Chapter Twenty – Angela #2
His resolve melted, as I felt him get harder.
I crawled out of his lap without moving my hand, as if breaking my connection might give him permission to go.
Then I arranged myself in front of him, kneeling down, like a cross between a supplicant and a cat, and with skillful fingers, undid his belt, the latch of his slacks, and zipped everything down.
His cock came out. I’d seen it at least fifty times now, and yet every time I saw it still felt new.
I loved everything about it: the way it fit in me like a key to a lock, the solid weight of it when he rammed it between my thighs, how its skin was hot and soft, the way I could touch it and know what he was thinking.
I leaned forward on elbows and breathed over it without touching, promising him more.
For his part, he was still—as still as I had been earlier, when he’d been touching me—the same disbelief I’d felt, mirrored in his eyes.
We were both bad at this, at the softer things in life, at trusting.
But we both wanted to. I knew I did—and I knew he did, as I kissed the smooth underbelly of his cock and he sighed and closed his eyes.
I covered it in a thousand tender kisses, feeling it bob and sway, like a snake looking for purchase up a cliff.
I had all the time in the world to give it attention, and listening to Mark gasp and groan was music to my ears.
And just when I thought he wouldn’t take anymore, when my delicacy would drive him literally wild, I brought my lips down to kiss his head.
I swirled my tongue in ever widening circles, lowering my mouth onto him, taking his head in, as he whispered, “Oh Angela,” harshly. I could see his hands winding in my sheets, as he held onto either side of my bed like a prisoner, trying to stop himself from grabbing my hair and forcing me down.
I slid down him as far as I could bear, in one long continuous suck, feeling his cock bend at the back of my throat, and then pulled off of him, just as slow, relishing the taste of precum.
“Angela,” he moaned again, staring frankly at me now. I knew what he wanted, what his eyes asked, and pulled off of his cock entirely.
“Remember, my room’s not soundproof,” I warned with a wicked grin, and kept on.
I took him in long, elaborate sucks, letting him in a little further each time, ignoring the way I was covering him in spit, feeling his ass twitch as he tried to control the destiny of his own cock, unable to stop himself from thrusting.
Then I reached back and pulled my skirt up again, so he could see the heart shaped curve of my ass as I bowed low, and he groaned like he’d been defeated.
I chuckled, lifted off of him, and started sucking on his balls.
“Oh God, Angie—" he reached for his cock with one hand and started stroking fast.
“Hmm?” I purred, without stopping, taking one of his balls into my mouth completely, rubbing my tongue against its soft-rough side.
His hips betrayed him again, I heard his breathing speed up—and there was no way I was going to let him finish himself without me.
I pushed his hand away and took his cock over with my mouth, bobbing and sucking, pressing my tongue up against his shaft from the very bottom to the top.
His hands wound in my hair, pulling me down, and my wolf loved this—she loved being made to gag.
I groaned in pleasure as he warned, “Angie—I’m going to,” and I felt him stiffen one last time, before gasping, as hot salty silver jetted into my mouth.
I took it and kept sucking him, like I wanted more, sucking him through it.
When he stopped thrusting and went soft then and only then did I pull back.
He looked like I’d felt thirty minutes ago, collapsed against the side of my bed. I rearranged my skirt and gave him a smug grin. “So you can go home now, if you want to.”
He blinked and grinned back. “You’re evil, you know that?”
“No, I’m good. Very, very good.” I traced a finger down his chest. “And now that you’re here, I don’t want you to go away.”
“I don’t want to go either. But we have to pace ourselves. Make things seem normal.” He set himself back inside his pants, locking himself back up with his zipper, then reached a hand out to me, which I took. “And then once things really are normal—nothing will ever keep me away.”
“Promise?”
“I swear.” He brought his other hand up to my cheek and traced it. “But for now, missy,” he said while standing, pulling me up after him, “you need to get to bed. But don’t take any clothes off right now—if you do I’ll never find the strength to leave.”
I crossed my arms belligerently. “I’ll take pity on you, this time. Only once though.”
“Thanks,” he said, coming in for a kiss.
We stumbled down the stairs, kissing and groping, unable to let tonight finish, until his coat was on and he was at my door, kissing me against it, one hand on the knob, unable to leave me.
“I want you again, Angela,” he said, his breath hot on my neck.
“I want you too,” I whispered back, having visions of him taking me here in my kitchen, on all fours on the tile.
Then there was a sound above us, and we both froze, the spell momentarily broken.
I used the opportunity to dart away—I couldn’t do anything wild like that where Rabbit would find out.
And if he heard us and woke up all the way now—the thought of that was like cold water down my spine.
Mark was not similarly tortured, and took a step near, closing the space between us until I put a hand out to stop him. “You have to go.”
“I do,” he reluctantly agreed.
“Promise me one more thing first?”
“Anything.”
“If you touch yourself again tonight, you have to think of me.”
A sly smile crossed his face. “I would have, anyways.”
I grinned back at him, helplessly, not trusting myself to kiss him again. “Go on then. Get.”
He leaned in and kissed me one more time, before finally leaving.