Page 10 of A Taste of His Angel
I pull the cold to-go bowl from my bag and set it beside the pie dish, then brace my hands on his desk behind me when he yanks my panties to the side, baring me. “Made with non-fat Greek yogurt, sir.”
Sherman kisses his way along my inner thigh. “You know just the way to my heart.”Through his stomach.
“And you know mine, sir,” I say with a moan, dropping my head back when my husband pushes my knees out with his broad shoulders and buries his face in my pussy, taking his time to tease and savor me.
“Fuck, angel, I love the way you taste. I need more.” Lifting my bottom with both hands up to his mouth, he pushes his firm tongue inside me, drinking down my arousal.
“Yes, sir, just like that!” With pleasure making it difficult to keep my arms locked to stay upright, I let them give out, lying flat on his desk. I palm the back of my husband’s head while he eats me like I’m his favorite dessert, tastier than any of the pies I’ve made for him over the years.
He’s a beast, his chest heaving with effort as he brings me to orgasm after switching to massaging my clit with his tongue, two large fingers pumping in and out of me at just the right pace and intensity, proving time and again just how well he knows and shows love to my body.
“Oh god, sir, that was amazing,” I say between panting breaths, pushing myself up, my braid a mess after all my writhing. When Sherman slouches back in his chair to catch his own breath, swiping the back of his hand across his wet mouth, I slide from his desk onto the floor. “Now it’s my turn for a taste.” I swivel his chair to the side and kneel between his spread legs, hidden should anyone unexpectedly return from lunch too soon.
“Angel, my angel,” he moans, twirling the tip of my braid around his finger while I hurry to unbuckle his belt and roll down the zipper of his tailored black slacks, freeing his hard cock. “Always so good to me.”
I fist the base of his thick shaft and hum as I take the swollen tip of him between my lips. Rolling my eyes up to meet his heavy-lidded gaze, I slowly bob my head up and down with hollowed cheeks as I refamiliarize myself with his size, then pull off and smack my lips. “Delicious, sir.”
Sherman’s whole body shivers, his back bowing from his seat. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum already.” Taking over stroking his shaft, faster and faster, he says, “Stick your tongue out, angel.” When I do, he moans loud and rough, “Good girl! Fuck!” With his grip on my braid, he tugs my face forward and angles his cock down to cum on my tongue, his nostrils flaring wildly when I tip my head back to show him my throat as I swallow it all.
“Thank you, angel,” he says, eyes crinkling at the corners of his satisfied expression when he helps me onto my feet.
“Thankyou, sir,” I say with a giggle and a peck on the lips. This wasn’t the first time we’ve gone down on each other in his office, and it most certainly won’t be the last. “Ready for pie now?” I ask, holding up the red enamel pie cutter.
“More than ready,” he says through a scratchy throat, snaking his hand under my skirt to rub and squeeze my butt as I cut and plate a slice of pie for each of us, then drop dollops of cream on top. When I try to hand his plate to him with a plastic fork, he refuses, to my surprise, the corner of his lips twitching up.
Sherman works my panties down with heat in his eyes, then pats his thighs. “Remember what you had to do when I refused to eat your first cherry pie?”
Ah. “You mean when I fed it to you?” My eyes dip from his mouth to his lap, his cock hard again, standing proud from the opening of his slacks.
“And where were you sitting?” he asks, maneuvering me around and lifting my skirt to my waist.
Placing a knee on his seat on the outside of his thigh, I answer, “On your lap.”
“Mmhmm.” Sherman helps me straddle his thighs, using his hands on my ass to position me so that his cockhead nudges my entrance. “Sit, angel.”
“Yes, sir.” We both sigh with pleasure as I take his cock inside me to the hilt. Every time I guide a forkful of pie into his mouth, he lifts my bottom, then drops me, until it gets to the point where it’s too good, too euphoric, and we’re too close to cumming again that we can no longer focus on the pie—only each other.
I let the plate drop to the floor as I grip his sturdy shoulders and bounce with his help. “Almost there, almost there. Make me cum, sir,” I beg, mouth dropped open with a long, high-pitched moan after Sherman shoves a hand between us to press his thumb against my clit.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chant as waves of heat and ecstasy sweep over me, every sense honed on my husband now fucking up into me once I am no longer in control of my body. Sherman’s cock swells larger, his moans deeper and more urgent, and I beg, “Cum inside me, sir.”
“Oh god, yes, take it, angel!” Sherman’s jaw relaxes as his orgasm slams into him, his hands digging into my flesh to hold me in place as he fills me with his warm cum. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been on birth control since the birth of our youngest daughter ten years ago—it’s still as thrilling now to feel him let go inside me, claiming me ashis, as it was the first time we had unprotected sex.
Enjoying the intimacy for the remainder of his employees’ one-hour lunch break, I remain seated on my husband’s lap, his softened cock sheathed within me to keep his cum right where we want it. Lightly scraping his scalp with my nails while he rubs my back tenderly, we share sweet kisses that taste of cherry pie and whipped cream and each other.
Hearing the first stirrings of his employees returning to their desks, I gingerly rise up on my knees and twist, reaching for the box of tissues on his desk. “Guess it’s time I cleaned up and let you get back to work,” I say with a pout, wishing we had a few minutes longer to ourselves.
Plucking a handful of tissues from the box, Sherman cleans his cum from between my legs, his chest starting to rise and fall faster beneath his white button-down. “I had the strangest dream last night…”
“What was it about?”
Sherman helps me off his lap, darting in to kiss my stomach over my blouse while helping to smooth my skirt down. “Never mind. Can’t seem to remember now.”
“Maybe it’ll come to you later,” I say, taking my hair tie out so I can finger-comb my messy strands and rebraid it.
The corner of his lips twitch with a sly smile. “Fingers crossed.”
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