to do this but, like he said, I’m used to riding the pole and my hips can fucking move.
He’s sweating in less than a minute.
I find myself so happy that I giggle and he gets pretty fucking serious about making me come after that, a hand on the nape of my neck to keep my body close to his as his fingers work their magic on my clit.
When I come and clench down hard like a vise around him he follows me over the edge with a grunt, pumping his hips up into me.
The shaking starts as soon as I come down from my orgasm, my whole body trembling for no reason. I start to panic a little bit, sure that Tomi is going to zip up and leave me because I’m such a fucking mess.
“Where’s your sweatshirt, sweetness? Here, have this one,” he says, slipping his cut off and then his shirt before helping me into it. He’s still inside me but now he’s focused entirely on easing my tremors.
“Hips up, good girl. Right, lie down there until I get cleaned up. Do you have blankets? Good, you stay there. I’ll fix it.”
The shaking doesn’t stop but I fall asleep before he gets back to me.
I wake up in his arms on the fold-out bed, tucked into his chest and fucking happy.
Chapter Thirty Two
Tomi
Angel wasn’t wrong when she said the house was a pile of shit.
It needs more work than just a quick paint job but I’ll be goddamned if I don’t do as much of it for her as I can. When I get her tucked up on the couch and sleeping I do a proper walk through the place and start running inventory on what she needs.
I’ve been working for years for the club, my only expenses being my hog and my bar tab, so I have more than enough cash to sort this place out for my girl.
Starting with a fucking fridge.
Her cupboards are full of chips and boxes of Mac’n’Cheese, she’s gonna get fucking sick eating that shit and there’s no fucking way I’m eating it.
The bathroom tiles are cracked and missing in places. The carpet in the bedroom is fucking terrible, stained and littered with burn marks. Every inch of the kitchen cupboards need to be cleaned and repainted too, if not completely ripped out and replaced.
She only has a couch and some bags of clothes.
I text Rue and Trink before I head back into the living room to make up the bed. I’ll need some backup and I don’t care how hungover my sister is, she can come help out. I fall asleep with Angel’s legs tangled up in mine, her arms across my chest and her face pressed up into my neck like she needs to be surrounded by me to sleep.
I sleep like the dead.
When I wake up the early morning light is streaming in through the broken blinds and Angel is already awake, watching me with this soft little smile on her face that has my words drying up in my throat.
She looks exactly like the name she chose, a fucking angel lying there on my chest and stealing my fucking heart away from me.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
We get up for the day slowly, like dragging our asses off of the couch is the hardest fucking thing we’ve ever done. Her ass keeps peeking out from under my shirt and, fuck, maybe getting up is the hardest fucking thing because spreading her out on the cushions sounds like a much better use of the morning than painting shit.
She laughs at me like pure fucking joy.
I grab my shit from my bag on my hog and I drag her into the shower with me, soaping her up with my shit so she smells just like me. When I leave everything where it belongs she quirks an eyebrow at me from where she’s leaning against the bathroom counter.
“You leaving your shit here? I have to make space for it all in this tiny bathroom?”
I huff at her even if I am enjoying the hell outta the flirty tone she’s slinging my way. “I told you, sweetness, I’m not fucking leaving. You better make sure there’s room in your closet for my shit because we both live here now.”
She huffs out a breath like she’s mocking me but there’s that perfect fucking grin on her face again. “Oh really? Are you paying rent or just freeloading off of me? I