Page 132 of Wicked Angel
I knew I wasn’t supposed to. I wasn’t supposed to lust after him like that. It was Lil Brat rules, and I was breaking them.
I couldn’t stop myself.
I confessed, “I’m a sexual deviant.” I chewed my lip.
His eyes slid all over me, slowly. “Tell me what you were doing,” he said, his voice low and rough.
“I was fucking myself.”
“On my couch.”
“Yes.”
“You wanted me to catch you?”
I swallowed. “I just… like it.”
“Like what?”
Being in your house.
Doing something I’m not supposed to do.
Everything.
I didn’t say anything.
When he waited, I finally forced out again, “I’m sorry. I just lose control sometimes. I can’t help it.”
“Lose control…”
“So horny,” I squeaked out, “I can’t think.”
Of course, I’d never actually lost control like this in front of anyone but my own boyfriend before… but he just made me feel so damn safe last night. So… wanted.
Please, let this not be a giant, horrifying mistake.
His eyes drifted over me again. “You’re shaking.”
I was. Because I was so aroused. I was naked. I was dripping. And he was looking at me.
“You like it,” he observed.
“Uh-huh.” My voice shook.
His eyes seemed to darken with knowing as they met mine again and held. “Are you a bad girl, Angeline?”
When I didn’t speak, he touched a finger to my chin and tipped my face up, making me hold his gaze. “No,” he said, his voice like warm, heated silk. “You’re a good girl. My naughty, sweet, good girl.”
My.
I kind of whimpered my agreement.
Like he knew he was getting close to hitting the mark as I quivered, he elaborated. “Does my good girl want to come?”
I nodded.
His thumb drifted along my jaw. “Of course you do. You want a nice, juicy come?” It was like we were both hypnotized by the idea. His dark, heated gaze dropped to my mouth. “You want me to watch you have an orgasm, Angel?”
