Chapter 332: Insanity (2)

Angela was completely helpless under his spell, and damn if that didn't turn her on even more.

There was something erotic about being completely naked before Gael while he still had his pants on. With his hand locking hers above her head, his heated gaze swept over her body, ever so slowly as if he was trying to memorize every inch of her—if he hadn't already.

She glanced at his arm that's holding her still, the veins protruding like vines around it. She marveled at the muscles on his abdomen and the planes on his chest, her mouth salivating at the thought of running her tongue over valleys. The scruff on his sharp jawline reminded her of how it caused friction on the skin between her legs when he ate her out this morning, wishing he'd do that again. How could a man be so beautiful? It should be illegal to look at his beauty.

Even with the scars and the tattoos on his torso, Gael De Luca was a sight to behold—actually, especially with his scars and tattoos that she learned to love. 

Dragging her gaze up to his face, she caught his eyes looking back at her. It was smoldering and dangerous, and she wanted to reach for them. Like a mother moth telling the baby moth not to go near the flame, Angela disregarded the warning and wanted to embrace the flame, even if it burned her.

Gael dipped his head to the side of her neck, brushing his nose and lips against the length of it. His voice was low and rough when he probed, "You like this, don't you, baby?"

She gasped when he flicked his tongue on the shell of her ear, his gravelly voice sending tingles down her spine and shooting straight to her clit.

"You like me being in control."

He gripped her waist and bit her earlobe. "I always knew you like it rough."

Her eyes closed, and she arched her back, wanting more of him. He was holding her still, but he was also keeping his distance. She needed more of his touch and wanted him everywhere on her body. A string of curses floated in her head for being weak. She was supposed to be mad at him. Why was she giving into him so easily? As if trying to keep control of her own body, she clamped her mouth shut while a moan threatened her throat. She couldn't let him win.

Gael glided his hand down, and she swayed her hips involuntarily, but then his hand stopped. He leaned back just enough to see her face, and she tried not to look at him, but she couldn't help that her eyes landed on his full lips. She heard him smile; a little huff of his breath was hot on her face, and she flushed. "Are you trying to fight it?" he questioned in almost a whisper.

Angela didn't answer. Then she gasped when his hand teased the skin that's an inch away from her sensitive flesh. He was doing it on purpose, teasing her and not really giving her what she wanted, not touching the place she ached for him to touch.

"I haven't even touched you there yet, and I know you're already wet." He leaned closer and inhaled, a smirk dancing on his lips. "I can smell your arousal…"

The bastard.

"You want me to touch you there?" His eyes met hers, and she swallowed. "You'd like that, don't you? You want me to slip my fingers inside you and make you come." His tongue darted out and ran along his lips. "Or you want me to use my tongue?"

Oh. God. This was torture.

"You're thinking about it." He traced a finger around her nipple—stupidly far away from where she wanted it to be, and yet her nipples begged for more too. "Which memory do you have in mind?"

He's tormenting her with his words, just sending her images of what he could do with his fingers and his tongue, but he wasn't giving her any. He didn't have to paint her a picture. Gael had done all those in the past three days, and all Angela had to do was pick one of those memories she had engraved in her head, and she was already soaking wet. She was drenched and even felt liquid sliding down her inner thigh.

She narrowed her eyes and knitted her brows at him. "I don't remember any."

His eyes darkened to almost black.

Oh, shit.

Angela wanted to take back what she said because, by the looks of Gael's eyes, he was pissed.

A chilling, devilish smile ghosted his lips. "You're really testing me tonight, babe. I don't like being provoked."

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She swallowed the lump in her throat. "What are you gonna do?"

Her heart sank when Gael released her hands almost harshly, the emptiness from his warmth caused her to panic like he was withdrawing from her. She watched him pick up his belt and her shirt from the floor, and then he turned around to face her again. Her brows drew together, worried that she pushed him too far, and now he didn't want her anymore. That couldn't have turned him off, could it?

"Give me your hands."

Holy. Shit.

Was he about to do what she thought he would do?

This, she didn't expect.

And her body was revving in excitement. What the hell?

Gael folded his belt in half and held both ends, retracting inwardly and pulling it outward in a snap, causing a slapping sound where the belt meets. The sound made her flinch.

His eyes pierced through her. "I'm going to tie you with this. But only if you'll let me. I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't want."

Angela would admit she liked it when Gael was a little rough on her whenever they had sex. But she had never been tied up before. She wrote about it in one of her books, but all of those were a product of so many books she read and all the research she did. Her heart pounded in her chest. She trusted him not to hurt her, and this would be a big deal.

He took her lack of response as an answer that she didn't want to do this. Maybe he had taken it too far. She wasn't ready, and he didn't want her to feel unsafe with him. Lowering his hand, he took a deep breath and released it slowly, offering a smile. "That's okay, Angel. We don't have to do this."

He turned halfway and was just about to put the belt away when she caught him by the arm. "Wait…"

She breathed in and raised both of her hands towards him. "I trust you."

"Are you sure?"

Angela nodded.

Gael's jaw ticked as he faced her again. He held her wrists and studied her expression as if he was making sure that it was what she really wanted. Her eyes dilated, and her lips parted. Oh, she wanted this, alright.

Not wanting to leave any marks on her wrists, he wrapped her shirt around them first and then looped the belt on top of it until it was secure, buckling it tightly just enough for her to feel the pressure of the bind but not hurt her.

Her heart warmed, seeing what he just did. She was actually fine, even if he didn't put the shirt around her wrists. Her body was ready to accept the leather.

"I changed my mind."

She snapped her head to him, confused about what he was talking about. "What?"

"I'm not taking you against the wall." Gael nodded towards the tall window that's overlooking Central Park. "Face the glass, keep your hands on it, and spread your legs for me."

Angela's eyes widened when she shifted her gaze at the window. Was he serious? People could see them! And she was insane for feeling the buzz between her legs at the mere thought of that possibility.

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