Page 172 of Wicked Angel
My heart squeezed with fear. I didn’t want to say those things. I didn’t want him to know.
But he was asking, almost like he already knew. Or at least, he desperately hoped.
“I need you,” I whispered.
Johnny groaned in his throat, kissing my neck. His hips shifted a little, and he pushed into me, making sure he was still buried to the root. “More,” he panted.
“Nothing satisfies me like you do,” I told him softly, instinctively knowing what he needed to hear. Just truth, and lots of it. “I get so hot just looking at you. And you give me what I need.”
“I’m the only one?” he said hungrily, kissing my face with his soft, luscious lips.
“Yes. The only one.” He knew that by now. How could there be anyone else? I was with him almost all the time. “You’re the only one I come for, Johnny.”
He groaned, the pleasure rippling through him. “You make me come so hard, Angel,” he reciprocated, kissing me with a fervor, sucking on my lips. “You’re the only one I come for. The only one who gets me off.”
“Your cock is mine?”
“Anytime you want. Any way you want.”
“You’re the only one I want.”
“Keep my cock inside you. Keep kissing me. I can’t get enough of you, Angeline.”
I kissed his face as he kissed mine, and our words of promise and praise enveloped us in a warm, safe place as my hair fell around us and our breath heated our skin.
“I do need you, Johnny. You make me feel so good.” I wriggled my hips a little, feeling his cock swell inside me.
“You need me?” he panted, wanting to hear it again. Needing to hear it again.
“I need this cock,” I teased, wriggling again. He swelled, his length filling me. His cockhead stretching me at my limits again when he flexed his hips, pushing deep.
And all at once, he was rolling over, taking me with him. Then he was kneeling up over me, his cock still buried to the root as he clutched my hips and dragged me to the edge of the bed. He stepped down to the floor, standing next to the bed while he spread my legs wide around him. I bent my knees and let them fall back as he pushed my thighs up, forcing me roughly open. He grunted, a very male, primal sort of grunt as he started fucking me again with single-minded focus.
I instantly melted, my head spinning with arousal at the sensations. His cock, hard again, pumping into me. His fast, greedy rhythm.
He wanted me again. He needed me again.
He pumped into me like a god. Pounding his cock into my swollen pussy as he stood over me. Abs bunching, muscles tensing, chest sweating. All tattoos and golden skin over the beautiful, muscular plains and curves, the tight cords of muscle along his arms.
His eyes roamed over me, my body wrenched open for his pleasure, as he said gruffly, “Spread for me, Angel.”
I groaned with lust, my fingers sliding down between my legs to draw myself gently open to take him. It wasn’t so much making it easier for him to fuck me any deeper—he was fully in control of that. We both knew it. No, it was an act of willingness and surrender, of doing exactly what he said, spreading myself as wide open as I could to take as much of him as I could, without hesitation. And it made him absolutely shake with lust as he stared at the place where he possessed me.
“Good girl,” he grunted softly. “Open up for me. My beautiful cock slut…”
I moaned, feeling like I was slowly dying of pleasure as he fed me his dick. Stroking with such incredible control, despite the rest of him shaking over me, flushed with sweat.
His eyes suddenly tangled with mine. The flash of vulnerability I saw there made me suck in a breath.
“You need me, Angel?”
“Yes. Without you… I’m empty.”
He groaned, long and low, and I knew he was about to lose it. His whole body flexed, muscles shuddering as he shoved his dick into me in quick, deep pumps.
“God, yeah,” I moaned. “Fill me with your come.”
“Angel.” His hips stuttered. His body quivered.
