Page 82 of Savage Saint
I'm just as frantic, raking my nails across his shoulders, his back, anywhere I can reach. I want to mark him, possess him the way he's possessing me.
His mouth drags along my collarbone, down between my breasts. When his teeth graze over my nipple through the thin lace of my bra, I arch against him with a cry.
"Mine," he growls, and I should argue, should maintain that last shred of independence, but the word echoes inside me, feeling right in a way nothing has before.
His hot mouth leaves my breast, trailing kisses down my stomach. Each press of his lips feels like fire against my skin. Angelo slides me down the wall but keeps me pinned there with his body, his hands gripping my hips.
"I need to taste all of you," he murmurs against my navel, his breath making me shiver.
My legs tremble as he sinks to his knees in front of me. His hands slip under the waistband of my shorts, tugging them down along with my underwear. The air hits my exposed skin, but I don't feel cold, not with the way he's looking at me.
"Fuck, you're beautiful," he says, his eyes drinking me in. His fingers trace up my thighs with a reverence that makes my breath catch.
I should feel vulnerable, exposed like this, but the hunger in his gaze makes me feel powerful instead. Wanted. Worshipped.
He presses a kiss to my inner thigh, then another, working his way higher with maddening slowness. His stubble scrapes against my sensitive skin, the slight burn only heightening everything else.
"Angelo," I whisper, threading my fingers through his hair, not sure if I'm trying to hurry him or simply hold on.
He looks up at me, his eyes nearly black with desire. "Patience, Butterfly." Then he smiles. A rare, genuine smile that makes my chest ache. "I've been dreaming about this. About you. Let me savour it."
Before I can respond, he parts me with his thumbs and licks a slow, deliberate stripe up my centre. My head falls back against the wall with a thud, a strangled sound escaping my throat.
"That's it," he murmurs against me. "Let me hear you."
His tongue circles my clit, teasing at first, then more insistent. One of his hands leaves my hip, and then I feel his finger sliding inside me, curling upward in a way that makes sparks shoot behind my eyelids.
"God," I gasp, my hips bucking against his mouth.
He adds a second finger, stretching me in the most delicious way while his tongue continues its relentless assault. My thighs start to shake, and I know I'm close already.
Angelo must feel it too, because he pulls back just enough to look up at me. "Not yet, Butterfly," he says, his voice rough.
He slows his fingers, drawing out each thrust while his tongue flattens against me, applying just enough pressure to keep me on edge without pushing me over.
"Please," I whimper, my pride long forgotten.
"You taste like fucking heaven," he groans against me. "Now that I've tasted you, how am I ever supposed to stop? I could stay here for hours, just listening to those little sounds you make."
As if to prove his point, he adds a third finger and sucks my clit into his mouth. I cry out, my body tensing as the pressure builds inside me.
"That's it, Butterfly. Come for me."
The orgasm hits me like a tidal wave, my body convulsing as pleasure tears through me. But Angelo doesn't stop. He worksme through it, then immediately starts building me toward another peak, his fingers curling inside me as his tongue traces patterns that make me see stars.
"Angelo," I gasp, my voice breaking. "I can't—"
"You can," he insists, looking up at me with dark eyes. "And you will."
"Don't stop," I beg, my fingers tightening in his hair. "Please don't ever stop."
The second wave crashes through me even harder than the first, my entire body shuddering as stars burst behind my eyes. My legs give out completely, and I collapse forward onto Angelo, my fingers clutching weakly at his shoulders.
"Fuck," I breathe against his neck, my body still pulsing with aftershocks.
He rises to his feet in one fluid motion, cradling me against his chest like I weigh nothing. I should protest, but my limbs feel boneless, and the solid warmth of his body against mine feels too good to fight.
"I've got you," he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple as he starts up the stairs.
