Page 70 of Scarlet Angel

The pads of her fingers touch my unbuttoned shirt. The material falls off my shoulders. Her thumbs brush my skin, and my muscles tense with restraint. I want nothing more than to lift her, throw her on the bed, and take her.

I visualize the heat of her pussy so vividly my cock jerks. Likely weeps.

Her fingers fumble with my belt, and I close my eyes, inhaling deeply. But I’m not missing this. My eyelids lift, and I fixate on her slender fingers working the buttons on my trousers and the length of the unbuckled leather belt dangling in the air.

“You slept in these clothes,” she says as the zipper descends.

“Is that what it’s called when one passes out? Sleep?”

My trousers fall unceremoniously to my ankles. She’s not touching me, but I swear the heat from her skin imbues my briefs.

“You will not let me forget that, will you?”

Those hooded, yearning eyes are going to do me in.

“Does it matter? I’ll let you do anything you wish.”

Her lips curve upward, and her knees bend. Her grip on my briefs tightens, and cold air meets my arse. My dick protrudes, hard and needy.

She lightly strokes me, tentative.

I wish I knew what that fucktard of a husband did to her, but now is not the time to ask. I only wish I knew so I could avoid doing anything that reminds her of the past. Like cup the back of her head and push until I hit the back of her throat.

Her touch is so light, too light, really. But with her kneeling before me, I wouldn’t change a damn thing.

A slip of her tongue appears, wetting her lower lip.

God, I want that mouth on me. My knees and even my bloody elbows quiver in anticipation. But she rises and points to the bed.

“Lie back.”

“Yes, madam,” I quip.

If she plans to straddle me, she might need… “Can I do something to you first?”

She doesn’t speak, yet with the tilt of her head, and the drop of those strawberry strands over the perky nipple…I close my eyes and swallow. Focus.

“Can you lie back? Or sit on the bed? Let me pleasure you. I want to taste you. Bring you to an orgasm with my mouth.”

Her fingers brush over my chest ever so lightly, her gaze lowered.

“I won’t come.” It’s an admission. And a challenge.

“I’ll only do what you like. If it gets to be too much, tell me, and I’m on my back.”

With a slight nod, she crawls onto the mattress, giving me a splendid view of her behind and an earth-shattering vision of her on all fours. And with that comes a vision of my bruising grip on her hips as I pound into her.

Focus.

She twists on the bed, lying across it sideways, and spreads those lovely thighs.

Deep red trimmed curls surround her glistening pink pussy. I crawl closer, eager, nipping my way up her tender skin. I brush my finger over her, verifying that yes, she’s quite ready.

She’s ready, but I won’t deprive myself of her gift. I slide a finger inside her heat, studying her. She tilts her head back, eyes on the ceiling. I shift forward and taste. Her thighs tighten around my shoulders. Her arms lie by her head, uncertain, in limbo.

I close my eyes and lick, working my tongue and fingers in tandem. I can’t see her eyes, but I feel what she likes through the tension in her thighs and her soft mewls. As her knees rise and her hips buck, I know she’s close. I let my teeth graze that sensitive bundle, and she jerks.

Right on the edge, but she didn’t fall.

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