Page 22 of Dead Bled Ringer
Fuck, she tasted so good, and I greedily licked up every bit of her cum, delving my tongue into her delicious folds to make sure I sucked up every last drop.
My cock was leaking a fuck-ton of precum down my brother’s pants and I was afraid I was about to explode.
“Now, no more of this nonsense about getting a divorce,” I said firmly.
Then Angel tightened her hand in my hair and yanked up so hard I was forced to look right into her eyes.
“Hello, Hunter,” she said. “Guess what? I figured out it was you. Now, care to explain yourself, you bastard?”
Chapter Five
HUNTER
“Hunter?” I ground out. “Don’t you know your own husband? I’mHenry.”
She scoffed, yanking up on my hair harder so my chest was pressed into her wet pussy and her legs were clamped around my neck.
My brain was drunk on lust and pussy.Damn, how did I fuck up?
“Did Henry put you up to this?” she demanded.
Panic pulsed through me.
I had to salvage this situation somehow. It wasn’t too late to convince her I was my twin.
“You better shut that nasty mouth and listen to me.”
I stood up, roughly knocking Angel’s hand away and flipping her face-first onto the table.
“Feel that, brat?Here’syour proof.”
I jammed my hips into her ass as she was splayed out in front of me.
Gripping her soft skin under that thin skirt, I spread her cheeks wide so I could shove my cock in her crack and nestle it aggressively between her curves.
Precum was leaking in spurts from my cock, wetting my brother’s suit pants and making it easy to slip my cock forward and back.
“Need my finger in your ass, bitch? I feel like your husband now, don’t I?” I snapped, pulling her hair so she was forced to stare at the thick gold band on my fourth finger.
But Angel only kicked back at my legs as her plump juicy ass wiggled in front of me.
“No, you don’t, you dumb asshole! You don’t know the first thing about Henry. He doesn’t fuck like this. My husband fucks like Rip Van Winkle, like he’s just waking up from a thousand year old sleep.”
Well, shit.
“I should fucking punish you for that insolence,” I snarled, dragging her up against my chest and wrapping my hand around her throat.
“I’m a fucking dangerous person and you’re pissing me off.”
“Maybe you are, but you aren’t my husband, either,” she hissed at me like a little angry cat as she wriggled in my arms.
Her hair smelled amazing, like rosemary and mint, and it was making it impossible to think when she kept flicking those long golden curls into my face.
I tightened my grip, her skin silky and delicious under my fingers.
In some way I have fucked this up and I can’t figure out how to get it back on track.
What did I do wrong?
