Page 52 of Angel

His words wind around me, wrapping me up, all warm and snug. He thinks I’m amazing. Rhys thinks I’m amazing.

And right then, we pull up in front of his apartment building. I don’t know if this is perfect timing or the absolute worst.

Rhys unclips his seat belt, which gives him more room to sit up straight, facing me. His lips are curled in a gentle smile and his eyes are so dark and mysterious, lined with the heavy stage makeup. I stare into them, letting myself get lost in their depths.

“Thanks for the ride,” he says softly after a moment of silence.

“No problem. It’s on my way home.” Well, sort of. With a forty-minute detour. Close enough.

“I’ll talk to you soon?” he asks, as if he doesn’t want to get out of the truck.

If I’m honest with myself, I don’t want him to get out either. I want to drag out this moment for as long as I can. I want it to stretch into eternity.

I nod. “Yup.”

Then, as if the heavens are actually listening, time slows.

I see Rhys coming toward me and I know he’s about to kiss me on the cheek. It’s how he said goodbye that first time in his childhood bedroom, and how he’s said goodbye the other times we’ve met in person.

I watch as he draws near, closer and closer, and at the very last second, I turn my head.

I don’t know why, or even how, but suddenly, it isn’t my cheek that’s in the path of Rhys’s oncoming kiss—it’s my lips.

He gasps quietly when he makes contact, and the same surprise ripples through me. But the gasp is quickly followed by a tender moan that sends desire straight to my dick.

I’m not sure who moves next, whether Rhys climbs into my lap on his own, or if I haul him to me. It doesn’t really matter, because the end result is the same. I have an armful of Rhys and my dick is as hard as a rock.

I fumble for the lever on the side of my seat and when I yank it, the seat goes sliding backward. We hit the end of the rails with a jerk and I let out an oomph, but Rhys doesn’t miss a beat.

His hands bracket my face, holding me still as he plunges his tongue into my mouth. It’s so commanding and so powerful, I’m completely helpless against the onslaught.

I try to chase his tongue, but he nips at my lips in response. I try to lick into his mouth and he sucks on my tongue, holding me captive. With every touch, every movement, pleasure zings through me, pooling in my groin.

It doesn’t help that Rhys is grinding his own hard-on against my erection. My hands might be on his butt, encouraging him along.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know we’re in the cab of my truck and I’m double-parked in the middle of the street. It’s late, so there aren’t many people around. But this is a busy part of Brooklyn, so someone will wander past eventually.

But I don’t care about any of that. Because Rhys is in my lap and his tongue is in my mouth and—oh dear lord. His hands slide down my front, undoing the buttons of my shirt along the way. He rakes his fingernails—glittering gold tonight—down my chest, my stomach. My nipples harden into tight nubs, my dick presses painfully against the metal zipper of my jeans.

Or at least, it did. Because now Rhys is undoing my jeans and reaching into my underwear to pull me out.

I shudder as he licks his palm, then wraps his hand around me. That’s so… dirty, so… debauched, and… it’s so freaking hot.

“Rhys.” His name comes out wispy and strangled. It’s a question and a plea at the same time.

“Shh, teddy bear, relax. I’ve got you.”

Rhys has his own tight red leather pants undone and his dick out before I even realize he’s moved.

Then his dick is on my dick and oh lord, oh heavens, oh. Oh. Oh. It’s mind-shattering, the sensation of our dicks rubbing together. We slip and slide against each other, spit and pre-cum easing the way. The tip of his dick bumps against the ridges of my glans and I think I might actually die from how good it feels.

Rhys’s fingers aren’t long enough for him to wrap around both of us with one hand. He has to use both, one stacked on top of the other, to stroke us from base to tip. His hips move at the same time, like he’s dancing to a silent soundtrack that only the two of us can hear.

Rhys’s lips cover mine, his tongue diving between my lips again. The kiss sends my head spiraling just as his hands on my dick make my body tremble with need.

He leads this dance, guiding me with his tongue and his hands, making me spin until I’m dizzy, flipping me upside down and inside out. I’m lost to the sensations he wrings from me, but I don’t actually feel lost. Rhys knows where we are and where we’re going, and I trust him to lead the way.

It should scare me, and it does, but not the way I would’ve thought. I’m not scared of what I’m turning into. I’m scared of never finding out what I could become.

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