the angels hidden blade

THIRTY SEVEN

THE WHITE WOLF

"Oh, my Little Cupid,"

He whispered, his voice filled with both desire and roughness as he looked into the pink of her eyes. Her iris blown out as she stared at him with raw lust.

Their lips met again in a fervent kiss, lips clashing like waves as he gripped her tighter. She tasted like wildflowers as he drank her in.

Their bodies pressed against each other, the heat of their embrace growing with each passing second. She was thin but soft, her breasts rubbing against him through the silk of her dress. 

Gods that dress was a mistake.

It was light and silken white, flowing around her like the gossamer wings of a moth. And he could see the outline of her skin through it. 

The room seemed to crackle as something zipped along her skin, running along to his scarred arms. 

Whatever it was made his desire grow and he knew his dick hardened as he felt the current tracing his skin softly like the tips of a finger. 

It felt like magic.

He couldn't help it, he growled and sunk his teeth into her bottom lip.

The gasp that radiated from her stirred the hot desire in his groin and he fought not to become rough as his tongue dove into her mouth and his hands gently pushed her onto the bed. 

He needed her. He needed her now and if he didn't have her soon he would go fucking feral. 

The silk of her dress was soft beneath his leathers as he sucked her lips and spread her legs to let him rest above her.

His hands moved across the curve of her body, tracing everything laid out beneath him. 

His hands quickly found their way under the silk of her dress, and compared to her soft skin were tough and warm. They ran over her bare hips, causing her to moan loudly into his kiss. 

He traced the contours of her silhouette as if he were trying to etch her image into his memory. 

He wanted to take his time and treat her gently like the angel he had named her after.

But as her fingers ran into his hair and tugged. His resolve snapped like a fine silk thread.