Page 15 of Angel

She pushes my jacket from my shoulders, tearing at my t-shirt, and I reward her by ripping her satin slip apart with my bare hands and push her to the ground, hard.

She pulls at my jeans, her breathing fast as my lips connect with her neck, biting, licking, sucking. Her moans are carried away by the ocean waves that splash against our skin, chilling, damaging, relentless.

I’m hard, she is wet as my finger caresses her clit, her soft groan encouraging.

“Tell me to stop, princess.”

My tone is urgent, a warning even, and she gasps, “I want this.”

“You don’t.”

I continue to pump two fingers inside her, curling around her G-spot as she shivers underneath me and not because it’s cold out here.

“Please, Angel. You can’t stop now, I would hate you forever.”

“You don’t know me.”

I remind her, and she surprises me by reaching out and gripping my throat.

The sand whips around us as she hisses, “I know you, Angel. If that is who you really are. You hide behind a mask because you’re scared of recognition. You are a coward for that. Don’t be a coward now. You have my full permission to ruin me because it turns out you can’t ruin something that broke a long time ago.”

I sense her rage, her desperation, and her desire. A lethal cocktail that could well explode, destroying us both.

My cock is free, it would be so easy to ram it into her hard, her screams filling the open space, as I rut inside her like a caveman. Her legs wrapping around my waist as she pulls me in harder, my hand connecting with her hip, holding her steady.

I could fuck Sophie Clere on the beach like a fucking madman.

But I don’t.

Instead, I close my lips around hers, our tongues clash, and I rub her clit as I tear her orgasm from inside her, her scream contained inside my mouth, her body shuddering under me. Desire raining down like the droplets of the surrounding ocean, the sound of her passion disappearing into the roar of the waves. I grip her throat, my heart beating so fast as she moans, her body shuddering under mine, her vision obscured by the mask, my gaze dripping onto her with surprise that she is here at all.

What just happened? I’m not that man, and for some inexplicable reason, I pull her close against my chest, my hand wrapping around her head, holding her safe.

“Who are you?” She whispers against my chest as I pull the mask from her eyes and pull it low down on my face, where it belongs, before she can see me.

“I want to see your face.”

She lifts one hand, and I link my fingers with hers before she can connect and shake my head. “Not happening.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am a ghost, beautiful lady. The secret you hold inside until the day you die. The whisper on the breeze and the demon in your nightmares.”

“Bullshit.”

I smile behind my mask.

“You’re a coward, Angel.”

Her voice is soft; her expression fierce.

“You are hiding away, afraid of revealing your identity, for what?”

I shake my head and reaching for my jacket, I wrap it around her shoulders, pulling her beside me, my arm holding her against my side as we face the ocean.

“Tell me about your father.”

It pains me to ask. I don’t want to hear her story, but I realize it needs to be heard.