This girl… woman… angel will be my undoing, but I have no intention of walking away.
I don’t want just to win her. I want to conquer her.
Every.
Inch.
I want every breath of hers to be my own. I want every beat of her heart to be because of me. I want her writhing and screaming underneath me, all her angelic sweetness falling away and her coming undone to unleash the siren I sense hidden deep within.
In the pub, she keeps close to my side, which pleases me immensely. I want to leave. Not only so I could get my hands and lips on her, but to get away from the brazen eye-fucking I’m getting from the women practically grinding on Andro’s legs.
I also want to get Sophie—she has no idea I know her real name, but I’m happy to play her little game for tonight—away from the openly appraising looks men are giving her. I want to beat them all to a pulp and roar ‘mine’ like a goddamn caveman.
Even though the pub’s owner knows who I am and will give her anything she wants, Sophie sips on the half club-half ginger ale with lime while I finish my bourbon.
Andro smirks at me and inclines his chin toward the door. “Have fun. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Typically, we never leave the other alone for too long while out. Even though I walk in the legitimate parts of our world, our enemies are never far away. He guesses my hesitation. “I texted Guido. He’s on his way and should be here any minute.”
Andro slides away from the two women, stands besides Sophie’s chair, and pulls her to stand. I swallow my growl as he leans down and kisses both of her cheeks. The pecks are innocent, but they still make me grind my teeth, every muscle in my body poised to pounce.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Minnie. I hope to see you sometime again soon.”
Sophie stiffens slightly at Andro’s comment, and once I place my hand on her lower back, she eases under my touch.
I splay my hand wider to have more contact with her body, then lean down to her ear. I want to bite the tender lobe but resist the urge. However, a shiver runs down her spine when she feels my breath on her neck, and goosebumps rise.
“Ready to go, angel?”
She doesn’t look at me, but her throat bobs as she swallows and nods.
I lean in closer, my lips as close to her ear as possible without touching her skin. “Good girl,” I say, testing the phrase on her. By the sharp intake of her breath and biting her bottom lip, she quite likes that phrase.
I’m not a dominant per se, or practice the lifestyle; however, I have tendencies. Just like I’m hazarding a guess that Sophie isn’t a submissive per se; however, based on her reactions, she leans that way.
Nodding at Andro, who is smiling smugly, I wrap my arm around Sophie’s waist. She fits perfectly at my side and into my body like a missing piece.
More than one bastard eyes her up and down, but when they see my murderous scowl, they all quickly look away. She hesitates once when leave the pub and are on the sidewalk. I almost call her Sophie when I turn to ask her what is wrong.
She chews her bottom lip. “I should just go home.”
Hell no.
“Is that what you want, angel?” I ask instead. “You said you’d trust me.”
“I’m sure those are famous last words before stupid women like me get murdered,” she bites out.
She doesn’t do this often.
And that pleases me to no end, that she doesn’t regularly go home with men.
“What would make you feel better? Do you want my name?”
“No,” she says quickly, and it surprises me again, like the first time she cut me off when I was going to introduce myself.
“How about you share your location on your phone with someone you trust?” I suggest.
She tilts her head at me. “You could just throw away my phone.”
I chuckle, lifting my palms up. “Angel, what can I do to—”
“Stop calling me angel.”
She launches herself at me, like my calling her angel is decimating her control, and her lips slam to mine.
My arms wrap around her immediately, crushing her body into mine, and my tongue instantly seeks entrance into her mouth. She opens for me, and I swirl my tongue with hers; she tastes like honey. My blood is boiling in my veins as I ravage her lips. I’m lost in her feel and the taste of her, the world falling away. When I bite her lip, she gasps, then moans, and I press hard against her.
She’s the first one to break the kiss. When she looks up at me, her brown eyes, swirled with streaks of copper, are nearly black with how dilated her pupils are, and her bronze skin is like porcelain under the streetlights.
“Let’s go.” Her voice is hoarse and raspy.
“You don’t have to tell me twice, angel.” I grab her hand, hurrying her toward my vehicle. “Do you know how to drive stick?”
“Yes.” She frowns, turning to me. I toss her the keys and nudge her toward the driver’s side of my Ferrari while I open the passenger side. “I can’t drive this,” she squeaks.
“It’s a car.” I shrug, getting in. When she slips in, I say, “Just metal, glass, tires, and a steering wheel like all the others.”
She rolls her eyes, then narrows them at me. “Are you drunk? Is that why you want me to drive? Is that why you’re leaving with me?”
I lean over and kiss her hard again. “No. I had two drinks tonight. I want you to drive so I can do this.”
My eyes drink her in as my fingers trail down her neck, then undo the buttons of her jacket and push it back. As I suspected, her nipples are hard through the silk of her computer-code-patterned shirt, and I rub my thumb over one. Her eyes flutter shut.
“You’ll have to keep your eyes open, though.” I pinch the nipple softly, and her eyes whip open. “Otherwise, we’ll crash.” Continuing to rub my thumb over her nipple, I lean into her neck and lick up to her ear. “I’d rather we crash and burn in my bed, angel.”
Her chest heaves, and her breathing turns ragged. “I can’t drive if you’re doing that.”
“Yes, you can. Because you’re my good girl.” Her eyes flare, and she bites her lip. “Start the car.”
She does as I say.
“Drive, angel.” I palm her breast.
“Holy shit.” She squeezes her eyes shut and shudders. “I can’t—”
“Yes. You. Can.” I lean over the console and bite her earlobe. “I promise you, your reward will be worth it.”
She shudders again, then pulls the car out of the parking spot. Her take-off and gear shifting are smooth. I bite her earlobe again, then lick it. “That’s my good girl.”
She moans quietly, fighting the urge to close her eyes. My hand and eyes leave her briefly to select my penthouse in the navigation system, letting that guide her so I can focus on my innocent-looking angel morphing into a seductive siren before my eyes. As I lift her shirt from where it’s tucked into her skirt, she asks in a trembling voice, “What are you doing?”
“I need to feel your skin.”
I swear an inferno rages inside her because her skin is on fire. It’s as soft as the silk of her shirt, and my fingers seek the flesh of her breast and slip inside her bra, making her arms shake and hands clutch the steering wheel.
“Does that feel good?” My fingers brush over the pebble of her nipple.
“Oh my god,” she whispers, the car jerking to the left slightly before she course-corrects.
“Did you know that a woman can orgasm solely from nipple play?”
The car jerks again, and she down-shifts as she approaches a red light.
I pinch her nipple harder. “Answer me, angel.”
She moans, low and deep, and tilts her head back against the headrest. “No, I didn’t know that.”
“Do you think you can?”
She vigorously shakes her head. I lean over further, pull her shirt up, and pop her right breast out of her bra. I close my lips over her peaked nipple instantaneously. Her whole body jerks, and then she arches into me as I flick my tongue, lavishing the sensitive bud.
Is she always this responsive? Or is it because it’s that two halves have finally found each other to complete the perfect whole, with each edge fitting seamlessly together?
Pulling back, I tuck her breast back in so no fuckers driving an SUV or truck can see into the window and see that glorious piece of my girl’s flesh.
“We’ll see,” I murmur about the nipple-play orgasm, considering her responsiveness. I’m more determined than ever to see if she’ll bless me with one. I place my hand on her knee at the hem of her professional-looking skirt. “Drive quickly, angel.”
I love feeling the contractions of her muscles as she moves her leg to give gas, along with letting out the clutch. I love how her muscles tighten as I slowly run my hand higher up her thigh and under her skirt.
“I can’t concentrate,” she grits as she shifts gears and follows the navigation instructions.
“You’re doing perfect,” I praise, then inch higher. She isn’t wearing tights or stockings, and I love the feel of her bare legs. “We’ll be at my place soon.”
“I’ve never done this before.” Her voice shakes, her legs tense as she clenches them together.
I pull her hand off the gearshift and suck her finger into my mouth. I love how she’s shaking. “Nearly falling apart while you drive or…”
“Any of it.”
“Good.” I bite her fingertip, then lap my tongue around it to soothe the sting. “Very good, actually. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”
“Stop saying that,” she breathes, her eyes glued straight ahead. The navigation system tells her to turn right, and she tugs on her hand to free it from my mouth to downshift.
“You don’t want me to call you angel or good girl. Why?”
“There’s something about it that makes me…” She shakes her head, swallowing hard. “You’re dangerous. I don’t need you in my head.”
A jolt runs through me, reminding me that I am dangerous to a sweet little angel like Sophie Demeanus. Everything I do is legal; however, my family still is the Santoro crime family, and we’ll always have enemies. Does she know that, though?
Creed is an unusual name, and I’m unusual myself, given my tattoos. My name is known in the business world. Even though my family’s epicenter of our empire isn’t in San Diego, we have much business here—mafia-related and non—and many people know who and what the Santoro family is.
I focus on her second statement and draw lazy circles on her thigh. “You don’t need me in your head?”
She follows the final directions to my penthouse and slows to enter the underground parking. She looks sidelong at me. “I have a plan here. With school. I don’t need a guy messing with my head, no matter how hot he is.”
Grinning, I make a wider circle on her thigh, and she tightens her legs together again. “You think I’m hot.”
“Please,” she scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You know damn well that you are.”
I point to where she should park, and she pulls into the parking spot and turns off the car. I’m exceptionally impressed by her driving stick and her ability to handle a low vehicle like this. She didn’t bottom out or scrape the bottom once. I’ll praise her for that later, as I have other plans for her right now.
“Tell you what,” I say. “If I make you come in the next five minutes, I get to call you whatever I want.”
“Aren’t you a cocky loverboy?” She tosses me the keys, and I snatch them from the air. Her smile is smug. “Good luck doing the impossible.”
Her words register, and I scowl. “No man has made you come?”
Then it hits me. And I smile like a predator about to hunt.
“No man has made you come.”
I’m out of the vehicle before she utters a word and around to her side, opening the door. I pull her out of the car and up against me, making her squeak in surprise.
Then, her full, pouty lips curl into a taunting smile as she gazes up at me with a challenge. “Tick tock, loverboy.”
I want to shove her skirt up around her waist so I can lift her and have her straddle my hips. I resist, though, because I don’t want anyone who is down here or watching the security cameras to see her bared.
Instead, I grip her hand and walk us to my private elevator. When my code and facial scan are accepted and the door is closed, my mouth falls on hers, and I shove her jacket off. As I devour her mouth, I lift her shirt off, only breaking contact with her mouth to pull the offending garment over her head before I’m back. I have her bra off in a flash, making her gasp, and then my mouth falls on one perky breast, and my hand palms on the other. They’re the perfect size to fill and slightly overflow my hand. As my mouth, tongue, and teeth torment one nipple, my fingers do the same to the other.
“Oh my god, how does that feel so good?” she groans, then gasps as I suck on the nipple, whirling my tongue around the bud and dragging my teeth over it.
She’s so responsive to me. She twists and arches while she gasps, moans, and tries in vain to catch her breath.
When the door opens into my penthouse, I leave her clothes in the private elevator and pull her into my foyer, bracing her against the wall. Biting lightly on her nipple again, she cries out, clutching my head. I do it again and pinch her other nipple, and her cry is louder, followed by a husky moan.
She’d totally be a woman who can come just from nipple play alone. However, I’m on a self-imposed timeline, so my free hand undoes her skirt, letting it pool at our feet, then it slips into her pale blue lace panties and between her legs. Nudging her thighs apart with my knee, I immediately feel her wetness.
I lift my head, looking down at her.
Head tossed back, eyes closed, beautiful and utterly intoxicating.
“Is all this wet neediness for me, angel?” I slip a finger inside her, groaning but keeping my eyes on her. I push in deeper, then begin slipping my finger in and out of her while continuing to torture her with the nipple play, and her head twists from side to side. “Come undone for me. That’s it.” I pick up the pace of pulsing into her.
“I can’t.” Her head thrashes now. “I’ve never… No guy…”
She tries to push me away, in denial or maybe self-preservation, because this is embarking on a life-altering experience. However, in the very next breath, her hand is a death grip around my wrist, pulling me back.
Fuck yes, I’m going to be the first man to make her come. I don’t gloat, though; I encourage her toward that glorious peak.
“You can. You already are. I can feel you starting to tighten around me. Think how good this feels, and it’s only my finger.”
I slip in a second finger, her tight walls sheathing around them, and I nearly nut in my pants thinking about being inside her and how amazing she’s going to feel. She cries out as I bury my fingers in her, twist and curl them against her wall, massaging the soft pad of tissue, then add my thumb to her clit.
“Come for me.” I suck her nipple into my mouth again, swirling my tongue around the taut bud, and rub her clit faster. Her sounds and breathing, along with the starting clench of her walls, tell me what to do as I rapidly learn how to manipulate her body.
Her fingers dig into my scalp as she grips my head. “Oh my god, Creed.”
I grit my teeth against the close reality of almost coming just by her crying out my name. “That’s it, angel. That’s my good girl.”
She shakes and her whole body tenses. I rub her front wall and clit harder and bite her nipple and pinch the other. She stops breathing as her walls contract, then they erupt into spasm after spasm, and I feel a ripple in her abs. She cries out my name, and my boxer briefs are wet from the pre-cum leaking from the head of my dick as I work her tight pussy and clit to prolong and milk her orgasm for as long as possible.
Her whole body shakes as I support her against the wall as the last of her orgasm ripples through her. I’ve never had a woman come so magnificently for me before. I scoop her into my arms, and she nestles against my chest, the aftershock tremors still working their way through her.
“What did you do to me?” she whispers.
I smile and kiss the top of her head as I walk through the penthouse. I’m cradling her in my arms and feel like I’m holding the most precious treasure in the world.
Laying her gently on my bed, I step back to admire her. She only wears her pale blue lace panties, and her body is curvy and lush. When she covers her breasts with her hands, I shake my head. “Don’t.” My voice is hoarse with desire and appreciation. “I want to see you.”
I realize then that I not only brought her to my home, but I’ve brought her into my bedroom and laid her on my bed—something I’ve never done with any other woman.
She stares up at me in wonder. “You made me come.”
“I did.” I can’t be cocky right now. I’m nearly losing my mind that I’m not touching her right this instant. “What do you want, angel?”
Her fingertips start to play with her nipples, and my cock jerks in my pants. I’m so hard, it’s painful. She may look sweet and innocent, but I see the siren in her, who is purring and arching her back, wanting to play dirty. “I want you to do that again.”
“Say the words,” I rasp.
“I want you to make me come again.” She sounds short of breath.
“Do you want to cum on my cock?” I undo the buttons of my suit jacket and push it off, loving that her eyes watch my every move with an unguarded look of need. When I undo my shirt, I demand, “Answer me, angel.”
Her eyes widen at my commanding tone, then darken as I remove my shirt. She licks her lips. “Yes.”
Kicking off my shoes, I reach down to take my socks off, keeping my eyes on her. “I made you come within five minutes. You know what that means?”
She bites her lip, nodding, eyes riveted on me. When I undo my pants, her breathing deepens.
“Good girl,” I say, making her eyes fly to mine. “I get to call you whatever I want.”
When my pants fall from my waist, her sharp intake of breath makes my cock jerk. When I lower my briefs, she moans, low and guttural.
“I was wondering if your dick was tattooed.”
I stalk toward her on the bed. My bed. The meaning and implications aren’t lost on me for what I’ve consciously or subconsciously done.
Stroking my iron-hard erection, loving the way her eyes rake over my inked flesh and how she licks her lips as she looks at my cock.
“You’re my good girl,” I say, and her eyes flare. “You’re my angel.” Her nostrils flare at the possessiveness in my words and voice. “You’re mine.”
