of pleasure washes through me as the fabric of his pants pleasantly chafes, my nipples drawing hard at the press of his warm skin. “Spill, beautiful.”
“Just something else. Something naughty.” My words hit the air in a rush. Who knew I was a sucker for flattery? Or else this is a case of a good orgasm being like truth serum. Whatever the case is, I’m so pleased it’s too dark for him to see my embarrassment, and I raise my gaze to his, sending up a silent prayer that none of these thoughts have made it past my lips.
That would just be trés awkward.
“Come on, you know you’re gonna have to tell me.” His words are delivered in a low-sounding chuckle and an accompanying solid squeeze of my bum.
“Well.” I sigh with resignation. “According to Sister Edith’s pious, though not particularly informative, health education classes . . .” I wrap my hands around his neck and tip up on my toes to whisper the rest in his ear. And then almost pass out from the feel of his skin on mine. “Every time you touch yourself in sin, an angel loses its wings.” I experience the vibration of his amusement down to the very marrow of my bones.
“The real estate market in heaven must be fantastic.”
He groans a deep and masculine sound as daring gets the better of me, my tongue darting out to caress his ear. “I think that’s why it’s called ringing the Devil’s doorbell.”
“Wanna see if he’s home again?” He angles his head as though to slant his lips over mine.
“And make the little cherubs and angels cry?” I press my palm to his chest, keeping him in place even as a tantalising pulse begins to beat between my legs. Could I even withstand another orgasm like the last? But it’s a risk I’m willing to take.
“I’m pretty sure the angels, like the stars, are dirty voyeurs.”
I squeak as his hands slide down, hooking under my thighs to lift me. He begins walking backward towards the bed, his hands still full of my bum.
“So you’re saying they deserve to be made homeless?”
He pauses as though appearing to think before it becomes clear it’s just for effect. “What I’m saying is, let’s fuck.”
Oh, I’m good with that. I’m so good with that as he drops me to the bottom of the bed that I begin to yank at his belt, remembering how desperate I was to see him. But with a rasping laugh, he raises my fumbling hands.
“Oh, is this where I get to watch you take something off other than a tyre?” I push my hands under my thighs to stop me from clapping them.
“I have a better idea.” His gaze is all pupil and wicked plans as he brings my hand to his mouth, and I gasp as he flicks my forefinger up, sucking it into his mouth. “Let’s scandalise the heavens,” he murmurs, feeding the wet digit between my legs.
And then he straightens, and I do get my show as he begins to slowly unbuckle his belt. The action is almost hypnotic, and I find I’m holding my breath as he releases himself from his zipper. Judging by his amused expression, I think my eyeballs might have fallen out of my head, cartoon style. I only hope I didn’t make the usual accompanying sound which, from memory, is the honk of a hooter.
I’ve never found dicks to be beautiful. Necessary sometimes, more so than the bigger dick they come attached to. But this is different because not only is he gorgeous but this is also a thing of beauty as he begins to jack himself.
The muscles of his right arm tense and bunch in the dim light, his hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes, twisting as he reaches the sensitive head.
“You’re not joining in.” Not a question but maybe a pointed observation, but not even two amazing orgasms makes me feel that kind of brave. Besides, I don’t think I’d be able to concentrate, not as I watch his abs tighten, not as I viscerally feel the rumble in his next breath. I suddenly want to hear him make that noise for me, because of me.
“I have a better idea,” I whisper, reaching for him. His body bows forward as I wrap my hand around the thick length of him, and he releases the sexiest sound.
Low, guttural, and filled with need.
“I like this idea.” He gasps as I explore his silky head, the heft, and