Page 43 of His Little Angel

My hands shake as they find her hips. My thumbs hook into the elastic. I press my face against the cotton, right against her core, and breathe her in so deeply my lungs burn.

I drag her panties down, watching as they reveal her, inch by perfect inch. Now there’s nothing between me and my temple.

I press my mouth to her outer lips and gently take one between mine, sucking lightly, pulling it away from her body.

“Fuck,” she breathes.

I use my thumbs to part her, and the sight of her inner lips—glistening, pink—makes my cock throb. My hands hold her steady, one on the small of her back, the other spreading her open from behind. I lick lower still, over the tight, forbidden pucker of her ass.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, her grip tightening in my hair, pulling just enough to make me groan against her skin.

“Tastes like candy,” I murmur.

My tongue travels back up, collecting the slick arousal pooling at her entrance. I press the flat of my tongue to her perineum and lick a firm, wet line all the way up to her clit, now hard and peeking out. I suck it into my mouth.

“Enzo, please,” she whimpers, grinding against my face. “Please, I need you inside me.”

I could die happy right here.

I stand, kicking my jeans off frantically. Her legs wrap around my waist as I slam her back against the cool tile. I line myself up, the head of my cock nudging her soaked entrance.

“This is my religion now, Mila,” I say. “You are my goddess.”

I thrust into her in one hard, deep stroke, burying myself to the hilt. We both cry out. She’s so fucking tight, so wet, so perfect. It feels like coming home. I went years without this—because no one else ever felt like home.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” I pant against her neck, pulling back and slamming into her again. “So perfect. Made just for me.”

“You’re such an idiot,” she pants, digging her nails into my shoulders, arching to take me deeper. “You pushed me away for months. Imagine all the good sex we missed.”

“I was a fool,” I groan. “A stupid, scared fool. I’ll never let you go again. Never.”

“Talk to me,” she begs. “Tell me.”

“I’m obsessed with you. I think about you constantly. I fucking hunger for you—your smell, your taste, the way you say my name. It’s all I think about.”

“Enzo, harder,” she moans. “Don’t hold back.”

I don’t.

I fuck her like I’m trying to crawl inside her.

“I’m gonna come,” she whimpers. “Oh God, Enzo—”

“Come for me, angel,” I command. “Come all over my cock. Let me feel you.”

Her body locks as she orgasms. The sensation wrecks me. I bury my face in her neck and let go, pouring myself into her.

I press a soft kiss to her sweat-dampened temple.

“Mine,” I whisper. “You’re mine, Mila. Fucking mine. My angel. My goddess. My temple. My religion.”

Her face is buried in my neck, her body soft and loose in my arms.

I pull back slightly, lowering her legs until she’s standing on her own—barely.

The towel she wore earlier lies crumpled on the floor. I pick it up.

“Stay,” I tell her quietly. “Don’t move.”