Page 53 of Eyes Like Angel (Eyes Like Angel #1)
Eva
Darkness and hot fire swallowed me whole.
I dislike being swallowed whole by people’s eyes—murderous and contempt laid judgement as Romano yanked me at the stage for everybody to see me as a volunteer in the church, who contributes thoroughly.
A once volunteered crowned into a saint.
Everyone looked at me as if I was riding a hideous three-headed beast in the Revelations.
My functionality has ceased to exist, and they couldn’t turn a blind eye, at least not yet. Voices pounded into my numbing ears as I dispersed from a crowded spot, pacing in the back halls, reaching at the back kitchen. I mourned for my sanity shattered at its recent events.
“Just who is she?”
“I’ve never seen her before.”
“What did Sister Eva do again?”
“Who’s Sister Eva again? I don’t recall her name.”
“I wish Romano would drag me on the stage like that—being man-handled by him. No fair!”
“Ugh, her? Why her, of all people? She’s plain as the church bread!”
“But their church bread was no good.”
“Exactly my point! She’s as plain as she can be. No man is going to want her. Not with that appearance.”
“I don’t know why Romano has given her a huge credit. I did the work, too!”
Huffing with my ragged breath, I need someplace quiet, free from people’s judgmental eyes and their superficial cheers.
My body shriveled at the occurrence. I need somewhere place to be as myself in.
Callous hand tugged and leads me back to one of the rooms. Switching the lights on, Adrian caught a breath in his mouth, recollecting his thoughts to straighten his priority.
His towering body feeble at his staggering breath, from catching up to me, his deep red trench coat flowed as he bent his leaned forward.
“Adrian,” I gasped, “why are you—”
His lips captured mine.
I pulled myself back, heaving. “We shouldn’t be doing this. Not here,” I begged him, heaving.
Adrian made no consideration. “Fuck it.”
His lips captured mine again.
My eyes were shot wide open, feeling my lips colliding to his, my squeaks muffled.
Adrian shoved me back and had me on the table.
He undressed his long coat, unveiling his strong physique clung onto by his formal shirt.
His breath ragged from the kiss, pulled back, his lingering gaze taken me in, his eyes darted down on my crucifix pendant before he yanked it as his other hand placed me down, lying on my back, the skirt hitched up around my waist. Ashamed as I was, my legs were unshaved, but thankfully Adrian didn’t mind.
What I mind was Adrian was being at a close proximity.
Having his body pressing down on me, his hands roamed and his eyes raked at my vulnerable form, lying down on Father Divine’s desk.
“Eva,” his voice in a low rumble, a subtle anger was reeling, but he kept his cool. “This is your punishment. You’ve been a bad angel.”
My breath heaved, a shot of panic sent straight to my heart.
I should run. I should hide, hide in the corner.
But then, somehow, I wasn’t.
In a flash, Adrian locked his lips onto mine, his body heated and desperate, grinding, our breaths grew hotter. He slipped his tongue inside my mouth, mingling my own, he drew long moan, groaning into my ear.
“My, you tasted so heavenly,” he whispered. “Such a good angel.” He pressed another wet kiss to me passionately. “Good angel.”
He kissed me again, and trailed his mouth onto my jawline.
“ Good angel.”
Adrian cradled his right hand at my back head, discarding my white underwear, uncovering me, my wet folds drained from my stubbly slit, white and wet slicked folds displayed before him.
Licking his tongue, his head sunk in, tasting me, his forehead touching mine.
The frame of his widow’s peak framed his locks cloaking our kiss; the palest strands tickled my cheek.
Squealed, my hand covered my mouth, my teeth lanced in between my sleeves, unable to watch him tasting me.
Licking a few deep laps in my folds, my voice squealed louder, trying to shut my noise down, but unable to.
He inserted his tongue inside me, humming as my other hand clenched at his long blond locks, as his other hand spread my left leg apart, keeping it open.
His thirst had gone wilder, lapping my bushy folds a few times. He didn’t mind my unshaved part of me; he was enjoying it, as if he hasn’t drank a liquid in his life, gulping every last drop.
His head lifted, and my juices smothered over his lips, licked and relished, drawing out a satisfied hum and kissed me again, tasting myself.
“Forgive me, Sister Eva, I was thirsty. I wanted to inspect closer on what my forbidden fruit tasted like,” he said teasingly, lovingly.
Smirking, as he snatched my crucifix pendant and had it in his possession.
Without hesitation, he inserted the crucifix—my crucifix—in between my wet folds.
I felt every bump of gemstone and metal slinging inside me, as I held onto the table for dear life, and my breath labored.
“I want to see your heavenly face, my dear angel. Keep your eyes on me and only me,” he purred, his palest locks fluttered its motion as he was thrusting twice as fast, faster and faster, until my wet pearl squirted. “Let yourself go and come into my heaven. Taste me. Feel me.”
Taking out the crucifix, he set it aside and unbuckled his belt and lowered his hand, showed his hardened cock.
“Adrian,” I called, but it sounded more desperate, exhausted.
Adrian adjusted and position, his body weighed down on top of me, and guided my hands encircled onto his neck. My arms and legs shivered when I held onto him.
He moaned at the sound of my voice, on calling his name. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned.
Angling my chin up to meet his eyes, his form, a shining light softly shimmering down on his pale blond hair like halo. A mixture of warm spices and musky cologne overwhelmed me.
Intoxicated me, as it always did.
His grip soothed me as gently as he could. “I’ll take you to my heaven, Eva.”
His hardened cock plunged in, had my folds bleeding, lifting my one leg over his shoulder.
My voice croaked in a short cry as his hips pounded, the table on Father Divine’s desk creaked.
“Ah, you feel so good,” he moaned in my ear, biting my earlobe, licking my cheek.
Clinging onto him as tight as I could, my cries were louder, but muffled against his neck, and nuzzled against his locks, his strong-scented cologne, the scent made me feel weary, but I felt…
safe. Some pens and papers fell as Adrian shifted his movements harder and faster, my nails raked him, my mouth bit his shoulder.
“Adrian,” I panted, groaning, my legs trembled, but he held onto me as if life depends on it, his girth wedged around my walls, pinching and clenching.
He went faster, and the items on the desk rattled, and fell with a clang.
By the time his thrusts sped up, his semen spilled inside me, climaxed alongside me, my eyes watered, taking a view of Adrian throw his head in slight angle and his hips pressed closer into me for a final deep thrust.
He didn’t release me. We stayed in the position, resting on the desk for quite some time.
Until someone’s footsteps clacked, they were getting closer.
He kissed me, gently tugging my bottom lips with his teeth. And with my open mouth, he spat his saliva in my mouth.
“Swallow me,” he said, purring.
I swallowed a part of him, my gaze never left his.
“Good girl,” he praised, and pulled me in closer to his weighing body. Taking a long deep breath, he settled and lightly kissed my cheek.
His thumb brushed my cheek.
“I don’t want to lose the sight of you, my sweet angel,” he said to me, afraid I might disappear on him again. “After all, you’re mine. Mine to treasure, mine to remember.”
The door knocked, but it was quick when he dressed himself up and handed me back my underwear. Behind the door, it opened, revealing Sister Lucia with her eyes shot wide, but recollected herself by saying, “Your mother has been looking for you, sir.”
Sister Lucia’s cool expression didn’t waver.
Adrian cleared his throat, straightening his posture, his voice still strained from the pleasure he has given me. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
He faced me. “Thank you for helping me to overcome and given me a chance to confess my sins, Sister Eva,” he said, and left, leaving me in a trance as Sister Lucia was observing me.
Adrian had brought his own heaven onto me as I was acting accordingly. By accordingly, I meant oblivious and pleasant and calming.
“Sister Eva,” she began, sauntering slowly, “what happened here?”
“I was showing him how to confess his sins,” I excused, hiding my underwear he’d taken off, my head bowed in wary, not wanting her to see my reddened face. “He needed…guidance.”
I don’t think Sister Lucia is convinced, but I hope she understands what I was trying to accomplish and leave me be as if nothing transpires within this room.
By that time, my silver bracelet was gone, and the only left that’s left into my possession with a crucifix stained with my bodily fluids it drenched from my wet folds pulsing from his heightened desires.