Page 32 of Lips of an Angel

I licked my lips, tasting the tequila from his mouth. His eyes tracked the motion, and if I didn’t do something to stop this now, we’d end up going too far.

I sat back, putting some distance between us and wiping my mouth with my thumb. “Adequate,” I tossed out casually, the outline of my erection telling a different story.

Angel glanced pointedly at my crotch. Even in the low light, I could tell he was flushed. He opened his mouth and for a moment, I thought he might actuallyspeak. I didn’t notice my heart had sped up until he signed instead.

“Should I try again?”

I snickered. Thanks to the pressure between my legs, my first instinct was to accept his offer, but the look he gave me with those striking blue eyes nearly tore my heart in half. His childlike vulnerability was back, shining behind his eyes in the darkness. I’d always been protective of him, and those instincts came roaring to the surface at his haunted look. Whoever put that look on his face was at the top of my hit list.

“I think Eli is going to break up with me,” he signed.

“What? Why?” The two of them were basically poster children for the perfect relationship… current make-out session notwithstanding. And this barely counted as a problem. We were drunk, and everybody knew that tequila made you do stupid shit all the time.

I should know.

Angel shrugged, eyeing the distance I’d put between us with something like betrayal in his eyes. I should’ve known better than to push him away, even if I’d only done so to chill myself out—and trust me, I couldn’t very well do that when he was curled into my side. I lifted my arm, leaving space for him to sidle up next to me. He crawled into his spot, and all was right with the world again.

“What makes you think he’s going to break up with you?” I asked again.

Again, Angel shrugged. His phone started to vibrate, and he quickly silenced it. Was that Eli? I suddenly wondered if there was more to the story that I was missing. He didn’t tell me much about what happened behind closed doors, but I thought we were close enough that he would tell me about any issues in his relationship.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally said. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

I couldn’t argue with that. If there was one thing Angel was good at, it was shutting down a conversation. If he didn’t want to talk about it, there was no forcing him. I was usually the exception, but even I knew when to stop prying.

Angel stood, grabbed two water bottles from the fridge, then extended a hand. I took it and let him pull me to my feet. He led us to my bedroom and gestured across the hall, letting me take the bathroom first. I sped through my nightly routine, then sat on the edge of my bed as he did the same. I didn’t slip under the covers until he did.

Angel slid beneath the blankets, nudging me to turn onto my right side—away from him. He hadn’t turned on my bedside lamp, which meant he had no intention of talking further. I didn’t press, instead settling into that damn mountain of pillows. It wasn’t until I closed my eyes and the room spun that I realized how much I’d had to drink.

As though he could read my mind, Angel nudged the water bottle into my hand. I chugged half of it, giving a noncommittal noise of appreciation before collapsing onto the pillow again. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping the room would stop spinning. Damn, I needed to stop drinking.

Bile rose in my throat, but I choked it back down, refusing to get sick. While my stomach read and reread that memo, I kicked the blanket off, thinking some cool air might help.

To my surprise, a wave of warmth washed over me instead, banishing the queasiness. I hovered in a state where I was aware but not quite awake. Something soft brushed my arm, then tickled my waist. Clinging to consciousness, I giggled and squirmed. I barely managed to crack my eyes. My room was bathed in warm light. Assuming I simply forgot to close my curtains, I let my eyes fall shut again. A gentle voice, one I almost remembered, shushed me. Every nerve in my body relaxed. The room stilled, and it was easy to fall into a deep sleep.

I expected to wake up the next morning with one hell of a hangover. Imagine my surprise when I peeled my eyes open and… nothing.

No pounding headache, no churning stomach. The only evidence of my tequila consumption was a dry mouth. I couldn’t even taste the alcohol, which tended to linger even after brushing my teeth.

I sat up, reaching for my water bottle. As I downed it, a memory from last night surfaced. The room was dark now, but I had a vague memory, right before passing out, of golden light streaming through the window and illuminating the room. Frowning, I started to rise, but my fingers caught something foreign on the mattress.

A feather? In mybed?

I went to complain to Angel about his goddamn down pillows—the feather had to come from one of them—but he wasn’t next to me in bed. Ah, so he’d probably closed the curtains. I padded across the hall to the bathroom, listening for any signs that he was still in the apartment. Nothing. Every room was dark, the entire place silent. I wasn’t too worried; it wasn’t unusual for him to head downstairs before I woke up or sneak off to meet Eli for breakfast or coffee around his erratic work shifts.

When I went into the kitchen to start my own coffee, the empty tequila bottle on the floor seemed to taunt me. The memory of Angel’s kiss hit me like a freight train, and I brushed my fingers across my lips. I could still almost feel his touch. The hell? I didn’t typically melt over something as basic as a kiss. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed kissing, but when I was in bed with someone, it was simply a way to get from one step to the next.

That wasn’t the case last night.

When I’d first kissed Angel as a teenager, I felt that spark. I’d always chalked it up to being a horny teenage boy, but last night? That fire still burned. Angel kissed like it was an art form. One he’d practiced until he had it down to perfection. I shuffled in place, the simple memory hardening my cock. I licked my lips, remembering what Angel’s felt like—soft and plush—and he somehow learned to use the exact amount of pressure. Tequila tasted better off his lips, masked by a hint of cherry and vanilla that was so uniquely Angel I found myself desperate to taste it again.

My dick was so hard that it tested the limits of my tight boxer briefs. I told myself that if I could hold off until I finished my coffee, then I’d allow myself to fantasize about Angel’s mouth—one time—while I jerked off in the shower. But as I pressed my hand down on my erection, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold out that long. I collapsed with my back against the cupboards, the coffee maker gurgling away on the counter above my head, threatening to overtake the scent of Angel that lingered in my nostrils.

I shoved my hand into my pants, a shameless groan echoing through the apartment and bouncing off the walls. My eyes rolled back, landing on a bottle of olive oil. After pouring a generous helping into my palm, I kicked my constricting boxer briefs to the floor. The oil greased first my hand, then slid easily over my girth. My fingers grazed the rungs of my Jacob’s Ladder piercings, my thumb working the Prince Albert shoved through my slit, spikes of pleasure jolting down my hard length. I wondered if it would feel the same with Angel’s hand teasing the piercings. Would he be soft and gentle, or firm and desperate, exactly how I liked it? Would he even enjoy them? I hadn’t had my partners’ pleasure in mind when I got them, but it was different with Angel.

Fuck, the simple act ofthinkinghis name brought my orgasm to the surface. I gritted my teeth, willing myself to hold out. I wasn’t ready yet. After a few deep breaths, I let my hand wander again, trying to pretend that my slippery fingers were somehow Angel’s mouth. I knew his tongue was pierced; what wouldthatfeel like, knocking against the metal in my dick? I’d felt tongue rings before, but not his.

I snorted to myself. That damn kiss had piqued my curiosity about parts of my best friend I’d never even dreamed about. Didhehave any special piercings hidden from the world? God, what would it be like to have him writhing beneath me while I teased his jewelry with my tongue?

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