Diavolo Ch 01 - Sex Stories

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Diavolo Ch 01

Date: 2/21/2016, Categories: Love Stories, Author: Levanahyll, Rating: 4, Source: LushStories

him. “I’m not going to hurt you. I was just going to give you my shirt so you could cover yourself. See?” She opened one eye to see him holding out his dark grey shirt to her. She just stared at it stupidly, trying to keep her eyes from glancing at all that exposed mass of sinewy muscle before her. Tattoos. His body was a work of art and her eyes were drawn like moths to flame. God-above…he was beyond beautiful. Michelangelo’s David was a paltry wimp next to this majestic man-god. He chuckled softly and this time she couldn’t help the shudder that wracked through her. Shaking out his shirt, he reached for her arms and, as if she were a helpless child, helped her slip into it. Very nonchalantly, he pulled down the back of her dress, once again covering her goose-pimpled behind. She still held her injured foot aloft. He noticed and bent to examine it. Finally, Abigail had no choice but look upon him. His hair was sleek and blacker than pitch. The thick mane was caught in a tie at the nape of his neck and the ends curled gently just between his shoulder blades. He had wings inked along his back, and with a gasp, she suddenly realized exactly who he was. He looked up, and she gaped, mute, at the staggering beauty of his face. “You’re bleeding,” he said with a little frown marring that angelic perfection. No not angelic, she decided. His eyes were too shrewd, his nose arrow straight and pointed, his lips full and soft looking despite the squared jaw and enigmatic dimple in the ... center of it. He had a bit of a shadow, as if he’d needed to shave and hadn’t bothered today. His eyes looked silver in the moonlight, fringed by lashes so long they looked like the false ones Mikayla had pasted on back at the mansion. Mikayla. Oh-god. This was the man she was having illicit relations with. One inky brow arched. “Well, this is different,” he muttered staring at her as intently as she stared at him. It took a while for her lips to form words, and when they did, all she could croak out was a pathetic “w-what?” He bit his cheeks as if trying not to smile. It didn’t work. Those enigmatic eyes, fringed with ridiculously girly eyelashes, crinkled at the corners. He rose to his full height, which must have been at least six-foot-two to her measly five-six. “I’m going to pick you up.” Panic slammed into her again. “What? Why?” He raised his hands. “Easy, mouse. I’m going to take you to the bathroom in the pool house and take a look at that foot. It’s bleeding all over this ancient stone floor imported from Romania.” ”Ancient?” she repeated idiotically. “Very ancient,” he said shifting on his feet. He’d called her mouse. At least he wasn’t naming her after food items anymore. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. As she debated the pros and cons to that, he scattered her thoughts again by leaning down and wrapping his arms around her. He swung her up against him effortlessly and stalked farther into the dark gardens beyond the terrace. His scent invaded her ...