The lace of her top is a flimsy barrier, doing absolutely nothing to hide the perfect curve of her breasts. I could recite poetry about these orbs—sonnets that would make Shakespeare weep. With a gentle tug, I reveal more supple skin, setting free those twin peaks that star in my dreams.
Tit-tacular. A divine work of art. God's greatest masterpiece.
She arches under my touch, offering herself up like a sacrifice. My mouth waters at the sight of that perfect pink tip, straining toward me like a beacon. I close my eyes, dragging my tongue across the taut peak before capturing it between my teeth and biting down. She jerks against me, a sweet little moan escaping her throat as my fangs graze delicate skin. I soothe the sting with my tongue, lapping up her taste like a starved man.
I worship that nipple like it's my new religion, suckling gently as my thumb strokes its twin. Her heart flutters against my lips—a symphony accompanying this heavenly feast. Her fingers tangle in my hair, urging me on, a silent prayer for more. And who am I to deny my angel's wish?
With infinite care, I pierce the delicate skin just above her nipple, twin pinpricks that well with red droplets. The first taste of her—fuck—honey and cinnamon, sunlight and sin—shatters me, reforges me, brands me as hers for eternity. My eyes flutter closed, colors bursting behind my lids, a kaleidoscope of rapture.
My Heavenly Honey's ambrosia. Vintage Seraphina. And the only elixir I'll crave for all my immortal days.
Once I've had my fill, I lick the pinpricks with the reverence of a man sealing a holy covenant. My tongue traces a path back up to her lips, leaving a trail of unholy promises along the way.
Seraphina breaks away, her eyes glittering with something that makes my already-tight pants feel like a medieval torture device. "Although," she says, all sweet, "I do recall a bet was placed if I did get hurt..."
Fuck me. That's the tone that could make a saint sin twice on Sunday.
I'm so wound up on her blood and scent that my brain has hung a "Gone Fishing" sign and clocked out for the day. I just stare at her like a horny mannequin.
She laughs. "Remember? In your GTA getaway—" her voice drops to a teasing whisper, "—gettingpeggedring any bells in that handsome brain of yours?"
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.
The memory crashes into me like a train wreck of kinky promises. I'd sworn nothing would happen to her, and when she countered with what she'd do if I was wrong... well, let's just say it involved her, a strap-on, and my exit-only hole.
I give her my patented panty-dropping smirk, the one that's gotten me out of (and into) trouble for centuries. "Seriously, Cupcake. What's with you and claiming ownership of my ass?" I brush my lips against her ear, feeling her shiver. "Such a naughty little angel."
Seraphina shrugs with all the innocence of an angel who's browsed the kinkier side of heaven's database. "I don't know, something about owning you, taking you down apeg..." She emphasizes that last word like it's a holy sacrament. "...kinda turns me on."
Holy fucking shit on a communion wafer.
I think my brain just exploded—actually exploded. Like, someone just set off a nuclear bomb in my pleasure center and the fallout is pure horniness.
Here's this literal angel, Heaven's sweetheart, casually discussing turning my ass into her personal playground like she's planning a picnic.
Somewhere in Heaven, Gabriel's probably having an aneurysm. And you know what? Worth it.
"Look who's been studying the naughtier parts of PornHub's algorithms," I manage to rasp out. "From 'Holy Spirit' to 'Hole-y Spirit' real quick there, Cupcake."
She giggles, the sound going straight to my groin like a heat-seeking missile. "What can I say? Abadboy has influenced me."
Oh no, Angel Cake. You're not pinning this corruption on me. You've got a naughty streak a mile wide.
I groan—fucking groan—at that innocent-but-not-innocent tone.
No, this isn't just influence. This is pure, unadulterated curiosity, and I'm about to discover just how deep that curiosity goes.
"You know what I think?" My hands find their way under those tiny shorts, cupping that perfect ass that could launch a thousand sins. She gasps at the contact, the sound pure orgasmic. "That my innocent little angel wants to experience it for herself."
Heaven help me, because I'm about to corrupt one of their finest.
A blush spreads across her skin like a sunrise, painting her from neck to cheeks in the most delicious shade of pink.
"Isn't that right?" I let my fingers wander, tracing the seam of her ass with deliberate slowness, watching as her eyes flutter closed and her lips part on a silent moan.
"Mmm…so responsive," I murmur against her throat, nipping at her pulse point. My fingers continue their unholy pilgrimage, circling that forbidden territory like I'm mapping out the gates of paradise. "Look at you…getting all worked up for me?"
Holy fuck, the sounds she's making should be classified as supernatural weapons.
