Twenty-Seven
ALLISON
A llison refused to be trapped in Angelo’s gaze—no matter how hot it made her feel.
His eyes held a fire that could melt her resolve if she let it, but she wasn’t about to lose herself in his intensity. The words he’d used to describe her body, the reverence in his voice, and the glimmer in his eyes were like a perfectly crafted spell, making her feel both vulnerable and empowered at the same time. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it carried a weight that made her skin tingle with awareness. For a brief moment, she stood frozen, her pulse quickening as if time itself had slowed down just for the two of them.
It was a rare feeling—this kind of attention, this kind of connection—but Allison knew better than to let it control her. She could feel the heat rise to her cheeks, her heart racing in response to the electric atmosphere between them. But she wasn’t going to let herself fall into the trap of his allure, no matter how tempting it was. She had always prided herself on being in control, on not giving in too easily. With a quick, sharp pinch to her arm, she broke herself out of the trance, shaking off the haze of Angelo’s intoxicating presence. She needed clarity, not confusion.
“Good girl. Now get your sexy ass up. We’re having a shower.”
“Yes, papí,” she teased, tossing the covers back with a dramatic flourish as she moved to get up.
Angelo froze, his expression flickering between confusion and amusement. Clearly, he hadn’t expected that. It was as if the nickname struck a memory he hadn’t dusted off in years. Allison felt a smug thrill, knowing she’d managed to throw him off balance with something as simple as a word.
She was officially plotting a mental list of other nicknames she might test out to see just how much she could make him squirm.
As she swung her legs out of the bed, she caught the low, gruff sound rumbling from his chest—a sound almost like a whine, though Angelo would likely never admit it. Satisfaction spread through her like warm honey. She didn’t even need to look back to know the kind of face he was making. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her skin like a physical touch.
She padded across the room, barefoot, eyes scanning for the bathroom. There were two doors side by side—one of life’s little dilemmas. Both identical, both closed.
Of course, he’d have both a walk-in closet and an ensuite bathroom.
“That’s either ‘Daddy’ or ‘Sir’ to you,” he called out, his voice playful but firm enough to send a shiver down her spine.
Allison’s blush betrayed her. Her mind flashed to the kinds of books she often devoured late at night, the ones with domineering men who said things like that. But she rolled her eyes and scoffed, masking the rush of heat that spread through her.
“Ha ha,” she mocked back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Very original.” But the blush? Oh, that stayed.
She confidently yanked open the closest door, only to be greeted with what felt like a shrine to high fashion. Racks upon racks of suits, crisp shirts, and shoes that probably cost more than her car.
“Oh for crying out loud,” she muttered, unable to stop herself. “If anyone would have a giant, designer-infested walk-in closet, it would be you.”
Angelo’s laugh echoed through the room, rich and unrestrained, complete with adorable little snorts. She grinned at the sound. It made her stomach flutter, and if she could bottle that laugh, she would.
For emergencies.
“Yes, shocking,” he teased. “A CEO with suits. How will the world recover?”
She shot him a mock glare as she closed the door to his miniature department store. “No man needs that many suits. CEO or not.” She pivoted to face him again, fully naked, fully aware, and for the first time in her life, fully confident.
The look he gave her in return could’ve set the room on fire. His gaze dragged over her body, slow and intense, as if he were committing every inch to memory. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. His silence was filled with desire, and his still-clothed, very obvious erection spoke volumes.
Allison’s smirk deepened. This was going to be fun.
She turned away again, making a show of it—deliberately slow, with just the right amount of sway in her hips. She let her eyes wander over the minimal decor, though, frankly, it was hard to focus on anything other than the heat she felt from Angelo’s stare.
At first, she’d thought this room was l just a guest room—too sterile, too impersonal. But now, with the memory of that closet and the man watching her like a predator, she realized that this room reflected a part of him he kept hidden. It was cold, devoid of any personal touch, like he was afraid to leave a mark anywhere.
But Angelo? The man she was getting to know? He was anything but cold. He was heat personified—raw, burning, dangerous in all the ways that made her want to dive in headfirst.
“And how, exactly, would you know how many suits a man needs?” Angelo’s voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the moment.
Allison didn’t look at him. She pushed open the bathroom door, the playful energy between them evaporating. “You’ve forgotten who my family is,” she muttered, her voice tight. Her hand gripped the door handle so hard her knuckles whitened, as if bracing herself against something worse than the conversation.
“Your family doesn’t matter to me, Allison,” he said, his voice steady, but with an edge of frustration. “Yes, your father is my rival in business. And your brothers are trying to be him, but that’s between them and me. Not us.”
She could hear him moving now, the soft creak of the bed as he stood, but she still didn’t turn around. She couldn’t. Not when her past—the part of her life she had worked so hard to separate from who she was with him—was looming between them again. It was like a dark cloud she couldn’t shake, always there, always pulling her back.
His footsteps were slow, careful, like he was approaching a wounded animal that might bolt. “Is that meant to be comforting or smug?” she asked quietly, the tension in her voice betraying the hurt underneath.
“Neither.” His response came from much closer than she expected, and she jumped, startled by how quietly he had closed the distance between them once more.
She let out a long breath, her shoulders slumping under the weight of the moment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Angelo said, stretching out the words as if giving her time to really hear him, “I don’t care who your family is, Allison. I just care about you .”
The finality in his tone made her heart stutter. She turned then, slowly, as if unsure of what she’d see when she faced him. He was standing right behind her, towering over her, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—those intense, dark eyes—held her in place. The way he looked at her wasn’t just desire. It was more. It was certainty.
Her breath hitched, but before she could say anything, he broke the moment. “How about that shower?” His voice was lighter now, the sudden shift making her blink in confusion.
She stared at him for a second, trying to process the abrupt change in tone. He had a way of doing that, flipping the switch when things got too heavy. Desperately needing a break from the intensity of his gaze, she glanced down, nodding slightly.
“Yeah,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “Let’s just get this over with.”
But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t about the shower. Not really. It was about everything else—the walls she had put up, the fear she had of being judged by the weight of her family name, and the way Angelo kept tearing down those walls without even trying.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Angelo whispered, his voice low and reverent.
If Allison was honest with herself and she always tried to be—she had been feeling a little self-conscious earlier. But right now? This was seriously helping.
Fuck, earlier.
Just thirty minutes ago, Angelo had buried his face between her legs, teasing her until she was teetering on the edge, every touch and whispered word setting her ablaze. He had become wild, possessive—something that might have scared her a few of months ago. But these days she was enjoying it far too much to care.
Now, they were in his luxurious bathroom, sharing a steamy shower. Or more accurately, Angelo was showering her with soap and praise, likely just because he could.
“Yes, I’m sure my cellulite-filled ass is a great sight,” she teased.
Angelo swatted her backside, the sound echoing through the spacious bathroom, making her yelp. “None of that,” he growled, “Your ass is fucking perfect.” He grabbed a handful, squeezing as if laying a claim on her. “Trust me, I’ve stared at it enough to know.”
A soft, breathy sound escaped her lips. She would’ve been embarrassed if he hadn’t been between her legs just moments ago.
Thank God he can’t see me blushing right now.
“Is that how you spend your free time?” she quipped.
“Yes,” he replied, without hesitation.
She laughed. “Not sure if I should be flattered or creeped out.”
Angelo chuckled, and once again, she wished she could bottle that sound, savor it. It was refreshing.
When his hands left her body, she had to bite her lip to stop herself from begging him to touch her again. But before she could protest, he was back—this time, gently working his shampoo through her hair.
A deep moan escaped her lips. Angelo’s fingers tangled in her hair, massaging her scalp with a tenderness that felt downright glorious. It was ridiculous how turned on she was by something so simple. She wanted him to massage her somewhere else, because, seriously, this was getting her worked up.
I will never not get horny around this man, will I?
His fingers froze for a second when she moaned again, before he cleared his throat and continued. “So, about earlier…”
Allison let her head fall back, only to realize how close Angelo was. She leaned against his chest, feeling the warmth of him, his chin resting just above her head. She suddenly appreciated their height difference more than ever. Maybe she could reach back and touch his naked—
“Allison?” His voice snapped her out of her wandering thoughts.
She blinked, realizing Angelo had stopped lathering her hair and was now gently holding her shoulders.
Right. He had said something. She cleared her throat, trying to shake off the lust clouding her mind. “What about earlier?”
Please don’t mention my family. Please don’t mention my family. Please don’t mention—
“Your family.”
She sighed, cursing him internally for ruining the moment.
Damn you, Angelo.
“What about them?” she muttered, shrugging his hands off and turning the water on. She busied herself adjusting the temperature, the spray falling from the overhead shower in a luxurious cascade.
Damn you, lavish shower.
She rinsed the shampoo from her hair, trying to ignore the heat of his gaze stare burning into her back.
Damn you, fancy shampoo.
“Well, I’m not sure you understood what I meant when I said I don’t care about them.”
She scoffed. “Oh, it’s great that you’re so eager to remind me.”
Angelo chuckled, and just like that, she almost forgot what it was like not to think with her vagina. She was practically pulsing.
“That’s exactly why we need to talk,” he continued, his tone soft but firm. “I know how it came across, and I want to clear things up.”
Despite her frustration, Allison’s heart warmed. He genuinely cared about her feelings, something that shouldn’t surprise her anymore, but it still did. And as much as her heart warmed, so did her core, the ache intensifying.
She shook her head, trying to banish the inappropriate thoughts of climbing him like a tree. “Fine. Talk.”
He stepped closer, his breath hot against her ear. “Can you at least look at me? I’m pretty sure your hair is shampoo-free by now,” he teased, his playful tone sending a shiver down her spine.
Her cheeks flushed, but she stubbornly kept her gaze fixed on the floor. Her body was betraying her, and he knew it.
With a sigh, she gave in. She dropped her hands from her hair, proving him right as they came back clean. Reluctantly, she turned to face him, her heart pounding as she met his gaze.
This was dangerous territory. Angelo, standing there naked and wet in front of her, looking very much carved from stone, was enough to make her knees weak. She reached for the wall for support and gave him a nod to continue.
“Your family is…” he began, carefully searching for the right words. “They’re…tough. Your father will have a huge problem with this, no matter what.”
He paused, the water still cascading around them. “But you should know something: nothing is going to keep me from you. Not your father, not your brothers, and definitely not the doubts in your own head.”
Her chest tightened, emotions flooding her. It wasn’t as if her anxiety was a secret, but having someone understand it, to not blame her for it—especially after only six months—was rare. And it felt good .
“The only way I’m backing off,” Angelo continued, his voice steady, “is if you don’t want this. And I mean you—not because someone else told you, but because you genuinely don’t.”
He reached for her arms, holding her firmly, anchoring her in the moment.
“But, I have a feeling you do.” He paused, waiting for her response. She nodded, heart pounding.
He stepped even closer, their bodies flush, her baby bump pressing comfortably against his chiseled abs.
“Then nothing and nobody is getting in my way,” he whispered, leaning in. “You, Allison Pink Lockwood, will be mine.”
He kissed her.
It wasn’t like their previous kiss—urgent, hot and more about releasing tension. This was something entirely different. It was explosive, yet somehow relieving. Like months of pent-up energy, emotions, and desire all building up until they burst, spilling out in a tangle of hands in his hair, on her waist, in moans and breaths and—
It was everything she had craved.
His hands tightened on her waist, lifting her easily until her legs wrapped around him. One hand gripped her ass while the other braced against the shower wall as he turned them, pressing her back against the cool tiles.
“I don’t know how I lasted this long without tasting you,” he murmured against her lips, trailing kisses along her jaw. He shifted to her ear, catching her earlobe between his teeth and giving it a soft, teasing nip. Allison gasped, the sound escaping her before she could stop it.
I didn’t know that was a thing I liked.
“We should…” she tried, but another moan cut her off as Angelo’s mouth found her neck. She swallowed, struggling to gather her thoughts. “We should move this to the bed.”
He didn’t bother pulling away. Instead, he pressed her harder against the wall, his grip firm on her waist, holding her up effortlessly with his arms and hips.
“We’re perfectly fine in here.”
His hand slid from her waist up towards one of her breasts, and when his fingers brushed her sensitive nipple, a moan escaped her lips.
“You can’t—” she gasped, “you can’t hold me up like this, I’m—I’m heavy.”
Forming sentences was becoming nearly impossible as his mouth moved lower, teasing one breast while his fingers rolled the nipple of the other. The sensations sent her mind spinning, her eyes rolling all the way back from the overwhelming pleasure.
“You’re insulting my woman,” he said, his voice low, “and my ability to hold you up while I make you come so hard you see stars. So, shut up,” he ordered, his words laced with amusement and heat, “and let me get to work.”
Any retort she might have had was lost the moment Angelo shifted his hips, and his impressive length pressed against her center. He continued teasing her nipples, his hands working in tandem with the slow, deliberate movement of his hips. The sensation was positively glorious.
She had been embarrassingly wet ever since that scalp massage, but now it felt like she was dripping even more—far more than seemed physically possible.
And it definitely wasn’t the water.
His hard cock slid between her folds, and her hands instinctively tightened in his hair. Angelo moaned as she pulled, the sound vibrating through both of them.
He adjusted his angle slightly and—
His tip slid inside her effortlessly.
Allison stopped breathing for a moment, completely overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through her. She finally exhaled, barely able to form the words.
“Oh, fuck me.”
“I am,” he growled playfully, sliding deeper inside her.
She’d had sex with the man before—her growing belly was proof of that—but this felt different, almost like it was their first time. She was so full, and it felt so right, as if a missing piece of her had finally clicked into place. Like he was meant to be inside her. And fuck, she wished this could happen more often.
His thrusts were deep and hard, yet steady and sure, hitting every spot within her. As he teased her aching nipples, she knew she was dangerous close to unraveling. One touch to her clit, and she would fall apart.
“Oh, God. Angelo, I’m already so—”
“I know, sweet girl. I can feel you squeezing my cock,” he rasped against her skin, the playful tone in his voice replaced by something darker, more intense.
He maintained his relentless rhythm, never faltering. When he removed one hand from her breast, she whimpered in protest—until that hand slid up, wrapping firmly but gently around her throat.
He didn’t squeeze, didn’t cut off her air or blood flow, but his hand held her throat as he whispered, “You’re gonna come twice on my cock, and then you’re gonna come all over my face, so I can come all over yours. Now, tighten your legs around me.”
A deep moan escaped her at his words, the vivid image he painted flooding her mind. She was held up only by her legs locked around his hips and the grip on her neck.
Angelo shifted slightly, hitting a new angle—deeper, harder. Allison was losing herself, every thrust pushing her closer to the edge.
“Please, Angelo. I need to come, please,” she begged, shameless and desperate.
One of his hands slid down her body, his thumb finding her clit while the other stayed on her throat. “Come for me, Allison.”
It only took a few more strokes before she shattered.
White flashed behind her eyelids— When did I even close my eyes? —and she screamed, chanting Angelo’s name over like a prayer. Her body trembled uncontrollably, tugging at his hair, both of them lost in the moment, moaning in unison. She never wanted it to end.
“That’s it, sweet girl,” he groaned, still moving inside her, prolonging her orgasm with his fingers teasing her clit. “Fuck, I might not last if you keep squeezing my cock like that.”
Allison let out a breathless chuckle in her euphoric state, barely noticing as Angelo’s hand left her throat and he lowered her gently to the ground.
“I don’t think I can handle a second round,” she managed to say.
“You don’t have a choice,” he whispered, his voice dark and teasing as she finally began to come back to herself. He turned her around so she was facing away from him. “Now, bend over and hold onto your ankles.”
Oh, fuck.
She moaned at the mere thought of what was coming next, despite her earlier protest. Ready for another trip to the clouds, she spread her legs slightly for balance, accommodating her bump. Then, just as he instructed, she bent over and reached for her ankles, holding on for dear life.
“Promise you won’t let me fall?” she half-joked, a hint of real fear creeping in. She knew how intense Angelo’s movements could be.
“I promise. I will never let you fall.”
The seriousness in his tone struck her, as if he were making a much deeper vow. But the moment quickly shifted as Angelo thrust into her in one smooth, hard motion.
“Oh, fuck!” Allison exclaimed, jolted by the force and angle.
This new position felt incredibly different, as if he was even deeper than before, reaching into her very soul with each thrust. His hands gripped her hips firmly, the pressure so intense it was bound to leave bruises. But she didn’t care. She wanted those marks on her, a tangible reminder of this almost spiritual experience, because the man knew exactly how to fuck.
He grunted with every thrust and Allison could do nothing but submit to the relentless pace. “Fuck— eísai téleia. Perfectly made just for me.”
She didn’t know the Greek words he was using, but she was tempted to beg him to say it again. Angelo Taylor speaking Greek was a special kind of aphrodisiac.
Moaning uncontrollably, she was overwhelmed by his praise. He called her beautiful, perfect and his . His voice alone was enough to send her spiraling towards another orgasm.
His voice, and that monster dick.
“Shit, I can feel you squeezing my cock,” he groaned, punctuating his words with a hushed “Christé mou, de tha antékso” which she was too overwhelmed to ask him to translate. “But you don’t get to come yet. Change of plans.”
Allison’s confusion led to a small protest as he pulled out of her. Her words were cut off when she glanced between her legs and saw Angelo kneeling behind her. “What—”
“Get back up so you don’t get lightheaded, sweet girl. Keep facing that way.”
His words weren’t suggestions, but rushed commands.
Allison felt as if every feminist cell abandon ship as she slowly straightened up to avoid dizziness. She placed her hands against the shower wall, and his approval was clear when he said, “Such a good pet.”
She didn’t have time to react before his tongue literally dove inside her. Angelo was fucking her with his tongue, and while sensation was different from his dick, it was equally pleasurable.
His deep moans reverberated against her sensitive core—whether it was from her taste, or the way her walls clenched around his tongue, she couldn’t tell—and the vibrations sent her knees buckling. His hand on her leg steadied her, grounding her with that single touch, while his other hand found her clit.
One moment his tongue was inside her, skillfully stroking her clit with two talented fingers, and the next he was sucking her folds into his mouth, fingering her with such dexterity she was almost jealous of the women who had taught him that.
Or I would have been, if his mouth didn’t feel so fucking good.
“Angelo, please. I need—”
He briefly lifted his mouth from her, just long enough to say, “I know.” And then he continued, as if his sole purpose in life was to make her come with his mouth and fingers.
He pulled away for a second, whispering, “Come all over my face, Allison. I want your juices dripping off my chin.”
The vivid image, combined with his skilled tongue and fingers, was too much for her. She imploded, moaning his name as her knees gave out. But both his hands caught her, holding her up as she rode out the waves of her orgasm.
He didn’t let me fall.
Angelo stood, still supporting her weight as she came down from her high. Without hesitation, he lined his cock up to her entrance. “My turn now,” he growled, and Allison realized how much she loved that sound.
He pushed the tip of his cock inside her slowly, carefully, a stark contrast to the intensity from earlier. She could feel every inch of him as he filled her, stroking her walls and sending shivers down her spine.
He didn’t rush. His thrusts were slow but hard, giving her exactly what she needed after two explosive orgasms. His hands gripped her hips, her back slightly arched as her head fell back in pure bliss. He nudged her ankles wider with a gentle kick before wrapping her in his arms—one hand fondling her breast, the other lightly encircling her neck, pulling her back against him.
His touch was firm but tender, possessive yet comforting. Each stroke of his cock was punctuated by the feel of his fingers teasing her sensitive nipples, switching from one to the other with each thrust. His grip on her neck remained light, more of an anchor than a restraint.
Soft breaths and deep groans escaped him, right against her ear, causing her walls to flutter in response. She could feel the pressure building again.
“I need you to come with me, Allison,” he murmured, his voice almost pleading, laced with a vulnerability she hadn’t heard before. This felt… different. Something too intense to dwell on, so she let it pass.
That’s a problem for future Allison.
Angelo’s hand slid from her neck, dipping lower to rub slow, deliberate circles on her overstimulated clit.
Allison’s head rested on his shoulder, her body exhausted from her previous climax yet teetering on the edge of another. It only took one, two, three gentle strokes of his fingers on the little nub and she felt every single muscle tense, then finally release in a flood of euphoria.
This time, she didn’t scream or shout. Instead, a soft sob escaped her lips, as if every fear, doubt, and drop of negativity was leaving her body all at once.
Angelo wasn’t far behind. He pumped into her just twice more after her walls began choking his cock, and then he followed her into oblivion, filling her with a groan.
At least I’m already pregnant.