Page 58 of Demon's Angel

Subtle isn’t working. Perhaps I should make myself clear so there’s no misunderstanding. My hand reaches forward and grasps his cock through his jeans. He hisses and covers my fingers with his. He doesn’t pull them away, which I take as encouragement.

“Pretty impressive package you’ve got there, Prez.”

“Vi,” he growls. “You’re going to get more than you bargained for if you keep that up. You have no fucking idea what you’re doing to me. You’re playing with fuckin’ fire. You wearing my name marked on your skin? You showing me you’re my fuckin’ property? You’re already my ol’ lady, I fuckin’ claimed you. One last chance, woman, and you’re going to see what I’m packing close up.”

“Show me,” I taunt him, my eyes rising from his groin to his face and locking onto his eyes.

“No,” he retorts suddenly, in a fluid movement throwing himself off the bed and landing on his feet. He’s breathing heavily as though he’s run a marathon. “You know the fuckin’ rules. You’re…”

“If you bring Nathan into this bedroom one more time, D, I’m going to scream. You’re not my fuckin’ brother, got it? He cannot be replaced.”

“Vi, I’m sorry.”

“The wedding’s off, D. I can’t do it.”

My words take both of us by surprise. The party below must be finishing up as the sounds coming up through the floor have diminished, and my adamant statement rings in the sudden quiet.

“Too late for that, you’re wearing my property patch,” he offers sneakily, smirking.

I stand. I stalk him. Only halting when I’m up close. Unfortunately, it’s him who looms over me, my not impressive height totally unimposing. But quickly I move, ripping off the tank top, and shrugging out of my shorts. I’ve foregone panties, so I’m now standing naked before him.

“So, claim me then.”

His hands clench and unclench at his sides. His body is quivering with tension. “You’ve no idea what you’re asking for.”

I decide to put it plainly, in words he can’t misunderstand.

“I don’t want a brother, D, I had one of them and I keep him alive in my memory. I want a man. A husband.”

He’s staring over my head, refusing to look at my body.

Again, I reach out and trace the shape of his cock with my fingers. “You might act like you don’t have the hots for me, but this says you’re lying, D.”

“You can’t want me.”

“But I do.”I always have.

His head rolls back. It looks like he’s having an internal struggle, alternating between the obvious needs of his body, and doing what he believes is right in his head. I’ve done everything I could do, offered myself to him on a silver platter, and now, once again, he won’t even look. I start to feel awkward, knowing I’ve failed, read the signs wrong. But how can I misread a rock-hard cock? I can’t see how it’s possible. From the way his head is moving side-to-side, I’ve lost this battle. I can only hope for my ongoing sanity that I haven’t lost the whole war.

Dejectedly, I start to bend to pick up my discarded clothes when two strong hands come around my waist and lift me. Next thing I know I’m standing, my feet on the bed, steadied by his arms, putting me at an equal height.

“You asked for this, Vi. Remember that.”

Then, with an arm around my waist, he moves his other behind my head, forcing me to come to him. Within seconds I know I’ve unleashed the beast.

Our first kiss isn’t gentle, it’s not an exploration, a polite getting to know each other’s taste. It’s forceful, it’s him claiming ownership, as if he’s waited for this as long as I have. As his tongue sweeps into my mouth, his lips press hard to mine, our teeth clash together. He’s in complete control, I can do nothing but hang on and try to keep up. He leads, I follow. He’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

I’m being pushed back, over his arm. The hand holding my head captive comes down and sweeps up my legs, then I’m on my back, on the bed, and he’s kneeling over me. His mouth recaptures mine, then his hands are on my breasts, kneading and plumping them as though, now he’s been given permission to explore, it’s beyond him to take his time.

Suddenly he rears back, his hand wiping his mouth, our kiss so frantic it’s messy, his saliva on my lips, mine on his.

“Theo,” he gasps. “We can’t do this in front of the kid.”

“Theo’s asleep,” I tell him, then grin. “And he’s far too young to care what we get up to.”

It seems to be all the encouragement he needs. He kisses me again, the demanding slide of his tongue already familiar. Then his mouth moves down, laving one nipple and then the other.

“I can’t take my time, Vi. I’ve been rock hard since you came back into my fuckin’ life.”

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