With her eyes so dark from passion and her skin so flushed from desire, Sonya was the sexiest, most glorious thing Angel had ever seen. He had the nickname, but she was the true angel. A magnificent, celestial being made flesh, panting and limp and completely wrung out by the power of her orgasm.
She whimpered when he carefully withdrew his fingers from her tight little body.
“Easy,” he told her. Loving how she had slicked his palm and bathed his fingers.
He was exceptional at exactly two things. Hiding who he truly was and giving pleasure to a woman. He’d never been happier about that second thing until this moment, because Sonya’s pleasure was the sweetest thing he’d ever known.
As her smell assaulted him, that tangy, clean scent of a woman recently sated, his mouth watered. He was determined to bring her to the breach again. This time with his lips and teeth and tongue. He needed to taste her. He had to taste her.
“I want to make you come again,” he whispered, spreading her juices over the tip of her breast before bending to lick it clean.
“Too soon,” she murmured, hissing when he tongued her nipple to the top of his mouth, rolling it against his palate.
“Your mouth says one thing,” he told her. “But your body says another.”
Before she could protest again, he claimed her mouth, kissing her with all the violence and fury and worship inside of him. Then, when she was sufficiently silenced, he straddled her hips so he could begin his journey south.
Her breasts were hard and swollen from passion, her nipples ripe and wet from his mouth, but he kissed and sucked and plumped them anyway, delighting in how it made her squirm and whimper beneath him.
He counted her ribs with his lips, loving the sweet taste of her skin as he scooted farther down her body. Dipping his tongue into her belly button had her threading her fingers through his short hair and sighing wistfully. Nibbling on the soft, womanly curve of her lower belly had her spreading her legs, silently telling him that, despite her words to the contrary, she was more than ready for what came next.
Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her panties, he pulled them down the length of her silky legs and tossed them onto the pile of her clothes. Then, he bent her knees and spread her legs wide.
He couldn’t have stopped the moan that escaped him if he’d tried. She was shaved except for a little landing strip of dark-blond hair. Pink and juicy, her swollen clitoris peeked impudently from between her folds. It begged for the attention of his mouth, and he didn’t disappoint.
Gently, because he knew she was tender from his ministrations, he settled his shoulders between her legs and pressed his lips to her. She gasped and shuddered when he opened his mouth so he could lap carefully at the sweet button.
“Angel…” His name was a breathy moan, and he wished…oh, how he wished…she had called him Mark.
But she would never call him Mark. He had to forget about that. Forget about everything but her.
He knew how she liked it and he gave it to her, licking her gently and lovingly at first. Then working his way up to quickly and ferociously when she was ready. She gripped his hair in her hands, her nails biting deliciously into his scalp—a little pain for her pleasure. When she arched her back, pressing his face between her legs, he knew she was close, straining and striving for another release.
As for him? Well, he never wanted to move away from this place he occupied. He wanted to live and die right here. Listening to her keen his name. Tasting her sweet saltiness against his tongue. Knowing she was his in every way as she writhed and panted.
When she cried out in frustration, her orgasm so close but still tantalizingly out of reach, he thrust two fingers inside her. Her body welcomed the intrusion by gripping and sucking. Then he curled his fingers upward, found the patch of rough, swollen flesh, and rubbed it in rhythm to his teasing tongue.
She released his head, and he glanced up from between her legs to find she’d plumped her breasts high, running her thumbs over her stiffened nipples. She pleasured herself and reminded him of how incredibly luscious her tits were.
His dick throbbed. He could come right here, right now. From tasting her. From watching her fondle herself.
But then she pinched her nipples, and as he’d known she would, she once again flung herself over into the hot, pulsing abyss of physical pleasure. He reveled in her release the way he reveled in her screaming his name until it echoed around the circus ring, flying up to the ceiling and bouncing back again.
For long moments, he continued to lap at her, rub her from the inside, prolonging her pleasure. Then her tremors gentled and the harsh breaths rasping from her lungs settled to sweet, little pants.
When he was satisfied the last of her release had shuddered through her, he climbed up beside her and gathered her into his arms. As he kissed her sweaty forehead, he had to clench his jaw to keep from sliding down his zipper, releasing his heavy dick, and pulling her leg over his hip so he could sink into her soft, wet heat. Because, good God, she was even more uninhibited than he remembered, more spectacular in the way she owned her sexuality.
“That was way, way better than paddling the pink canoe all by myself.” She sighed.
He chuckled, grabbing a handful of her luscious ass. Seriously, Sonya’s backside was the answer to the question, What is the meaning of life?
When he slapped it playfully, she yelped and shoved him flat on his back, looming above him until her blond hair created a curtain of privacy in the expanse of the large room. It was only the two of them. Nothing existed outside this space they occupied.
“How long has it been?” he heard himself ask, then immediately wished he could withdrawal the question. Did he honestly want to hear about her sex life?
“Two years,” she told him without a moment’s hesitation.
And even though he wished she’d said ten years, he was still surprised by two. Sonya was a lusty woman. Why had she gone two years without sex?
