His eyes gleam.
"On your feet," he drawls.
I shake my head.
"You can’t hide forever."
"Wh-when did you wake up?" I swallow.
"A while ago."
"Were you watching me all this time?"
The skin around his eyes tightens. "I had a meeting with the Don."
"With Michael?" Yes, of course, the Don is Michael. If I didn’t give away my delaying tactics before, then that question definitely revealed just how much I’m trying to postpone the inevitable.
"You called him Don. So, was this on uh, mob business?"
His jaw tightens. "It was work, yes."
"And did it go well?"
"As well as can be expected." He places the tips of his fingers together. "We can play this game all day; or rather, I can. Because you—" he pulls back the cuff of his sleeve to reveal that expensive watch of his "—have exactly four hours to get ready and show up for your rehearsal."
"What?" I always need to show up in advance of the others so I can stretch and warm up. I glance around the room, searching for a clock. I spot my phone on the nightstand, reach for it, but he snatches it up before me.
"Hey, gimme that."
He tosses it from hand to hand. "Come and get it."
I scowl, then sit up and shove my feet over the edge of the bed—all the while, making sure the sheet covers my front. I stand up, wrap them around me, then move toward him. I stick out my arm for the phone, but he holds it up and out of my reach.
"Give that back," I demand. As if I can demand he do anything.
"Take it back yourself." He smirks. Then, goon that he is, he actually chuckles, as if he’s sure I’ll never be able to get to it.
"Don’t think I won’t." I plant my feet on the chair in the space between his thighs and rise up. I grab for the phone, only in doing so, of course, I loosen my grip on the sheet, which slowly slides down my body. I snatch the phone out of his hand, and he takes the opportunity to yank on the sheet, which promptly falls to my feet.
"Oh no," I cry.
"Oh yes." He places his big paws on either side of my hips, and his touch instantly arrows to my core. I’m still standing between his legs and my pussy is on the same level as his eyes. My bare pussy. My naked pussy, which he stares at with intent written all over his face.
"No, no, no." I try to pull away, but does he let me go? Of course not. Instead, he pulls me even closer. Closer. Closer. Close enough for his breath to heat my core. The blood rushes to my clit and my inner walls throb. My thighs clench, and I resist the urge to squeeze them together. He continues to stare at my center with unabashed desire. His big shoulders are so broad, they block out the sight of everything else but him. His biceps are solid muscle and the width of my thighs. Positioned there between his legs, with his face an inch from my pussy, a shiver squeezes up my spine. My heartbeat is so loud, it fills the space between my ears. My pulse thuds between my legs and is echoed by the one at my wrists and at my temples.
"You have the most gorgeous cunt ever, Angel. Pink, juicy, and waiting to be devoured."
"No," my breath hitches, "I can’t."
"You can, and you will." He presses his nose in between my pussy lips and draws in a deep breath.
"Oh, Jesus." My knees buckle. Not that he’ll let me fall. He digs those thick fingers into either side of my hips and holds me immobile.
"You’re filthy. An animal. A monster who—"
"Is going to eat you out, and you’re going to love every second of it." He glances up at me from under hooded eyelids. The sight of him looking up at me from between my legs? There’s nothing servile about it. I feel like I’m some kind of pagan offering, and he’s the beast who’s going to devour me in the most erotic fashion possible. Heat sluices through my veins. My skin feels too tight for my body. I glance down to find the tell-tale string of the tampon between my legs.
"Hold on, I don’t remember wearing a tampon before I went to bed last night."