Page 53 of His Little Angel

The pen presses to his hip. I writeMilain looping letters that curve toward his groin.

He groans, cock twitching. “That’s it. Mark your man.”

I’ve never been this turned on in my life. I’m burning.

“Sign my cock,” he orders softly. “Make it official.”

I write my name along the shaft. He hisses, hips jerking. “Fuck—yes. Your name on my dick. You own this cock.”

He cups my chin. “Want it tattooed? I’d do it. Let you feel your claim every time I fuck you.”

The thought nearly makes me come on the spot.

I nod.

“These too,” he murmurs, squeezing his big balls. “Swollen with cum for you alone.”

I mark him there too.

He yanks me down by the hair, forcing me to my knees. “Suck them. Worship what you own.”

His balls dangle before me, inked with my name, and he shoves my face forward, smothering me in his musk. I lap at the heavy sac, drawing one into my mouth. He groans, fist tightening in my hair, yanking harder to make me take more, sucking deeper as his cock slaps against my cheek.

“Fuck, yes—suck your balls, baby. Feel how full they are? All that seed building just to flood you, mark you as mine.”

When he hauls me up again, slamming me against the wall, I’m shaking.

“My angel loves when I turn into her nightmare,” he says. “That’s why you stay.”

I do.

And it hurts that he ever thought I’d run—when I stayed for years while he gave me nothing.

“And you think I’ll bolt.”

“I know you could try,” he growls. “But I won’t let you.”

He kisses me savage and bruising, lifts me, and fucks me hard against the wall, splitting me open.

“Your cock owning your cunt,” he rasps.

I lock my ankles behind him, urging him on. He sinks his teeth into my collarbone, drawing blood that trickles warm between us, and I come undone. He erupts with a feral bellow, giving me exactly what belongs to me.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Mila

Enzo has been skipping work. He just… doesn’t go.

The first time I ask, he doesn’t even look up from where he’s stretched across my couch, barefoot, suit jacket abandoned.

“I’ve already worked,” he says.

“That’s not how jobs work.”

“That’s exactly how mine works.”

I fold my arms. “You can’t just disappear. People will notice.”