Page 37 of Dark Angel

But then came that guttural groan, a sound torn from the depths of his soul, as he pushed my hand away. His words, a mantra of restraint, echoed in my mind. "Not the right time," he’d said, shaking his head, his control a towering, unbreakable dam against the flood of desire flowing through our bond. He ordered me out, his eyes a turbulent sea of willpower and agony.

I almost had him. I'm no expert in sex, but I can sense when someone's about to crack. Or maybe I'm just fooling myself.

He methodically unties each knot as I turn these thoughts over, his eyes burning into mine, a fierce inferno barely contained. I narrow my eyes in response. No more fucking games, Jaden. You had your chance and you blew it. My mind screams defiance, loud and clear.

But despite my resolve, my body betrays me, responding to his proximity, his touch. My heart races and my nipples are hard as stones. It's a battle between mind and body, and I'm caught in the crossfire. I'm determined to resist, to not give in to the temptation that's Jaden. But it's hard, so damn hard, when every fiber of me screams otherwise.

His eyes stay fixed on my body, but I can't help but notice that he's not looking at my face. My heart sinks for a moment, torn between desire and disappointment. But then I remember our bond, the connection that ties us together. I can feel his desire through it, hot and insistent, and it's impossible to deny the sheer intensity of his need. And yet, there's something else lurking in the background. His terror. It's like an ever-present shadow, creeping closer when we least expect it.

As he continues to undo the knots, the world around us seems to slow down. Time stretches out like taffy, each second lingering as if reluctant to let go. I watch with bated breath as the veins in his cock pulse, hard abs taut with anticipation. Every part of his body is in perfect proportion, sculpted by some divine artist with the sole intent to drive me wild. He's a living, breathing masterpiece, one that I'm desperate to touch, taste, and claim as my own.

All thoughts blow from my brain as he undoes the last knot and lets his robe fall to the floor. God, his body is something else altogether. He's perfect. Every toned muscle and curve of him designed by the gods. Every hot and handsome man in the world pales in comparison. He's that perfect.

My eyes take in every inch of him as he stands before me, completely bare for the first time. Absolute perfection, he stands, the warrior angel about to make his conquest. His large cock commands my attention and a surge of fear and desire courses through me. Dear god, please let this happen. I send my frantic prayer to the heavens, all while my eyes remain glued on his cock, my heart about to punch its way out of my chest. For the first time, maybe ever, I want a man to enter my body. But I know there's a good chance I'll freeze up and be unable to take him inside me. But my frustration from weeks of Jaden teasing and playing with my clit without ever bringing me satisfaction has primed me, my body aching for release. I’m soaking wet and can smell my arousal but before my embarrassment registers, he moves.

His eyes never leave mine as he crosses the distance between us, climbing onto the bed and positioning himself above me. My brain doesn't have time to register the speed with which he's spread my legs and stabbed his hard length inside me leaving a trail of searing pain. Every muscle in my body clamps down hard but it's too late. He's already inside me.

Maybe it's the echo of his response through the bond that fuels me. But I can't focus on that right now because if he can be the master of control, then so can I. So, I focus hard on controlling my responses and matching mine to his. Then, he throws his head back and closes his eyes.

The entire time, he doesn't make one sound. Doesn't breathe hard. Doesn't break a sweat. Nothing.

Victory and agony pulse through me as he drills into me, but fuck, how it hurts. Focus on something. I move so I can hold him. But he pulls my arms above my head, taking away my control as he immobilizes me with his other hand on my hip. He gives me no choice but to lay back.

The pain intensifies with each thrust. My body is a battleground between pleasure and torment, and I don't know which will win. His fear and desire are noticeable through our bond, adding another layer to the war going on inside me. God, how it hurts. But as I close my eyes and slide into the pain, something changes. The searing fire in my belly turns to a pool of liquid heat. A strange sensation builds within me. It's like a storm brewing in my core, threatening to burst forth and sweep us both away.

I submit to the sensation, and I swear I feel a pulse of pleasure from inside him. But when I look up, his face still holds the same mask of control as if he has to think about being anywhere else but here. Closing my eyes, I block out the pain and focus on his smell—earthy, primal, intoxicating—and the heat emanating from his body as he takes me.

Slowly, the receding pain melts into pleasure that courses through my veins. My heartbeat quickens, my breaths shallow.

And then it's over, and he's pulling out of me. In an instant, he's off the bed, shrugging into his housecoat, and heading toward the door before I've caught my breath.

"Get dressed, and we'll grab something to eat.” He keeps his tone nonchalant as if nothing just happened between us, but his back is ramrod straight with tension.

What the fuck? His turmoil surges through our bond. I know he's struggling, too, but why is he acting like this? I lay there, utterly confused, feeling something strange pulsing deep within me.

I liked being held down and fucked. Guilt and shame course through me as I entertain such dirty thoughts. But there's no denying it now. Something inside me is awake, and I don't know if I can ever return to how things were before Jaden entered my world.

I hustle into a black long-sleeve crew-neck sweater, its asymmetrical cutaway a stark contrast to the wide-leg cream pants and black leather ankle boots. All pieces picked by Jaden, Mr. Fashion Guru himself. My mind rewinds to that day at the Toronto Eaton Centre. I've always been a practical shopper, mostly ‘cause my wallet didn't allow for frills. My go-to? A no-fuss pants and T-shirt combo. So, marching into H & M, I'd started grabbing the usual suspects off the rack.

But Jaden, oh man, he had other ideas. He watched me for a bit, a scowl etching his face, before swiping the clothes from my arms. In a flash, he's got this whole new stack, pushing me towards the change room, playing sugar daddy or something.

That's when things got weirdly fun. He hands me stuff that's like, gigantic. I'm drowning in fabric, laughing my ass off as I shuffle out to him. "Jaden, seriously, this size?"

He's all dismissive, "Size, smize." And then, bam! He's Mr. Popular, surrounded by those walking billboards they hire. You know the type, the ones who look like they've never eaten a carb in their life. I shove down that twinge of jealousy as he flashes that killer smile – never at me, though. "Ladies, a little help here?"

I focus back on Jaden because, damn, he's actually looking at me. He's all in his element, circling me like I'm his canvas or something. He tweaks the sweater here and nods approvingly there.

And you know what? Despite my whole spiel about being Miss Independent, having my own personal stylist wasn't half bad. Around us, other shoppers start gathering, asking for his advice. Desperate husbands are practically begging him. But Jaden? He laughs it off, "Sorry folks, exclusive service for her only."

This guardian angel I'm stuck with, he's a whole different breed of weird. One minute, he's all eyes on me like I'm the last living soul on earth, and the next, he's shut down like a guillotine. What's up with him? I mean, what's really eating at Captain Control, who seems to have it all? But something deep down tells me it ain't all rainbows and sunshine in Jaden-land.

The way he just . . . unplugs from reality? That's not normal. I might not be a shrink, but even with my lowly psych degree, it's clear as day—Jaden's got this switch he flips, and poof, he's detached. Like he's somewhere else entirely. And the guy never smiles. Except, I've cracked that tough exterior a few times. Made him laugh, even got a grin or two. And yeah, despite his protests, I know I've got under his skin.

My heart's doing this crazy dance in my chest, and I can't figure if it's fear or excitement—or maybe a mix of both. That blend of dread and thrill whenever I think about what's next, or about Jaden. They both got my heart racing like crazy. But I know better than to get my hopes up. Good stuff never lasts in my world.

I catch him standing there, like some statue, just staring out the window with this impatient tap-tap-tap of his foot. Everything coming through our connection is suddenly murky, like peering through a thick fog. It's all blurry and mixed up. Is he tangled in a mess of emotions, or is he just hiding in his cave? As I come up behind him, he spins on his heel and strides out. "Car's waiting. Time to go." He snaps the words out, not even pausing to see if I'm following.

I almost ask where we're headed but clamp my mouth shut. Pointless. When Jaden's in this headspace, it's like talking to a brick wall. He says nothing as we get into the car and he pulls into the busy downtown traffic. His face is a mask of stone-cold intensity, his gaze sharp enough to slice through steel. Fuck, he’s focused. Like a laser beam. I study his profile, my mind bouncing between a million thoughts.

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