by Marian Tee
“And I will give it to you.” His eyes glittering with unquenchable lust, he said savagely, “I’m going to give it to you even if you cry out for me to stop, I’m going to give it to you, every fucking hole—” He pulled her down hard, impaling her like she was a sacrifice, and his cock reached all the way to her womb.
She screamed his name.
He began pounding into her.
“Angelo, oh my God, Angelo—” She remembered his promise, and she realized this was it.
He was fucking her harder than he had ever fucked any woman in his life.
And that was what did it for her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, whispering, “Yes.”
Angelo shuddered at the sound, but his hips pumped even more furiously against her.
It hurt, and it felt good, and she trembled, moaning, “Yes.”
“Fuck, Lane.” He became tense and hard under her, and his fingers tightened around her hips.
She whimpered, and the sound seemed to drive him wild. He took her mouth in a kiss, and his tongue began moving at the same pace of his cock—
And then she realized what was happening—
Two out of three, she thought dazedly.
He was fucking two of her holes.
“Angelo!” Inner muscles of her pussy clenched around his cock as she came without warning.
Angelo said something in Italian, and then he was thrusting uncontrollably inside of her—
Angelo undone, a side of him that no one ever saw—
More wetness flooded her channel, and she sobbed his name out.
“Fuck.”
And then Angelo was coming, too, his hot, sticky cum pouring inside of her—
Oh God, it was like nothing she could ever imagine, and she unthinkingly pushed her hips down, wanting her pussy to have all of it.
Her actions made Angelo shudder, and his thrusts became even more uncontrollable as his cum continued to fill her.
“Lane.” Her name sounded like it was torn out of him.
She closed her eyes.
“Lane.”
Angelo saying her name as he came—
It was the most beautiful sound in the world.
And in that moment, she knew.
She knew, but she would never tell because she also knew he wouldn’t believe her. No one probably would.
Chapter Fifteen
“Nothing happened like I envisioned.” An indefinite amount of time had passed when Angelo finally broke the silence in the control room. Both of them were naked, Lane curled on his lap while Angelo was sprawled on the couch.
“You mean feared,” she corrected sleepily, unable to find the strength to even open her eyes. “Nothing happened like you feared.”
Angelo only grunted.
It made her smile because the inelegant response was so unlike Angelo. Snuggling closer to him, she looked up, confessing, “I’m glad you took a chance on me tonight.”
There was a moment of silence before Angelo reluctantly made his own confession. “This annoys the hell out of me, but tonight was unlikely to happen if not for the singer.”
The last words dripped with so much cool distaste that it took her a second to understand who “the singer” was. “You mean Dylan?”
“Ah, tesoro. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”
The way he crooned made her pulse leap. She was definitely in trouble again…and her masochistic little heart thrilled to it.
“I do not like hearing another man’s name on your lips when you’re with me.”
“Actually,” she began, “you said you didn’t like it while I was in your bed, and technically this isn’t—”
He raised a brow. You are certain you want to argue this point?
Without missing a beat, she changed the subject, asking, “How did, err, the singer convince you?”
“Good girl.” His lips touched her hair.
A reward, she thought, and her heart skipped a beat. But even so, she wasn’t to be distracted. “Angelo?”
His sigh made her lips twitch, but she continued to look at him expectantly, and he finally said, “He told me you might surprise me.”
She was bemused. “Why would he think that? He doesn’t even know me.”
“No, he doesn’t, but he knows someone like you, and…” He paused.
“What?” She tensed, immediately thinking the worst.
Angelo knew this, and he bit her ear in punishment. “Stop being so pessimistic.”
Oh. There he was again, making her heart beat faster with the way he so impressively read her mind. Biting her lip, she insisted, “Tell me what he said. Please.”
“He told me you’re my perfect match.”
She gasped. “He said that, really? I’m your perfect match? Me?”
He stared at her stonily.
She started smiling.
“You have an irritatingly smug look on your face.”
She didn’t take offense, not when he said the words with that look in his eyes.
“I’m your perfect match, Angelo.” Her voice was awed. “Dylan—I mean, the singer thought I’m your perfect match.”
Angelo raised a brow, drawling, “Are you impressed because I’m your perfect match or because the singer was the one who said it?”
“Well—”
Something feral flashed in his eyes.
Oops.
“I’m just joking,” she said quickly. “Of course, I’m thrilled – ecstatic – that you’re my perfect—mmph!” His mouth swallowed the rest of her words in a demanding kiss.
When Angelo raised his head, the first thing she saw was the beautiful smile on his lips.
Oh my gosh.
She was really in trouble.
“Angelo,” she began uneasily.
But instead of answering, he lifted her off his lap and instead placed her beside him on the couch. And then he began arranging her on her fours.
Fear fed her anxiety…and her desire, and she found herself shivering at the threat of the unknown.
Angelo positioned himself behind her.
She froze. “W-what are y-you doing?” Her voice came out a high-pitched squeak.
“Punishing you, of course.”
“By taking me from behind?” She was bemused. Angelo had already taken her in this position – twice – and it had only felt indescribably—
Then she felt his fingers parting her open.
Oh my gosh.
It was that hole.
She immediately tried crawling away, but he pulled her right back, and his laugh filled the room, the sound lovely and cruel.
“No, Angelo—”
“Then you should think twice about what you say.”
“It’s my first night—”
He said calmly, “I know.”
“But it’s going to hurt—”
“Only just a bit at first—”
She whimpered.
“But then it will feel good.” He palmed her butt as he spoke, and she whimpered again.
“Ready?”
“No, Angelo, please—”
But he didn’t listen to her because they knew that was what she wanted.
And it was like that for the rest of the week.
The two remaining parties scheduled for spring break were rescheduled, with Angelo determined to have his fill of Lane while classes had yet to start.
Unfortunately, it was impossible.
The more he had her, the more he hungered for her. Now, all he had to do was look at her and his cock would be rigid and erect, demanding to be sheathed in the warmth of her pussy as soon as possible.
In the back of his mind, Angelo had assumed that once he had a taste of her, his fascination of her would eventually fade. But again, reality proved to be the opposite. His interest in her had deepened instead, and he found himself spending time with her in and out of the bedroom. For the first time in years, he took an indefinite leave from his business and instead devoted his time he
lping Lane figure out the triggers for her trauma and what she could do to minimize her panic attacks.
Why he was doing it, Angelo already knew but chose not to think of.
To acknowledge that the reason existed this soon would give it power, and right now he preferred to keep things uncomplicated between him and his Lane.
One day at a time.
That was his motto, but for someone who had planned and led his life like it was a game of chess, it was a strategy that didn’t really sit well with him.
For Lane, each day was a revelation. There were so many new things she discovered about Angelo, things that she eventually realized he had both consciously and unconsciously kept from her because then he had thought he had yet another rival in Ray.
Some of these discoveries just made her love him more, like the fact that he had a fetish for brushing a woman’s hair and that his honor – as well as protective instincts – knew no bounds. He was both Marquis de Sade and an Arthurian knight combined under all the sophisticated, modern trappings.
Other things were bittersweet, like the day that she accidentally found out he preferred women who didn’t talk so much. When he had reluctantly admitted this to her, he had given her a slightly discomfited look, which took Lane a couple of moments to grasp.
“Oh my gosh, you think I talk too much?” The realization had her clutching her sides. “I’m sorry, but it’s just too funny.” When she had her amusement under control, she said candidly, “I babble when I’m nervous. But when I’m with people I’m used to, I don’t really talk that much. You can ask anyone who knows me, it’s true.”
But her words only had him frowning. “You do not have to lie—”
“I’m not.”
“You have been talkative with everyone everyday—”
“Exactly.”
Her gentle tone had driven the point home, and his face had turned grim. “My home still makes you uncomfortable? I still terrify you, too?”
His accent had become thick all of a sudden, and her heart had skipped a beat when he realized how much her answer meant to him.
But she had also known it was better not to lie and so she had said softly, “Yes. But it’s only because the smallest and most unreasonable part of me – the one that’s forever trapped in the past – will always be afraid.” And she had looked at him and waited, knowing that he could hear what she wasn’t saying.
That she would never be cured, and who she was now was who she would be forever.
She had thought he would hesitate, but he hadn’t.
Instead, he had bitten her ear. “You really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”
She had been bemused.
“That you would think I would hold your trauma against you—” He scowled.
And when she, too, realized what he wasn’t saying, she had wanted to cry.
Like she did now.
Just remembering it made her heart squeeze, and Lane knew it would be a memory she’d forever treasure. That and so many more, she thought, because everyday with Angelo was like a slice of paradise.
Paradise that everyone knew didn’t ever last.
And so it didn’t, and as the last night of spring break arrived, both of them knew a decision had to be made.
They were hanging out in the patio, Lane curled on the couch, head resting on his lap and content to simply be with him while Angelo read a book. That he was such a bookworm had been a surprise, and even his literary tastes – horror and science fiction – had been a shocker to Lane. Angelo was just so physically imposing and his presence so commanding that she had thought he would be all over sports, or at least have a hobby more exciting than turning pages.
Even now, this side of him made her grin, but it was a fact she knew she would never tell anyone. The week she spent with Angelo had taught her a thing or two about herself as well, and one of it was that she could be horribly selfish. Where Angelo was concerned, she just wanted to be the one to know him the most.
“That grin of yours is scary, tesoro.”
She looked up to see Angelo gazing at her curiously, his book momentarily placed face down on the table next to the couch.
“Just thinking of, umm, things.” Another thing she had discovered was that being vague gave her the best chances of not blurting every little thing to him.
“Ah.” Angelo’s expression became grim, thinking that Lane was getting ready to tell him she was going to leave the next day. After all, her friend would return to her dorm and she would have her apartment back.
“Angelo?” Lane pushed herself up, sensing the sudden change in his mood, and she asked, “What’s wrong?”
His eyes bored through hers. “What do you think?”
Oh no. Her heart slammed hard against her chest, and her stomach became queasy with fear. They were going to talk about it now then. She had hoped that he would just let things lie, but she realized that she was being silly.
Angelo was a planner, not a pantster.
Of course he’d want to talk about things, even when they were hurtful.
She took a deep breath, telling herself she was going to be an adult about this.
Fuck. He saw the look on her face, and his chest clenched. He heard himself say, “You should stay here longer.”
She snapped her mouth shut, deciding that the less said, the better. If he wanted her to stay longer, who she was to argue?
“You’re not going to ask why?”
She shook her head.
And it became clear to him. “You didn’t want to leave?”
Not looking at him, she mumbled, “Do you want me to?”
Ah.
He could hurt her now, he thought. He could afford to keep his pride, to remain behind his walls, and not let her know that he had been terrified she would want to leave.
He could do that, but he didn’t.
“No.” He held her gaze with his. “Never.”
Because he might be a sadist…but he was only interested in pain that gave her pleasure. Pain that would make her cry did not interest him, repelled him even.
Angelo’s words left her dazed, and she didn’t even realize she was crying until he bent close and wiped her tears away.
Oh.
She watched him bring his finger to her lips, and he murmured, “I love the taste of your tears.”
Lane cried and laughed, and when he placed her on his lap, she wrapped her arms around his neck and cried on his chest.
“Poor baby.”
She laughed and cried harder because Angelo didn’t sound convincing at all. Instead, he sounded like he was relishing her tears, and he probably did.
“I should make you cry again tomorrow.”
“Sadist.” But her arms tightened around his neck as she spoke.
“Exactly.” He smiled against her hair. “That is what I’ll always be, just as…” His mouth moved to her ear. “Who you are now is who you will always be.”
Oooh.
She looked up. “A masochist?”
He shook his head, confusing her, and cupping her chin, he brought her mouth to his, saying, “You disappoint me. Surely you know by now—” He kissed her hard. “What you’ll always be is mine.”
Her toes curled hard.
“My masochist. My Lane.”
It was the most unbearably sweet thing he had said, and she couldn’t help it. She just had to say it.
“Angelo, I lo—”
His hand cupped over her mouth. “No.” She tried speaking against his palm, and he pressed just the slightest bit harder so she would know that he was against it. “I mean it.” She didn’t try to say anything, but he heard her anyway.
The pain that flickered in her eyes told him everything he didn’t want to know.
Slowly, he lowered his hand.
But this time, she didn’t even try to speak.
He drew his breath unevenly. “How about a bargain?”
She looked at him warily. “Like you’re allowing
me to love you by 40%? That kind of bargain?”
He stared at her blankly. “How did you even come up with that kind of thought?”
She colored.
“Never mind, and no, that’s not what I meant.”
A part of him believed he was crazy for what he was about to suggest while another part of him believed it was the best idea he had ever come up.
But then he saw the way Lane’s eyes were gradually darkening, and he remembered that day when she had fainted.
He remembered seeing her looking at him like she deserved to be thrown away.
It was the same way she was looking at him now.
“Would you,” he said roughly, “be my girlfriend?” He might never be able to give her the words, but he could give her the next best thing, the only thing he could offer.
Lane was staring wide-eyed at him, and his tension increased. When he saw her shove her hands in her pockets, he said tautly, “Lane?”
“Could you say that again,” she whispered, “so I can be sure that I’m not hallucinating?”
Chapter Sixteen
Would you be my girlfriend?
Would you be my girlfriend?
Would you be my girlfriend?
Would you be my girlfriend?
The alarm gradually penetrated Angelo’s sleep.
Would you be my girlfriend?
Then he realized what he was listening to, and with a snarl, he woke up and turned off Lane’s phone with a muttered chain of Italian expletives.
Behind him, Lane burst into peals of laughter.
In the next moment, he had her trapped under him, and he glared down at her.
“Good morning,” she said sweetly. One of her newer discoveries about Angelo was that he was not a morning person, and it was yet another secret she kept zealously close to her heart.
Angelo didn’t smile back. Even now, he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t realized she had recorded his question that night. Dio, what an idiot he had been. And now, he was paying the price for his stupidity, with Lane using his words as an alarm to force him awake every morning.
“I can still kill you for that, you know.”
Swallowing back a nervous giggle, she clasped his face with both hands, saying cajolingly, “But it’s for your own good. Now, you wake up more quickly and—”