Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
But he doesn’t finish on my tongue. Instead, he drags me into the bed and shoves me face down against my pillows, my pussy in the air, and he slaps my ass hard as I grip the blanket and moan, looking over my shoulder.
He leans forward, kissing me over my shoulder, and the tip of his cock teases my slit. “Every single night since I’ve met you, I’ve fallen asleep thinking about fucking you.” He slowly sinks himself inside of me from behind and I groan, still not used to his size. But I love this position so much, and once he’s eased in deep, I start to push back, wanting more. “Greedy girl,” he chides and spanks me.
“Fuck me, Angelo,” I say, whining a little.
He pumps deep and pulls back, deep and pulls back, and with each thrust my eyes roll back into my head, until he’s giving me what I want. It’s rough and tender at the same time, his cock filling me beyond capacity, and when he reaches around my hips to rub a thumb over my clit, it completely breaks me.
I melt for him. I shatter like a good girl. I come, and he moans as I do it, fucking me like a savage until I’m a gooey mess beneath his muscular body, and I can tell he loves it when I come, because he doesn’t last much longer. He fills me, hot and gorgeous, and we’re both a sweaty mess in tangled sheets by the time we’re done.
“Lovely girl,” he purrs in my ear, arms wrapped around my body. “I think I made the right call coming here tonight.”
“You only say that now because you got sex.”
“No, baby, I’m saying that because I got you.”
“God, you’re so corny.”
I’m smiling despite myself and we stay like that until the dryer goes off, but he doesn’t bother getting dressed.
The coffee maker gurgles and the eggs fry. I’m humming to myself and the morning feels light and airy. I’m not even stressed about working at Cage tonight for the first time in forever. Angelo’s in my room getting dressed, and I’m doing my best not to read into last night too much.
But I’m still running through about a million different scenarios as I try to get a sense of what’s happening between us.
I agreed to work with him when I thought it was going to help Serena.
And now he’s coming to my apartment in the middle of the night and we’re definitely having sex.
Not as some cover—but because we want to.
Or maybe it was always just because we want to.
“Smells good.” Angelo appears in the kitchen and stops to kiss my neck. I feel this all-over glowy sensation like my body’s getting warm from the inside. “Can I have some?”
“Help yourself.”
He pours coffee into an old, chipped mug. He’s got his washed clothes back on—they’re wrinkled and there are a couple of set-in blood stains that aren’t coming out anytime soon, but they’re clean enough to wear back home.
I try not to look at him as I finish up the eggs. He accepts his plate and follows me to the table where we sit across from each other, and I want to ask him why he’s still here, why he’s eating breakfast with me, why he’s even in this neighborhood when he could be anywhere else.
The guy’s a Bianco. He’s filthy rich in a way I’m only guessing at. When this was a mutually beneficial business agreement between two associates, that made sense to me. He needed help getting a read on Tommy, and I needed help getting Serena out of Tommy’s clutches. Our needs aligned.
Except this isn’t about that anymore. He’s here because he wants to be.
And I haven’t kicked him out because I want him to stay.
Which raises all sorts of problems that I’m doing my best to ignore.
Over breakfast, he asks about my life. They’re normal questions, getting-to-know-you questions, and at first, they make me a little uncomfortable. What’s a guy like him going to think about a girl like me? An orphan with an abusive stepfather? I barely graduated high school, and forget about college. But when I give him the abridged and sanitized version of my childhood, he only listens and nods along and asks more questions like he’s genuinely interested in who I am.
I’m not used to that kind of attention.
Serena’s always been the popular one. She’s taller, prettier, with that gorgeous hair and that perfect height. I’m the older, sensible sister. Shorter, curvier, with darker skin and darker eyes.
But Angelo’s here, with me, interested in me, and I like it. I really, really like it.
My phone rings and I get up to answer. Serena’s number flashes on the screen, which is strange—it’s barely past nine and she rarely ever calls unless it has to do with Cage. I answer, moving back to my room, very much on guard. “Serena? Hey, what’s up?”