Chapter 9
Dez
"On the bed," I commanded, my voice rough with need. "On your knees."
Angelina obeyed immediately, climbed onto the bed and positioned herself on all fours. The sight of her like that, still flushed from the orgasm I'd given her with the flogger and my fingers, her thighs glistening, made my dick throb.
"Perfect," I murmured, stripping off my boxer briefs and climbed onto the bed behind her. "Now, I'm going to lie down, and you're going to climb over my face. Understand?"
"You want me to…"
“Do I really need to repeat what I said?”
I stretched out on my back, and she moved carefully, straddling my chest first, looking down at me with eyes that held equal parts nervousness and desire.
"Higher," I commanded. "I want that pretty pussy right over my mouth."
She shifted, moving up until she was positioned exactly where I wanted her—hovering over my face, close enough that I could smell her arousal, see how wet she still.
"Hands behind your back," I ordered.
She complied, clasping her hands at the small of her back, and the position made her back arch beautifully, pushed her breasts forward.
"Fuck, yes." I gripped her hips and pulled her down onto my mouth.
She gasped as my tongue found her clit, still sensitive from her last orgasm. I could taste myself on her mixed with her own sweetness. The combination was intoxicating.
"Now," I said against her flesh, "you're going to suck my dick while I eat this perfect pussy. And you're going to keep your hands exactly where they are. If you move them, I stop. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," she breathed.
"Then get to work."
She leaned forward carefully, her balance precarious with her hands behind her back, and I felt her breath ghost over my dick before her mouth wrapped around the head. Her breasts pressed against me, giving me more of her softness.
Fuck.
Her tongue swirled around the tip, collecting the pre-come already leaking there, and I groaned against her pussy. The vibration made her hips twitch, trying to grind down on my face, but I held her still.
"Take your time," I commanded, then went back to work with my tongue.
She took me deeper, her mouth hot and wet and absolutely perfect. I could feel her trying to find her rhythm, complicated by the position and the fact that her hands were bound behind her back, but she was determined.
I rewarded her effort by sliding two fingers inside her while my tongue worked her clit. She was still so warm and ready for me. I felt her moan around my dick. The vibration went straight to my balls.
"That's it," I encouraged, thrusting my fingers deeper. "Show me how grateful you are. Show me what that pretty mouth can do."
She hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard, taking me deeper until I hit the back of her throat. She gagged slightly, pulled back, then tried again, and the determination—the desire to please me—made something in my chest tighten.
I licked her from entrance to clit in one long stroke, then back down, while my fingers found that spot inside that made her whole body shudder.
"Don't stop," I growled. "Don't you dare fucking stop."
She didn't. Even as I felt her thighs trembling, even as her breathing became ragged and desperate, she kept sucking, kept taking me deeper, kept working me with her tongue and her lips and that wicked mouth.
I could feel my orgasm building, could feel the pressure gathering at the base of my spine. She was close too—I could tell by the way she was clenching around my fingers, by the flood of wetness coating my chin, by the increasingly desperate sounds she was making around my dick.
"You're going to come on my face," I commanded, curling my fingers ruthlessly against that spot while my tongue flicked her clit. "And you're going to keep sucking me while you do. You don't stop until I fill your mouth. Understood?"
She made a sound that might have been agreement, might have been desperation. I didn't care which. I doubled my efforts, fingers pumping, tongue relentless, and felt her break.
She came hard, her thighs clamping around my head, her whole body shaking with the force of it. And true to my command, she kept her mouth on me, kept sucking even as she fell apart, and the dedication, the obedience, pushed me over the edge.
I came with a groan that was muffled against her pussy, my hips jerking up as I spilled into her mouth.
She took it all, swallowing around me, and the sensation made stars burst behind my eyelids.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. We just stayed like that.
Her straddling my face, my dick still in her mouth, both of us trembling with aftershocks.
Finally, she released me and I helped her shift off, both of us boneless and breathing hard. But she wasn't done.
I watched, stunned, as she moved down my body and took my softening cock back into her mouth. Gentle this time, her tongue cleaning away every trace of come, licking me clean with a thoroughness that made my heart hammer for entirely different reasons.
"Angelina," I said roughly, threading my fingers through her hair. "You don't have to—"
She looked up at me, my dicl still between her lips, and the expression in her eyes stopped whatever I was going to say.
Devotion. That's what I saw there. She finished cleaning me with slow, deliberate attention, then kissed her way up my body.
My hip, my stomach, my chest… until she was lying on top of me, her head tucked under my chin.
I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close, feeling her heart pound against my ribs.
"That was..." I didn't have words.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"For what?"
"For today. For making me feel..." She trailed off.
"Feel what?"
"Cherished." The word was so quiet I almost missed it.
Something shifted in my chest. Something dangerous and warm and absolutely terrifying.
I tilted her chin up and kissed her softly, deep, tasting both of us on her tongue. When I pulled back, her eyes were heavy-lidded and soft.
"We should talk about things," I said, even though talking was the last thing I wanted to do right now.
"In a minute." She traced patterns on my chest, her fingers following the lines of my tattoo. "I need to ask you something first."
"Anything."
"If we get married, I need to know that you'll be open to love. If it happens."
My entire body tensed. Love. The one thing I'd explicitly said I wasn't looking for. The one thing that made people weak, vulnerable, easy to manipulate. The one thing my father had beaten out of me years ago when he caught me crying over a girl who'd left.
"Angelina—"
"I'm not saying it has to happen," she said quickly, lifting her head to look at me.
"I'm not even saying it will. But I need to know that if it does, if feelings develop beyond respect and partnership and incredible sex, that you won't shut it down.
That you won't close yourself off just because love wasn't part of the original deal. "
Every instinct I had screamed at me to shut this down. To remind her this was business. To keep the walls firmly in place. But looking into her eyes, seeing the vulnerability there—
"Why?" I asked instead. "Why is that so important to you?"
She was quiet for a long moment, her fingers still tracing idle patterns on my chest.
"Because love is rare," she said finally. "Real love, the kind that's built on respect and trust and genuine affection, is so rare that when it happens, it's a gift. And I've watched too many people in our world throw it away because they thought power, money, or control was more important."
"Love makes you weak."
"No." Her voice was firm. "Fear makes you weak. Love, real love, makes you strong. It gives you something worth protecting. Someone worth fighting for. A reason to be better than you are."
"My parents aren’t in love with each other. Their marriage works fine."
"Does it?" She lifted herself up on one elbow, studying my face. "Or do they just exist in the same space, playing their roles, never really letting each other in? Is that what you want, Dez? To spend the rest of your life with someone you respect but never truly know?"
I didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Because she was right.
My parents' marriage was functional. Successful, even.
But it was also cold. Distant. They worked together like business partners, raised children like it was a project, and slept in separate bedrooms because sharing space implied an intimacy neither of them wanted.
I'd never questioned it before. It was just how things were in families like ours.
But now, lying here with Angelina's warmth pressed against me, her scent surrounding me, the taste of her still on my tongue… I questioned it all.
"Love is a kindness to your person," she continued softly.
"It's looking at someone and seeing all their flaws, all their damage, all the broken parts they try to hide and choosing them anyway.
Choosing to be gentle with those wounds instead of exploiting them.
Choosing to lift them up instead of tearing them down.
That's what love is, Dez. And it's so rare and so precious that if we're lucky enough to find it, even in an arrangement that started as business, we should be brave enough to let it happen. "
Her words hung in the air between us, weighted with hope, fear, and a vulnerability that made my chest ache.
I wanted to tell her yes. Wanted to promise that I'd be open to whatever developed between us, that I wouldn't shut her out if feelings got complicated.
But the words stuck in my throat. Because what if she was wrong?
What if love did make you weak? What if letting her in, past all the walls and armor, gave her the power to destroy me?
"I need to think about it," I said finally. "Can you give me that?"
Disappointment flickered across her face, but she nodded. "Okay."