Page 143 of Savage Saint
"Good," I murmur against his skin. "I want you to remember this. Want you to remember how it feels to be marked by me."
I work my way down his body slowly, deliberately, until I reach his cock. He's already hard again, thick and ready, and I take him in my mouth without warning.
Angelo's back arches off the bed, a string of curses falling from his lips as I work him with my tongue and lips. I take him deep, as deep as I can, hollowing my cheeks as I suck.
"Christ, your mouth," he pants, his hips bucking upward. "So fucking perfect. Made to suck my cock."
The dirty words only spur me on, and I double my efforts, using everything I know to drive him wild. When I pull off with a wet pop and look up at him through my lashes, his eyes are wild with lust.
"Need to be inside you again," he growls, pulling me up his body. "Need to feel you come on my cock again."
This time, when I sink down onto him, the angle is completely different. Deeper. More intense. I set the pace, ridinghim slowly at first, savouring the feeling of him filling me completely.
"That's it, Butterfly," Angelo encourages, his hands gripping my hips, guiding my movements. "Ride me. Take what you need."
I do, finding a rhythm that has us both gasping. The position puts my fresh infinity symbol on full display, and I can see Angelo's eyes fixed on it, watching it move with my body.
"You like seeing your mark on me," I observe breathlessly, rolling my hips in a way that makes him groan.
"Fuck yes," he admits without shame. "Love seeing proof that you're mine. Love knowing I put it there."
"And you're mine," I say, my nails raking down his chest, leaving red lines that will bruise.
The possessive words drive us both higher, and soon we're moving with desperate urgency again. Angelo sits up, wrapping his arms around me, holding me close as I move on top of him. The new angle hits something deep inside me that makes me see stars.
"Come for me again," he demands, his mouth at my ear. "Want to feel you clench around my cock. Want to watch you fall apart in my arms."
His hand moves between us, finding my clit with practised ease. The combination of him inside me and his fingers on me is too much, and I shatter around him with a cry that echoes off the walls.
Angelo follows me over the edge, his arms tightening around me as he spills inside me again. We collapse together, breathing hard, skin slick with sweat and still tingling from our shared high.
But even then, we can't seem to get enough of each other. Our hands continue to roam, touching and claiming. We make lovetwice more before exhaustion finally claims us, each time more desperate and intense than the last.
Finally, when we're truly spent, we lie together, our matching infinity symbols pressed against each other, blood and sweat and come creating a seal between us that feels more binding than any wedding ring.
Angelo reaches for the medical supplies one last time. "Now let me take care of you properly," he says softly, his voice tender with affection.
This time, the wound care is a ritual of intimacy. He cleans my infinity symbol again with gentle precision, then applies fresh antibiotic ointment before covering it with a sterile bandage. His fingers are reverent as they smooth the edges, sealing our shared blood beneath white gauze.
I do the same for him, taking equal care with his matching mark. There's something sacred about this final step, this protection of the wounds we've given each other in love.
"No more marks from the past," Angelo whispers into my hair, his voice soft with satisfaction and exhaustion.
"Only love marks," I agree, tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "Only choice."
46
KASIA
Iwake to an empty bed and the sound of coffee brewing downstairs.
Angelo's side of the bed is already cool to the touch, which means he's been up for a while. It's not unusual. He's an early riser when his mind is working through something, and lately there's been plenty to work through. But this morning feels different. The air itself seems charged with possibility, like the moment before lightning strikes.
I stretch languidly beneath the Egyptian cotton sheets, feeling muscles that are finally free of the constant tension I used to carry. When did that happen? When did I stop sleeping like a weapon ready to be deployed and start sleeping like a woman who knows she's safe?
The pre-dawn light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting everything in soft greys and golds. I should get up, find Angelo, start the day. But for just a moment, I want to savour this feeling of belonging somewhere, of waking up in a place that feels like home.
Eventually, the smell of fresh coffee and something that might be pancakes draws me from the warm cocoon of blankets.I slip from beneath the covers and pad over to the bathroom, my bare feet silent on the cool marble. The motion-sensor light flickers on, and I freeze.
