Page 36 of His Little Angel
“I only smell you,” he murmurs. “But you’re fucking soaking, Mila.” He drags a finger through my wetness, holding it up between us. “Who made you this wet? Was it him—thinking about him while you were getting dressed? Or was it me, knowing I’d be waiting for you?”
“It was him,” I lie. “I was thinking about him.”
His expression blackens. “Wrong answer.”
Then his mouth is between my folds. His tongue is relentless, his lips bruising. I thrash against the door, my nails scraping uselessly at the wood. The part of me that’s screamingstopis drowned out by the part of me that’s screamingmore. Every nerve ending is on fire.
“I’m going to make it up to you,” he vows. “All that time I pushed you away. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t remember anyone’s name but mine.”
He surges to his feet, lifting me as if I weigh nothing. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries me toward the bedroom, his mouth claiming mine again. He takes without asking.
And God help me, I let him.
But a wave of old hurt crashes over me. I shove at his shoulders, my legs kicking as I try to wriggle free. “Put me down, damn it,” I snap. “I can’t just… this isn’t fair.”
My bedroom door flies open with a nudge from his knee. He sets me down on the edge of the bed. I scoot back immediately, hugging my arms around myself, the tears starting before I can stop them.
It all pours out—the ache of those nights wondering why I wasn’t enough, why he only seems to want me now that I’m done waiting.
“Why?” I choke out, wiping at my face. “Why wait until I’m packing my bags? You could’ve said something months ago. Years ago. Was I just… not worth it before? Did you hate the idea of being seen with me that much?”
His expression crumples, color draining from his face. “Hey—no. God, no, that’s not it at all.” He reaches out slowly, thumbs a tear from my cheek, then leans in to press his lips there. “Don’t cry like that. It kills me. I’d do anything—anything—to make this right.”
He kisses another tear, then my jaw. “I can’t stand seeing you hurt because of me. Please, baby… let me fix this.”
“It does hurt. So much. You acted like wanting me was some dirty secret. Like I wasn’t good enough. I felt invisible around you.”
“Baby, listen to me. It’s not shame. You’re fucking perfect. Too perfect—that’s the problem.” His voice roughens. “I was scared shitless. Terrified I’d mess it up, that someone like me—flawed as hell—would drag you down. I’m not going to lie, I’m still terrified. But not pursuing you isn’t an option anymore. Every day, every night, it’s been you in my head. I was an idiot, too wrapped up in my own fears to see I was losing the best thing in my life.”
I believe him. I truly do. But the insecurity refuses to go away.
“I love you,” he says quietly. “Let me prove it. Let me show you how much I need you.”
That’s exactly what I need—for him to prove it.
I nod faintly.
He guides me back onto the pillows, his mouth starting at my neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to my chest. He lingers over my heart, pressing his lips there. “Your heart—it’s mine to cherish. I fucked up so bad, but I’m begging for another chance. I’ll spend forever making it up to you, worshipping every part of you.”
He cups my small breasts, thumbs brushing my nipples until they pebble tight. “These… fuck, I’ve thought about them nonstop.” His tongue darts out, circling the tip before he sucks it in deep, drawing a gasp from me as pleasure shoots straight to my core.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve jerked off imagining this,” he confesses. The image nearly makes me incinerate. My pussy aches for his touch. “Your body drives me insane. Theselittle tits—they’re mine. I want to mark them, taste them every day.”
He undresses, revealing his perfect body. Enzo is a gym addict, and it shows. Every part of him is ripped, his cock thick and throbbing—like something carved by a god.
He rubs the head along my wet slit, coating himself in my arousal. “I need to be inside you,” he rasps. “Need to feel you clench around me. Need to know you’re mine.”
“Yes,” I breathe, wrapping my legs around him. “Take me.”
He pushes in slowly at first, inch by inch, stretching me around his girth until he’s buried deep. We both moan, his hips finding a punishing rhythm. He fucks me like he’s starved.
“So tight. So wet for me,” he growls.
The bed shakes, our bodies slapping together, sweat-slick and frantic. He angles his hips, hitting that deep spot that makes me cry out, his thumb pressing rough circles into my clit.
“Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel you fall apart.”
The pressure builds, then shatters me as I clamp down around him. He groans, slamming in one last time, flooding me with hot spurts of cum.