Chapter Eleven
Angel wasn’t feeling quite herself. Not only did she thoroughly enjoy Samantha slyly watching her from the half-ajar bedroom door, but she had also hoped it would happen.
She encouraged it by taking her time in the shower as she listened for footsteps in the hallway and leaving the door slightly open.
It was only a matter of time before Samantha would get bored with waiting downstairs and venture onto the second floor, toward the bedroom.
If Samantha were a book, she’d be the romantic comedy, complete with the obvious but still beloved happily-ever-after ending.
“I really didn’t mean to spy,” mumbled Samantha between a kiss.
Her soft lips trailed down Angel’s neck, paused at the hollow of her throat, and moved back up again.
She was completely naked, too. Her clothes were tossed to the floor, her panties were around her ankles.
“This doesn’t mean we’re rescheduling the date, does it?
” She pulled her head back and frowned. “Because I really want to still go on a date with you.”
“Shhh,” instructed Angel and pressed her mouth to Samantha’s once more, mumbling under her breath. “We’ll talk about it later.”
Samantha was just about to protest when Angel gripped her hips tightly and steered her toward the bed. If Samantha’s reflexes weren’t so excellent, she would’ve tripped over the panties at her feet but had instead stepped out of them in time.
When the back of Samantha’s knees hit the bed, Angel pushed her down onto it and joined her, flattening her body against the fire dancer’s. She was warm and dry. Unlike Angel, who still had remnants of the shower in her hair and streaks of water rolling down her back.
“The bonfire really is so worth it,” came Samantha again. “I really think we should still go.”
Angel stopped kissing Samantha’s neck and took a deep, impatient breath through her nose. “Sam. Seriously. We’re in the middle of something. Can’t we discuss that later?”
She seemed to consider it, her eyes briefly glazing over while her hands slackened their grip on Angel’s ass. “Fine. But promise me you won’t forget about it.”
Promises could be overturned if necessary.
“Fine. I promise. Now, can you keep quiet, please, and let me kiss you?”
Samantha nodded and smiled brightly, as if satisfied by the answer. Before Angel could press her lips down on her mouth, Samantha gripped Angel’s waist and did a barrel roll. Suddenly, Samantha was the one on top, pinning Angel down at the wrists.
It was a heck of a surprise, not because Angel didn’t think Samantha was strong enough to overpower her so easily, but because Angel was the one who usually took charge. She was the one who directed. She was the one who decided—
“It’s really important to me,” started Samantha again. “The bonfire thing—”
“If you don’t stop speaking now, I’ll kick you out of my house,” reprimanded Angel with a grunt and a roll of her eyes. Though she’d never actually do that, especially now when things were heating up like a pressure cooker about to blow its lid.
“Fine,” Samantha relented and moved to the end of the bed.
Taking no time for foreplay, she urged Angel’s legs up and over her shoulders.
Not that Angel minded. She was already hot and bothered and very turned on.
Relenting her control was so new and uncharacteristic, so liberating, that it was euphoric.
Samantha’s tongue stroked the flesh of Angel’s sex. It was nothing more than a light touch, a feathery caress, yet the sensation of her tongue sliding up and down and then pushing in and out drove Angel to the brink of an achingly delicious climax.
The air in her lungs evaporated. She gripped the sheets and urged her legs open, welcoming Samantha to move faster and deeper, to use her mouth and her fingers, and everything else. There was a moment when she was gripping the sheets so tight that she could imagine tearing the fabric into pieces.
Samantha looked up, smiled, and wiped her mouth.
Even the way she was looking at Angel was carnal, as if there was an invisible message passing between them, a network of dirty talk that only her subconscious could hear.
Before Angel could direct Samantha’s head back down, the fire dancer climbed on top of her, straddling her while her palms stretched across Angel’s breasts.
It began slowly, a gentle sway of her hips, that turned faster and faster as Samantha began to rock her hips back and forth while her hips dug into Angel’s.
They moved as one. Angel’s hands were running wildly across Samantha’s back.
Her butt muscles were working so hard they were on the verge of cramping.
The entire sensation was fucking fantastic. And when her climax hit her so quickly, she didn’t have any time to duck and dive out of the way.
Gently pushing Samantha off of her and onto the bed, she whispered, “Your turn.”
Samantha laughed. “You can’t be done already? I was just getting started.”
“Well, I am, so be quiet and enjoy,” she said in the sternest voice she could while simultaneously smiling.
That was the thing about a climax. It took over the entire body, orchestrated movements without permission, and even made Angel smile when she so badly wanted to be firm.
She had to exert the last morsel of control she still had left after Samantha had undone her, taken her apart and put her back together with a neat little red bow.
A red bow that made her smile even when she didn’t want to.
Instead of climbing on top of her, straddling her like Samantha had done moments ago, Angel chose to torment her.
After all, moving slowly and patiently was both tormenting and gratifying. The slower she moved, the greater the pleasure Samantha would get.
Angel drew her fingers over Samantha’s thighs, moving them up and along the line of her hip, around her belly button, and then up again to the curve of her breast. She leaned forward and wrapped her mouth around Samantha’s nipple, sucking and biting.
Samantha’s body broke out in goosebumps. She laughed. Her body wriggled and writhed. “Oh fuck,” she moaned. “That feels fucking amazing. It’s like bolts of electricity are running down my legs. Whatever you do, don’t stop.”
Angel wouldn’t dream of stopping. Actually, she could imagine herself in an alternate universe, permanently attached to Samantha, permanently gratifying her.
She bit and rolled her tongue over Samantha’s hardened nipples, while at the same time moving her palm down, her fingers playing Samantha like she was an instrument, one with many strings, striking many chords.
Angel was alternating between sucking her nipples and gravitating toward her clit.
Slipping her hand between Samantha’s thighs, she rubbed her clit between two fingers.
Samantha’s hips rolled harder, more desperately.
She was panting harder now, her chest rising and falling with fast succession and her eyes were closed, tightly shut as her hips rocked into Angel’s hand.
Angel had her exactly where she wanted her.
“Open your legs more,” instructed Angel right before she pressed her lips to Samantha’s mouth, embracing the heat of her breath and the wetness of her tongue.
Samantha did as she was told. She shifted her hips up and splayed her legs.
Not losing contact with any part of Samantha’s body, Angel climbed on top of her, her fingers still applying pressure to her clit, and began to rock with the movement.
It was good for her too. Angel could easily lose herself in another climax if she wanted to, but the trick was to give all of her attention to Samantha.
She deserved it. Especially after what she had done for her.
Angel’s fingers moved to Samantha’s entrance and slipped in shallowly and back out again. A little taste before the main course. She went in deeper. Pressing her thumb against her clit, she thrust two fingers in and out, in and out.
When a guttural moan left Samantha’s throat, Angel worked her way down Samantha’s body, kissing her breasts, and licking a line along the soft curve of her stomach.
She slid down the edge of the bed, her knees on the floor, and her head between Samantha’s thighs.
The sweet warmth of her core was intoxicating, like pressing your nose into the petals of a rose—deeply satisfying and enthralling.
When Angel licked at Samantha’s center, wrapping her lips around her clit, one of Samantha’s heels dug into her back as she bucked her hips into Angel’s face.
Seconds passed. Angel worked Samantha through every swell of her climax, one crashing down after the other like waves in a storm.
Samantha was groaning so loud, the neighbors were probably wondering what the hell was going on, but even that wasn’t enough for Angel to stop.
It was only when Samantha gently grabbed her hair, urging her to end the torment, that she looked up to see Samantha smiling from ear to ear.
“You’re not going to run away, are you?” Samantha asked, out of breath.
“It’s my house,” chuckled Angel as she moved up to lie beside Samantha.
She was still too hopped up on the adrenaline of what had happened to think clearly.
Her brain was a delectable fuzzy mess as if she had smoked a joint and had reached that high––not that Angel smoked.
It was terrible for the lungs. Besides, she liked to keep her head on her shoulders at all times. It was probably a control thing, too.
“Phew!” Samantha swiped the back of her hand across her forehead jokingly, and let it drop to her side.
For a moment they both just lay there, quietly and thinking. Angel was trying to figure out how she could possibly get out of the date, and Samantha was probably thinking how she could convince Angel to get out of bed and out the front door to go on the date.
A mere three minutes later, Samantha stood up and collected her scattered clothes. While she walked, bending down at various spots in the room, Angel’s gaze was like a magnet.
Samantha was truly beautiful, not just in the conventional sense—symmetrical features and big brown eyes—but she was like a living imprint, the kind that stuck in a person’s mind like a catchy tune from the radio.
Meeting her, or more like saving Samantha, was like stumbling on a rare gem in a sea of pebbles.
It was clear that the fire dancer was going to get Angel into a world of trouble.
“Don’t hate me, alright,” said Samantha as she slipped on the stone-colored linen skirt and fastened the buttons in the front.
“But I’m going to bring up the topic of the bonfire date again.
I’ve packed a whole picnic basket for us.
This time with homemade hamburgers. I even made the patties from scratch. ”
She packed an entire picnic basket.
Dread suddenly settled uninvited into Angel’s stomach—a sort of reflex, like lifting your palm to your mouth when you coughed.
Angel had hoped Samantha would get up and leave.
Or more so, she had hoped Samantha would get rid of that skirt and the bra she was currently slipping on and climb back into bed.
And then, there was a tiny, untrustworthy part of Angel that even wanted her to stay so that they could watch soppy movies together, snacking on chocolates and popcorn.
A bonfire date meant Angel had to get up from the bed and put clothes on. It meant she had to go to her closet and choose an outfit that would be appropriate. It meant she couldn’t pull Samantha back into bed and initiate another round.
One more time, please.
But it was obvious the bonfire date meant a lot to Samantha. Her beautiful features were unsuccessfully trying to hide her disappointment.
“Fine,” said Angel and forced herself up and off the bed. “A bonfire date it is. But if there’s even the slightest hint of a fire getting out of control, and you’re behind it, we’re done. Understand?”
“Perfectly.”