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“You going to cry for me, chef?” There’s a wicked gleam in her eye as she throws my own words back at me.

“I’d give you every tear I have if you asked for them. You want me to cry, angel?”

She stills for a moment, considering how much I should pay for the way I’ve treated her. The sadistic sparkle in her eyes tells me she’s flipping through different tortures the way someone sane would flick through a menu. “No,” she decides at last. “I want you to come.”

Goddamnit, I think I love her. “Then move those pretty hips and show me how much your pussy owns me.”

She slams down onto my cock, the force of it brutal and punishing. She’s fuckingme, not the other way around, and I’m more than happy to let her. “Yes, make me feel it,” I whimper. I slip my fingers between her folds and rub at her swollen nub, the thrusts of her hips grinding my hand against her. “Show me all that rage you’ve kept bottled inside.” Her pace quickens, the room filling with her breathless moans every time I stroke her right where she needs it.

We’re both so fucking close. “Wreck me, pretty little ruin. Fucking destroy me like you were made for it because we both know you were.”

“W-what did you call me?” she gasps as her body starts to tremble with the first spurts of her climax.

I reach up and twist my fingers into her curls, dragging her down toward me. “You fucking heard me,” I growl against her ear. “Now come for your demon, my sweet fallen angel.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

ANGÉLICA

Greyson is my demon. The truth has been staring me in the face for six months, and I never fucking saw it. Aftershocks from my mind-blowing orgasm are flickering through my body like bursts of electricity. I can still feel his throbbing cock inside me, and from the swollen thickness of it, I’m half-convinced he could go another round already.

Everything aches in the sweetest way, and most of me is covered in blood—my own indistinguishable from his. What we just did was insane and fucked-up and unhinged, but it was also the best sex I’ve had in my life. Well, apart from one other time on the last night of October.

“That was you on Halloween,” I remark, not sure if I believe my own words or not. I try to dismount him, but he captures my hips and forces me back down before I can slip off his cock.

“I’m disappointed it took you so long. I’d like to think my cock is more memorable than that.” He thrusts deeper into me, and I whimper when he drags his piercings over my sensitive,spasming core.

I ignore the way my needy pussy begs for another fucking and glare down at him. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why leave me in the dark for months?”

He smirks at me, and it tempts me to make him bleed a bit more. “It was more fun to punish you every day and make you wonder why.”

Fucking sadist. “I still don’t understand why you’ve been obsessed with making my life miserable since Halloween.” His crystalline eyes flare with an overwhelming darkness that sends shivers down my spine.

“Because I know what you sound like when you come with my blade under your skin, angel. That sound has tormented my thoughts and memories ever since you let me be your demon for one night.” Suddenly I’m lying on my back, his body pressed against me, his stormy eyes and swollen lips a few inches from my face. His cock is still buried deep inside me, and he reminds me with a sharp punch of his hips that has me crying out.

“You left before I could tell you that you were everything Iever fucking wanted,” he growls, each of the last words punctuated with almost cruel stabs of his thick cock. “Then you come into my kitchen every day and torment me with what I can’t have.” He strokes his blood-covered fingers down the side of my cheek, the act tender in spite of the way he continues to pound into me like he’s still punishing me. “Do you ruin my sanity on purpose, angel? Or are you hell-sent to be my downfall without even trying?”

“I never tried to hurt you,” I gasp, the words strained as another orgasm starts to build against my will. “I didn’t think you’d care that I left that night.”

“Of course I cared, Angélica,” he snarls. His thrusts grow faster, harder, and I’m clinging to the thinnest edge of sanity. “You let me tear you apart, but you never let me kiss andbandage your cuts. Never let me ask you your name. I spent a week thinking you’d probably bled out or contracted an infection or been murdered while walking home alone at night. I was a goddamn wreck until you showed up in my office looking alive and well and better than ever.”

His hand slips from my cheek to my throat, toying with how much pressure he can give me before I pass out. Each time my vision starts to fade, he lets up before starting to squeeze again. The steady rhythm of it leaves me hazy and high. “Was it really so terrible that you had to run away without a word?” he rasps, the sound of his voice dim below the soft ringing in my ears.

“No,” I mumble, my lips and tongue leadened.

His hold on my neck loosens for a moment. “Speak up, angel.”

“No, it wasn’t,” I answer honestly. I wish he’d let me pass out before I reveal what I truly felt that night.

“Then why leave?”

Mierda. I don’t want to do this. I’ve kept this hidden inside me for six months, and Greyson is the very last person I want to tell. I lean into his hold, begging the darkness to take over. Instead, he trails his fingers up to my jaw and forces me to look at him. I want to pull away from the furious heat in his gaze, but I can’t rip myself from his iron grasp.

“Why, Angélica?”

The words are a command, and my lips betray me before I can stop them. “Because that was the best night of my life before tonight, and I’ve never been so fucking terrified.”

“I thought nothing scared you.”