Page 123 of Angelic Vengeance

Her soft tits pressed against my hard chest,her breath hot on my cheek.“You fuck me so good.”Her nails cut slashes across my back.“I want more.”

The perfect memory shattered with the knowledge she was pretending.

None. Of. It. Was. Real.

My eyes dropped to where she was scrubbing her arm so hard her skin was nearly raw-red, and my chest ached.

Not. My. Problem.

I tore my eyes away and walked across the dark bedroom, stopping in front of the wall-sized windows. The two-bedroom apartment was in Queens, high enough to give a full view of the East River and Manhattan skyline. If I squinted my eyes, I could probably make out the building of my penthouse.Our home.

I’d move us back there eventually, but not until I could trust her again. She knew the layout too well. Too many escape routes.

Here… There was just one way out. Through me. And she’d never convince me to let her go.

Gold lights shone in the distance, sirens echoed up the walls, and suddenly I was back over the river in our home.

My body was exhausted but my mind was wide awake. A multi-million-dollar view of New York awaited on the other side of the floor-to-ceiling windows if I had just turned my head to the side,but I couldn’t bring myself to look away from Maria. The view of her sleeping peacefully on my chest was priceless,and I quickly came to understand that she was the most valuable thing in my life.

The worst had happened.

I loved the woman.

I was crazy in love with her.

Hugging her tighter to my chest,I kissed the top of her head. I’d known the feeling for some time now,but it was in that exact moment I knew I’d never let her go.

Not even if she tried to claw her way out of my arms.

I whispered into the dark,“I love you.”

“I know you laid in bed next to me.”

My teeth grinded together at the sound of her voice. I’d been so caught up in my thoughts I didn’t hear her step out of the bathroom.

I loved the woman. I was crazy in–

None. Of. It. Was. Real.

“A little pervy even for you, don’t you think?” Her tone was teasing; too comfortable and familiar for our current circum-stances.

I watched our reflection in the glass as she approached me, stopping a few inches from my back. I could make out the white towel wrapped around her body.

“I guess,” I drawled, rubbing a hand over my jaw before glancing over my shoulder.

Her hair was wet, wavy, messy; lips plump; face fresh, smooth and glowy. The gold city lights reflected in her eyes.

She looked like herself again. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it.

My eyes unwillingly gave her a one-over, pausing where the towel ended scandalously just under her ass. Droplets of water coasted her tan skin, some flowing down between her legs.

“Kind of how you rubbed your wet cunt against my thigh. You always dream about fucking me?”

Her cheeks flushed, the soft look in her eyes disappearing. “You’re sick.”

“Not sicker than you.” I turned and leaned my back against the glass, gesturing down at the small, damp patch she left on my grey sweatpants. “Getting all worked up for your kidnapper… Don’t tell me I already gave you Stockholm Syndrome.”

Her lips parted with shock when she saw the evidence of her dirty dream. “You’re lying. I didn’t do that.”