Page 7 of A Taste of His Angel
“I knew it, angel. Knew you’d taste as sweet as your desserts.” Miranda’s eyes roll back in her head with a moan, and her arms give out when I find and toy with her clit with the tip of my tongue. My mouth runs away with me again when I say, “Youare the real dessert, and this cherry is all mine, isn’t that right, angel?”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Fischer!”
“No more ‘Mr. Fischer’. I want to hear you scream my first name when I make you cum.” I rip my zipper down and fist my hard cock as I push my tongue inside her pussy, curling it as I withdraw, drinking her down. I move my other hand up to toy with her clit, wishing I had more hands so I could pinch and play with her nipples, too.
“Sherman!” Miranda tangles one of her hands in my hair as her hips rock off the table with a particularly high-pitched moan until it’s broken by a silent scream, her pussy contracting around my tongue, more arousal spilling down my throat as she cums. As soon as her inner walls relax, I stand up fast, knocking back the chair on the tile floor. I press my cockhead to her entrance, half a second from thrusting inside before wrenching my hips backward, breathing hard.
Miranda shakily sits back up on her elbows, brows pinched, messy strands of her gorgeous hair falling out of her braid. “What’s wrong? Do you not want to…” She leans on one elbow to motion toward my hard cock that’s begging to be buried inside her.
“Oh, angel.” I push my hands under her back and gather her in my arms, loving how she wraps her legs around my waist to hold herself up. “Angel, angel, my angel,” I say reverently. “Of course I want to. But not here.”
It’s been over ten years since I bought this house, and I know my way around without having to look away from her angelic face as I hurry us toward my bedroom, our lips and tongues moving together in perfect synchrony.
Chapter 8
Miranda
“Where are we going?” I ask, buzzing with exhilaration as he walks us deeper into the house. When he had pulled away instead of taking my virginity, I thought maybe he’d had second thoughts about being with me, but now…
Sherman climbs onto a large bed centered on the back wall beneath a window and lays me down in the middle of a ray of sunshine. “Tell me now, are you sure this—giving me your cherry—is what you want?”
I’m completely naked while he still has all his clothes on, and I tug at his polo shirt, too distracted with trying to undress him to think about his question.
Sherman sits up on his knees and circles my wrists. “Angel.”
I pause and look up to meet his eyes. “Yes, sir?”
He groans and rocks his hips in the air, drawing my attention to his large cock. “Eyes up here.” I do as he says, and his brows crease, seriousness etched in his features. “I want you to be one hundred percent sure about this.” He drops my wrists and tugs the hem of his shirt back down. “About being with me before we go any further. There’s still time to back out, and I won’t blame you.”
I maneuver up onto my knees. I think Sherman stops breathing when I pinch the fabric of his shirt on both sides and slowly pull it up, tugging on it twice until he finally lifts his arms for me to pull it off over his head. I scoot forward until our fronts are pressed together and ask him, “Are you one hundred percent sure you want to be with me?”
He cups my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “Of course I am.” His cock jerks against my bare stomach, my muscles vibrating with excitement at the thought of what it will feel like to have something so big inside me. “How is that even a question? You’re all I can think about.”
“Then you should know you’re all I can think about, too.”
His brows dip, trying to decipher if I’m telling the truth.
“What? You don’t believe me, sir?” Taking a page out of his book, I start by kissing his lips, working my way down his neck to his collarbone. Though I’ve never done anything of the sort before, and I’m more than a little nervous about taking the reins, I tell Sherman to lie down.
After a moment’s hesitation, he finally relents and lays on his back in the middle of the bed. He watches me with a clenched jaw as I rub my hands up and down his belly and then finally hook his waistband to tug his jeans off, dropping them over the side of the bed.
Sherman fists the sheets at his sides, his voice a gruff whisper when he hesitantly asks, “Angel?”
“Yes, sir?”
His cock bobs in the air, heavy and swollen. “Are you sure?” He grunts and grabs my waist when I straddle his wide hips on my knees and slowly lower my bottom.
I gasp when my core makes contact with the underside of his warm shaft. I brace my hands on his chest, feeling his heart beat wildly beneath my palm. Going on instinct, I wiggle on top of him until I’ve perfected the angle and can slide back and forth along his length, my pussy growing wetter.
I rub my hand down his torso to lovingly caress his belly, moving my hips faster. “Do you feel that, sir? Feel how much I want you?”
Sherman moves his hands down to my hips, bucking his up off the mattress, grinding his cock against me. “Yeah, I do. You’re wet, angel. Wet and so unbelievably gorgeous on top of me.”
I lean down, loving the way his bare skin feels against my nipples. I kiss him once, letting it linger, then look him straight in the eye, trembling with need. “Don’t ask me again if I’m sure.”
Sherman cups the back of my head and rolls us over. His large, masculine body on top of mine triples my desire for him. Even without having sex yet, I know this is how I want him every night. Our mouths never once part as he jerks his hips up, then positions the fat head of his cock at my entrance.
“Angel,” he breathes out as he slowly pushes inside me.
