Page 65 of Angel

“I’ll tell you if you do.” Rhys combs his fingers through my hair, cups my cheek, presses his thumb into my lower lip. “But I don’t think you will.”

His hand drops away and he leans back again.

Slowly, I draw my hands up his thighs, toward my prize.

Rhys shudders when I wrap my hand around his dick. His stomach and thighs contract, but otherwise, he doesn’t move.

My hand is big enough that it almost entirely engulfs his dick. Only the head sticks out of my fist, the glans engorged and shiny, enticing me to taste. I bend forward and lick it experimentally.

Salty and bitter, the flavor takes me right back to the day of our shoot. At the end, when Rhys was getting dressed and I tasted the cum he splattered on my thigh. To the day in my truck, when our cum mixed together, landing all over both of us.

I lick his dick again, running my tongue all over the head. He grunts, his breaths coming in fast and shallow. His eyes are heavy-lidded as he watches me. His fingers dig into the messy bedding underneath him. He’s either incredibly turned on, or I’m completely mangling my first blowjob.

“Is this…?”

Rhys groans. “I swear to fucking god, Angel, if you don’t keep going, I’m going to die.”

Warmth spreads through my chest at his words and a thrill runs through me. He likes what I’m doing. He wants more. Unfamiliar feelings of power and pride give me a fresh boost of confidence.

I take the head between my lips, the same way I did with his finger, with his tongue. And I suck.

“Oh, fuck!” Rhys’s body goes taut, every muscle flexed. But he doesn’t stop me, doesn’t try to take control.

I’m doing this. I’m actually doing this. Me, Angel, a nobody from a sleepy suburb. I’m making Rhys feel good, making him shudder and jerk in pleasure.

I slide my lips down toward the base, marveling at the girth of Rhys’s dick. It’s not super thick, but my jaw still stretches more than I’m used to. He’s heavy on my tongue, heavier than I expected for his size, and that contrast makes my balls tingle.

I only get a couple inches before my gag reflex kicks in and I hurriedly pull myself off. “Sorry,” I pant, wiping up spit with the back of my hand.

“Don’t be. You don’t have to deepthroat for it to feel good.” Rhys’s fingers are in my hair again, comforting, soothing.

“But I want to,” I object.

He chuckles. “You’ll get there. It just takes practice.”

I think about that for a moment. Yes, he’s right. I will get there. And I will practice on his dick every chance I get.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

RHYS

I know Angel’s never given a blowjob before. But honestly? He could do nothing but drool on me and I would come my brains out.

When he asked if it was okay for him to suck my cock, my head had nearly exploded anyway. It’s easy to pretend I’m a girl when I’m the one giving him a blowjob or when he’s pounding me in the ass from behind. But the fact that he wants to put his mouth on my dick… straight guys don’t do that, right?

He wouldn’t want to suck cock if he’s just experimenting or indulging his wild side. Right? I mean, sucking cock is pretty gay. Even with frotting, he could close his eyes, ignore the other dick, and focus on how good it feels. But you can’t really ignore the dick when it’s in your mouth. You can’t pretend you’re not sucking cock when you’re actively sucking it.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I’m going to strangle myself with all the thoughts racing frantically through my mind. Although, it might not matter in the end, not if Angel sucks my brains out through my cock. Which he is doing a very decent job of.

It’s taking every ounce of self-control I possess to sit still and let him do his thing. Let him lick where he wants and suck however he wants. The roughness of his hands on my sensitive flesh is deliciously painful. The scrape of his beard sends pleasure radiating through me. And when he palms my balls, both of them fitting neatly into one hand. Holy hell, he could crush them with one squeeze, and why the fuck do I find that arousing?

He’s slow at first, exploring and getting used to my size and shape. He makes these curious “aha” sounds when he figures out something new—like digging his tongue into my slit or wriggling it on that delicate spot under the head.

But once he gets going, there’s no stopping him. He sucks like he’s trying to drink the cum from my balls. He laps at me, from base to tip, like I’m a fucking ice cream cone. He mouths at my balls, almost like he’s chewing on them.

I feel like I’m being devoured, and fuck, I am here for it.

---