💮͓̽His Mistress💮

Hungry For More.

Angel's Pov

Raul left my room early the next morning to avoid Catalina's drama.

The sun rays filtered through the curtains, nudging me awake. I fluttered my eyes open, momentarily forgetting the night before—until I tried to stand and immediately collapsed back onto the bed with a groan.

"Fuck," I cursed, pressing my thighs together in an attempt to dull the ache radiating through me.

My body still trembled with the memory of him inside me.

The pain was undeniable... but so was the lingering pleasure. I bit my lip, trying—and failing—not to smile.

Suddenly, the door flung open.

And in he came, Raul D'Amano in all his intimidating glory, looking freshly pressed in his designer suit like nothing had happened last night.

"Why aren't you dressed yet, Tesoro?" His voice was sharp, eyes stern.

I resisted the urge to roll mine because I didn't need another punishment today.

"Thank you so much, sir, but your dick is kinda the reason I'm still here," I shot back, my voice thick with sarcasm.

He blinked... and then laughed. Full-bodied, unrestrained. I blinked back, momentarily stunned by the sound.

God, even his laugh was sinful—deep, masculine, and annoyingly beautiful. I found myself staring at him, mesmerised.

"I should've taken it easy with you," he said, cocky and smug.

"Unfortunately, you didn't," I muttered.

His hand snapped to my chin, gripping it hard enough to sting.

"I'd watch that attitude if I were you, Caramella," he growled. "Or I just might forget how sore you are... and fuck you 'til dusk."

A moan slipped from my lips at the brutal promise that was shamefully arousing.

"I'm sorry, daddy," I whispered, barely able to breathe.

He kissed the corner of my mouth—soft, almost sweet. A contradiction to the fire in his touch.

He shrugged off his blazer, then peeled away his shirt, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest I'd worshipped just hours ago.

My eyes stayed glued to him, dirty thoughts flooding in again as I traced the lines of his tattoos and the ripple of muscle.

"If i were you, I'd stop looking at me like that," he warned, voice dangerously low. "Else I'll forget about your soreness."

My breath hitched.

Without another word, he scooped me into his arms and carried me to the bathroom. His grip was firm around my waist, holding me as if I were fragile... or his.

He set the bath with warm water and poured in my chocolate-scented body wash. The familiar aroma swirled around us.

Gently, he knelt beside the tub, massaging my hair and thighs with firm, skilled hands.

I melted into his touch, every stroke soothed the ache and eased my tense muscles, but also reignited the hunger.

When it was time to rinse off, I pouted, reluctant to leave the comfort of his magic fingers.

"Raul, I don't want to get out," I whined, pursing my lips.

He sighed, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"You have to, Angel. But I promise another massage tonight. How's that?" His voice was warm, coaxing.

I peeked at him through my lashes, a grin spreading.