Chapter 20
20
M y spine arches as I spread my legs wide, allowing the man seated between my thighs to look his fill. His broad shoulders fill that chair with a commanding presence, shirt sleeves rolled back, and strong, tanned forearms resting on his knees.
There’s something I can’t grasp about him, not just because I can’t see his face. No, it’s more than that. This shadowy figure is hidden behind a bone-white mask—a skull with sunken eye sockets—with eyes that burn like coal embers. Charred, blackened holes are all I can see, and I have no idea who this man might be.
Somewhere along the way, I’ve forgotten why I’m seated on a wooden desk, how I’ve come to be in this vulnerable position in the first place, as the room around me swirls, filled with misty tendrils of night.
I shouldn’t be turned on by this stranger.
Yet, his heated stare and continued silence encourage my body into a ravenous state. There’s no telling how long I’ve sat here exactly like this, with knees hanging wide, wearing a corseted black bodice that pushes my tits up somewhere around my chin and hardly covers the center of me on display for him.
The longer I sit here, with my chest heaving and this stranger’s gaze lingering on my body, the further I descend into a mess of arousal.
He can’t see it on my face, but I’m biting my lip, hidden behind my own mask. A disguise of my own to reflect his in this strange, silent place.
Curiosity beckons a crooked finger my way. It would seem I very much like having him look at me. I want him to openly stare, want him to take pleasure from watching my body. I can feel the warmth swirling between us. Even though he hasn’t said a word, hasn’t touched me, the slickness builds between my thighs.
Can he see the effect he has on me? Does he want to enjoy more of me than just looking? What if I took that bold step and put on a show… for him?
God, I’m so wet. I can feel it coating my skin, and although surely I should be embarrassed that this is how I’m responding to someone I don’t even know, the reality is crudely laid out.
When I guide my hand between my thighs, I feel a wave of pleasure intensify, carrying me off this desk and down onto a soft mattress. A pillow cushions my head as my back bows, and a soft moan is on my lips before I can swallow it back.
A weight drapes over me—a shadow pins me down, securing me against the mattress by my hips. Blinking through a hazy, sleep-addled state, the next moan that comes out of me is more like a long sigh.
“Oh god. Angel. ”
Brown eyes capture my own from the place where he’s wedged himself between my legs. His big hands brand my hips, searing heat extends beneath each heavy palm, and his tongue—oh, holy fuck, his wicked tongue—laps at me in a rhythm that leaves me shuddering .
The more I wake up, the more lucid I become, stepping beyond the veil of my dream, discovering that I am, in fact, one second away from buckling to his attention on my swollen, soaked pussy.
My legs quake against his shoulders. Has he already made me come while I’ve been asleep? From the state I’m in, I wouldn’t be surprised, but it’s impossible to tell.
All I can focus on is the way he’s looking at me. Like he damn well wants to eat me alive, and right here, in this moment, I’d absolutely beg him to. There’s no hiding from that truth bursting in my veins like firecrackers.
He nips at my pussy lips and sucks down on my clit, until I’m reduced to a whimpering mess. Each motion of his mouth and the rasp of his beard against that sensitive skin leaves me choking on desperate noises.
Those wicked swirls of his tongue lure me to him, as I try to hump his face from below, but simply can’t because his bulk has me trapped against the sheets. I’m being forced to submit to his tongue and mouth, and I’m about to lose my goddamn mind with pleasure.
“ Please . Oh god.” The thudding of my pulse deafens me, and just as I feel my body clench up, the ache swirling right to that delicious, blinding peak, he draws back.
With legs shaking and fists tangled in the sheets where I’ve been white-knuckling them, I’m left bereft of the pleasure I’d been so close to collapsing into.
“Angel…” I whimper. There may come a time in my life when I look back and wonder how I could ever allow myself to sound so desperate. However, today is not that day.
At this moment, I am a horny bitch in heat, who couldn’t care less.
“No. Don’t pull back again… please… I want this.” Do I think he needs to hear those words? Is that what this is all about? A test until I break and outright beg him to properly see this thing thro ugh—to continue on a course that will almost certainly result in multiple orgasms for both of us.
“I want you.” The pleading in my voice is a whisper confessed to the hazy morning light.
His mouth and beard are coated in the evidence of just how slick I am, and as he raises himself up onto his knees, towering over me from his position between my thighs, it’s so easy to see how this could continue.
Except he shakes his head resolutely. No.
With the back of his hand, he wipes his mouth, that gaze continuing to drill into me the entire time. It’s only then I realize that my underwear is missing. I’m still in the t-shirt I put on before getting into bed last night, but this man has removed my underwear and eaten me out, all while I’ve been asleep. And yet, I’m poised, ready to do whatever it takes to keep him from leaving.
“Do you want me to do it?” I slide my hands out of the bunched sheet, intending on bringing them to do precisely as he instructed me to last time we were in almost this exact position, but he strikes too fast.
Gripping my wrists, he falls forward over my body, pinning them above my head. The shock of having him so close, with fire and a swarm of unspoken words in his eyes, yet silence settled on his lips, is something that I don’t think I’ll ever get over.
I have to swallow quickly. He’s shirtless, and beneath the soft fabric of his pants, I feel his erection grinding against my thigh.
What is obvious is that he doesn’t want me to touch myself. He has no intention of allowing me to come, and I suspect it’s because he’s punishing me for something.
But I’m a slut who likes his mouth on me too much to put a stop to this madness.
Angel doesn’t try anything, and as he looms over me, I sink back into the mattress, watching his face. He’s rugged and handsome, all in the same amounts, with a wild edge to him. There are fine lines creasing the corner of his dark eyes, not exactly giving me a clear indication of his age, but telling me that this man has lived through some shit.
As much as I wish he would make some sort of move, I also don’t want to risk him no longer returning to me like this. If it guarantees I’ll be able to satisfy just a fraction of that need to have him near, I’ll play into this game of torment.
So I let my body go limp beneath him.
As I do so, he gives me one last look that leaves me scolded and firmly aware that under no circumstances am I to relieve that ache he’s responsible for. Then, the fool I am for him, I have to endure watching him leave.
I’m left here to drown in the pool of longing for my silent captor, with guilt eating away at me that I’m not supposed to want him at all.