Chapter 15: His Angel: Chapter 15

“Now get on your fucking knees.”

Everything inside me turns to liquid, his voice a rough edge of desire scraping against my bare nerves.

I obey, easing onto my knees, gazing up while watching him unzip his pants and pull out his cock. It’s so hard, so big, my pussy clenches just thinking about how it feels to have it inside me.

“There are guards everywhere,” I say. “I thought you don’t like it when others hear me.”

He gives his length a long, languid stroke. “You won’t be able to make a sound with my cock stuffed in your mouth.” He’s biting his bottom lip, tracing the velvet head of his dick along my lips. I open my mouth, but he pulls back. “Not yet.”

So I remain still, studying him from under my lashes while he stares at me with dark, dilated eyes, smearing precum along my lips. His other hand tangles in my hair, tilting my head back to give him better access.

“I love it when you look at me. When your eyes are full of sin and lust.” His grip on my hair tightens, forcing my neck to crane and my lips to part. “Beg for me, baby girl,” he whispers. “Beg me to fuck your mouth.”

His words are a delectable torment, and my throat is suddenly dry. “Please…” I swallow hard against the ache. “Please, fuck my mouth.”

Isaia’s jaw tightens, the tendons in his neck flexing as he stares down at me like he might break apart from how much he wants to. His breath shudders out of him. “Goddamn, you don’t know what that does to me.”

I hold his gaze, lips parted, everything inside me wound so tight it’s like I might shatter if he doesn’t touch me soon.

“You kneeling for me like this,” he rasps, voice thick with heat and rage barely cooled. “Eyes wide. Mouth soft. Begging like you need me just to breathe. You don’t even realize, do you? How fucking good you look like this.”

His cock grazes my bottom lip, smearing his precum. It’s possessive. Reverent. Like he’s marking me without even trying.

“I used to picture this.” He slips the head just past my lips and keeps it there. “In Chicago. You’d walk around in your own little world not knowing how close I am, and I’d think about dragging you to your knees so the whole goddamn city could watch while I wrecked you.”

My breath catches. My thighs press together, aching with the tension coiled between them.

“But I didn’t,” he says, tone dipping darker. “Because I didn’t want anyone else to see what you look like when you fall apart for me. That’s mine.”

He feeds me a little more of his cock, his taste tantalizing on my tongue.

“You think I’m overprotective?” I get another inch of his dick, and he sucks air through his teeth. “You think I’m crazy? You’re goddamn right. I am. Because you make me that way.”

I blink up at him, barely able to speak, every nerve ending tuned to him, vibrating with anticipation. My skin is flushed, my lips swollen, and I want nothing more than to be devoured by him. Owned. Consumed.

“I don’t want to protect you from the world, baby girl.” He slides in a little more. “I want to tear it apart so there’s nothing left but me and you.” With a sharp thrust, he’s in my mouth completely, hitting the back of my throat, and my eyes water as I watch him tilt his head back in exquisite pleasure. “Fuck. You drive me crazy, woman.”

With a tug on my hair, he pulls my head back, cock halfway out before easing back in, and he’s watching me take him, the power in his eyes fierce and tender simultaneously.

Abruptly, he spears deep, and I gag around him, tears welling up, and he studies me with a dark satisfaction, humming his approval that sends chills racing down my spine. His hand digs into my hair, fingers curling like a vise around the roots.

“You’re a mindfuck, you know that?” He continues to guide me, forcing me to take him in the rhythm he wants. “I’ve never wanted to cherish and ruin a woman at the same goddamn time.” With a pop, he pulls out of my mouth, and I gasp for breath as he wipes away a tear with the head of his cock, smearing it across my cheek. “It’s like you’re my heaven and my hell. But I think I’d prefer hell, because God knows I want to fucking burn for you.”

And just like that, I’m undone.

Not from touch.

Not from action.

But his words. His obsession, his control, and that twisted, terrifying kind of love that makes me feel like the most dangerous thing in his world…

And the safest.

Desire consumes me, and I don’t wait for his command, slipping my mouth around his length, taking it deep, all the way to the back of my throat, and I watch from underneath my lashes as his head falls back, the beautiful column of his throat bobbing as he moans, the sound deep and rough.

“Fuck. Open that throat, baby girl. Swallow my cock. Jesus Christ,” he moans. “Your mouth’s gonna kill me.”

His rough words slap across my skin, his control absolute and terrifying. Something dark unfurls inside me, curling me into a tight ball of lust and desire. I relax my throat, taking him as far as I can, and the deep groan he makes is what I live for.

This—pleasing him—is my sole purpose right now, my singular sweet obsession. The throbbing of my own need, the relentless echo of longing in every fiber of my being—all this to worship him.

His taste fills my senses, a cocktail of musk and something wild that I can’t identify, but it’s purely him.

He pulls my head back, and I slide off his length with a gasp as he lifts me to my feet, my eyes watering as I look at him.

“As much as I’d love to come down your throat, that’s not where I want to finish tonight.” A hint of a cruel smile plays on his lips as he releases me. His eyes are predatory as they roam down my body, making me shiver in anticipation.

With cruel fingers, he grabs my face, puckering my lips, forcing me to look up as he gazes down into my eyes. An arm snakes around my waist, and I’m sure my legs grow weaker.

“Ready to get wet, baby girl?”

I don’t get a chance to respond when he lifts me off my feet, and we’re catapulted in the air as he leaps.

The air rips from my lungs as we crash into the pool, water exploding around us in a chaotic swirl of cold and warmth. We breach the surface together, his hair slicked back from his face.

My dress is plastered to my skin, and Isaia’s already on me—hands gripping my hips, dragging me against him. The bourbon’s still on his breath, cedar sharp in the damp air, and his eyes are liquid, stripping me bare under the moon’s glare.

“This is gonna be quick. But I blame you for that since you just had to go and suck my cock like a fucking slut,” he growls, voice a blade slicing through the night, and his mouth slams onto mine, teeth clashing, tongue thrusting deep, tasting of sin and control.

My legs lock around his hips, and I claw at his shoulders, nails carving into ink and muscle. He hisses into my mouth, liking the sting, and yanks my dress up impatiently until it’s bunched at my waist.

His fingers find my panties, and water makes it easy for me to lift my legs for him to tug it off. His thumb finds my clit, and I arch, a moan tearing free. “Isaia.”

“I got you, baby girl.”

Water laps at my chest as he pins me to the pool’s edge, concrete biting my spine, his body a wall of heat and menace.

My hands fumble at his pants, still half-on and soaked, and he doesn’t help, just watches me with that dark, feral stare as I free him.

He’s rock-hard, pulsing, and I don’t wait, lifting my hips with ease and guiding him in, sinking down with a shudder that rips a curse from his lips.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, head tipping back, throat bared like a god undone. “You’re gonna make me come so damn fast, and I don’t like it.”

I still. “S…sorry.”

“Screw that.” He grabs my face, dark irises fierce and dangerous. “Never, ever apologize when you take what you need from me. Understand? My cock is yours. Yours to use the way. You fucking. Want.” He forces my head back, and I whimper as he slides his velvet tongue up the column of my throat, along my jaw, all the way to my ear—hot, wet, possessive. “Now fuck me.”

His words light me up, a match to gasoline, and I move, hips snapping, taking him deep, hard, relentless.

Water churns wildly around us, splashing against my chest, my thighs, as I ride him like I’ll break him. My nails rake his chest, red lines blooming under ink, and he groans—low, guttural, wrecked—his hands gripping my ass, urging me on.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he snarls, teeth grazing my collarbone, “use my cock.”

I do. Fiercely, frenzied, every thrust a claim. Every roll of my hips a demand.

Sweat beads on my skin, mixing with chlorine, dripping down my spine, and I’m a storm—clawing, grinding, lost in the heat of him. His cock fills me, stretches me, and I can’t get enough…can’t stop…my moans loud, shameless, echoing into the night.

He’s panting, cursing, his grip bruising as he meets me thrust for thrust, water sloshing chaotically between us.

Every molecule in my being is possessed by something fierce, dark, a lust and desire that’s unleashed like it’s been trapped my entire life.

Hungry for his taste, I slam my lips against his, dragging my tongue through his mouth like it’s mine, like every inch of him is all mine. It’s like a fever, a frenzy of heat burning my veins while the cold water laps against my skin. And his taste…oh, God, his taste. It’s no longer just bourbon, but something stronger, something far more dangerous.

Mine.

Possession explodes, wild and hot, refusing to be ignored, and I’m drunk. Consumed. Addicted. It’s a madness that has me biting his lip, and he hisses, the taste of blood exploding on my tongue. His blood. And I still instantly, horror and something heady flooding my system as I watch the red pool on his bottom lip.

The sight of his tongue darting out, tasting it, the way his eyes flash with something deranged sucks the air from my lungs, and I can feel myself teetering on the edge of whatever the hell this is, losing myself to it because, by God, it’s fucking euphoric, freedom I’ve never tasted before.

Isaia wipes his lip with his thumb, his expression all sharp edges and dangerous corners as he presses his finger, his blood, against my lips, his gaze fixed on my mouth.

Something twisted binds my insides and I slip my tongue out, lapping it up, savoring the metallic tang, an exquisite taste of his soul that makes my head spin. And like an addict, I moan as he slips his thumb into my mouth, giving me more.

“You like my taste, baby girl?”

I moan my approval.

“Words, Everly.”

“Yes,” I breathe, panting as he pulls his finger out.

“What do I taste like?”

I lick all around my lips, keeping his gaze, and abruptly thrust my hips, taking him deep, feeling a sense of power as he curses under his breath.

“You taste,” I murmur, then weave my fingers through his hair, leaning in to suck on his bleeding lip, “like mine.”

“There she is.” He grabs my throat, lips hovering close to mine. “You’re finally seeing what I knew all along.”

“And what’s that?”

His teeth graze my jaw. “That you were made to fuck,” he rasps, sliding his thumb on my chin, forcing my mouth open wide for him. “I’m going to have so much fun making you my little fuck doll.”

I dart out my tongue, licking at the blood on his lip. “What if I want you to be my fuck doll?”

“Oh, baby—” he tightens his grip on my throat “—you can ride my dick however, wherever you fucking want.”

“Well, I want it now.” I swirl my hips, angling myself so he goes so deep, it hurts.

“Jesus Christ,” he snarls, and something snaps—his control, his sanity—gone in a flash of red and lust.

His eyes go black, wild, and he grabs me, hands brutal on my hips, yanking me down as he thrusts up, hard, savage, plowing into me with a force that has me gasping for air I don’t want or need because all I need is him. Us. This.

Water erupts around us, a violent storm of splashes, and he’s out of control, growling, snarling, fucking me like a man possessed.

“Mine,” he roars, teeth sinking into my shoulder, breaking skin, and the sharp sting mixed with his relentless pace, driving his cock deep, rushes me to that sweet oblivion of pleasure.

Isaia’s merciless, each thrust a punishment, a prayer, and I’m screaming, clinging to him as I come so hard, my mind breaks while my body detonates.

My nails claw his back, tearing flesh, and he groans, louder, darker, licking the blood from my shoulder, tasting me like I tasted him, and I’m still coming, the pleasure penetrating bone.

“Fuck, Everly.” His voice is shredded, hands gripping tighter, slamming me down to meet every brutal thrust. “You scream for me. You come for me. You fucking bleed for me.” A shiver slides through me as he drags a finger through the blood pooling on my collarbone, his gaze following the scarlet trail as he smears it down my chest. “I’m certifiably out of my fucking mind for you, woman.”

My pussy clenches around him so tight he curses, loud, filthy, burying his face is my neck as I cry out while he rails me impossibly deep, water sloshing, slapping my skin, and I’m lost—sweat, blood, him—my body a live wire sparking under his assault.

His arms snake up my back, hands on my shoulders as he forces me down hard to meet his grueling thrusts, hips snapping, cock hitting deeper, faster, a relentless rhythm that breaks us both open wide…and he comes, snarling my name, his grip locking me against him like he’ll never let go. Like it’ll mean death if he does.

For the longest time, he keeps me there, letting me feel his cock jerk inside me, pulsing, and the thought of his cum inside me stokes an obsession that spirals through my veins, a swirl of heat that licks every inch of my body, branding me with the truth.

I’m his. Completely.

The faster his heart beats against my chest, the slower my world spins.

We’re wrecked, heaving, water settling softly around the chaos we’ve made, and I can’t help the delicate moans I make while trying to catch my breath.

“You’re beautiful, Everly Beaumont. A beauty no other man will ever touch.” With his forehead against mine, breath ragged, his hand trembles as he brings it up, fingers bracketing my throat. “Would it scare you if I said I’d rather drive a blade through your heart than let you walk away with mine in your hands?”

Fear should flood me, but possession coils in my gut, his threat binding me tighter. “No.” I place my palms on his face. “It makes me yours.”

I kiss him. Slow, languid, tongues flush then sliding deep, sweeping, dancing, lazily fucking his mouth.

“You. Are my. Obsession,” he confesses, and I swear it does things to me. Wild, primal, twisted things.

And I love it. His obsession? It’s become my addiction.

One I never want to be free of.