Page 62 of Handcuffed to the Gargoyle

How sensitive was her pussy?

He decided to try something. He dragged his lower lip barely—just barely—over her clit.

She let out something like a sob.

“Good?” he breathed.

“Hmm, gentle like that,” she whispered, her hand tangling in his hair. “Please?”

“Of course,” he assured her. “I’ve got you.” He did it again.

She moaned.

He alternated with his tongue, barely tracing her, barely sliding against the slick, tiny nub of her clit, and she whimpered and sighed and said his name in this tiny little voice he’d never heard come out of her before, and it went on and on and on.

Until she came on his tongue, her cries soft, her body entirely relaxed, her fingers toying with the tips of his wings.

He kissed her thigh, dizzy, lost. He felt, well, in love with her.

It was as if she’d just given him something, some perfect gift of vulnerability, letting him see her fall apart like that, letting him take control of her body, and he wasn’t sure he was worthy of having it bestowed on him, but he wanted it. He wanted her.

He climbed up to kiss her mouth.

She wrapped her hand around his erection.

He let out a guttural noise. Shit, that felt really, really good.

She stroked him, and he’d apparently been leaking pre-come like a hose or something. Her fingers were wet enough to move it all over the head of him.

Shit, shit, shi—

Okay, well, that was happening, then.

He exploded into her palm, out of control, the release intense and overwhelming. He hadn’t wanted that to happen, though, so he let out a string of swear words.

“Oops,” she said, but she sounded pleased with herself.

He rested his forehead against hers, out of breath. “Sorry.”

“Are you really?” She was throaty, amused, happy.

He laughed. “It took me by surprise. I want a do-over.”

“Okay, well, I’m game,” she said. “Inside me next time.”

He kissed her again, and she clutched his face, her palms on both sides of his cheeks. She pressed her torso into his, and he wrapped one arm around her waist, and they tried to make that work, but the couch was not exactly conducive to however they were attempting to mash against each other.

They broke apart.

She giggled. “Bed. My bed. Let’s go.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Take off your pants,” she said, sashaying past him.

He shuddered. Yeah, okay, she could order him around anytime. Actually, he liked her bossy.

midnight

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