until he burned in the arms, she twisted around his stomach. Holding on as if he were taking her on a fast ride around a sharp corner. She moaned again, and he caught it with his tongue and held it in his mouth. Sweetest sound he’s ever tasted, and he wanted more. So much more. That sound belonged to him. Dammit.
“Mine.”
Angel pulled her dazed head back, her brows wrinkling in the middle over her cloudy eyes. “Huh?”
Lie or not? Fuck it. Not.
“Mine.” His brows lowered. She was his. He wouldn’t hide it. He got that it probably scared the fuck out of her, but the fuck if he would lie. “I knew you belonged with me, but now that I’ve tasted you….” He smacked his lips against hers. Licking the sweet swell of her lips. “Angel, you’re mine.”
He pulled her head back to his. She could work out what she thought he meant later. Right now, he needed more of her.
“Can I have you, Angel? Will you let me taste every inch of this glorious body? I want to feel every bump, every roll. Everything you think is wrong with yourself. I want to show you how it couldn’t be more perfect. You’re a treasure sent straight from heaven. Let me treasure you. Can I?”
He nearly bit a hole into his lip, waiting for her fucking consent. What the hell was so wrong with the days when a man could just pick a woman, drag her back to his cave, and pump her full of babies until she never wanted to leave? He grunted. Waited. Thanks to his aunts, he’d never force a woman, but damn, waiting was torture. Especially when you knew what belonged to you.
He pressed a softer kiss on her lips. Sweetening his offer. God, let her feel one-tenth of this firestorm.Please, God. When was the last time he’d asked God for a thing?
Was it too much at once to ask for one of his angels?
“Yes.”
Somehow, Angel had heard his question and answered. Hannibal’s shoulders sagged, and he released her. His hands flailing from the loss of her.
But then she smiled and took his face. “I said,yes.” She tucked a braid behind her ear. “If you still want me?”
What the fuck kind of question… Angel whooped when he picked her up, her knee bowing over his forearms. “Yes. Yes, and yes. Always.” Her body swayed as he searched. “Where is your room?”
“Here.” The studio was a tidy, open space sparsely filled with furniture. Light poured in through the windows on the side of the attic apartment and rafters with exposed wood beams canopied overhead. Her plump butt wiggled in his arms as his fingers resisted letting her go.
“Let me show you.” She slid down his body, and he almost dropped to his knees to worship her ascent. His hands splayed open before balling into fists in protest.
His dick shuddered against his jeans when she turned, giving him a view of her perfect ass. She turned to the couch, flipped, and tugged something until it went flat.
“It’s a futon.”
“A what?” He raised his brow. It was only a foot off the ground and looked like it would collapse if he sat on it. Did she understand how big he was? He hadn’t fit properly in a bed since he was sixteen. At six feet nine inches, he’d promised himself that one day when he settled down, he’d buy himself one of those custom beds that would accommodate his length. But shit, even though he was used to his feet hanging off the edge, her dollhouse-sized bed would also have his knees hanging off.
The tiny bed taunted him.“You don’t belong here. You don’t fit. Go away.”
He shook his head. Fucking ridiculous.
