ANGEL
"I s-swear, Mr. Hale, she just came upstairs to bring you coffee! How did this happen?!" Mrs. Martha’s hysterical cry pierced the air. "I’ll dial the doctor right away!"
I couldn’t bring myself to give a fuck about her panicked ramblings or the sound of her frantic, echoing footsteps. I couldn’t focus on anything.
Just him.
"Angel!" Vincenzo called again, his voice raw, but I kept my eyes squeezed shut. I was addicted to the sound of his panic. I wanted to hear him lose his mind over me just a little bit longer.
"Baby girl, look at me!" The rough gravel in his throat sent a delicious shudder straight down my eardrums. I could have sworn I had an eargasm when he let out a harsh, guttural curse. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
His thick, tattooed arms were wrapped around my bruised body, locking me against his broad chest. His heavy, expensive cologne engulfed my senses. I felt safe. I felt dangerously, obscenely wet. All my earlier rage toward him melted away like warm chocolate under a flame.
This was it.
Keep losing your fucking mind over me, Daddy. Keep holding me. Don’t you ever dare let me go again.
Mrs. Martha’s frantic voice shattered my fleeting moment of bliss. "Sir, I just called Garrett—he mentioned being outside the city! He won’t be back in time—"
"Damn it! Right now of all fucking times?!" Vincenzo swore again, his chest vibrating violently against mine.
Garrett was our private family physician, this couldn’t have worked out better if I’d scripted it myself. Garrett wasn’t here, which meant Vincenzo would have to carry me, inspect my body, and nurse his bruised little girl all by himself.
His strong yet shockingly gentle hands adjusted me, resting my head against the heavy, muscled slab of his thigh. I inhaled deeply, catching the dark, musky scent of his skin mixed with sweat. So sweet. So fucking intoxicating.
I wanted more. I subtly shifted, snuggling closer as a burst of real, blinding pain shot through my ribs—a small price to pay to press my flushed cheek right against his groin. I took in a deep, filthy breath of his heat.
"Angel, are you awake? Please, baby girl... open your eyes for me."
I couldn’t pretend to be unconscious anymore—not when he was practically begging me. I had to clamp my thighs together to stop from squirming; hearing Vincenzo say please was the single most erotic thing I’d ever experienced.
My eyelashes fluttered, and the moment those dark, unblinking eyes locked onto mine, everything inside me stilled.
For a split second, my heart completely forgot how to beat.
Then it slammed back to life. Air caught in my throat. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.
Vincenzo’s stare wasn’t just intense; it was all-consuming. I had his undivided attention. His entire universe was reduced to me.
Fresh moisture burned the corners of my eyes. I didn’t even realize I was sobbing until hot tears tracked down my temples and disappeared into my golden hair. When was the last time I had been held like this by him? Ever since that plastic bitch Jillian wormed her way into his bed, he’d kept his distance.
"Where does it hurt?" His voice was sharp, desperate with relief.
I was drowning in him. I wanted to lie here and drown in his dark eyes forever.
Where does it hurt?
It hurt everywhere—my hips were throbbing, my back was bruised, my skin was scorched from the coffee. But my heart hurt worst of all because looking up at him like this was utterly breathtaking.
I wanted to reach up and touch his face, to drag my nails over the dark stubble outlining his sharp jawline, to run my fingers through the messy dark hair falling over his forehead. My mouth literally watered with the filthy desire to devour him.
In the end, all I could choke out was a pathetically fragile whisper: "D-Daddy?"
"I’m right here," he rasped.
"It h-hurts..." Another tear spilled over my lashes, sliding down the curve of my cheek.
Vincenzo’s calloused thumb reached out, gently sweeping the wet tear away. His touch lingered dangerously close to the corner of my lips.
I wanted to part my mouth, to trap his thick thumb between my teeth and suck on it like a whore. I wanted to lick his finger, coating it in my saliva until it was shiny and dripping—just like Jillian had done to his dick.
"Where does it hurt, Angel?" he asked again, his breath hot against my face as he shifted my weight.
He gathered me higher into his arms, resting my head against his bare, tattooed chest. His broad shoulders created an inescapable cage around me—a cage I’d happily spend the rest of my life in.
"It h-hurts e-everywhere... it’s so p-painful," I whimpered, meeting his intense stare as tears streamed down my face.
Vincenzo’s dark features softened with a rare, fierce vulnerability. I snuggled deeper into his warmth, craving more contact.
That was when my hand shifted. The back of my knuckles accidental-on-purpose grazed against his crotch.
My breath hitched sharply in my throat at the discovery.
He was soft.
A surge of pure, venomous contempt flooded my veins with every breath I exhaled.
Why the fuck was he soft?!
So he had finished in Jillian’s mouth before running down the stairs to save me. I should have thrown myself down the stairs a minute earlier! My whole goal had been to interrupt them, to starve that bitch of his cum.
My fingers dug possessively into his thick bicep, while my other hand—my knuckles—dared to linger directly against his crotch.
Vincenzo didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were entirely focused on examining my face for injuries.
My mind raced into dark, filthy territory. What would happen if I just reached down and grabbed him right now? What if I stroked his heavy length right through his slacks until he got rock-hard for me? Only for me.
My fingers practically throbbed with the urge. I wanted to feel his heavy weight in my palm, to trace the exact same bulging veins Jillian’s filthy lips had just touched.
Then... something happened.
No. Maybe my desperate mind was imagining it.
I subtly shifted my hand again, disguising the movement as a weak, painful tremor against his lap.
It happened again.
Mini-Vincenzo twitched. It throbbed beneath my knuckles. Once. Twice.
The air swooshed right out of my chest as his shaft began to swell, poking firmly against the back of my hand.
He was getting hard.
Did the sight of my pathetic tears, my bruised body, and my helpless whimpers turn him on that much? Was his dick throbbing for his broken little princess?!
My eyes flew open wide, snapping up to lock onto his dark, piercing gaze in absolute shock!