Wanted Angel - Sadie Moss Page 0,25

him, and I want him to take more from me.

But this isn’t just about what I want. Relationships are a two-way street, and I have to respect Knight’s wishes. If he’s not ready to take things further between us, I have to honor that, even if it feels like my body is burning up from the inside out, fire licking through my veins at the feel of his warm fingers caressing my feathers.

I release his hand, allowing him to remove it if he wants to. But he doesn’t. He just stares at the place where he’s touching me, as if he can’t quite believe his eyes.

He does want this.

He’s just scared to take it.

I scoot a little closer to him on the couch, until our knees are pressed together and our faces are just a few inches apart. I won’t push Knight beyond what he’s ready for, but at the same time, I want him to know how I feel. With the other men, they’re often the ones to initiate touch, which I happily reciprocate. But with Knight, I think I have to take the lead. The awful voice in his head is still telling him he doesn’t deserve the things he wants, that he’s not good enough, and I need to prove to him that the voice is wrong.

I notice his brothers doing the same thing. They don’t baby him or coddle him or anything, but in subtle ways they may not even be conscious of, they show him that they want him around. That they love him and respect him.

That he’s enough for them.

I want to show him that too.

“That feels good,” I murmur, and the way my voice comes out almost like a purr says as much as my words do about how much I like this.

His throat works as he swallows, and his gaze is riveted to my wings as his fingers explore the feathers, making my stomach tighten and heat gather in my core. I hold still for as long as I can, but I’ve never been the most patient person in the world.

As fireworks seem to go off inside me, I make a noise in the back of my throat and reach for Knight, pulling him down with me as I lie back on the couch. My wings spread out beneath me as his body drapes over mine, and I kiss him the way I’ve been wanting to ever since we sat down together on the couch.

Everything about him is sweet and restrained as he kisses me back, but his hands grow more and more bold as they move over my body, skimming over the silky fabric of my short nightgown and the bare skin of my legs and arms.

Not sure if he’ll take the initiative to do it himself, I work on getting my panties off before reaching for his shirt and tugging it over his head. I hesitate a little when I reach for the waistband of his pants, giving him time to stop me if he wants to. But he doesn’t, just watches me with those dark eyes that seem to see absolutely everything.

This is my first time being the one who’s “steering the ship” during sex, so to speak, but I tamp down my nervousness and just do what feels good.

And in this moment, what feels good is kissing Knight again. Wrapping my legs around him and rubbing against him, grinding my clit against the base of his cock. The material of my nightgown is bunched up around my waist, and when Knight pulls the stretchy top down, exposing my breasts, I feel like cheering.

I arch my back, offering myself to him, and an intense look passes over his face before he lowers his head and laps tentatively at one nipple. The noise I make must encourage him, because he does it again before drawing the whole thing into his mouth and sucking. I slide my fingers through his hair, staring up at the ceiling as I try not to let my eyes roll back in my head from the bursts of pleasure shooting through me.

“I want to know your language,” I whisper. “I watch you every time you sign, and I’m trying to learn what every single gesture means. I want to be able to talk to you, Knight. A real back and forth, where you talk and I listen. I want to know what you’re saying with your beautiful, long fingers. I want to know what’s in your