Chapter 7: His Angel: Chapter 7

The sunset bleeds into the ocean, a cascade of crimson that kisses the horizon as I toss a stick along the shoreline.

Luna charges after it, her floppy ears dancing with each bounding step, her joy infectious. I laugh—a sound so pure it mingles effortlessly with the sea breeze.

She’s more than a pet; she’s the salve to my guilty conscience. Anthony’s ghost may hover in the shadows, but Isaia’s whispered I love you reverberates stronger, his last kiss still lingering on my lips, electric and haunting.

I’m not sure what kind of person it makes me when my infatuation with Isaia overrides the loss of a friendship that got me through some of the hardest times in my life. But I choose not to think about it because I’m not sure I’m going to like the answer.

On the deck, Isaia stands outlined against the darkening sky, without a shirt and a glass of bourbon in hand. He’s been watching me for an hour, just standing there, staring. I can feel his gaze burning my skin, feel his intensity reaching for me. It does something to my insides, having his eyes on me while I pretend not to notice.

I wonder what he’s thinking while he watches me.

Is he thinking of closing the distance, claiming me right here on the white sand? Or does it go deeper, darker?

Maybe he’s counting every step, memorizing every move, plotting out exactly how he’ll draw me into the shadows where no one else can see, where he can ruin and rule my body and mind.

It shouldn’t thrill me. It shouldn’t make the hair on the back of my neck stand up with excitement. But it does, and each look is a chain he forges, linking me to him, and deep down a part of me loves it. It’s a dark game, but it’s ours.

Luna collapses, tongue out, sides heaving with happy exhaustion, so I head back to the house to feed her before she passes out.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.” Isaia’s eyes track me as I walk up the stairs. “That dog’s a menace.”

“You’re just jealous ’cause you’re not as cute.”

He scoffs, then swallows the last of his bourbon. “I’m going to check in on security, make sure everyone’s where they should be.”

“How many security guards do you have on the island?”

“Right now, twenty-two. Got eight more coming in tomorrow.”

“Thirty?” I raise a brow. “You sure we need that many?”

He pulls me close and places a kiss on my forehead. “Baby, if I had my way, there’d be a hundred of them around here. I’ll be back soon. Stay in the house.”

An hour later, I’m curled on the couch reading some book about ancient civilizations, the intricate hieroglyphics and monuments of a long-lost era.

My mind navigates through the stone-laden streets of the past, each turn revealing another piece of the mystery. Luna snoozes on the rug next to me with soft snores punctuating the gentle hum of the air conditioning.

Feet stomp across the deck outside, and when Isaia steps in, I lift my gaze to him, my heart doing that silly flutter it always does when I see him.

He’s shirtless, his skin sheened with sweat, his hair tousled by the wind. The muscles of his biceps and shoulders ripple, gilded by the dim light of the corner lamp. A pagan God with eyes that gleam a dark, predatory glint.

I close the book. “Everything okay?”

Without saying a word, he settles on the chair across from me, muscled thighs spread wide, elbow resting on the armrest, fingers rubbing along his jaw. The air thickens, his silence a weight that presses against my skin, and I feel the heat of his stare.

“Isaia?” I set the book on the coffee table, his eyes fixed on me, unblinking, a shiver skittering down my spine. “What’s going on?”

“Take off your panties.” His voice cuts low, vibrating through the room.

A flush creeps up my neck. “What?”

“You heard me. Take ’em off.” His gaze darkens, and my core clenches, heat wrapping around me like a vise.

The old Everly he bumped into months ago would either melt into embarrassment or run as far away as possible. But he’s changed me. His touch, his unapologetic sexuality gives me a confidence I never thought I’d have. So I stand and reach under my dress, fingers trembling against the soft fabric.

Slowly, I slide my panties down—cotton dragging along my thighs, his eyes tracking every inch, every quiver—until they pool around my feet. My pulse races, heart slamming against my ribs like a drum, his intensity stoking the fire already flickering low in my belly.

“Now sit.” His deep, primal growl sends a thrill through me, and I obey, sinking back onto the couch, bare legs brushing together as I settle. He leans back, sprawled and predatory, with eyes that gleam with hunger. “Open your legs.”

Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I let my thighs part, pulse pounding, pussy throbbing as his gaze drops to my core. A dark rumble rolls from his chest, and heat blossoms, my body responding to that feral sound.

“Always my good fucking girl.” His praise washes over me, spreading fire through my veins as he slips a hand into his pants, pulling out his cock. Thick, hard, it makes my mouth water, desire pooling between my legs. His fingers are wrapped around it, stroking slowly.

“Touch yourself.”

“Um…I⁠—”

“Just do it, baby girl. Show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone.” His hand tugs his length, and the sight ignites me, overriding any doubt.

With shaking fingers, I slide my hand down between my thighs, conscious of his gaze following every move, and he sucks air through his teeth—a sharp hiss—gripping his cock tighter, stroking up and down.

Confidence swells, and I lick my lips. “Like that?”

“Hmmm.” The sound vibrates across my skin and my eyes flutter shut as I find my clit, circling slowly, warm pleasure unfurling.

“Finger yourself,” he commands, tugging his cock hard, a grunt echoing, and I press my middle finger in, gasping as it glides into my tight warmth.

“Ah,” I breathe, surrendering to the sensation.

“Two fingers, baby.”

His breathing grows ragged, echoing my own as I slowly push another inside myself, a soft gasp escaping my lips at the sensation.

“Your pussy’s glistening, all swollen and plump, ripe for my cock.” His strokes quicken, watching me, needing me, and my control slips, fingers curling, exploring.

Tilting my head back, I cup my breast, squeezing hard when he growls, “Jesus, fuck!”

The sound of him shatters me, his chair creaking as he surges forward, rushing to me in a blur of muscle and heat.

Without a word, he drops to his knees, hands jerking me to the couch’s edge, his breath hot against my thighs.

My heart slams, anticipation flooding as he grabs my hips, pulling me close, his fingers digging into my skin with a starved edge. His eyes—dark, wild—lock on mine for a heartbeat then drop, fixated on my sex like it’s his lifeline.

“You’ve got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, he grabs my thighs and spreads my legs wide…wider…until I’m bared to him completely, cool air kissing my slick heat.

A shiver races through me, my pussy aching as his warm breath brushes across my wet flesh, like he’s been stalking this moment, waiting to devour me. Then he leans in, nose grazing my clit, inhaling deep, driving me insane, and his tongue flicks out licking a long, languid stripe up my slit, tasting me like a starved man.

“Isaia,” I moan, reaching down, weaving my fingers through his hair, my hips moving to his rhythm.

A moan spills from me as he dives in, tongue plunging deep, lapping at my wetness with a hunger that shakes me to my core.

My legs tremble, spread wide under his grip, as he licks, savoring every inch, every drop, his lips brushing my folds, teasing, then sucking softly, pulling a cry from my throat.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he growls, voice thick, vibrating against me. His tongue dives back, licking like he’s memorizing my taste, and my hands clutch the cushions as he presses harder, sucking my clit, rolling it between his lips, pleasure coiling tight, hot, almost unbearable.

His fingers dig into my thighs, spreading me wider, his mouth relentless—lapping, sucking, teasing—my moans spilling free, desperate, as he worships me like I’m his last breath.

His tongue slows, drawing out the torment, tracing my slit, dipping in, then flicking my clit softly, too softly.

“Isaia, I need…” My hips buck, chasing more, but he holds me firmly, controlling me, his breath ragged against my heat.

“You’re so fucking sweet. I want to make this last,” he rasps, licking deeper, slower, his tongue curling inside me, tasting every shudder, every pulse.

My skin is slick, pleasure so close to cresting, but he pulls back, lips glistening, kissing my inner thigh, nipping the skin—sharp, electric—then dives in again, tongue plunging, his hands spreading me open, fingers bruising as he licks me slowly, then fast, building me up to that sweet height.

My climax looms, the pressure building to an almost painful peak, his tongue sliding before using his teeth, biting gently, and every muscle in my body starts to tremble as he drives me higher, until I’m teetering, my pussy contracting. And I’m there…I’m right fucking there, on the brink of coming when he rears back and pulls me up, wrapping my legs around him as he carries me to the bedroom.

“What are you doing to me?” I ask, out of breath.

“Only a fraction of what you’re doing to me. What you’ve been doing to me ever since you crashed into my life.”

Our mouths collide, and I taste myself on his lips, his tongue, and it’s raw, wild, the kiss matching the racing rhythm of our hearts.

We’re on the bed, our lips parting long enough for him to remove my dress, and the force of gravity rushes back, and he kisses me slowly, yet hard and deep as he settles me beneath him, my legs instinctively parting.

His powerful hands roam my body, fingers exploring as he finds every inch of my naked flesh, each touch sending an electric rush through my veins. He dips his head, tongue tracing the curve of my breast before biting down gently, my back arching off the sheets.

“I owe you an apology,” he rasps, sliding his tongue up from my nipple, along the column of my throat.

My hips move in search of him, and I feel the velvet tip of his cock against my thigh. “You need to be more specific.”

“When you woke up after we got here, you were hurting, and I fucked you when I should have made love to you.”

“Isaia—”

“I need to show you I can be gentle, when you need me to be.”

His hand slides into my hair, pulling my head back slightly as he eases farther into me.

“I need to show you a side of me I’ve never shown anyone else.” My breath hitches as he pulls back and out, only to sink back in, again teasing me with a maddeningly slow entrance. “I need you to know that I’ll fight my very nature for you.”

“Is your nature to fuck?” I whisper, completely entranced by the delicious burn of him.

“It used to be.” This time he pushes farther into me, hips flexing, my toes curling with pleasure.

“And what is it now?”

Warm lips claim mine with a kiss that sears bone, his tongue tangling with mine in a rhythm that matches his tantalizingly slow thrusts. “To love you,” he murmurs, and I swear my heart explodes into tiny fragments that pierce my soul.

He pulls back to look me in the eye, his steely gaze burning with an intensity I haven’t seen before, and his hand cups my cheek as he sinks back into me, slowly and impossibly deep. “I’ve never loved someone like this, Everly.”

It’s no longer just pleasure, or need, or lust. It’s something profoundly stronger than that. Something that reaches past all the barriers and walls—something bigger than mafia wars and bloodshed.

It’s love. The kind that’s impossible to fight.

I search his eyes as I cup his cheeks in my palms, our gazes locked. “And I’ve never been loved like this,” I whisper back. “And I don’t want to be loved like this by anyone but you.” My fingers slide back to tangle in his hair, and he stills.

“You do things to me. Things I’ve never felt. And it scares the shit out of me, baby girl.”

“Me too.” I bite my bottom lip. “I’m scared, too.”

With a gentle finger, he brushes a strand of hair from my face. “Promise me, no matter what happens, you’ll never, ever doubt my love for you.”

“Isaia,” I roll my hips, my body growing desperate, “I need you.”

His eyes roll closed and he lets out a heavy breath. So I do it again…and again, witnessing his control slipping as I take his cock. My insides start to coil tighter, chills erupting across my skin when his hand finds my hip, forcing me to keep still.

“I don’t want to lose control with you tonight.” The desperation in his voice strikes a chord deep within me. I can feel the tremor in his grip, the battle between surrendering to his primal instinct and maintaining the tenderness he needs to show me.

With the slide of his hand, he guides my leg around his waist, and I gasp as he pushes in even deeper, hitting the spot that takes my breath. “You need someone who can be gentle, too.”

I try to move, but he has me pinned. “Isaia, I⁠—”

“Everly, please.” He places a delicate kiss just below my ear. “I need to do this, but you have to keep still, or I won’t be able to.” My fingers dig into his shoulders, and he hisses. “Fuck, woman. Just by touching me, you drive me crazy. Give me your hands.”

I obey, and he takes both wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head, taking complete control, his gaze locked on mine as he rears back slowly, letting me feel every inch of him.

As the head of his cock slides out, he slips back in, and my toes curl, my legs trembling as each stroke sends a wave of pleasure to my core.

His control is as agonizing as it is exquisite, and my entire body quivers with sensations that leave me on the brink of madness. I want to press my fingers into the flesh of his ass, urge him deeper, harder. I want to move my hips to meet his every thrust, but I know he needs this, and maybe I need this, too.

Maybe we both need to feel this—a different kind of intimacy, a slower pace where each breath and touch is savored, to discover if we can exist within this fragile balance of control and surrender.

Just the look in Isaia’s eyes pins me down, a claim, a promise, and a wordless plea all at once.

He continues to move with torturous precision, each stroke carefully measured, his restraint underlined by the noticeable clench of his jaw and tension in his broad shoulders. The heat of the room seems to increase, perspiration beading on his face, the air punctuated by sighs and gasps as he makes love to me, claiming me in a way he’s never claimed any woman before.

With every slow thrust into me, his pubic bone gives my clit the pressure my body craves, only to be denied as he withdraws just as slowly, over and over again.

“God, you’re beautiful like this.” Isaia lowers his head, capturing my lips into a slow, passionate kiss that mirrors the rhythm of our bodies, and the sensation brings me to the precipice of ecstasy. It’s powerful, potent, his control over every thrust, every breath, every pulse of my veins, creating a storm inside me, an almost painful need. I feel desperate, ready to surrender but kept on the edge by his careful control.

“Isaia,” I beg. “Please…I need⁠—”

“Shh, baby girl. I’m going to make you come like this.” The promise of release in his words sends a shiver down my spine, spreading like electricity to the tips of my fingers and toes. The entire world vanishes. It’s just us. And I wish it could stay like this forever.

He traces one hand down my body, from my heaving chest to the waist that he holds in place. Tension coils even more tightly inside me, a whimper escaping as he leans into my neck, lips just below my ear.

“I love you, Everly Beaumont.”

He slides out and then sinks back in.

“I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you. From our very first kiss, you were mine.” His words hit me like a tidal wave, coursing through my veins, flooding my senses until they’re all I can taste, hear, feel. “You are everything to me.”

“Isaia,” I whisper his name, tears slipping from my eyes, which he gently licks away as they run down my face.

“I was born to love you. I exist to love you.” His fervent confession wraps around me like a blanket, offering warmth, protection, and an undeniable truth that makes my heart flutter. Each word is punctuated with a deep thrust that makes me gasp, the promise of a climax looming closer and closer with each meticulous movement.

Cupping my breast, his thumb traces my nipple, his lips claiming the delicate skin of my throat, licking, lapping, kissing.

“You are the first and only love of my life…and you’ll be the last,” he adds, thick with emotion. “Now, let me hear you say it,” he urges, slipping his cock into me as deep as it can go, and my mind is on the brink of breaking, my body humming. “Say it out loud. Say that I love you.” He thrusts in deep.

“Oh, God.” Pleasure ignites.

“Say it, baby girl.” He’s out of breath, his cock swelling inside me, his arms and shoulders trembling, but he doesn’t quicken the pace. “Say it.”

“Isaia.” My orgasm starts low in my core, rippling out in waves. “You love me. I know you love me…ah…”

Tears spill down my cheeks as pleasure crests, my mind, my soul, my body falling deeper into him than ever before. It’s a slow burn of euphoria that keeps on flowing, up my spine, my shoulders, my back arching as it reaches my core.

“And I love you, too,” I declare breathlessly as everything peaks.

His control falters once, twice, the rhythm stuttering as he keeps whispering that he loves me, his raw thrusts making me cry out in helpless pleasure.

“Fuck,” he growls, burying his face in my neck, his breath coming in hot, desperate bursts. “I love you…Jesus…fuck…I love you.”

His back arches as he flexes, needing to be deeper, and then he stills completely, casting us in silence, allowing me to hear and feel nothing else but him coming inside me.

Every twitch, every pulse, is tightly wrapped within my walls, and time stops. Our world shrinks to this room, this moment. Nothing else matters but us…and that’s the moment I realize that nothing ever will.