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“I’ll be very clear. If that happens, bella, you’ll be signing those men’s death warrants. Their murder will be on your conscience.”
No, he’s not joking. The statement is enormous. I don’t want to believe it, but I do. Angelo is the kind of man who means what he says.
I don’t understand his possessiveness. “You got what you wanted. Now, go. Leave me in peace.”
His reply is calm, almost soothing. “No.”
The unreasonable stubbornness only confuses me more. “I’m tired. I just want to sleep.”
“I know, cara.” His voice is soft. “You can sleep soon but not yet.”
“Why?” I ask with frustration. “There can’t be anything to add after all that you’ve said.”
He rests his weight on one elbow and brushes the wet hair from my forehead. “I saved myself for you, Sabella. I waited a long time for you. A very long time. That’s why.”
I saved myself for you.
He can’t mean what I think he does. Not Angelo. Not the handsome, darkly alluring, virile man with the body of a god and a cock that presses against my stomach like a steel rod. Not a man of twenty-two who seems so much older than his age, a wealthy man from a powerful family who must have plenty of female admirers. Yet his voice held vulnerability and uncertainty. His fucking was rough and clumsy, almost violent.
A realization stabs into my brain.
Oh my God.
He wasn’t battling to control himself.
He’s inexperienced.
“Was I—Was this your first time?” I ask, dumbfounded. “I thought…” Wait. The way he looked at me in the bathroom… “You’ve never seen a naked woman before?”
His smile isn’t insecure or embarrassed. It’s proud. “You’re my first.”
“Why?” I whisper.
“You’re mine, and I’m yours.”
My head swims with his words, my brain struggling to process their meaning. I want to ask for an explanation, but he lowers his head and presses his lips on mine. The kiss isn’t like our first. It’s not a dry peck that’s over too soon. It’s wet and dirty and untamed, filled with longing and passion, and it stirs something in my body again, something Angelo satiated not minutes ago.
I don’t know why I don’t tell him to stop. Maybe it’s his confession that softened me. That he waited. For me. Maybe it’s being drunk on champagne and lust, but when he strokes his tongue over mine, I forget about everything else. No, that’s not true. I don’t forget. I simply choose not to remember. Just for a short while, I ignore all the reasons why this is wrong.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him closer. I kiss him with all the anger I’ve locked inside me, punishing him for all the suffering he’s caused. My teeth do damage, but he doesn’t fight me. He gives me an outlet for my vengeance, letting me use him savagely and primitively.
Arousal sparks in my belly when he parts my legs with his knee and settles between my thighs. His cock nudges my entrance, hot and hard and slick. My inner muscles give when he parts me with the broad head, my body already welcoming the possession.
This time, he enters me slowly. Painlessly. The stretch still burns, but the pleasure that wakes my nerve endings is instantaneous. The anticipation that runs through me contracts my nipples. The sounds falling from my lips should make me cringe, but I’m too lost in the moment to care, too lost in the haze of pleasure, too lost in the endless darkness of his eyes.
He’s gentler than earlier, rocking inside me with a lazy pace. He lifts my leg and bends my knee to find a different angle. The penetration is deeper.
I cry out.
“Like this?” he asks, concentration etched on his face.
He’s trying to make it feel good for me. Moaning, I nod. I quickly find his rhythm, moving my hips with his.
“Fuck, bella.” A trickle of sweat runs down his temple. “Slow down a little, cara.”
I brush a hand over the hard muscles of his chest, closing my fingers over the black ink. Taunting, again. “Are you close?”
“Too close.” He bites out the words. “What you do to me.”
“Then do it.” I arch my body, rubbing my clit against his groin. “Make us come.”
Uttering a growl, he lets go of my leg and slips a hand between our bodies. He takes care not to crush me, supporting his weight on the arm he puts next to my face. I turn my head, my gaze drawn by the flex of his powerful muscles. His bicep bunches as he picks up his pace while rubbing circles over my clit. I can’t look away from the perfect cut of those muscles, but then the sparks between my legs vanish and he’s digging his fingers into my cheeks, forcing me to face him.
