33. Angelo
33
ANGELO
Three days with my sweet angel locked in a room, and I hadn’t been able to touch her, not even to soothe her nightmares, until now. It’d take a hell of a lot longer to truly train her, to make her total submission instinctive rather than something she did in return for what she wanted. Even now, as I led her out of the room we’d locked her in, I could see resistance in her stiff shoulders, the frown of her lush lips.
She tightened her fingers around mine as I led her to a bathroom, and an odd pressure grew in my chest at the idea that this woman might trust me. I kept my eyes straight ahead, refusing to indulge in the pleasure of losing myself in her curves.
We’d removed the mirror and anything she could use as a weapon, because we weren’t fools, but I couldn’t stop my smile at her gasp of delight when she saw the large shower. Gently, I pushed her toward the frosted glass doors. Ana looked over her shoulder at me, her green eyes wide with pleasure and confusion. Then she dashed in, as if she were afraid I’d yank this privilege away.
The moment she turned the water on, my pants tightened, my cock instantly hard for the beautiful, damaged woman in front of me.
She shut the doors, but couldn’t hide the blurry outline of her body, her perfect tits as she lifted her arms, the curve of her ass as she rinsed days of dirt, sweat, and tears from her skin.
Fuck it.
I unbuckled my belt. She froze at the sound but didn’t come out, didn’t check on what I was doing. By the time I’d freed my cock, she’d resumed her movements, scrubbing her scalp.
When she moaned with pleasure, desire shot through me. I fisted myself, gripping my cock tightly, imagining myself in the shower with her bent over against the wall, water pouring down her skin, with the delectable curve of her ass displayed for me as she whimpered.
She would spread her legs, opening her cunt up to me, showing me how much she wanted me, how drenched she was for me.
I’d drop to my knees and worship her, soaking her up with my tongue, fucking her with my fingers, edging her until she begged for my cock.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her in the shower. She soaped up her body, running her hands up and down smooth skin, skating over cuts and bruises that still hadn’t fully healed.
Fucking gorgeous.
I imagined sliding my cock into her tight cunt, her heat enveloping me, squeezing me, as I fucked her sweetly, her soft cries drowned out by the water. Reaching around and playing with her tits, my hands scraping against her nipples as she whined for more, pleaded for me to take her, to fuck her hard.
More. Harder. Please.
My fist pumped faster and faster as I envisioned her spiraling out of control, that blank mask falling from her face as I drove her wild, until she couldn’t think of anything but the bliss my cock brought her.
Submerging myself in her wet heat.
Tangling my fingers in her hair and yanking her head up, so she cried out with pain, fucking her deeply, my cock filling her up so much it hurt, as she begged for more.
More.
Please .
Ana turned around, arching her back as she rinsed off, her tits clearly outlined through the foggy doors, her nipples hard, blurring the line between fantasy and reality as water poured over her.
Pleasure rushed to my cock as I pumped my hand up and down, unable to tear my eyes from the beautiful woman before me.
Did she not see me through the glass? Did she not know what she did to me? A tendril of insecurity wormed its way through me. Did she not care?
Ana opened the shower door, her hair plastered to her, water running down her body in rivulets that begged me to drop to my knees and lick them up.
“Angelo, sir,” she breathed, her eyes wide, her pupils darkening with need. “What are you doing?”
She licked her lips, and the thought of that tongue wrapped around my cock brought me to the edge.
And then—oh fuck, Ana, yes—she dropped to her knees before me and wrapped her fingers around the base of my cock.
Her movements were tentative, unsure.
I wanted to see what she’d do next, my cock bobbing and straining, desperate for her mouth.
Her eyes flicked up to mine, and then she licked me like a fucking lollipop.
“Ana,” I rasped, tangling my fingers in her hair, like I’d fantasized, scratching and stroking her scalp without forcing her to come nearer.
She needed to take the initiative.
If I forced her, we’d take two steps back in her training.
There was nothing I wanted more than to shove my cock down her throat until she gagged, crying, choking, shaking her hands on my thighs to get me to pull back and let her breathe.
That’s not what she needed right now.
I waited.
She lapped at my cock, teasing, tasting. When she pulled her head back, I groaned, aching for her lips around me again.
Her brow furrowed, her gaze catching on my pelvis. She reached out a hand to shove my shirt aside, dragging her fingers along the skin.
Merda.
The tattoo.
She exhaled sharply and rocked back on her heels, one hand still around my cock as she traced up the tattoo, each brush of her fingers sending jolts of electricity through me.
“Angelo,” she whispered. “ Sir .” The emotion in her voice made it tremble. “Why?”
“For you, angel,” I rasped, reaching down to cup her cheek, the satin skin of her face a balm to my ravaged soul.
She stared up at me like the angel I’d nicknamed her, like the angel with wings spread, blonde hair whipping wildly in the wind, and bright green eyes that I’d had tattooed on my pelvis right above my cock the moment I got home after that fateful wedding a decade ago.
Did she not understand that I was hers? That my cock was hers? That all I’d ever wanted was to take care of her?
A tear streaked down her face, and then another.
“You asshole ,” she said as she cried, her expression morphing into terrible, terrible hurt. “You could have saved me. And you didn’t. Instead, you left me with him .”
Cruel regret slithered up my spine, displacing my need. “Ana?—”
She took the top of my cock in her mouth and sucked hard, cutting off whatever I was about to say. And when she took me deep into the heaven of her throat, swallowing around me, she took away my ability to think.
She pumped her fist in time with her mouth, taking me deeper and deeper, the fingers of her other hand digging into my thigh as tears streamed down her face. I couldn’t tell if she was crying because she was choking on my cock or because she hated the tattoo, and I hated that. No, I fucking loved that. Loved her on her knees. Loved her sucking my cock even though she hated it. Loved seeing her cry for me.
“Touch yourself,” I growled.
Tentatively, she slid a hand between her legs and fingered her clit, but she quickly lost her rhythm.
“Sir, please, I can’t—I can’t do both at the same time,” she said, her face flashing with fear as she spoke out of turn.
“Do you want me to help you?” I asked, my lips turning up in a cruel smile.
Her breath caught. She continued to lavish my cock with attention as she thought.
She rewarded my patience with a whispered, “Yes, please, sir.”
“Hands off my cock,” I instructed. “Pinch your nipple and rub your clit.”
She immediately let go of me, cupping her breast and moaning as she tortured the taut bud. She reached between her legs with her other hand. Her whine of pleasure was pure bliss.
“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue,” I commanded, and she obeyed. Fucking gorgeous.
I wrapped my hands in her hair and shoved my cock forward into her mouth, until her nose hit the tattoo— her tattoo—then held her there until her face turned red from lack of oxygen. I snapped her head back, then forward again, then began roughly fucking her throat.
Her fingers didn’t stop their movement as she rocked back and forth, grinding into her hand as I took my pleasure from her, even as I abused her, knowing I was bruising her, beyond caring.
Finally.
My angel was finally mine.
And with that euphoric thought, pleasure tightened in my spine, and I exploded in her mouth. Her tongue moved frantically against me as she tried to collect my cum, intuiting the requirement to swallow all of it.
Slowly, I drew my cock out of her mouth, only to plunge it back in again, savoring the feeling of her lips and her tongue against me as I painted the inside of her throat with my release.
Ana seized, her entire body stiffening and curling in on itself as she came. She shuddered through her climax, never taking her lips from my cock.
When her fingers finally slowed, she raised her eyes to mine, the pretty bottle green glazed over with the aftereffects of her orgasm, even as tears streamed down her face.
“Ana,” I rasped, dragging her head back so I could bend over and kiss her. The salty taste of my release coated her lips, and I ravaged her mouth, claiming her once again, delighting as she softened, allowing me to plunder her as was my due.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I pulled her to her feet. She wobbled but kept her lips glued to mine, tangling her fingers in my hair and holding me close, even as I maneuvered her to lean against me.
Her lips slid against mine, soft and sweet, as she tried to devour me. Little did she know, I intended to do the same to her, until every part of her was mine—her body, her heart, and her soul.