Chapter 15 Sabrina
Sabrina
The butterflies in my stomach are buzzing like a whole storm of killer bees.
I’m that nervous.
Look, I’m a kindergarten teacher, remember? Glitter glue and snack duty.
A femme fatale I am not.
But I’m here now.
In his space.
A sleek, modern condo that smells like cedarwood and danger and him.
And he—Theo, I can’t call him Ego now, can’t use that nick name he wears when he’s not touching me—he’s following me with a look in his eyes that says he doesn’t give a damn about my curves or my nerves.
He wants me.
And Lord help me, I want him right back.
So I act before I can overthink it. Emboldened by wine, the look in his eyes, and my own desperate, impossible desires.
I turn to face him at the edge of his big, masculine bed and step out of my boots.
The soft thump they make on the floor is the only sound in the room.
Then I let my coat slide from my shoulders and pool behind me.
My hands tremble slightly, but I keep going.
I move closer to the bed, never breaking eye contact, and reach beneath my oversized shirt to my waistband, then I roll down my tights. Slowly.
Like I’m in one of those old movies with satin sheets and saxophones.
His nostrils flare.
Then I unbutton my cardigan and shrug it off, revealing my oversized blouse beneath.
I swear I hear a growl from his throat when I start on the buttons.
My fingers fumble on the last few, but I get them open, parting the fabric until I’m standing there in the flirty pink bra and panty set I bought on a whim one day—never thinking I’d actually wear it in front of anyone.
And yet here I am.
Technically, he’s seen the bra already—but so what?
“Stop,” he commands, voice low and rough like gravel dragged over velvet.
I freeze.
His gaze eats me alive, dragging slowly over every inch of exposed skin.
My thighs tremble as heat pools between them.
I swear he can see it—see me, slick and needy and almost panting.
He hisses through his teeth.
“Don’t move, Angel. Stay just like that.”
I do. I’m rooted to the floor, barely breathing.
Then he starts to undress.
And I forget how to blink.
Theo yanks his shirt over his head, the fabric tearing at the seam from the sheer force of it.
His muscles ripple beneath tattoos and scars, his chest rising and falling as if he’s holding back something primal.
My mouth goes dry. My knees go weak.
He undoes his belt slowly, purposefully, and slides his pants down.
When he steps out of them, he’s already fully hard, thick, and heavy in his hand as he strokes himself.
And I can’t look away.
“Please,” I whisper, voice trembling.
I lick my lips because they feel too dry.
Because he looks too good.
His eyes blaze.
“Get back on the bed, Angel. Open your legs for me.”
I obey, climbing onto the bed like I’m dreaming, like I’m walking into fire and begging to burn.
The sheets are cool under my back, but everything else is heat. I ignore the way my belly rolls over the top of my panties and I part my thighs, just like he told me to.
My heart is pounding in my chest as I expose myself fully.
“Christ, you’re so sexy,” he groans, his hand working himself slow, eyes fixed on the way I’m laid out just for him.
“Look at you. Already wet for me, aren’t you, Angel? So fucking perfect.”
I arch my back slightly, my body already aching for him, already wanting more.
“I’ve never—” I start, then stop myself.
It’s too much to admit how few men have made me feel like this.
Like I’m treasure.
Like I’m powerful and precious and obscene all at once.
“You don’t need to say anything,” he murmurs, climbing onto the bed, kneeling between my thighs. “I’ve got you now, Angel. And I’m gonna take my time with you. Gonna make you feel so good. Show you just how badly I want you.”
He’s between my legs now, eyes locked on mine like I’m the only thing that exists in the whole damn world.
“Touch me,” I whisper.
“Oh, I plan to,” he rumbles, voice like thunder right before the storm breaks.
He lowers himself, his broad, battle-scarred body caging mine without making me feel trapped.
I’ve never been more exposed. Never felt so seen.
But it’s not embarrassment rushing through me—it’s hunger.
His fingers trace the edge of my panties, a single knuckle grazing the wet fabric, and I suck in a breath so sharp it burns.
“You’re soaked,” he growls, almost to himself. “Poor baby. You been neglected, haven’t you?”
I nod, breathless. “Y-yes.”
“No more of that, Angel,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine for just a second. “Fuck. You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”
“I think I do, Theo and,” I breathe. “I want you too. So much.”
His hand slides beneath the fabric, hot, sure, and reverent. When his thumb finds my clit, I jolt, hips bucking.
He doesn’t pull back. He holds me steady, presses a kiss to my cheek, then my jaw, my mouth—his talented tongue tangles with mine briefly—then he moves lower.
“I’m not rushing this,” he murmurs against my skin. “You’re not just a one night stand to me. You get me? I need you to feel what I feel.”
“What do you feel?” I ask, barely recognizing my own voice.
His eyes meet mine, deadly serious. “Like I’ve been waiting my whole damn life for this. For you.”
God.
Tears sting behind my eyes for reasons I can’t explain, but the moment vanishes as his mouth replaces his hand—hot, wet, and devastating as he kisses me right on my pussy.
It’s so good, I’m moaning, crying out loud.
His tongue slides against my sensitive clit, stroking me like he already knows what makes me fall apart.
“Oh, God—Theo—” I cry, not sure what he’s doing to me exactly, only knowing I need more.
He groans against me, sending vibrations through my core, and my back arches off the bed.
“You taste like fucking heaven,” he growls, licking me deeper, rough stubble dragging against my inner thighs in a way that makes me gasp.
One hand locks around my hip to hold me steady while the other slides up, cupping my breast through my thin bra, thumb teasing my nipple until I’m writhing.
My thighs start to tremble.
“I can’t—Theo—oh my God—”
“Yes, you can,” he rasps, sucking harder, tongue working me in tight circles. “Let go, Angel. Let me have it.”
And I do.
I come with a strangled cry, shaking beneath him, pulse racing like I’ve just been caught in the middle of a lightning storm—and he’s the bolt that hit me.
Before I can catch my breath, he’s crawling up my body, kissing my mouth with the taste of me still on his tongue.
I kiss him back.
Desperate. Wild. Needy.
And when he pulls back just enough to whisper, “That was just the beginning,” I know I’m done for.
Because I believe him.
And I want everything he’s got.
And I want it now.