Chapter 7 Angelo
SEVEN
Angelo
She tastes so damn good and feels even better. If I believed in fate or doom or fucking destiny, I’d say she’s the one person in the world that can destroy me because she makes me want to be a better man.
Kissing her, feeling her stacked body press to mine, the way she moans into my mouth, pulls me closer, and tries to take control of every moment between us drives me insane.
Maybe, if I was the kind of guy who wrote poetry, I’d say she haunts me, inspires me, damns me, and saves me all at the same time.
I want to be better for her. I want to earn her kisses,—not through deals, not by catching her off guard. I want her to want me. To choose me.
Because fuck—I’m starting to think she’s the one woman in the world who could take care of me.
And maybe…
Maybe I’d let her. She pulls at my shoulders, her fingers spreading, stroking down my bare biceps. Just that touch feels good—her hands exploring me, feeling me—feels so fucking good.
She moves without hesitation, her fingers trailing over scars and muscle like both are something to be admired.
Like they’re beautiful. I’d let her have total control whenever she wants it. I press my lips to her jaw, kissing slowly, keeping my body between her legs. Because I wouldn’t put it past Luisa Santiago to kick me in the dick if given the chance.
My breath brushes her ear, rough, uneven.
“I’ll spare the officers for you,” I rasp.
“Why?” she hums, then bites my throat. Hard.
I grunt, unsure if she’s punishing me or just proving she can.
Either way, she’s playing a dangerous game.
Because if she’s not careful, she’s going to wake the animal in me.
“Why would you let them live?”
I exhale, keeping my control on a knife’s edge. “Because cutting out their tongues would bother you.”
I let the words sink in, let my lips graze her jaw, a slow, deliberate tease.
“And I don’t want to bother you.”
She huffs. “You bother me constantly.”
Then she grabs me, steals my mouth, takes what she wants. I don’t let women take from me. But I let her. Her lips are hot, wild, but before I can take control, she pulls back, panting.
“Now shut up before I convince myself not to do this.”
I grin against her lips. “I didn’t say I was offering a damn thing.”
My hands trail up her thighs, slow and teasing.
Because the truth is—
I want her. I’ve always wanted her. It’s stupid. I’m not allowed to want her. It will damn her. I can only fuck her if I use it against her—if I turn her desire into a weapon. Otherwise, I’m no better than some hormonal guy thinking with his dick.
But then, her tongue curls in my mouth like she’s rolling the ‘r’ in some Spanish word and I’m lost.
I grind my hips against hers, hunger curling low in my gut, then reach for the top of her pants—
Pop. The button gives. Luisa gasps, her body arching back, breath uneven. Then her fingers dig into my chest.
“You don’t get to fuck me.”
My breath catches, but I keep my expression smooth. I let a slow smile curl my lips.
“Of course not.”
I nibble along her jaw, my lips dragging over her pulse, then cup her full breast, squeezing. She tilts her head up to me, her gorgeous questioning eyes locking onto mine.
For a second, she’s searching, like she’s trying to see past all the things I pretend to be.
I press my forehead to hers, my grip tightening, massaging her breast, greedy, unrelenting.
I shake my head, voice rough. “I won’t cut out those bastards’ tongues.”
Her breath hitches. I squeeze again, dragging my thumb over her nipple, rolling it through the fabric.
“But I’ll break their fucking jaws for talking shit about you.”
She shudders, then exhales, voice ragged.
“English or Spanish, please,” she pants.
I nip at her bottom lip, catching the soft flesh between my teeth—
And then I groan, pressing my mouth to hers, kissing her—losing myself.
Because fuck, losing myself in her is so damn easy.
Something inside me slips. Something important. Something dangerous. It’s like a damn cracking, too much pressure building behind it.
And I know—when it breaks, it won’t just be a flood. It’ll be ruin.
“Anyone who talks shit about you?” My voice drops, low, rough, unyielding.
“They know they’re not good enough for you. They want you to be smaller—just so they can fool themselves into thinking they have a fucking chance,” I growl the words in English, making sure she hears, feels, understands.
Because fuck them.
And fuck anyone who makes her doubt how goddamn perfect she is.
“Says the man pawing at me,” she hisses.
I jerk her shirt off with one hand and drag her bra down with the other. Luisa gasps, then claws my sides hard. I groan with her as I find her nipple, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger.
Her cheeks flush deep red, her hips lifting, drawn to the touch she’s trying to fight. I lean in, my voice steady. “Says the man you want.”
Luisa’s eyes go wide, her breath hitching as I undo the zipper on her shorts and slide my hand inside. Her panties are fucking soaked.
I press the thin cotton between her pussy lips, rubbing slow, controlled strokes until she moans, her hand flying to grip my arm.
“Angelo,” she whimpers, her voice unsteady.
I lean in, my lips just at her ear. “Tell me what you want.”
My fingers tease higher, deeper.
“Admit it.”
She shakes her head, stubborn as ever. I know admitting it will be hard, but that’s what I want.
I want her begging—for my touch, my attention, everything she knows only I can give her. She leans forward, pressing her forehead to my throat, her breath warm against my skin.
“You’re driving me insane, Topolina,” I hiss. “Hot and cold.”
Her fingers twitch against my arm, body betraying her even as she fights it.
“If you’re so smart, figure it ...” She sucks in a sharp breath, her words breaking into a moan as I push her panties aside, my calloused fingers gliding over her soft, hot pussy.
I circle her clit, slow at first, teasing, until she’s trembling, her breath coming in uneven gasps. Her hips roll against my hand, chasing the friction.
“Angelo!” she cries, her voice breaking.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” I murmur again, my voice low, coaxing. “And I’ll give it to you.”
Her lips curve into a smirk.
“Don’t mafia men just take it?” she teases.
Then she bites my chest, sharp enough to make me suck in a breath.
I let a dark grin take over.
“Thank you for reminding me.”
Then I thrust two fingers inside her, swallowing her gasp with a satisfied growl.
She groans and grinds against my hand, her breath hot against my chest as she gasps and moans for me. She’s so wet, so tight. Fucking hell, my dick hurts from not being inside her.
A thought creeps in, unwelcome, intrusive—
More than I deserve.
But then she mewls against my skin, her nails dragging over my chest, catching, leaving trails of heat behind. I’d happily wear her marks forever.
“You’re holding back. I can handle you. Haven’t I proved it?” Luisa demands.
I let a small, wicked smile slip free.
“Prove it again, little mouse,” I order.
She yanks at my jeans, freeing me, then wraps her fingers around my cock.
But instead of stroking, she just squeezes the head—light, teasing.
Enough teasing to make my muscles lock, to send fire through my veins. Driving me insane.
Pissing me off. I was going to let her come all over my fingers, taste her, make her feel it—
But she doesn’t get that pleasure now.
I jerk her shorts off, shoving her back when she complains. She stares at me, almost completely naked, her panties half on her hips.
She doesn’t cover her belly.
Good.
That just makes her sexier.
She’s thick in all the right places, her curves fucking perfect—and she owns them.
Gorgeous. Confident. Mine.
Leaning over her, I suck one nipple between my lips, massaging with my teeth, flicking my tongue over the tip, caressing her with my tongue. Her body arches and I groan with her as I keep sucking and licking.
“Yes,” she gasps. “Oh, yes.”
Her fingers tighten around my cock, pulling me closer like she owns it, like she can take it however she wants.
She lifts her hips, inviting, demanding, and as much as I want to make her work for it, I can’t.
Not when she gives me a command like that.
The head of my cock drags over her slit, slick and hot, pushing in just enough to tease—just enough to drive us both insane.
I hold her there, right on the edge.
“Ask for it, Topolina.”
Her eyes darken, full of defiance.
“You want it too,” she argues.
I bite her breast, then suck hard, dragging a whimper from her throat. Her body arches, her fingers clutching at me, but I don’t let up. I continue the punishment, my mouth marking her perfect tits, my teeth nipping, teasing, owning.
She squirms, desperate, her hips rolling against me, chasing what she wants.
“Fuck me. Fuck me, Angelo.”
I drag my lips up to her throat, smirking. “That’s a demand, not a request.”
Her eyes blaze, her breath sharp.
“Fuck me or back up so I can fuck myself,” she growls.
God, if I didn’t hate her, I’d love her. I push her hand out of the way and slam into her, burying myself deep. We moan together, the sound raw.
My arms shake as I brace myself on the table. She’s wrecked beneath me—lips swollen, cheeks flushed, hair a mess, her eyes barely focusing as they roll back.
And fuck, I can’t stop staring.
She’s not just a force of nature, no ... no, she’s the deity behind it.
The goddess who commands the worst storms, raging wildfires, and everything in between. I’m a lucky man to be inside her.
“You’ve been in my head since that night,” I grit out, drawing back before thrusting into her again.
The table groans beneath us, and I have to hold her in place so it doesn’t shift.
“Fucking you that night ... was better than anyone else. You still are.”
Her eyes flick to mine, pinning me, breath ragged. “Shut up. You’re not good at sweetness,” she snarls, grabbing the back of my neck and crushing her mouth to mine.
I climb on top of her, driving into her with relentless force. And it is fucking—raw, unrestrained, nothing sweet about it. She bites, claws, fights me, her voice sharp with demand.
“Harder.”
“Faster.”
The words come like a chant, like she’s trying to break me before I break her. I groan, grip her thighs, and shove her knees to her chest, pinning her open so I can bury myself inside her.
Her shins brace against my arms, and I drive into her, her body tight, burning, wrecked.
She shatters, screaming my name like it’s a curse, like she hates me, like she’s swearing vengeance. But I’m not done.
I pull out of her, drag her to the edge of the table, and flip her onto her stomach before she can recover.
A sharp crack fills the air as I swat her perfect, round ass, watching the jiggle ripple through her thighs. She gasps and squirms. Her feet don’t even touch the floor.
“You’re the perfect size,” I appraise.
“Take a picture and fuck me,” she orders.
“So sharp. So prickly.” I muse, dragging the words out, enjoying her frustration.
“Please might work better, Topolina.”
Instead of thrusting in, I glide my cock over her, slow, deliberate, letting her feel every inch without giving her what she wants.
Luisa pauses, her breath hitching as she looks back at me. Her eyes glisten, pupils blown wide, lips red and swollen from biting them. She shudders, her voice above a whisper.
“Please fuck me, Angelo. I want to make you come.”
Yeah, she’s not allowed to be sweet anymore. My cock twitches at those two sentences and I slam into her again. I grip her hair tight, pulling her back so she has to brace herself on the table. I push one of her thighs forward and fuck her the way she needs.
I know she can take it.
And she proves it, goading me with “More” and “You can’t break me, asshole” over and over.
Her sass, her demands, always cut off by those sweet, wrecked moans, undo me. I grip her hips, lifting her just enough so I can rub her clit, pushing her over the edge.
She shatters, her body tightening, howling my name so loud I’m glad I dismissed the staff early. Her pussy clenches around me, pulling me deeper, tighter.
I press down on her lower back, my grip firm as I pull out, hating that I have to. A sharp groan rips from my chest as I come, spilling over her ass, watching the heat of it streak across her skin.
My breath drags, panting as I take in the sight of her—wrecked, perfect.
All mine.
The thought fills me with satisfaction as I swat her ass, right over my cum, watching her body jolt beneath my hand.
I press a slow kiss between her shoulder blades, my lips lingering.
“I like how you hate-fuck, Luisa.”
She doesn’t answer..
I blink, drawing back.
She’s just lying there, still, silent. Hopefully exhausted, but the unease rolling in my chest says otherwise. I pull up my jeans, then grab a napkin, cleaning her up.
“Luisa. Talk to me.”
She whispers. “I have to leave now.”
That doesn’t sit right.
I redress her, guiding her limbs when she doesn’t move to help. Then I lift her onto the table, easing her perfect tits back into her bra—a shame—but I need to focus.
When she meets my gaze, her eyes are glassy, the threat of tears hovering at the edge.
A single tear rolls down her cheek. My whole body locks up. I don’t know how to deal with tears. I stare, frozen, then wipe it away. She shoves my hand aside. “Don’t pretend you’re sorry.”
“I didn’t do this to—”
“To undermine me?” Her voice is quiet but lethal, her eyes pinned to mine.
“To have something over me? To leave me at your mercy?”
She tilts her chin up, unflinching. “Tell me you had sex with me because you like me.”
It’s a dare. A challenge.
I open my mouth.
“Tell me that’s the only reason, Angelo.”
I shake my head. “You’re not stupid enough to believe that. I don’t want to use it against you, Luisa. I enjoyed having sex with you.”
She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Just because you came-”
“I was happy fingering you. I would have stopped there ...” I wince. Honesty is too damn important to her. “Tonight.”
Her lips press into a thin line. “Yeah. Tonight. So I’ll go and say I’m not fit to watch you, and I’m sure you’ll get whoever you want to replace me and—”
I cup her face, firm, tilting her chin until she has to meet my gaze. I kiss her forehead softly. “You’re not leaving.”
“Oh, yes, I am.”
So much for not using sex as a weapon. I scoop her up, ignoring her gasp, and stride straight to my room.
She’s not leaving.
Not when I can prove just how much better staying with me is going to be.