Page 63 of Savage Saint (Empire of Secrets #2)

"I love you too," I breathe, and then he's pushing inside me, stretching me, filling me completely.

We both moan at the sensation, the fit of our bodies, the overwhelming intimacy of the moment. But this isn't gentle lovemaking. This is a claiming, pure and simple. This is marking each other in ways that go far deeper than skin.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Angelo groans, his hips snapping forward with controlled violence. "So tight, so perfect. Made for me."

"Yes," I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Made for you. Only you."

He sets a brutal pace, each thrust driving me higher, making me see stars. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by our moans and gasps and breathless words of devotion.

"Look at me," he commands, one hand leaving my wrists to grip my chin. "I want to see your face when you come. Want to watch you fall apart on my cock."

I meet his gaze, lost in the molten heat of his eyes. The fresh cuts on our hips burn where they press together, and Angelo shifts deliberately, making sure our infinity symbols align perfectly. Blood mingles between us—my blood, his blood, becoming ours.

"Feel that?" he growls, pressing our matching marks together more firmly. "Our blood mixing. Our marks touching. You're mine and I'm yours."

The sensation is everything, pain, pleasure, and completely primitive. We're literally bleeding together, sharing something deeper than just our bodies.

"Mine," Angelo pants, his rhythm becoming erratic. "Say it. Tell me you're mine."

"Yours," I cry out, feeling my orgasm building, threatening to destroy me. "Yours, always yours. For eternity."

"And I'm yours," he growls, his hand moving between us to find my clit. "Forever. Always. Until the day I fucking die."

The combination of his words, his touch, and the overwhelming sensation of him moving inside me pushes me over the edge. I come with a scream, my body arching beneath him as pleasure crashes over me in waves that seem endless.

Angelo follows seconds later, my name torn from his lips like a prayer as he buries himself deep and spills inside me. His body shudders against mine, and I hold him tight, never wanting to let him go.

But we're not done. Not even close.

As soon as we catch our breath, Angelo is moving again, his mouth trailing down my body, worshipping every inch of skin. He pays special attention to my fresh infinity symbol, his tongue tracing the bloody lines with reverent care.

"So beautiful," he murmurs against my hip. "My mark on you. My blood mixed with yours."

The sight of him licking my blood, of him worshipping the mark he put on me, sends another jolt of arousal through me. I'm still sensitive from my orgasm, but I want more. I always want more with him.

"Your turn," I gasp, pushing him onto his back despite his protests. "I want to worship you too."

I straddle his thighs, my hands roaming over his chest, his abs, the sharp lines of his hip bones. When I reach his fresh infinity symbol, I do exactly what he did to me—I trace it with my tongue, tasting copper and salt and something uniquely Angelo.

"Fuck, Kasia," he groans, his hands fisting in my hair. "You're going to kill me."

"Good," I murmur against his skin. "I want you to remember this. Want you to remember how it feels to be marked by me."

I work my way down his body slowly, deliberately, until I reach his cock. He's already hard again, thick and ready, and I take him in my mouth without warning.

Angelo's back arches off the bed, a string of curses falling from his lips as I work him with my tongue and lips. I take him deep, as deep as I can, hollowing my cheeks as I suck.

"Christ, your mouth," he pants, his hips bucking upward. "So fucking perfect. Made to suck my cock."

The dirty words only spur me on, and I double my efforts, using everything I know to drive him wild. When I pull off with a wet pop and look up at him through my lashes, his eyes are wild with lust.

"Need to be inside you again," he growls, pulling me up his body. "Need to feel you come on my cock again."

This time, when I sink down onto him, the angle is completely different. Deeper. More intense. I set the pace, riding him slowly at first, savouring the feeling of him filling me completely.

"That's it, Butterfly," Angelo encourages, his hands gripping my hips, guiding my movements. "Ride me. Take what you need."

I do, finding a rhythm that has us both gasping. The position puts my fresh infinity symbol on full display, and I can see Angelo's eyes fixed on it, watching it move with my body.

"You like seeing your mark on me," I observe breathlessly, rolling my hips in a way that makes him groan.

"Fuck yes," he admits without shame. "Love seeing proof that you're mine. Love knowing I put it there."

"And you're mine," I say, my nails raking down his chest, leaving red lines that will bruise.

The possessive words drive us both higher, and soon we're moving with desperate urgency again. Angelo sits up, wrapping his arms around me, holding me close as I move on top of him. The new angle hits something deep inside me that makes me see stars.

"Come for me again," he demands, his mouth at my ear. "Want to feel you clench around my cock. Want to watch you fall apart in my arms."

His hand moves between us, finding my clit with practised ease. The combination of him inside me and his fingers on me is too much, and I shatter around him with a cry that echoes off the walls.

Angelo follows me over the edge, his arms tightening around me as he spills inside me again. We collapse together, breathing hard, skin slick with sweat and still tingling from our shared high.

But even then, we can't seem to get enough of each other. Our hands continue to roam, touching and claiming. We make love twice more before exhaustion finally claims us, each time more desperate and intense than the last.

Finally, when we're truly spent, we lie together, our matching infinity symbols pressed against each other, blood and sweat and come creating a seal between us that feels more binding than any wedding ring.

Angelo reaches for the medical supplies one last time. "Now let me take care of you properly," he says softly, his voice tender with affection.

This time, the wound care is a ritual of intimacy. He cleans my infinity symbol again with gentle precision, then applies fresh antibiotic ointment before covering it with a sterile bandage. His fingers are reverent as they smooth the edges, sealing our shared blood beneath white gauze.

I do the same for him, taking equal care with his matching mark. There's something sacred about this final step, this protection of the wounds we've given each other in love.

"No more marks from the past," Angelo whispers into my hair, his voice soft with satisfaction and exhaustion.

"Only love marks," I agree, tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "Only choice."