Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
He wants this.
When I tug down his briefs, his cock falls heavy against his abdomen. Smooth, solid, and veiny—it’s both obscene and beautiful. I’d expect nothing less from Angelo Vitale.
For a moment, I let my gaze rake over him, leaning back in his chair, thighs wide, trousers gaping. He’s the picture of menace and control as he lazily assesses me with those dark, sinful eyes.
I want to unravel him.
Bracing my palms on his thighs, I lean in and lick the entire length of him from base to tip. A shudder runs through him, and from my periphery, I see his hand twitch again. His restraint is slowly fraying.
I wrap one of my palms around the base of his cock and use the other to milk the arousal leaking from his tip. I lap it up with my tongue, then suck him into my mouth. Closing my eyes, I give myself over to the moment, slowly sinking more of him into my throat with every dip of my head.
The muscles in his thighs contract, and his breaths grow shallower. After a few minutes, I settle into a rhythm, but it doesn’t last long. He finally makes contact when his hand slides into my hair, gripping it roughly.
“Is this what you wanted?” His fingers press into my scalp as he shoves my head down on his cock, making me gag. “Are you so desperate for my attention you’ll take anything you can get?”
I gurgle around him, enjoying my little victory. It doesn’t matter what he says…because I got to him.
But in this war between us, nobody really wins. He takes control, fucking my mouth as if it’s little more than an object to be used until he empties himself. He’s intentionally depriving me of his pleasure and praise—the thing I want most from him.
“You want her to hear you choking on my cum?” he taunts. “Is that it?”
Undeniably, the thought of Genevieve just outside the door listening gives me a certain satisfaction. So I nod against him.
“Since you asked so nicely.”
He shoves his cock down my throat and holds me there for so long I feel like I can’t breathe. When I start to struggle against him, he pulls me up for air.
“Giving up already?” he asks. “We’ve only just begun.”
I take him back into my mouth and let him fuck out his frustration. The more I relax, the more he gives. When his last thread of restraint snaps and the primal sounds of his satisfaction fill the space between us, it feeds the darkest part of me.
I want to be the only one who can give him this.
When I moan around him, he shudders, and I realize he likes that sound of approval just as much as I do. He drags his fingers through my hair, sending little shocks of pleasure through me. Gathering a fistful, he angles my head back slightly, like he needs to see more of my face.
When I look up at him, eyes soft, so obviously owned by him in this moment, he tips his head back and releases a long, painful groan.
His cock empties into my mouth, and I swallow everything he gives me. It feels intimate and possessive, and I don’t want it to end. I keep sucking him even as he softens, drawing out every last drop and licking him clean.
“That’s enough, cara.” He stills me with his grip on my hair.
For a fleeting second, I catch a glimpse of tenderness in his eyes as he pulls his cock from my mouth and brushes a thumb over my lips. It disappears into the void of darkness a moment later.
“That was a waste,” he says. “I can’t get you pregnant there.”
I rise on stiff legs and wipe the mascara leaking down my face, trying to hold it together long enough to say my piece.
“I know what I’ve done to you. So you can punish me as much as you like, but it won’t change anything,” I tell him. “I didn’t walk away because I was disloyal to you, Angelo. What I did to you, I did for you.”
His face is a mask of indifference. He doesn’t believe me, and he never will. I turn and walk out the door, trying to breathe through the agony crushing my rib cage. When Genevieve sees how wrecked I am, she smirks.
“Trouble in paradise already?” She casts me a pitiful glance as I brush past her.
“My marriage isn’t your business.”
“I’m just offering you my sympathy, Abella. It must be so hard on you.”
I hate that I pause to hear her out, but I do. “What must be so hard?”
She lowers her voice, as if she’s telling me a secret. “Everyone knows he only married you because you were already bought and paid for.”
Her words hit their intended target with brutal accuracy.