Page 63 of As Angels Sin

Can I do the same? Would Fiametta take pity on me if I did, and stop taunting me? I doubt it. She’s become quite the tease in recent years.

“And you, mister, are going to come with me,” she hooks her free hand under my arm closest to her, and pulls me in the opposite direction of the woman under the cloth canopy.

“But the burgers,” I say.

“Jenson, do you mind taking over,” she calls to the man, who just gave his son a quiet reprimand. One that did nothing to stop him from destroying Fiametta’s flowers.

“Sure thing,” Jenson says, jogging over this time instead of doing his dad walk.

Fiametta pulls me through a narrow passage in the garden where no one but her normally ventures. At the end of the stretch of lawn, a small, ornate metal gate leads onto chiseled stone, where the laundry hanger holds a few wet towels.

“What are you doing?” I ask. But she’s a woman on a mission, and she is already undoing the double knotted tie that holds my trunks up.

“You’re going to give it to me.” Her voice is so soft compared to her ravenous actions. She lowers my trunks and my cock bounces free. “Or I’m going to take it. Either way.”

She spins around and bends forward, shoving her round ass out. The soft material of the beach skirt that’s wrapped around her hips brushes against my tip, and I do the same cheek bite as before to still a thunderous roar.

Can’t have our dear neighbors knowing what’s happening. They would think we’re lunatics. Well, most of them already know I am, without suspecting it’s me. They hold Fiametta in very high regard, however.

“What about Adison?” I’m already hoisting the skirt over her ass, when the question leaves my lips.

“I asked Loretta to watch her.”

Loretta is Jenson’s partner. That’s why he came seeking some manly attention while the woman were talking.

I peel Fiametta’s bikini bottom to the side, and press the hood of my cock against her entrance. I realize her teasing was tactical. A few strokes in my most vulnerable moment, to drive me straight to the edge without finishing.

We’ll be done here in no time.

“Shove it in, Crue,” she snaps her head over her shoulder as she glares at me. “You know how horny I get when I’m pregnant.”

I also know how little time we have to explore each other’s bodies with a now five-year-old daughter running through the house.

“Your wish is my command.” I buck my hips and drive my length into Fiametta. A low moan escapes her lips. Her hands stretch out over the wall, and her fingertips latch onto it, while mine dig into her hips.

I count my thrusts as I plow Fiametta. Seventeen. A shameful display before my knees buckles and my body vibrates at some unknown frequency that forces an eruption out of me. But Fiametta doesn’t care. She continues slamming herself backwards into me, extracting my seed while feral sounds of giddy passion trickle from her.

She doesn’t stop there. Instead, she drops to her knees and grabs my soaked cock by the base. She slips the end between her plump, hungry lips and sucks me dry. Licks me clean.

And readies me for another round.

But we can’t and knowing it makes my balls ache.

“I’ll see you there in a minute,” she says, adjusting her bikini bottoms and the skirt. “We’re going to cut the cake after lunch.”

“Understood.”

“And sing. You too, this time.” She pecks me on the cheek and her delicious scent still clings to her breath.

“I will.”

I head inside through the backdoor to clean off and to change into a nearly identical pair of swim trunks. Had Fiametta not left the others in a soaking mess of precum and spit, they would be impossible to tell apart.

Then I head back outside, noting all the smiling faces around the white painted table we hired for the day. At the head of it sits my daughter, Adison, clapping her hands feverishly at the sight of her party table.

“Hey, Crue, just in time,” Jenson says. I was away longer than I thought, when I notice the discarded paper plates with lunch scraps on them.

“That’s me,” I say, but don’t elaborate. “Perfectly punctual...” Completely content, happy husband, Crue.

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