Page 27 of His Angel

My pulse pounds, a filthy rhythm of pure want, and I roll closer. Her skin’s a drug, my fingers dragging, slow and dirty, over her curves, making her arch into me like she’s already mine to play with.

She smells like sex and sin, flooding my head until I’m dizzy with it. I press my mouth to her shoulder, licking and sucking, tasting and savoring every inch like a predator readying to devour. I can’t get enough, my tongue tracing the salt of her, my teeth grazing just to feel her shiver.

Her skin blooms with heat under my touch, her breath hitching as I circle the shell of her ear with my tongue. A soft moan escapes her lips, a plea or maybe a promise, and God, I need more of it.

Sliding my hand down her front, I cup her tits, squeezing and rolling before dragging my fingers over her stomach, circling her navel, then dipping between her thighs. She’s dripping, her cunt so wet it’s obscene, ready for me even in her dreams.

I groan, deep and guttural, loving how she’s always this fucking soaked like her body knows it’s built for my cock.

I spread her wide, my fingers sliding through her heat, and start with slow, nasty strokes, teasing her awake. She shifts, a needy little whimper slipping out, and I smirk, my chest tight with the filthy thrill of it.

“That’s it, baby,” I murmur, my voice rough with sleep and lust. “Feel me. Let me wake you up right.” I circle her clit, rubbing it rough and slow, and her hips buck, chasing me even with her eyes shut. She’s a goddamn dream, so wet and responsive it’s killing me.

I keep going, working her slow and steady, letting the pressure build, flexing my cock against her naked ass. This woman is in my head, my dreams, my soul; she’s right there in every goddamn breath I take.

My thumb rolls over her clit, teasing the sensitive bud while my fingers glide downward, sliding inside her. Warm. Slick. Perfect. She clenches around me, sucking me in, and I hiss, picturing that pussy choking my cock.

“Hmm,” she moans.

“Your pussy is sloppy wet, baby,” I growl, loud enough to pull her awake. “You love me finger-fucking you first thing, don’t you?”

I crank it up, flicking her clit roughly, and she gasps, her thighs shaking around my hand. Her moans turn loud and desperate, dripping with need, and I eat it up, love how she falls apart, how she can’t hide the way I own her pussy.

“Open those pretty eyes for me. I want you to see who’s making you feel this good.” I press harder, thrusting deeper, and her back arches, her hands fisting the sheets as she teeters on the edge.

Her eyes flutter open at last, hazy and dark with want, catching mine in the dim light.

“Isaia,” she breathes, my name a plea.

“Hey, baby girl. You wanna come?”

“Hmm-mm.” She nods, and the sight of her sucking her bottom lip into her mouth is enough to make me throb.

I shove her onto her back and grin, all teeth and hunger, then crash my mouth onto hers, tongue-fucking her while my fingers pump her cunt.

“That’s my good girl,” I growl against her lips. “Waking up with your pussy such a wet mess for me.”

She moans into me, her hips grinding now, riding every stroke, and I feel her pulse around me, her body winding tight. I pull back to watch her, to see her cheeks flush a lusty red, her lips parting as she pants.

“Please…” she begs, and my control skids on the edge because all I want is to see her snap.

“You’re so beautiful when you beg.” My words dissolve into a growl as she moves on my fingers harder, faster, as if everything that matters is squeezed into this single, sinful moment.

She's close, very close. I can feel the tension building inside her, waiting to break free.

“Isaia. I need…I…” But she doesn't finish, instead letting out a soft gasp that turns into a cry, louder…louder, until she screams my name as she comes, her cunt clamping down on my fingers, flooding me with hot, wet pulses.

I keep going, dragging it out, milking every twitch until she’s a trembling wreck, her neck straining as she throws her head back, pure sex etched into her face.

As she rides the high, I tongue her mouth, slow and nasty, tasting her surrender, claiming it, making it mine. Then I slide my fingers out, dripping with her cum, and she sighs, melting into the bed like a fucked-out dream.

I watch as her eyelids flutter open, her flushed face relaxed in the afterglow. Her gaze is hazy, a sparkling mismatched duet of color dazed with satisfaction.

I reach to trace a finger down her sweaty temple when I see it, and my world stops.

My fingers shine with her juices, but there’s red mixed in—faint streaks of blood. Not a gush, just a tease, but it flips a switch in my head, and my heart slams, my cock jerking so hard it hurts, every nerve screaming with filthy need.

“Fuck. You on your period, baby girl?”

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