Page 9 of Legacy (The Sovereigns #2)

Angelo

S he has to stop touching my face the way she does.

It unravels everything I thought I was.

She’s fucking breathtaking beneath me; hair wild against the sheets, mouth parted, skin warm where mine meets hers. I kiss down the soft line of her throat, tasting salt and wine and something sweeter that feels like hers alone.

But it’s those sounds…

Fuck, those sounds.

The way her breath catches, the little moan when my lips drag over her collarbone. It spurs something dark and possessive in me.

She wants this.

She wants me.

I pull back just enough to meet her eyes, my hands at the hem of her cream sweater—still stained with wine. It’s the last barrier between us, this thin knit and whatever slip of underwear she chose this morning.

I could tear it off.

I want to.

But instead, I pause. My thumbs brush her skin. My breath catches.

“Are you sure?”

She stares up at me with those wide, dark eyes, pupils blown and lips parted, and nods .

“I’m sure,” she whispers, voice thick with want.

Her fingers slide into my hair, tugging me back down to her, and I go willingly.

The sweater peels away from her body like a ribbon unraveling, soft and slow. I toss it to the floor without looking because I can’t stop looking at her.

I’ve seen her body before.

But this time?

This time it’s mine to savor.

Every curve, every inch of soft golden skin, every dip and swell and mark of the woman she is— mine.

I kiss down her throat, my tongue tracing the flutter of her pulse. I grip her hips, her full waist fitting in my hands like it was designed that way. My mouth finds her breasts, tongue circling one perfect nipple until she gasps my name and arches into me.

Fuck. I could spend hours right here.

“Your body is a dream,” I murmur against her skin.

Her eyes flutter shut. I feel her body relax beneath me, just slightly, like I unlocked something she’s never let anyone touch before.

My hands trail over her hips, gripping her as my mouth works lower, kissing every curve like it’s sacred. The scent of her wraps around me, making my head spin.

Her breathing hitches when I tear the lace between us, fingers brushing where she’s already soaked for me.

“You’re so wet,” I whisper, almost to myself. “You want me that bad?”

She nods fast, lips trembling. “Yes. Please, Angelo.”

I groan. I’m so hard it hurts.

I press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, just above where she wants me, and then meet her eyes as my fingers slip inside her.

Her back arches off the bed, a cry escaping her mouth.

“Fuck,” I grit out. “That sound. Do it again. ”

She moans when my thumb finds her clit, her legs tightening around me

That moan hits me like a drug. My fingers slide deeper, coaxing more of those sounds from her lips, each one better than the last, like a melody I didn’t know I’d been dying to hear.

I look up at her from between her thighs.

She’s flushed, wrecked already, her chest rising and falling in shallow, shaking breaths. Her hair fans out across the pillow, lips parted as she pants my name again.

And I know I could end this right here with just my fingers and she’d still call it the best sex of her life.

But I want more than that.

I want to ruin her for anyone else.

I want her to want to stay.

Be mine.

I ease my fingers out of her, and she whines at the loss and fuck, I might lose my mind over that sound alone, but then I lower my mouth to her pussy and she goes still.

A breathless kind of still.

The kind of still that comes before a storm.

My tongue flicks gently across her clit, once, and her entire body jolts. Her hands fly to my hair, tugging, and I grin against her as I suck it softly between my lips.

“Angelo—” she gasps, half-warning, half-pleading.

“Relax,” I soothe, voice low and dark against her skin. “Let me take care of you.”

Then I bury my face between her thighs and start eating her like a man starving.

Long, slow strokes. Tongue teasing her clit, then dragging down to taste everything she has to give me. Her thighs tremble against my ears, her moans growing louder with every second. I slide two fingers back inside her, curling them just right, and the sound she makes it’s— everything.

She’s dripping, grinding against my mouth now, lost in it. Her grip tightens in my hair, back arching, and she comes— fuck, she comes hard —I don’t stop. I work her through it, tasting her, worshipping her, letting her ride my tongue until she’s gasping my name over and over like a prayer.

Only then do I pull away.

Her body’s trembling, her skin flushed and glowing. I kiss my way back up her stomach, her hands reach for me without thinking, pulling me down, keeping me close.

I press my forehead to hers, breathing heavy.

“You’re ready now,” I whisper. “One second. Condom’s in the nightstand.”

She nods, lips still parted, eyes dark with heat.

I reach into the drawer beside the bed and grab the condom, hating that I have to put anything between us.

With her , I want everything; skin, heat, closeness. Real . But I won’t risk her. Not tonight. Not ever.

I turn back toward the bed, my eyes locking onto hers.

Scarlet

Laid out like temptation incarnate, the curve of her thighs glistening in the low light, her lips kiss-bitten and parted in anticipation. She watches me, waits for me , with a trust that steals the air from my lungs.

I kick off my jeans, slow and deliberate, my cock already hard and aching. Her eyes drop down, widening just a little as she takes me in.

“Oh,” she breathes, a flush rising to her cheeks, but not from shyness. From pure, delicious want.

Her thighs shift, opening further.

And my control snaps like a fraying rope.

I crawl back over her, press my lips to her collarbone, her throat, the swell of her breast. I kiss every inch of her skin like I need it to survive. And when I look at her again, her pupils are blown wide, her fingers twitching where they rest on the sheets.

“You ready?” I murmur, my voice rough with everything I’m holding back.

“I want you,” she says, steady. “Now.”

I roll the condom on quickly, and then I’m settling between her legs, guiding the head of my cock to her entrance. The second I feel her, warm, soaked, welcoming, I nearly lose my fucking mind.

Her hands slide up my back, nails digging in. “Please, Angelo.”

I press in, slow. Inch by inch. Watching her face. Reading every breath, every shift of her hips. My name slips from her lips like a prayer, and when I’m fully seated inside her, I can’t move. Not yet.

“Christo,” I whisper. “You’re perfect.”

Her fingers find my jaw, tilting my face back to hers. She kisses me like she knows what I’m thinking.

That I’d give her everything, if she asked.

I start to move.

Slow. Deep. Every stroke carving her into me like a brand.

Her legs tighten around my waist, her hands clutching my shoulders like she’s bracing, not from pain, not from fear—but from how much she feels this.

Feels me.

Her eyes flutter closed, and I can’t let her look away. I need to see her; watch every reaction I draw from her body, every flicker of pleasure that crosses her face.

“Look at me,” I whisper, voice rough and low. “I want to see you come apart.”

Her eyes open, dark and wide and mine.

I roll my hips, pressing deeper, slower, angling just right until her mouth parts on a gasp.

“There,” I breathe, my fingers sliding down to stroke over her clit in slow, lazy circles. “That’s where you feel me the most, huh? ”

“Dios—Angelo,” she pants, arching beneath me.

Her body welcomes me like it was made for me. Her softness, her warmth, the way she tightens around my cock with every thrust— fuck. I’ve never wanted anyone like this. Never needed someone like this.

I’ve been with women. I’ve made them moan, made them beg. But this?

This is something else entirely.

It’s her thighs trembling around me.

It’s her scent on my skin.

It’s the way she says my name like it means something more than it ever has before.

And maybe it fucking does now.

She gasps, her hips rising to meet mine, chasing every thrust with greedy urgency.

“That’s it,” I praise, losing rhythm. “Take it, Scarlet. Take all of me.”

Her breath catches at the same time my thumb presses harder against her clit. She’s shaking, her moans dissolving into whimpers, the kind that make my balls ache because fuck, I want to be bare inside her so bad it’s driving me insane.

“I hate this thing,” I grit, thrusting harder now. “This condom; I want to feel every inch of you. Every fucking squeeze.”

She moans louder, and it’s the kind of sound that makes my stomach tighten, my rhythm stutter.

Her legs lock tighter around me, her hands fisting in the sheets now, and I know she’s close.

I drop my mouth to her neck, dragging my teeth gently across the curve of her pulse. “Come for me, Scarlet.”

She gasps my name.

“Let go. Right here, on my cock. I want to feel you come around me.”

And she does .

She shatters—trembling, gasping, arching into me with a cry that punches the breath from my lungs. Her walls clench around me, rippling through me, draining every last bit of restraint I had.

“Fuck, baby,” I groan as I follow, spilling into the condom with a growl torn straight from my chest. My hips stutter, my whole body locking tight as I ride the wave of her and the sharp, blinding pleasure crashing through me.

I collapse against her, careful not to crush her, our breathing slows.

Her body, still trembling, melts under mine. I don’t move. I can’t. I want this moment to stretch into eternity.

My mouth still kissing whatever skin I can reach, her collarbone, her jaw, the shell of her ear.

And I whisper, without thinking.

Without stopping it.

Without caring.

“Stay.”

She doesn’t say anything. Just breathes. Her hands trail soft over my back like she’s memorizing the shape of me.

I slide out gently and discard the condom, but I don’t go far. I pull her close again, tucking her into my chest like she belongs there.

Because she does.

Even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Even if in a couple more days, she walks away.