Page 81 of Angel

“Jesus Christ. Fucking hell. Angelo!” Rhys’s legs are over my shoulders now, the weight of his boots heavy on my back. His hands are in my hair, holding me in place as I eat him out. It’s the most delicious meal I’ve ever had.

I shove my tongue into his body, wriggling it around inside. He rocks against me as the ring of muscle tries to suck me deeper.

I can’t believe what I’m doing. I can’t believe how much I love this. It’s satisfying a deep craving I had no idea I had. It’s filling a pit in me that I didn’t know existed. This is what I need. This is who I am now. A man who needs Rhys like I need air and water and food.

It’s a heady feeling, but then the whole day has been heady.

Watching Rhys wrap himself around the pole, his body bending in unimaginable ways. His hair whipping through the air, the bright red strands catching the light. The way he looked at me like I’m the most important person in the world. Like I mean more to him than anyone else he’s ever met.

Ever since his dad’s birthday party, my life has been so spun around that I can’t tell left from right or up from down. Everything I thought I knew about myself and my life has been called into question, and I don’t know what’s real or true anymore. Have I been living the life I want? Or have I merely been living the life that was handed to me?

The one sure thing, the one thing I have absolutely no doubt about, is Rhys and my feelings for him. I love him. It’s bewildering, staggering, terrifying. But spending the last two weeks away from him has only confirmed that I don’t want to live another day without him.

“Okay, let’s get you both on the pole.”

I don’t stop eating Rhys’s butt until he physically pushes me away. I grab onto the edge of the stage to keep myself from stumbling. I’m drunk on Rhys. I’m dizzy with him.

I think I’m supposed to do something now. I’m pretty sure Sebastian was speaking to me, but my brain is in no condition to understand it.

Instead, Rhys tugs me forward and I clumsily climb onto the stage. His nimble fingers make quick work of the buttons on my shirt, and the two sides part to reveal my chest and stomach. Then he tackles my jeans, pushing them down along with my briefs, so they’re trapped around the tops of my thighs.

Lube appears from somewhere and Rhys slicks me up before reaching back to spread the rest on his hole. With a quick wipe of his hands on a towel, he spins around, grabs the pole with both hands, and sticks his bum out toward me.

“Come here, big boy. Give me that monster cock of yours.”

I stumble close enough for Rhys to grab my dick and guide me toward him. I love how he does this, how he takes my dick and feeds it into his hole. He’s the one in control. He’s the one impaling himself on me.

My eyes flutter shut as I sink into his wonderfully tight heat. Encasing me. Consuming me. Warmth spreads from my dick out to the rest of my body, burning me up from the inside out.

Rhys gasps as I bottom out. My hands go to his hips to squeeze us firmly together.

“Go at him, Angel. Fuck him nice and hard.” Sebastian’s directions come from some far-off place.

I grip his thighs and piston my hips back and forth. The friction along my dick sends waves of pleasure running through me, but it pales in comparison to the sight of Rhys on display.

He grips the pole with both hands stretched high above. His back is arched, a long, elegant curve from his pert, round bum all the way up to his well-defined shoulders. His long hair—red to match his nails—covers the top part of his back in a shimmering waterfall.

I reach for it, tangling my fingers in the silky waves, mesmerized by the way the red strands wrap around my hand.

“Oh god!” Rhys cries out, head falling back. “Yes! Yes!”

He shouts every time my hips hit his butt cheeks. The sound rings through the air, through my ears, driving me forward. Harder. Faster. My hips working until I’m drenched with sweat and my clothes are plastered uncomfortably to my skin.

I need them off. I need to feel Rhys’s body against my naked flesh. I need that closeness, the skin-on-skin contact. “Rhys,” I whine.

He doesn’t need me to explain. He just knows somehow, like he can read all the thoughts that flit through my mind.

He pushes himself away from the pole and the change in angle makes my dick slip out of his hole. He turns and helps me strip the rest of my clothes off. I tear at my unbuttoned shirt while he drops to his knees to untie my boots. They’re gone in a minute and my jeans and underwear a second later.

He doesn’t stand though. He holds me still with both hands on my thighs, then leans in to take my dick into his mouth.

“Ah!” I practically scream. My dick was just inside his butt a moment ago. And now he’s sucking on it with his mouth. It’s dirty. It’s filthy. And I think I might come just from how wrong it feels.

Rhys gurgles and chokes, spit running down his chin and tears running down his cheeks. I stand there, staring. This beautiful, talented, strong man on his knees in front of me, greedily sucking me down.

“Rhys! Rhys!”

He pulls backs, smirking up at me with a knowing smile. Then he plants a quick kiss right on the tip of my dick and a fresh spurt of pre-cum comes gushing out.

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