Page 50 of As Angels Sin

“I always know where you are, Fiametta.” He breaks his embrace only to say these words. He doesn’t give me a chance to do or say anything else before he leans forward, hooks his fingers under my knees and hoists me into the air.

He carries me toward the cabin while our tongues smash together. The vibrations of his steps make me sink lower into him, and before long, I can feel his excitement poking against me.

I’m always shocked when I realize how big and meaty he is. Today is no different as my ass settles against his length, and it feels like the perfect perch to hold me up. I giggle into his mouth at the thought, and slide my hands up the front of his body, raking them through his hair.

We make it up the stairs and through the door without incident, but inside Crue bumps into the small, circular table next to the kitchen. It doesn’t slow him down, but his lips do part from mine long enough to look around the cabin. Searching for the bedroom, no doubt, but he’s in luck. Apart from the bathroom, there aren’t any separate rooms here.

It's a cute, open plan house, with a bed in place of a sofa, and a kitchenette that has a multi-function use of kitchen, dining room and lounge area.

“Nice place.” Crue leans in again, this time meeting my neck. His hands slide up, finding my ass and he squeezes with a pulling motion. It twists my booty shorts, and part of the material tightens against my crotch, sending swells of pleasure barreling through my body.

I’m sure this isn’t what he expected when he got here. Neither did I, when I noticed it was Crue outside. But I guess both our minds are tuned to a single purpose. Lusty desire before all else. He reaches the bed and drops me onto it. I bounce when I connect with it, and Crue catches my booty shorts by the waist band once I’m back at waist level to him.

“Holy shit, that was insane,” I say, incredibly impressed by his reflexes.

Crue tips his head, yanks his hands back and my pants go flying across the room. I clap as if it was a magic trick.

“You’re coming in hot today,” I tease, gently grazing my now exposed legs with a single finger.

Crue swallows hard and runs the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Untrue,” he says, leaning closer as my finger slots between the groove connecting my thigh to the rest of my body. “I was tepid until you kissed me.”

“And now?” I glide the finger across my slick wetness, not realizing how sensitive I am. I yelp, and jerk forward at the tingle that my touch ignites, and Crue growls, before starting to shed his layers.

“Stone cold.” A joke. I’m sure it’s a joke. And then he confirms my guess by saying. “And just as hard.”

“You’re getting better at those,” I tease, before letting the tip of my finger slip in wherever it pleases, and until it’s soaked.

“I’m getting better at a lot of things.” His jacket and shirt go first, revealing his rippling, tattooed physique. Next go his shoes, socks and jeans — he doesn’t bother to undo his belt — before he falls onto his knees in front of me.

“Let me show you.”

“Why you’d keep your boxers on?” I ask, frowning at him. The hood of his massive erection is pressed so tightly against it, it might as well already be free. But I want to see it. To touch it. I want to have it all to myself in silly, cum drunk delight.

“Slow and steady wins the race,” he says, lowering himself between my legs. But I stop him. Rolling forward, I grab Crue by the shoulders and pull him onto his back. He doesn’t resist, but I can see a question about what I’m doing, in his eyes.

“Not this time,” I say, and turn around. With my ass close to his face, I lean forward and slowly expose my pussy to him. Crue growls as it comes into view, but the noise turns to a whimper as I hook my thumbs into his boxers and tug until he raises his hips, and I can push them down his legs.

The first stirring of butterflies flutter through my tummy as I complete the task and his veiny cock bounces in front of my eyes. I’m not usually one to take control, well, not with Crue. He’s always so determined and steadfast in his desires. But tonight, the need to feel empowered takes over me.

“There, I’m naked. Now what?” he asks, but in a tome that says he thinks he already knows the answer.

He doesn’t.

I grab his cock by the base and frown at him over my shoulder. It’s a fake frown, playful and teasing. He starts to make a pleasured sound that quickly turns into a half choke at the sudden pressure I apply to him. I slowly press my ass back further, and as expected Crue’s fingers instantly dance against the skin.

“Good boy,” I say.

I start to jerk him. Slowly at first, until the first drop of precum sprouts from his tip. It quickly goes from a drop, to looking like someone opened a faucet, as the sticky, salty goo streams out of him.

“Ah, fuck, Fia that’s...” he trails off behind a wall of noises.

“Is it now?” I ask. There’s no need to hear the end of his sentence, because it’s going to end with the meaning offeels good. “What about this?”

I sink lower, pressing the tip of my tongue against his balls. His hips buck upward, and I slide my tongue all the way down them. I replace the tip with a flat pad and drag my tongue across the sensitive pocket, while shaking my head from side to side. At the same time as I continue to please him, in ways I never have before, I continue stroking him. Harder and faster, and then slower and more steadily, an ever-changing rhythm to keep his body unsure of what’s going to come next.

“That’s it, right there,” Crue groans out. I can tell he wants to touch me by the random movements of his hand: grabbing myass, caressing my thighs and circling toward my pussy. But every time he gets close enough to make his move, I do something that halts his progress. It shuts off his mind and locks him in a state of bliss.

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