Page 131 of The Diávolos: Part Two
When I get to the last letter, Angelica is a mess.
I’ve taken her to the edge so many times, her tears are now seeping through her blindfold. She can't handle it anymore.
But she's ready.
S.
As I carve, I bring my mouth to Angelica’s clit and suckle it between my lips. Her breaths are shallow, out of control, and coming out in short bursts. She moans through the fabric that gags her, the sounds erratic, urgent.
Angelica comes violently and cries out until she is unable to catch her breath.
I remove the blindfold and gag, and her eyes are wide and glossy.
“Such a good girl.” I kiss my way from her temple, down her neck.
After a few moments of letting her cool down, I shove my fingers into her pussy and make her come again.
Then, I fuck her.
I fuck her like it’s our first and last time. And when I’m satisfied with the number of orgasms she’s had, only then do I let myself spill inside her.
Angelica sleeps, satiated and filled with my seed.
She crashed right after we finished having sex, exhaustion hitting her like a ton of bricks, understandably so.
I would have held back a bit, but she asked for it. And fuck was it worth it.
I’d told her that the next time I fucked her, she’d have to beg for it, and she did, like the perfect little angel she is.
Deciding to let her rest for a bit while I sort out what’s happening outside, I step out of the room and head to the main area, still in earshot of the bedroom.
And I come face-to-face with Philip’s alleged bastard son.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” he asks in a no-bullshit tone. His large form towers over my six-foot-three frame, but it takes a lot more than a threatening voice and taller height to scare me.
I look back at the room I just stepped out from and then back at him. “Why did you help her?” I ask, ignoring his question.
The man seems to debate answering me, his jaw ticking.
His stone-like facial expression doesn’t waver when he replies. “Because my father is a piece of shit.”
“So, youarePhilip’s bastard.” I glance back at Angelica’s door again, worried she’ll wake up and get scared, being alone in an unfamiliar space. Or that some fucker will walk in while I’m distracted and take her from me again.
“The name is Atlas,” the giant huffs, unamused. “And don’t worry about her. There’s only one way into this part of the caveand it’s behind us,” he explains, pointing to the other side of the tunnel.
I nod, feeling some relief that I can let her rest.
“Atlas: the bearer of the heavens,” I mock. “Some nice gates you’ve got down here.”
Atlas’s face sours, the first bit of emotion I’ve seen in him. “My mother named me.”
“Where is she now?” I ask, genuinely curious. If Philip had a son that no one knew about but that still lived in the city, it’d be harder to hide if his mistress was still around.
“Dead.”
I say nothing.
“I might as well be too,” Atlas adds.
