chapter 36 #2
She glances back at me and then removes her uniform shirt on her own.
I take over next, reaching for the hem of her tank and pulling it over her head, then pop off her bra and press her down again.
Reaching for another strawberry, I swipe through the whipped cream once more and then paint a white streak down her neck.
Angelica tips back her head, and I lick at the sticky sweetness before releasing her and biting into the strawberry.
My mouth fills with sweet nectar, and I lean forward to sip at one peaked nipple before moving to the other.
Angelica’s hands come to my head, combing over the short hair and cupping the back of my neck.
I want to rush, while I want to savor every second I have left with her.
Like those spirits that visited dear old Scrooge, I’m afraid she’ll disappear when morning arrives. So, I take my time removing her pants, and eventually her panties, all the while painting her body with a combination of whipped cream and fresh strawberries.
Eventually, I drag the tip of the final fruit between her legs, which she easily spreads for me.
“You wouldn’t.” Her voice catches as the cold point of the strawberry nudges against her entrance.
“Wouldn’t I?” I love a good dare, but I sense her hesitation. Fruit is a hard limit.
Instead, I dip the strawberry in the cream and use it to spread the whipped stuff over her sensitive folds. Then I take a final bite of the strawberry and swallow before climbing between her legs and devouring her, licking and lapping at the sweet mess I’ve made of her.
Angelica moans and squirms at the combination of cold cream and warm tongue, and I pin her thighs, keeping her open and wide.
When she finally bursts against my mouth, she cries out. “Oh, Jude.” Her voice is like a song, and I continue to feast, driving my tongue deeper, demanding a second serving from her.
She breaks again, hailing my name one more time, before I kiss her lower lips, and pull back.
With rapid strength she sits upright. “My turn.”
“Nope.” I catch her hand on my waistband. “Tonight, you’re all mine.”
However, I let her undress me, taking my time to kiss her in between her unbuttoning my shirt, popping the clasp on my slacks, and eventually, removing everything.
Pressing her to her back again, I climb over her, blanketing her for a second, while enjoying the taste of her mouth. Sticky cream and sweet strawberries mingle with the flavor of her on my tongue.
Eventually, I hold myself at her entrance, swiping my tip through where she’s hot and needy. I just want to feel that wetness for a moment. She’s so wet and warm, and too quickly, I’m sucked forward as if she’s pulling me inside her.
I freeze with just the tip wedged between her slick lower lips.
“Angelica?”
“Please,” she whispers, like she wants to feel me as much as I want to feel her. Raw and bare and real.
The color orange and the number nine and a girl who likes all foods. These are a few of her favorite things. She is my favorite person, like I told her only yesterday.
“Are you sure?” My dick is begging for entrance, but I won’t do anything without her permission. We already know each other’s health history, and she’s on the pill.
“I’m sure.”
Angelica slides her hand over my shoulder and down my arm, around my elbow until she catches my wrist. Then she tugs at my hand and links our fingers.
For a second, I just stare at where our fingers fold together, clasping one another. Like that hug she gave me weeks ago, I’m frozen. No . . . spellbound.
She lifts our hands and kisses my knuckles before settling our collective hands against her chest.
I slide into her with all the patience I can muster.
My heart hammers. The palpitations she was concerned about earlier begin in earnest. Who knew flutterings were a real thing?
While one part of me moves as slowly as I can, another space inside me races as if I’m skiing down a steep hill. A slippery slope right into love.
Ignoring the thought, I glide into her warmth, melting from both the snug fit and the raw heat, and my heart patters faster.
“Angelica,” I grit, knowing I can’t last at this pace. The lazy rhythm where I feel everything. Her and me and us joined together.
As I settle to the hilt, she slides one foot up over my calf and behind my knee, then up my hamstring to my ass. Every brush is another electrifying sensation. A prickle of heat like I’ve never felt before. The melting of my heart, which has frozen for too long.
I swipe back a loose hair stuck to her cheek and kiss her forehead, lingering there a second as I try to settle the tightening of my rib cage and the racing of my pulse.
Then Angelica tips up her hips, and I pull back, slow, purposeful, torturous, but awe-inspiring.
So fucking . . . real.
Glancing down at her, my soul screams Mine. I’m a fucking toy soldier desperate for this human to claim me as hers.
“Angelica,” I whisper.
“I’m right here, Jude.”
The words could mean anything. They shouldn’t sound like the something more I’ve been seeking this entire season.
Desperate to push away my fear that she doesn’t mean it—she isn’t mine to keep—I pick up the pace, taking her a little harder while still slow.
A little deeper while still struggling with patience.
The sound of us coming together is like a tabernacle choir of slapping skin on skin and moans with moans.
I can’t fucking take it because I know what this moment means.
We’re making love and I’ve never done this before. Never felt this way.
I’m certain I’m having a second stress cardiomyopathy incident. My heart is shattering, and yet I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. Not us or her.
As I slowly drag my dick through the heat of her channel before surging forward, I feel every spark of her warmth and squeeze of her attempts to keep me inside her, filling her.
I release her head and reach for her clit, but she pushes at my wrist.
“My turn,” she whispers, eyes locking on mine for a second. It’s too much. The heat in them. The hope.
I can’t look. Instead, I kiss her hard and deep, like my hips flex. Angelica wraps both her legs around my waist, clinging to me as we ebb and flow like a sleigh up and over snow-covered hills. Up we lift and down we fall, until finally, I can’t take it anymore.
I clutch her hip and drive faster, snapping my hips in response and tapping her deeper. Her head tips back and she calls out my name, like she’s begging me to hurry.
Don’t you leave me, Jude.
It whispers through my head one more time, and I race to reach whoever it is that needs me. Wanting it to be her. My angel. My Angelica.
Her mouth falls open and her eyes roll back, and she lets out a surprised cry, as her body tightens. Her pussy squeezes me as she falls over the cliff while I continue to climb, climb, climb, and then crack, spilling inside her.
“Fuck,” I grunt as the release is like angels singing and bells tolling, and I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me. Collapsing over her, I breathe in her scent, forcing my senses to memorize the fragrance.
Sugar and spice and sex. Us.
I roll to the side, taking her with me, and we stay wrapped around one another until I pass out, dreaming of her over me, begging me not to leave, and leaning in for a kiss to pull me back from endless darkness.