Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Hevan
Having Azrael on top of me should make me feel powerless, and I always believed that would scare me, but I knew I was safe beneath him.
He isn’t the man he’s portrayed himself to be.
At least with me he isn’t, and that feeling, his sheer strength encompassing me, was the driving force behind the intense orgasm that had me coating his pillow just as he commanded.
Our heavy breathing evens out, but he remains inside me, draped over me like a protector, and my only regret is that I wish I could see the serene look of unadulterated bliss that crosses his handsome features as he comes down from his ecstasy.
The look that follows the intense gratification is something I will never forget and find myself anticipating its arrival after each encounter. Something I miss from this experience.
“Am I crushing you?” His voice is thick and laced with an unfamiliar edge of concern, and when he breathes into my ear, a shiver trickles down my neck, causing me to seek his warmth.
“No.”
He chuckles, and I smile against the fabric. “Liar.”
“I like you here. Inside me.”
He stills, and I wish I could take the words back.
A solemn sigh leaves him. “I don’t do pillow talk, Little Toy.”
“I beg to differ,” I quip back, and a roar of laughter erupts from him. Then he does the unthinkable. He pulls away from me, taking his warmth, his weight, and his aura with him, and I already dread the sound of the door clicking shut behind him.
But he tucks an arm under his head and rests against the only pillow remaining at the headboard. He’s on display to me—every inch of his perfectly crafted body.
Before I second-guess it, I sit up and face him, then use my forefinger to trace his abs and the sculpted V leading to his thick cock while my eyes eat up his array of tattoos.
“Are you going to clean my cock for me, Little Toy?”
His cock twitches, and as inviting as it looks, I shake my head and chew on my lip. Then I continue trailing over his ridges. “In a minute, I want to explore you first.”
He sighs but relaxes against the mattress, and it’s not lost on me that this is the calmest he’s been in my presence.
I swirl my finger over the bullet wounds and caress his scars, and I press the tip of my finger firmer against his ink, rejoicing in the way his eyes soften against my touch.
As I find my way up to his neck, I circle his Adam’s apple, and he watches me from beneath his thick lashes, my heart pounding along the way.
Softly, I follow the line of the scar on his face. It slashes across his cheek, and I hate the fact that someone wanted to maim him so viciously.
“My father did it.”
My finger stills.
“He wasn’t happy that his favorite whore called me handsome.” His lip twitches as if he finds his words amusing.
Inside, I’m bubbling. His father did this? To his own son? He’s truly an animal.
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
A bolt of horror slams into me. “Thirteen?”
A villainous smile slowly spreads over his face, making him look somewhat deranged yet handsome at the same time.
“It’s not my fault if the whores preferred me.” He shrugs, and his words curdle my stomach.
“You slept with women at thirteen?”
“I wouldn’t call it sleeping. We fucked. I’ve never slept with a woman.”
“You’re probably scared she’s going to cut you in the night,” I bite out, unimpressed by his amusement. “And this isn’t funny, Azrael. That’s child abuse.”
He rolls his eyes.
“I’m serious. You can’t be okay with that.”
His body coils beneath me. “I never said I was.” He clenches his teeth, and his glare is a warning.
I opt to change the subject, hoping I don’t push him away like previous nights.
“What about your mother?”
A loud huff spills from him, and he pushes me away, then he rolls off the bed and grabs the pillow from the bed that he had me riding.
“Azrael?”
“This”—he waves his finger between us—“is why I fuck and leave. I don’t want to talk about fucking feelings, Little Toy. I have none.”
“Well, I do, and right now, I feel like you’re being a dick!” I snap back, unable to help myself.
He jolts, and the confused look on his face would be comical if I weren’t so angry.
“And before you leave, I want you to know I want to go outside. I tried asking Elizabeth, but the woman refuses to speak to me. Which is rude, might I add.” I cross my arms over my chest.
He blinks, staring back at me as if I have multiple heads.
“I always imagined when I had sex it would be with a man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” The air thickens between us, but it’s like I’m invisible to the danger swirling between us, so I continue on with my tirade.
“To be wined and dined, to go on a perfect date, dance, and he’d take me home and make love to me. Instead, I got this!” I shout.
He laughs, and the sound is full of mocking.
“You’re in a fucking dream world, sweetheart.
Let me tell you something.” He takes two steps forward, then he grabs a hold of my hair and yanks it back, straining my neck for me to stare up at him.
“You gave your body to me, Hevan.” He spits the words out like acid, and I wince at the spite in them.
“Your life is here until I say otherwise, so get any silly fairytale notions out of your damn head and concentrate on pleasing me in order to survive. There will be no fucking dates, no dancing, and no fucking making love.” He releases me, and I slump onto the mattress.
The tears brimming in my eyes don’t come until the door closes behind him, and when they do, I cry until I can’t cry anymore.
I cry for the life I was supposed to have, and for the man I want him to be.