It’sthe mostintense foreplay I’ve ever played with, which you wouldn’t suspect something as simple as feeding to be. But it’s just so erotic.
“I need a drink,” I breathe, needing a distraction before I blow in my fucking pants.
Jumping up, I stride over to the bar, pouring myself some scotch.
Stepping back over to the couch, I tower over him where he sits. The way he looks gazing up at me, hands cuffed behind his back, is wickedly tempting. I take a slow sip of my scotch, and he parts his lips. The signal that he wants a taste.
“Would you like some, beautiful?”
“Please.” His voice is raspy with desire.
Tipping the glass to his lips, I give him some liquor, and he swallows it, then sucks his bottom lip. My fingers trail his jaw, just marveling for a moment.
“Can I have more?” He hums, sweetly.
I take a seat beside him. “Only if you take it slow. I don’t want you to end up snoring.” I smirk teasingly, and he returns it.
“Hmm… I dunno,” he purrs, leaning into my side, brushing his lips along my neck, by my ear. “You might like how easy I am when I’m drunk.”
In the blink of an eye, I’m blazing and buzzing. From his proximity, his hot fucking mouth and the smell of him, like flowers and sugar, and the way he’s so clearly insatiable for me.
Yet now there’s a different inferno inside me, of thewrathfulvariety. At mention of him beingeasywhen he’s drunk, my mind swirls around what I saw…
In thosevideos. From the camera feed.
Jaw clenched tight, muscles stiff and unmoving, I’m one slight breath from exploding.Rampagingthis island until blood flows like waves of the ocean.
Angel definitely senses my sudden shift in mood. He’s good like that.
This reaction is clearly legible to him, because he swallows and blinks over a widened nervous gaze.
“Diablo…” he whispers, a sparkly forest of regret in his doe eyes.
“Angel,” I breathe in return, unable to produce even the extra two syllables of his nickname.
That’s the level of urgency that dings suddenly, like a timer. And I lunge.
Grabbing him by the face, my mouth is on his so fast our teeth clash. Before I can even process what’s happening, I’m pulling him onto my lap, devouring his lips, growling and groaning and sucking and biting. He whimpers, and despite how hard and hungry I’m kissing him, he strokes my tongue with his; gentle, cherishing flicks that seem to subdue me.Soothing. The way he’s kissing back, it’s like he’s pacifying me with his mouth.
Little bird, taming the snarling beast with lush kisses.
And now I’m melting beneath him, one hand in his hair, the other gliding down his frame, down his chest, over his heart to grip his waist. Touching every inch of him thatbelongsto me.
Only me.
Only. Fucking. Mine.
“Mine,” I trill to him, feral animal somehow domesticated by this sweet angel. “Mine mine onlymine… you sweet maddening thing.”
“Uh-huh,” he pants, writhing on my lap. “Only yours, Diablo.”
“Promise,” I croak in a pleading growl hoarse with frustration. “Promiseme, pajarito. Fucking swear it—”
“I promise,” he rushes. “I swear on every breath I take, I belong toyou, Ivory.”
The lamenting sincerity in his tone slows me, and I break our kiss, mouths hovering. We’re both gasping for air, sharing heady breaths as I gaze up at him, and he down at me.
What is this…?
