Chapter Twelve
Faith
" A ngel," Octavio says, crouching down in front of where I'm sitting in the passenger side of Knox's truck. "I'm going to be here for a while. I want you to go ahead and go next door with Gunner."
I glance over his shoulder at Agent Gunner, who stands off to the side. He lifts his chin in a nod, offering me a half-smile.
"Can't I stay here?" I ask, chewing on my bottom lip.
"You can't," Octavio murmurs. "We're trying to keep you out of sight. I can't do that if every cop on their way here sees you."
I hesitate, not because I'm afraid of Agent Gunner, but because I don't want to leave without seeing Mila. Half an hour ago, Octavio, Roman, and everyone else stormed the house to bring her out safely. Remi Pledger shot himself in front of her when he heard them coming. Roman carried her out of the living room, but he hasn't come back out yet.
I'm still not even sure what happened. One minute, Mila and I were sitting on the couch, talking about my life with Nikolai and the Bratva. The next, we heard the back door sliding open. And then Remi was there.
I thought he was going to kill both of us, but Mila convinced him to let me go. I didn't want to leave her, but I had to do it. I had to let Knox know Remi was inside. Leaving her in there alone with Remi was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I love Mila. She's my first real friend…my only friend.
I glance down at Octavio, take in the way his eye is twitching again, and then sigh. He's stressed out about me being seen out here.
"I'll go," I say, giving in.
The stiff set of his shoulders relaxes infinitesimally. He pushes himself to his feet, reaching out for me. His hands close around my waist. He pulls me close to him and then slides me down his big body until I'm on my feet. His sepia eyes lock on mine. I can't read the emotion in them, but a shiver works its way through me, and heat pools in my belly.
"I'll be there as soon as I can, little bunny," he whispers. He doesn't let me go, though. Instead, his hands tighten on my waist, tugging me a step closer. He tips his head toward mine and presses his lips to my forehead.
I want to lean into him, but I don't. He murmurs something beneath his breath. It sounds like I could have lost you …but I'm not sure. A second later, he pulls away, waving Agent Gunner over.
"I'll be there as soon as I can," he mutters to Gunner and then shoots me a look I can't decipher before heading back toward Roman's.
"You okay?" Agent Gunner asks, walking beside me toward Octavio's.
"I'm fine. Um, thank you for sitting with me."
Agent Gunner gives me another half-smile. "It's all good, Ms. Donovan."
We don't speak again until we're inside. Agent Gunner heads toward the living room, looking around. I watch him for a long moment. I want to say something to him about Sanders, thank him for trying to help me that night. But I don't know how to bring it up.
I guess there isn't a way except to just do it.
"Agent Gunner?"
He turns toward me.
"I just wanted to thank you for trying to protect me that night. For getting Sanders out of there and making a statement and everything." I shove my hands into the pockets of my hoodie. "I appreciate it."
He eyes me for a moment, his expression soft. "It's all good, sweetheart. I'm sorry for what he did. That shit wasn't cool. Had I known he was capable of something like that, I would have asked for him to be pulled off your detail."
I give him a small nod. I believe him. He's one of the good guys, I think.
He smiles back. "You doing good here?"
"Octavio is nice to me."
Gunner's smile widens and he shakes his head like he knows something I don't, but he doesn't say anything. He just grins again and heads toward the couch. I trail behind him, plopping down in the recliner. He turns the television on, flipping through channels until he finds a football game.
"Do you want something to drink?" I ask him a few minutes later, not sure what else to do with myself. I feel restless and raw, like I can't settle or relax now that Octavio isn't here. He calms me down, makes me feel safe. He said Mila's okay, and I believe him…but I'm not sure I'm okay.
Before Remi broke in, I told Mila things I've never told anyone. Not even Dr. Shapiro. I think…I think I want to tell Octavio though. I've been writing everything I know about Nikolai’s men in my notebook to give to him. I thought maybe doing it that way would be easier than confessing out loud what they did to me, what they made me watch them do to others. But I think I need to say the words.
Agent Gunner turns his head in my direction. "I'm fine, Ms. Donovan. Thank you."
I nod and lean back in the recliner, bringing my hand to my lips. Perhaps it's my imagination, but it feels as if they're still swollen from the way Octavio kissed me.
Octavio kissed me.
My heart soars toward my throat and then immediately sinks toward my stomach as hope and practicality war for dominion. Did he kiss me because he wanted to kiss me? Or was he simply caught up in the moment? I'm almost afraid to find out.
If he regrets it or says he didn't mean it….
I take a deep breath, battling back hope until it's a hard lump in my stomach and nothing more. Of course he didn't mean it. He was trying to comfort me. That's all it was. When he gets back, he'll ask if I'm okay. I'll tell him that I'm fine, and we'll retreat to opposite ends of the house as we've been doing for most of the last week.
Business as usual.
"Faith."
I jerk upright to find Octavio standing over me, his expression indecipherable. Deep shadows surround his eyes, and his sharp jawline is scruffy. He looks tired, like he's on the verge of falling over. His hair is damp, and he's changed clothes. He must have showered.
I glance over his shoulder, only to realize Agent Gunner is gone and the television is off. The shadows in the room are deeper, like the sun is well on its way to setting for the night. The soft glow of the kitchen light leaks into the room, illuminating the area immediately around me.
"I must have fallen asleep," I mumble, sitting up in the chair and rubbing the heels of my hands against my eyes. "What time is it?"
"It's a little after seven."
"I've been sleeping for two hours."
Octavio's lips quirk into a smile. "You need sleep."
"So do you." I tip my head back. Not for the first time, I realize how much bigger he is than me. His thighs are thick, his waist trim. He's tall and powerful, like a Redwood. He doesn't make me feel small or fragile, though. Not even when he's towering over me like he is right now. He makes me feel…as if I belong somewhere. As if I'm home.
Except this is his home, not mine.
Sadness flows through me at the reminder.
I push myself to my feet, the desire to flee before he breaks my heart rising fast. I don't think I can handle him telling me he regrets kissing me. Not right now.
He takes a step back to keep from crowding me.
"I'm still tired," I lie, refusing to meet his gaze. My emotions are too raw. The day's events have broken open still-healing wounds, leaving me feeling fragile and exposed. "I'm going to get in bed."
"You should eat something, Faith."
"I'm not hungry." It's not a lie. The thought of food sends bile creeping up my throat. Octavio doesn't need to know that part, though. "I had a big lunch."
He growls wordlessly, thrusting out an arm to stop me from slipping past him. "Stop trying to run from me, little bunny. It's pissing me off."
"I'm not running from you."
His eyes flash fire at me. "You're lying."
"I'm not…" The warning look he sends in my direction unravels my protest before I can even fully formulate it. "You're tired, Octavio. I'm just trying to get out of the way so you can go to bed. You've only had two hours of sleep since you got up yesterday morning."
"I'd sleep a hell of a lot better if you were in my bed with me, conejita ."
"That's…not a good idea."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not."
Another growl rumbles in his chest. Something almost predatory flares in his gorgeous eyes. He takes a step toward me, his expression fierce. I back up, but he keeps moving forward, stalking me like a wild animal until my back is pressed against the wall beside the recliner. My heart pounds like a drum against my ribcage and my stomach flutters.
"Back up," I whisper, my voice shaking.
"I'm not going to hurt you."
I never thought he would, but he's too close. If he touches me, I'll crumble. And being rejected by this man once was enough. I don't think I'll survive a repeat of that.
"I'd tear my heart out of my chest before I hurt you."
"You already hurt me," I whisper.
"How?" He leans over me, placing his forearm on the wall above my head. His scent surrounds me, making me dizzy. I lock my knees, clenching my hands into fists to keep myself from wrapping them in his shirt. "Tell me, little bunny. What did I do to hurt you?"
"You didn't want me." I grit my teeth and square my jaw, fighting the urge to cry over that fact. I think I'd sell my soul to belong to this man, but he doesn't feel the same way about me. That shouldn't matter as much as it does. It shouldn't hurt so damn badly. My own mother didn't want me, but knowing Octavio doesn't want me hurts even worse than that.
"Ah, angel," he whispers, his voice pained…as if I hurt him. "Don't you know I'd kill any man who tried to touch you?" He brings his right arm up, tipping my face up toward his with gentle fingers. The intense expression on his face sears into me, stealing my breath. " Tu me vuelves loco. Te adoro. Te necesito. Quiero que seas mia. "
"I…what?" My head spins, and I know there's no way I'm awake because there's no way he just told me that he adores me. That he needs me. That he wants me to be his.
"You drive me crazy. I adore you. I need you. I want you to be mine," he whispers, leaning forward to place his lips against my cheek as he confirms that I didn't mishear anything he said. "I want it so fucking badly I can't think straight."
"I…" My mouth won't work. My tongue feels thick and heavy, like it's cloven to the roof of my mouth. My knees tremble, threatening to give out beneath me.
"Believe me," he whispers, his voice a rumbling growl of sound that liquefies my insides. "When you kissed me, I never wanted you to stop. It was the best damn moment of my life. But I was trying to be good, Faith. I was trying to do what's right for you. I can’t be selfish and take what I want when you deserve freedom."
"I…don't understand."
He leans back until his sepia gaze collides with mine. Nothing but sincerity burns in the dark depths of his eyes. "I don’t want you thinking I’m like Sanders, willing to use my position to get what I want from you. And I don’t want you thinking I’m like Nikolai, another man out to cage you. But you're right about me. I’m more like them than I want to admit.” He swallows hard. “I don’t care that you’re my responsibility. I’m losing my fucking mind in want of you anyway. Every minute of the day, I think about you in my bed. And if I get my hands on you, I’m not going to want to let you go, conejita . I’ll want every goddamn piece of you. I promised you freedom, Faith. And I've tried so damn hard to be good and give you that. Cristo, it’s what you deserve. I know it is. But I’d snatch it away from you anyway, just to make you mine."
"Octavio." My mind spins again, trying to make sense of what he's saying, trying to fit it into place with what I know about him. That he thinks he's anything like Agent Sanders breaks my heart. How can he not know that I've never once compared him to that horrible man? That I would never compare them? He isn’t like Nikolai, either. He isn’t a monster. "You're nothing like them. You are a good, honorable man." I swallow hard, tears welling in my eyes. "You're the best man I've ever known."
"If you knew the things I think about doing to you, little angel, you might not be so quick to defend me," he murmurs. "You might be horrified."
I stare up at him. "Do you think about taking me against my will?"
"Never," he swears.
"Do you think about hurting me?"
"I would tear my own heart out first." Guilt flickers in his eyes. “But Cristo, Faith. I think about fucking you until you can’t move, little bunny. Making you come until you’re so delirious with pleasure that you’ve forgotten your own name. I want to make you feel so fucking good that you forget pain even exists.” His tongue skirts along his bottom lip. “And I want to keep you right here, locked up in this house with me so I don't have to share you with anyone. I want you all to myself, every fucking minute of the day.”
My core clenches, heat flowing through me. I reach out, placing a hand against his scruffy cheek. "You're nothing like he is, Octavio. I may not have…experience…but I'm not na?ve. I know what men think about, what they want. I…" My cheeks heat, though I'm not sure why when he just told me he feels the same way I do. "I think about…things, too. With you."
“What kind of things?” he asks, his voice a dark purr of sound.
“Things,” I whisper.
His eyes practically glow. " Te extrano. Quédate conmigo esta noche, conejita . Te quiero en mi cama . Por favor ." He kisses my cheek again, his scruffy jaw gently abrading my sensitive skin. "I miss you. Stay with me tonight, little bunny. I want you in my bed." His lips sweep toward my ear as he translates. He always translates for me even though I don't need him to do it. I think he likes saying it in both languages, likes giving me his words every way I can understand them. "Please."
I whisper the only answer I'm capable of giving him. "Yes."
He pulls back again. Another growl rumbles in his chest, stark need etched across his face. "I'm going to pick you up now," he warns me, his expression fierce and so damn soft at the same time.
He wraps one arm around my waist, using the other to sweep me up into his arms. I wrap mine around his neck, resting my head against his shoulder. He holds me like I'm priceless as he carries me out of the living room and then down the hall to his bedroom.
He may think he doesn’t know how to be gentle or give me what I need, but he’s wrong. He’s given me nothing but that since that night at Ilya’s. Every touch, every word, every day, he’s been more patient and caring than anyone else has for my entire life.
And he may think he's like Nikolai for wanting me to himself, but if that makes him like Nikolai, then maybe I am too. Because I don't want to share him, either. I like it when we're alone together, just the two of us. The rest of the world doesn't intrude. It doesn't exist.
Maybe this is a cage. I don't know anymore. But if it is, it feels a lot more like a home than anything ever has before. And day by day, I find myself a little more reluctant to leave it at all. There's safety here, and peace. Perhaps that's enough.
"You sleep in here from now on. No more hiding from me in the guestroom. I don't like it."
"Okay," I whisper as he lays me on his bed and then takes a step back.
His gaze sweeps up and down my body, satisfaction stamped all over his handsome face. He reaches behind his head, yanking his shirt off.
My stomach bottoms out at the sight of him without his shirt. Just like every other time I've seen him like this, he takes my breath away. His body is the type of perfection most people are never disciplined enough to find. His muscles are cut, defined…the product of years of control and hard work. His golden-brown skin is beautiful. The tattoo that runs up his arm, ending a mere finger span from his neck, makes him look lethal.
My breath shudders from my lips in a strangled exhale when he drops his pants, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxers that mold to his thick, powerful thighs. His erection tents the fabric, jutting almost obscenely from his body. There's a wet spot on the front. His legs are covered in coarse hair, the muscles there sculpted too.
This man was made for loving and made for war, there's no denying either.
He stalks toward me like a lion stalking prey, his lips curved into a smirk. "Now your turn."
"Um…I…" I flounder, suddenly nervous.
He notices. He crawls up the bed toward me. "Shh, bebé ," he whispers, planting his fists on either side of my face and tipping his head forward until our lips are a mere breath apart. "I won't ask you for anything more than you're willing to give. I just want to hold you tonight, skin to skin. Okay?"
"You might not…" I take a breath. "You might not like what you see. I'm not, um… I'm not beautiful like you, Octavio. I have scars. Everywhere." Admitting to this man that my body is far less beautiful than his has humiliation climbing up my throat and staining my cheeks. But he should know the truth before he takes my clothes off and realizes that for himself. He should be prepared.
He freezes over me, barely seeming to breathe. "Do you know why I call you conejita , Faith?"
"Because I'm scared of everything."
"No." He smiles at the annoyance in my voice. "People think rabbits are jumpy because they're timid and afraid, but they aren't. They move quickly and dart away because it keeps them alive. They startle easily because they honed that reflex to survive living amongst dangerous predators. You're a survivor, just like they are. You may think you're afraid of everything, but I've seen you react without hesitation to help others. You were willing to face down a group of men who tormented you for years, just to help me. You're more powerful than you think you are, and there is nothing about you that doesn't please me."
"Okay," I whisper, my entire body melting into the bed.
"If leaving your clothes on makes you feel safer, leave them on. But your scars don't make you anything less than perfect. Not in my eyes, Faith. Not ever."
Any embarrassment I felt vanishes in a puff of smoke, unable to stand against such grave sincerity and sweetly spoken devotion. This man…Lord, this man is going to break me wide open and own every piece of me.
"I want to be skin-to-skin too," I confess, completely fearless and unafraid for the first time in my life.
He smiles at me like I just gave him the sun and then leans forward to brush his lips against mine in a lazy pass. Before I can wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss, he pushes backward, coming to his knees above me. He holds my gaze as he reaches for the hem of my hoodie, moving slowly as if to give me time to change my mind.
I won't though. I meant what I said.
He removes it carefully, tossing it off the side of the bed. His gaze rakes across my naked torso, but there is no pity in his eyes when he looks at me, no horror or revulsion. The only thing staring back at me is a powerful mix of pride and desire that makes me feel wanted, needed…sexy.
His hands shake as he tugs my pants off my hips and then down my legs, leaving my simple white panties in place. My pants follow my hoodie over the side of the bed. He looks me over from head to toe then, his gaze not missing a single thing. Not the cigarette burns on my thighs or the belt scars across my stomach. Not the large burn on my abdomen, the mostly healed cuts on my palms, or the knots from the bones my mother broke in a drunken rage and then left to heal without medical intervention. Not even the way my ribs stick out where I'm too skinny or my knobby knees go undocumented by his incredible mind.
"You're perfect," he whispers, meeting my gaze when he's done memorizing my body. Desire burns like a living flame in his dark eyes, scorching me with need. " Dios , Faith. You're so damn perfect."
And when he falls beside me before pulling me into his arms and wrapping his big body around mine…for the first time in my life, I feel beautiful.
I wake in the middle of the night with the lamp still on and Octavio wrapped around me, one hand splayed possessively over my hip. His fingers rest centimeters from my sex. The other hand cups my naked breast, his rough palm abrading my nipple in the most delicious way. Energy hums to life between our bodies, searing into me everywhere his hard body cradles my softer frame.
I shift restlessly, trying to ease the ache between my legs, but it doesn't help.
"Angel," he mumbles, pulling me closer. His lips touch the back of my neck, his hand tightening on my hip. A sleepy growl vibrates his chest. "You smell so damn good."
I'm not sure if he's awake or asleep, but one part of him is definitely not sleeping. His erection presses into my ass, hard and insistent. I bite back a moan, shameless desire coursing through my veins. I've never been this close to a man before. Even when I slept in his bed previously, we were both fully clothed, and he didn't hold me like this. But I've seen men's bodies before. It's hard to live among the Bratva, where inhibition-lowering drugs and alcohol flow freely, without seeing how they are with women, but Octavio seems…massive compared to what I've seen.
I push my hips backward, trying to get closer to that hard part of him. Trying to see if it's really as big as the rest of him.
It is.
My stomach clenches, a wave of heat rolling through me like a hot breeze. I shift my legs again, but the ache between them only grows larger, more insistent.
Octavio's hand slides down my hip, moving closer to my center. My breath freezes in my lungs in anticipation of him touching me where no one ever has before.
"Are you wet between your legs for me, conejita ?" he whispers, letting me know he's very much awake. His voice is gritty and rough, like sandpaper. I love it. "Were you dreaming about me?"
I open my mouth to tell him yes to both questions, but the only sound that emerges from between my lips is a needy whine. My entire body is on fire, flames licking at my skin. I've never felt like this before. It's pleasure and pain, and I know instinctively that he's the only one who can make it stop. But I don't know how to ask him to help ease the ache.
"You were saying my name in your sleep," he rumbles, kissing his way up the back of my neck to my ear. His palm rakes against my nipple before he rolls it between two fingers, making me moan out loud. "I want to hear you say my name like that now that you're awake. Tell me what I was doing to you in your dreams."
"Octavio." My cheeks flush, my tongue refusing to cooperate with his command.
"Tell me," he whispers, flicking his tongue against my earlobe.
"T-touching me. You were touching me."
"Like this?" He pinches my nipple between his fingers, rolling it again.
My stomach clenches, as if my nipple is directly tied to some pleasure center deep in my womb, and I cry out.
"Or like this?" His rough palm slides across my lower belly and then between my legs, cupping me over my panties. He groans, the sound loud and needy. " Dios, your panties are soaked. Poor little bunny," he whispers, kissing a path down the side of my neck. His teeth sink into a tendon there, making me cry out again. "You're hurting for me, aren't you?"
"Octavio," I gasp, wriggling to get his hand where I need it. It's so close, but it's not enough. I need something. I need… more . A frustrated sob climbs up my throat. "Please."
"Shh, bebé. I'll take care of you. I'll make you feel so good." His finger runs along the seam of my panties, putting pressure where I need it most.
My nails dig into his arm, my legs closing around his hand to keep him there. It feels so good. Bubbles of pure bliss pop inside my bloodstream and against my skin. I don't want him to stop.
"I'm going to touch you now," he whispers into my skin. "I won't take you tonight, but I need to feel you coming all over my hand, angel. I'm going crazy. Been dreaming about it for weeks. Tell me I can."
"I…I…" My breath escapes my lungs in panting gasps. "Please, Octavio."
He groans, pressing his body closer to mine. "There it is, conejita . That's how you were moaning for me. I want to hear it again. I'll be as gentle as I can with you. Lo prometo ." His fingers slip beneath the leg of my panties, sliding across my sensitive flesh as the promise leaves his lips.
I gasp as he parts my folds.
He groans.
" Dios , Faith. You're so soft." One thick finger presses against my clit, making me jump and cry out as another wave of pleasure sends more bubbles of ecstasy through my veins. He touches me carefully, like he's letting me get used to the feel of him playing between my legs. His breath is a rough rasp in my ear, his body smoldering where he's seamed himself to my back. "I can't wait to find out if you taste as sweet as you smell. Been dreaming about that, too. Been dreaming about a lot of things I shouldn't have been dreaming about."
"Li…like what?" I gasp, rolling my hips into his touch.
He chuckles, the dark, wicked sound hitting me right in the stomach. "Like watching you ride my cock while those perfect little tits jiggle in my face, begging for my mouth. Or taking you from behind so I can play with that sexy ass while I'm buried balls deep in your tight cunt." He presses his leg between mine, wrenching my knees apart to open me up wider. "Slide your leg up mine, angel. Yeah, just like that." He presses another kiss against my neck, rewarding me for splaying my legs wide for him.
Part of me thinks I should slam them closed again…but I don't want to do that. I've never felt anything like the pleasure dancing through me in relentless waves. It's so good, addicting. Even the things he's saying and the gritty way he says them drives the pleasure higher.
What is he doing to me?
"Making you come," he growls against my neck, letting me know I said that out loud. "Going to get you addicted to what I can do to you so you never want another man between your legs. When you get achy and wet, you'll come looking for me and only me. Dios. The thought of you ever wanting another man to touch you like this makes me crazy. I'm so fucking jealous when it comes to you, little bunny." He nips at my shoulder, making me gasp. One thick finger slips inside me, rubbing against some part of me that has stars bursting behind my eyelids. " Da me lo, conejita . Give it to me."
Everything inside shrinks into a tight ball of sensation. My nails dig into his arm, my body trembling against his. I'm so close. The edge looms in front of me, the oncoming orgasm more massive than anything I've ever known. The few times I touched myself in the dark, it never felt like this.
"You're mine, Faith. Mine to protect. Mine to hold. Mine to adore and please." He touches my clit again, using his thumb to put pressure right where I need it. "I shouldn't want to steal an angel from heaven, shouldn't want to corrupt one, but I'm going to do it anyway."
"Octavio!" My body shatters apart, a loud cry leaving my lips. A kaleidoscope of color swirls through me in a dizzying display that leaves me shaking. Blood roars in my ears in a tumult of sound. From the top of my head to the tips of my toes, my entire body liquefies, melting into a pool of bliss unlike anything I've ever experienced.
Through it all, Octavio croons to me, telling me how beautiful I am, how perfect I feel, how he can't stop thinking about me. He holds me tight to him, protecting me with his body as he rains kisses all across my neck and upper back. It's perfect. So damn perfect, tears well in my eyes and spill over.
"Little bunny," he whispers, turning me onto my back when he sees them. He brushes his thumbs beneath my eyes, capturing my tears and wiping them away. His smile is tender, his sepia eyes soft. " No llores ."
" Bésame ," I demand.
"Gladly." He leans down, capturing my lips with his. His tongue slides along the seam of my lips until I open for him. He groans, adjusting his body over mine. His erection presses against my sex, sending a jolt of sensation through me as his tongue slips into my mouth, teasing mine.
I run my hands up and down his body, touching him everywhere I can reach. His skin is smooth, his muscles so hard. I scrape my nails down his back and then cling to his shoulders when he growls into my mouth, hitching my right leg around his hip. His body rocks against mine, his erection bumping against my clit.
Desire spikes, leaving me writhing beneath him as he kisses me like he can't stop. He doesn't ask for permission. He takes what he wants from me, demanding I respond as he nips at my lips and then sinks into my mouth to stroke his tongue against mine. The dominant way he kisses me calls to something in me, some part of me I didn't even know existed. It blazes to life inside, emboldening me.
My hand slips between our bodies. My fingers glide down the ridges of his abdomen, feeling the way they tighten beneath my palm. His entire body reacts to my touch, shuddering atop mine. He's so much more powerful than I am, but a simple touch of my hand leaves him trembling.
"Faith," he whispers, leaning away when I try to slip my hand into his boxers.
I reach for him again. "Please, Octavio. I want to touch you."
" Dios ." He tips his head back, fighting for the willpower to tell me no, but I know he wants it. He's so hard. His need is undeniable.
" Quiero tocarte ," I whisper my plea in Spanish this time. " Por favor ."
He gives in with a savage growl that I feel all the way to my soul. He kneels over me, pushing his boxers down. His erection springs free, stealing my breath. God, he's so big. The broad head is red and angry, like he really is in pain. Veins run the length of it, deep and purple in color. He's long and so thick I know there's no way he's ever going to fit inside me.
"You do this to me, Faith," he says, wrapping one fist around his length and stroking it root to tip. "From the day I met you, you've kept my cock hard."
I bite my lip, trying to hold back the moan threatening to rip free as he strokes himself. He stares down at me, his expression fierce again. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes partially closed as he pleasures himself in rough pulls.
I reach toward him, transfixed by the sight of him.
" ?Jesucristo! "
His head kicks back, his body trembling as I touch him. He's so hard and hot, yet he's so smooth and soft there too. A bead of moisture wells from the tip, spilling across my hand. He grabs my hand and wraps my fingers around his length, guiding me as I touch him.
" Apriétame allí ."
I squeeze him tighter, working my hand up and down, exploring his length.
A hiss leaves his lips. "Like that, angel. Mierda. Just like that."
His hand falls away, leaving me to stroke him on my own. Power courses through my veins as I watch him. His entire body is rigid and trembling, like he's on the verge of losing control. Fire dances in his eyes. His lip is curled up in a snarl of ecstasy, his cheeks flushed.
I made him look like this.
Something like triumph soars through me, making me bolder, braver. I sit up beneath him and lean forward, touching my tongue to his length, tasting the little beads of moisture welling from the slit. He's salty and sweet, his unique scent even stronger here. I lick him again before wrapping my lips around him and sucking him into my mouth.
"Faith!" His hips jerk, his movement erratic. He grabs me, yanking me up into his arms as his erection pulses in my hand, and he begins to come in hard spurts. They spill all across my hand and down my wrist, making a mess of both of us.
He captures my lips with his, his kiss fierce as he shakes and trembles, groaning into my mouth.
I keep moving my hand, not stopping until the very last drop works its way out of his body and down my wrist. He breaks our kiss, burying his face in my hair. His breathing is wild, his chest rising and falling rapidly. But he holds me with gentle hands, whispering my name like a prayer.
I commit the sight of him like this to memory, never wanting to forget. He said he wanted to steal an angel from heaven…but I think he just stole my heart instead. Or maybe I handed it over to him willingly. I'm not sure.
All I know is that I'm not falling in love with him. I'm already there.