THREE
BAD ANGEL
SERA
“Just admit it. Admit it to yourself. What harm will it do? You saw me, you thought I was hot, and you wanted to fuck me.”
Where did this guy get off? How could he be so arrogant and brash, without even a glimmer of humility? He was probably the hottest guy I’d ever crossed paths with, hotter than my ex, Gareth, by strides, but with great looks came great responsibility. He should have been humble about his appearance, but instead it seemed as though he’d never even heard of the term.
“Oh, come on. Don’t look so pissy. I shoot from the hip,” he said, grinning. “There’s nothing wrong with taking what you want every once in a while.”
“I want tequila,” I told him, hefting the half-empty bottle in the air. “I want this stupid storm to end so I can get out of here. I do not want to fuck you.” I wondered if that little speech had convinced him. I was fist pumping inside, because to my own ears I’d sounded like I meant it. For all intents and purposes, it was true. Fair enough, I couldn’t keep my eyes off Fix. It was all fun and games, imagining what his hands would feel like all over my body, but I wasn’t dumb enough to act on those thoughts. Fix grunted. Kneeling on the floor at the foot of my bed, his elbows resting on the edge of my mattress, he looked like he was about to climb up onto the damn thing and prowl toward me like a stalking panther.
“Where are you from?” he asked. The question was out of the blue.
“South Carolina. A tiny place called Montmorenci.” I took a swig directly out of the tequila bottle.
“Did you hate it there?” he probed.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I hit the bottle again, then offered it to him. “What does it matter? I was born there. I left there. Now I live in Seattle. Where are you from?”
“Upstate New York. I live in Brooklyn now.”
For some odd, unknown reason, it was a relief to know that Fix lived just about as far away from me as he possibly could. He drank, and I watched the muscles in his throat work as he swallowed. Damn, that was diverting. I had no business being turned on by such a simple action.
When he lowered the bottle from his lips, he asked, “What do your parents do?”
“I haven’t spoken to my father in nearly ten years. My mother’s dead. She used to work for a little insurance company. A little mom ‘n’ pop place. Dealt mostly with life insurance and agricultural liability.”
“Sounds like a thrill a second.”
Melancholy washed over me. I didn’t think about Mom very often. She’d died when I was eight, so it seemed that the few memories I had of her faded more and more as I grew older. It seemed to me that one day I’d wake up and I wouldn’t remember what her face had looked like at all. That eventuality was the saddest thing in the world to me.
Fix didn’t seem perturbed by my somber admission. “How’d she die?”
“God, you ask a lot of personal questions. What about your parents? What do they do?”
“Both dead,” he answered. “Car accident seven years ago. Happened the day before my thirtieth birthday.” Not a twinkle of emotion. It was weird, as if he were completely shut off from what must have been a very traumatic event. Either that, or he just didn’t care.
“Fair enough.” I sighed. “Two dead parents trumps one dead parent. My mom had an aneurism. She was fine one minute, watering the garden. Yelling at me and my sister to come in for dinner. Next thing I knew, she’d keeled over in the grass, dead. When they completed the autopsy, the doctors said hers was the largest aneurism they’d ever seen, the size of Texas. Completely inoperable. They said she’d probably had it for years and never known. Walking around every day, oblivious, with a huge bomb waiting to go off in her head.”
“Better that way.” Fix said this as if it were a matter of fact. “She lived her life without worrying every time she needed to sneeze.”
I’d spent a long time wondering if it was better that she hadn’t known. Would Mom have done things a little differently if she’d been aware her time was limited? She might have pulled us from school, taken us on vacation, spent as much time with me and Amy as possible. She could have sent us to live with her friend Natalie in Utah. She used to talk to Natalie on the phone every day. Sixsmith liked to blame my mother’s death for his raging alcoholism, but the reality was he’d started hitting the bottle a little harder then he should have a couple of years before Mom went. I liked to think Mom would have taken us away from him if she’d known the truth of what was going on inside her brain.
“Hmm. Well, it’s all said and done now. That was a long time ago.” I didn’t want to think about Mom. I sure as fuck didn’t want to think about Sixsmith.
I took another drink from the bottle, and my head started to buzz. I needed to be careful. I could drink people under the table, but I wasn’t immune to hangovers. Tequila hangovers were the absolute worst.
Fix didn’t say anything as he stood up, kicked his shoes off, and threw himself down next to me on my bed. I quirked an eyebrow at him. “Uh…what do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m sure you like your guys servile and meek, Sera, but I’m not kneeling on the floor forever.”
“Then go and lie on your bed.”
He propped himself up on his elbow and leaned across my body, reaching for the tequila bottle—a pretty bold move for a guy who’d been more than a little frosty toward me in the lobby not that long ago. “How are we meant to pass back and forth if I’m all the way over there?” he said. His feral smile made him look particularly wolfish. This close, I could see the fine details of his face…and they really were fine. Strong jaw line; high cheekbones; long, curled eyelashes. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, and he smelled heavenly. I wracked my brain, trying to pin down the scent to a single origin, but I couldn’t do it. He smelled like winter mornings, and wet grass after rain, and clean sheets drying on a line. His breath smelled a little of the tequila we were drinking, but there was an underlying hint of mint. He’d probably brushed his teeth after his shower.
“You’re staring,” Fix rumbled.
“I don’t have much choice. You’re hovering over me so closely, you’re filling my entire field of vision.”
“Fair point. Can I kiss you now?”
“WHAT?” If he’d tried to kiss me without warning, I would have kneed him in the balls so hard he’d never be able to have children. Since he’d asked, though, I settled on sending him a look so scathing that it was a miracle he didn’t flee the motel room and sleep on that couch in the lobby after all. “Why the hell would I let you kiss me? From the moment we met, you’ve been an asshole. We’re complete strangers. We have nothing in common. You’re just bored and looking for a way to pass the time. I’m not going to be your entertainment, okay? Guys like you are unbelievable.”
“You’ve never met a guy like me before,” Fix said, tilting his head a fraction to the left. “I’m unique. And who said anything about me using you for my entertainment? I’d rather you used me for your entertainment.”
Seriously, this guy. He was striking, there was no denying that, but his arrogance knew no bounds. Unique? His eyes made him one of a kind, but the fact that he thought he could have me swooning over him because he got up close and personal with me made him just like every other guy I’d ever met. “Just…forget it, Felix Marcosa. I’ll drink with you. I’ll share this room with you. But that’s it.”
Fix sank back down onto the mattress, sighing. “My dick’s pretty fucking phenomenal. You should see it. Grown women have been known to weep when they behold it.” He drank from the bottle, long and deep, which was a blessing. Gave me a second to recover myself after that dick comment. I supposed a part of me was curious. He was a giant. His hands were like shovels—strong, powerful and calloused. Hands that had been used to build, create and destroy. What would they feel like on my body? Would their roughness be too much for my skin, or would it make my nerve endings sing with pleasure.
The last person I’d slept with was my ex, Gareth, close to six months ago now. Gareth’s hands had looked nothing like Fix’s. They’d been soft and well manicured—the hands of a pampered, spoiled rich boy who’d never done a hard day’s work in his life. He hadn’t known how to touch me. I’d faked an orgasm nearly every time we got into bed together. The times I hadn’t fake an orgasm were the nights I’d simply been too tired to even pretend.
“I’m sure your dick is magnificent,” I said, groaning under my breath. “I’m sure women across the country have carved wooden replicas of it that they worship daily. It’s probably the most stunning cock to have ever gotten a boner. But I’m gonna pass this time.”
Fix cracked his neck; the action made the muscles in his throat and in his left shoulder stand out. His shirt was tight enough that his chest muscles were straining against the material, too. The guy had muscles fucking everywhere. Maybe he was a professional athlete or something. A football or a hockey player. That would explain the attitude, if he had hoards of adoring fans chasing him down the street twenty-four seven.
He didn’t seem fazed by the fact that I’d turned down his junk. Flopping back down beside me, he pressed the rim of the tequila bottle to his oh-so-perfect lips, up-ended it, and drank. “I think we should shoot the rest of this and kill it. We’re already halfway through.”
This was really irresponsible behavior. This was flirting with disaster in the biggest way. “Fine.” I took the bottle and chugged.
The next hour passed by in a blur. At some point, I started feeling good. Really good. And then I just started to feel drunk, and missed the feeling good part.
My conscience kept whispering in my ear that I should get some sleep, that tomorrow was going to be a long day, but in the end even she began to slur her words and said what the hell. I never cut loose anymore. I was Little Miss Sensible, getting to sleep at a reasonable time, working after hours on my projects, cooking my own meals, and looking forward to Sundays, so I could clean and fold all my laundry.
Where had fun-loving Sera disappeared to? She’d gone out on the weekends with Sadie and gotten rip-roaring drunk, weaving arm-in-arm with her friend through the streets of Seattle, singing bawdy songs at the top of her lungs. She’d gone on adventures for the sheer hell of it. She’d gone kite surfing. She’d seen a guy she’d liked in a bar and made the first move, because she was confident and sexy, and she could be anyone she wanted to be, and do anything she wanted to do.
Now I searched myself, hunting high and low, and found no trace of that Sera left behind. She’d vanished, and no one had bothered to put up missing posters or tried to hunt her down, least of all me. “How old are you?” I asked Fix, peering at him over the top of the pillow I was now hugging to my chest.
“Thirty-seven,” he replied. “You’re…” He half-closed one eye, studying me. “You’re twenty-eight.”
“Yeah. Wow. I am. Most guys guess four or five years younger than they really think a woman is, just to stroke her ego. Does that mean you think I look thirty-three?”
“No. You look twenty-eight. I don’t play stupid games.”
“Pffftttt. Yeah, right.”
“I don’t.”
“What was all that stupid, ‘wanna see my cock’ bullshit, then? That was a game if ever I saw one.”
“I beg to differ.”
“You were trying to fluster me. Make me all embarrassed and shy or some shit. Guys think women faint whenever they mention their dicks. It’s hilarious.”
“I said it because I meant it. I’ll happily prove it.”
I raised the nearly empty tequila bottle, tipping it in his direction. “Be my guest.” He wasn’t going to just whip his dick out right here and now. Even a smooth-talking, macho, big talker like him wouldn’t just take down his pants and get his cock out. He didn’t take those pale eyes off me as he unfastened his belt, though. Continued to stare at me as he unzipped his fly. And he maintained eye contact every second as he pushed his boxers down over his hips, and his cock sprang free.
Oh…my…god.
I’d asked for that one.
I wasn’t looking. Hadn’t dared look down to see what he was doing with his hands and his dick. I just held Fix’s intimidating gaze, doing my damnedest not to react like a prudish little schoolgirl. “You’re an asshole,” I informed him. “You can put it away now.”
“But you haven’t even looked. I’ll be offended if you don’t take a quick peek.” His grin was fiendish to say the least.
“Whatever.” I gripped onto the tequila bottle so tightly that I suspected I wasn’t far away from shattering the glass neck. I looked down, trying to act nonchalant, but I felt my cheeks explode with color the moment I saw what Fix was doing. Not only was he big, but both his hands were wrapped around the shaft of his cock, and he was slowly working them up and down. His dick really was stunning. I was sure plenty of women had swooned at the sight of it, because I was feeling rather impressed, and I didn’t typically care what a guy’s junk looked like, so long as he knew how to use it.
From the dark, sexual glimmer in Fix’s eyes, I could tell he knew exactly how to use that thing.
“You really have no shame, do you?” I said, drinking to hide the blush that had stained my cheeks.
Fix looked down at himself; he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and bit down on it, pulling it through his own teeth, groaning a little. He squeezed his dick in his hands, then let his head fall back onto the pillows. “Shame?” He laughed. “I know all about shame. I used to wrestle with that bastard every hour of the waking day. Now I don’t have the time.”
“Jerking off too much?”
Fix hissed out a breath of amused laughter. “Life’s just too short for that kind of bullshit. I like being real. I like being honest, as much as I can be, especially with myself. Are you honest with yourself, Sera?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me…is watching me touch myself turning you on?”
I balked at the question. He really had no right asking me personal shit like that, but then again he didn’t exactly have the right to be stroking his dick in front of me, either. I’d pretty much invited him to do that. I stole a glance down, my heart stalling for a couple of beats as I watched Fix tease the end of his cock. He was so fucking hard. He must have been hard even before he’d undone his pants and gotten his cock out. He twitched a little as he pumped his hand up and down, and a wall of heat slammed into me, stealing my breath. He was turning me on.
Watching him do this felt…wrong. Dirty. Immoral. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. I set my jaw, channeling a defiant streak a mile wide, as I said as evenly as I could, “Yeah. It’s turning me on. You know it is.”
Fix made an appreciative humming sound, low and gruff, as if it originated in his boots. He seemed pretty damn pleased with my response. “Are you wet right now?”
I downed another mouthful of tequila, grimacing as the bitter flavor bit at either side of my tongue, searing a burning pathway down the back of my throat. “Yes. I’m wet. It doesn’t change anything, though. Things turn me on all the time. I don’t give in to every single desire and whim that presents itself to me.”
“Slide your hand down your pants, Sera. Touch yourself. Show me how wet you are.”
Was he for real? I mean, there was no way I was going to do that. I’d never touched myself in front of anyone before. Never. “You can forget it, Fix.”
“Why?” I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but lust had made the timbre of his voice even deeper. He had the sexiest voice when he was talking normally. Now, visibly turned on and out of breath, the basement register of his voice made my head tilt and spin. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to tumble off the bed.
“We’re strangers,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’m not some outrageous exhibitionist. I don’t just start masturbating in front of a guy I only met a few hours ago.”
“You should try it. It’s fun,” Fix growled. “I won’t touch you, Sera. Not if you don’t want me to. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it yourself. You should enjoy yourself. You should do whatever the fuck you want to do.”
“Oh, and you get absolutely nothing out of me lying next to you, fingering myself?” I scoffed. Shit, even saying that out loud made heat pool between my legs. I was beginning to ache in a way I hadn’t ached for a very long time. It was inappropriate. It wasn’t right that my body should be responding to him the way it was, but I couldn’t control it.
“I’d get a lot out of it,” he admitted. “I’d benefit immensely from watching you slide your fingers over your wet pussy. It would drive me insane. Especially if you hitched your shirt up and pulled down your bra so your tits were exposed.”
“Haha! You’re getting greedy.” I laughed, but I was getting more and more turned around by the second. Fix was just using his right hand on himself now, and I was losing my battle with impropriety, struggling and failing to look away. Fuck, he really was something to behold. His shaft was well over eight inches, but he was thick, too. Fix’s middle finger and thumb didn’t meet around the circumference of his hard-on as he tightened his grip and increased the speed with which he moved his hand up and down.
Gareth had never wanted to have sex with the lights on, which was weird given the amount of time he’d spend flexing and posing in front of the full length mirrors in my bedroom. Fix was unabashed and unaffected by what he was doing, which somehow made the whole thing even hotter.
“Sera. Being greedy is great. Be greedy. Be demanding. Be fucking hungry. Take whatever you want. If you want to touch your pussy and make yourself feel good, then do it. If you want to touch me, if you want to stroke my cock and make me so hard that I can’t stop myself from fucking your hand, then do it. If you want me to hold you down and bury my tongue between your legs, to lick at you and tease you until you’re begging me to let you come, then let’s make it happen. If all you want is for me to stop being such a fuck up and jerking off right next to you, then tell me and I’ll stop immediately. Whatever you want, just claim it. Let yourself go. Or tell me to fuck off. But be honest.”
“I—” My first instinct had been to tell him to put his dick away and go to sleep, but I stopped myself. Maybe…fuck, maybe he was right. I hadn’t had a single sexual experience that I’d enjoyed in so long. Where was the harm in doing something if I was going to enjoy it? And…perhaps the fact that Fix and I were strangers was a good thing. He lived in New York. I lived in Seattle. It wasn’t as though I was going to have to deal with seeing him walking through my city every other night of the week. He’d go his way, and tomorrow, as soon as the roads were clear, I’d be speeding toward Amy’s wedding. My ears were buzzing as put down the bottle of tequila, exhaling a deep, slow breath.
I was going to regret this. I knew I was. But tomorrow was future Sera’s problem, and right now, I was drunk, frustrated and, thanks to the fact that Fix had his dick in his hand and was pumping it up and down with intent, I was getting increasingly turned on.
I didn’t say anything. Instead, I unbuttoned my jeans and slid them down my legs, steeling myself, begging my hands not to shake as I ran them up the insides of my thighs.
I typically touched myself every day. It was just part of my shower routine. Being watched made the process far more intense, though. Fix’s chest began to rise and fall a little quicker, his eyelids lowering, desire pouring off him as he watched me pull my panties to the side and tentatively rub myself.
“Fuck, Sera. Your pussy is incredible. You’re soaking wet.” He loosed a sound that resembled a savage growl, and goose bumps erupted all over my skin. This was so weird. It was strange, and it was hot, and it was going to make me wish I’d never been born tomorrow, but the look on Fix’s face made me want to continue. He was observing me like I was the hottest thing he’d ever seen, and it made me feel like I was damn well glowing.
“Show me, Sera,” he whispered. “Let me look at you.” He got to his knees, positioning himself at the end of the bed, and a brief moment of panic clawed at me. I didn’t know this guy. He could be capable of anything, and I was trapped in a room with him, and there was a storm raging outside. No one would hear me if I cried out for help. Over the howling wind and rain, my voice would be drowned out and lost. Did I think he was going to hurt me, though? I looked up at Fix, where he was now kneeling in between my legs, and I only saw desire on his face. His cock was standing proud, and I wanted it. I finally admitted it to myself. I wanted to feel it in my hands. I wanted it in my mouth. And yeah, I wanted him inside me, too. I just didn’t know if I was going to be brave enough…
I sucked in a deep breath, and closed my eyes, the tips of my fingers working in small circles over my clit.
“Shit, Sera. You’re fucking beautiful.”
“What…what do you want me to do?” I asked, swallowing down the lump that had risen to my throat.
“This isn’t about me,” Fix answered. “This is about what you want. If you want me to watch you, if you want me to fuck you, if you want me to leave you alone. Just say the word.”
Every time I looked at him, I was taken by surprise all over again. He wasn’t just good looking. There was something about him that made me feel very small. He was raw, untapped power, a storm trapped inside a bottle, and I got the feeling he raged day and night, no matter what. It felt unsafe being so close to him, like I was being drawn closer and closer against my will, and no matter how hard I tried to resist him, I just couldn’t. Moving slowly, I unclipped my bra at the front, underneath my shirt, and then I slipped the remainder of my clothes over my head, tossing them onto the floor beside me.
“Fuck,” Fix snarled. “Your breasts are just…” He raised a hand, then immediately withdrew it. “They’re fucking phenomenal, Sera.”
“You want to touch them,” I said quietly.
He didn’t even blink. “Yes. But I’m not going to. Not until you tell me you want me to.”
“I do. Want you to. I want you to suck and bite on my nipples.” I didn’t know where that had come from, but the moment the words were out of my mouth, I realized they were true. My breasts were swollen and full, my nipples throbbing along with the crazed tattoo of my heartbeat. Fix remained absolutely still for a moment, as if waiting for me to change my mind. When I arched my back away from the bed, allowing my eyes to shutter closed, he swore violently under his breath and moved. He cupped both of my breasts, testing the weight and the fullness of them, and then he squeezed and kneaded my flesh, a pained groan slipping free from his mouth.
“You’d look so good covered in my come.” His words sounded like metal grinding on metal. “Your body is fucking flawless.”
I knew that wasn’t true. I had plenty of scars and marks all over me from years of fielding Sixsmith’s attentions, so I was far from perfect. None of that mattered when Fix soothed me, running his hands over my skin, though. It was freeing to let someone touch me and appreciate me the way he was doing. He dipped down, and I gasped as he took my left nipple into his mouth, lightly grazing it with his teeth before he sucked.
“I want…” I stammered over the words, not sure how to just spit them out. “I want to go down on you.” I instantly regretted saying that, but it was too late to take it back now. Fix leaned back, tracing his fingers down my cheek, over my jaw and down the length of my neck, his fingers pausing over my collarbone.
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“I am.”
“You want me to slide my dick past your lips, down deep into your throat, Sera?”
“Yes.”
“You want to feel me getting harder and harder as you suck on me? You want to taste me?”
“Yes!” Fuck me sideways. He was good with words. Good at making me want him more than ever, even though I was shot through with nerves.
Fix leaned down, so that his mouth was hovering mere inches away from mine. He lowered his voice, and I couldn’t help but shiver when he said, “You want to take my come, Sera? You want it in your mouth? You want to swallow me?”
“Fuck...yes!”
“Good. Good girl.”
I opened my eyes as Fix shifted up my body, kneeling on either side of my head. His cock filled my vision, which made me second-guess myself for a moment. He was huge. I was going to choke on that thing, and Fix was going to love it. Still, my pussy was crazy wet as I parted my lips and Fix pushed himself into my mouth. I was right: I could barely fit half of his length inside.
Fix moved slowly, gently rocking himself in and out, making strained, frustrated sounds and as I sucked and licked at his cock. He tasted kind of sweet—a completely unexpected, vaguely pleasant flavor that wasn’t anywhere near as salty as I’d imagined it would be. Angling his body forward, Fix planted his hands against the walls, supporting himself, and began to thrust harder. I couldn’t even swallow my own saliva around the girth of him, but Fix didn’t seem to mind. I panted down my nose, growing braver and braver every time he pushed himself inside my mouth and I realized how hard he was getting. He was so fucking turned on.
“Your lips look amazing wrapped around my dick,” he growled. “I’m gonna be having wet dreams about this for fucking years.”
I wasn’t going to be forgetting it any time soon either. I grasped hold of the base of his cock, applying pressure there, rubbing my hand up and down as I sucked, and Fix’s entire body shuddered. “If you keep doing that, you’re going to make me come, Sera.”
It was a warning in more ways than one: he was letting me know to expect a mouthful of come any second if I continued down this path, but also that he wouldn’t be able to do anything else if he finished. Did I want him to fuck me? Did I really, truly want him inside me? The answer, despite the remaining shred of common sense I still possessed post half a bottle of tequila, was yes, I did. Pushing him back, I gasped for breath, still running my hand up and down Fix’s cock.
“I want you inside me,” I told him. “I want you to fuck me. I want you to make me come.”
Fix bared his teeth, palming my breast, pinching my nipple so hard that I yelped. “How do you want me to fuck you? Be specific.”
“From behind. I want you to fuck me as hard as you can,” I said. “I want you to make me see stars.”
“Oh,…I can do that.” It took less than a second for him to rip his shirt over his head, and then he was naked. His chest and stomach were…I literally had nothing even close to compare them to. He was so unbelievably perfect; he looked like he had been conjured out of someone’s dream, not born of reality. His skin was a light golden color, a sun-kissed tan that probably came from weeks spent out in the sunshine. I wanted to run my hands over him, to explore and appreciate every curve and defined line of muscle, but Fix had other ideas.
“Get on your stomach and get that ass in the air,” he commanded roughly. “Make sure you’re spread wide for me.”
Thank god my blood was mostly alcohol right now. I’d have died of embarrassment if someone spoke to me like that while I was sober. I rolled onto my front and obeyed him, though, lifting my ass up in the air for him to inspect.
He showed his appreciation by slapping my ass cheek, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to leave a stinging hand print.
“Ahhh! Shit!”
“You wanted it rough,” Fix reminded me. “Tell me if you change your mind.” The sound he made when he rubbed the tip of his dick over my pussy and my ass sent shivers skating all over my skin. He sounded just as turned on as me, if not more. When he pushed himself inside me, I stifled a moan into the pillows.
“Fuck. Oh, fuck. That…that’s too much!”
Fix curved his body over me, his chest to my back, and his warm breath danced over my skin as he whispered into my ear. “Breathe. Your body will work it out. Just give it a second.”
So I breathed. Three long, deep breaths, then another, and then another. Little by little, I realized Fix was right. I was relaxing, stretching to accommodate him inside me, and it was beginning to feel good. I whimpered as Fix began thrusting himself inside me, rocking himself forward, holding me by the hips as he gently pushed deeper. God, it was incredible how wet I was. By the time Fix really began to fuck me, I was ready for him and begging him silently to take me.
My pride wouldn’t allow me to beg him out loud, but in the end I didn’t need to. Fix was in tune with me, reading my body and responding accordingly. I’d never been one of those women who screamed the house down during sex, but I couldn’t stop myself from moaning and crying out every time Fix’s cock slammed into my pussy. It felt…shit, it felt so fucking amazing. Especially when Fix reached around my body and began to rub my clit at the same time. He was talented with his fingers, and he was definitely talented with his cock.
“Jesus. You’re…that’s going to make me come,” I panted.
He didn’t reply. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled back on it as he fucked me faster, hissing between his teeth.
“Fuck. I’m—I’m going to—I can’t stop it. I’m—” I ran out of words and oxygen at the same time, as Fix railed into me, his fingers digging into my skin. My climax was a thousand fireworks igniting inside my head, and I couldn’t see or move or feel my way around it. I could only go with it, allowing the spikes and waves of pleasure to course over and through me as I came. It was fucking spectacular.
“My turn now,” Fix rumbled into my ear. “Do you want me to come?”
“Yes.” I exhaled the word on an exhausted breath.
“Where do you want me to come?”
“Inside me,” I told him. “I’m on birth control.” The prospect of him coming inside me turned me on more than anything ever had. I’d never let Gareth come inside me, even though I received the contraceptive injection every three months. I’d just never wanted to be that intimate with him. But with Fix, a man I didn’t even know, and never would, I wanted it so bad I could think of nothing else.
“All right. I’m gonna let myself loose,” Fix spoke into my ear. “I’m not going to hold back. You still want this?”
“Yes! Fuck yes, Fix. Make me come again.”
From behind, Fix wound his hand around my body, his fingers closing lightly around my throat. His lips brushed my ear as he spoke. “Oh, I intend on it. Get ready, Angel.”
And he fucked me. He rocked against me, slamming himself home, making me scream every time he pushed himself inside me as deep as he could. It felt so good. More than good. It felt fucking amazing.
When he came inside me, I called out, my own orgasm ripping through me at the same time, and Fix clung to my body, holding me tight, locking me in place as he pumped me full of his come. I was bone tired and weary when he spun me over and laid me out on the mattress.
“See? Being greedy is pretty fucking awesome,” he said quietly. His hand slipped down, between my legs, and my eyes rolled back into my head as he dipped his fingers into my pussy. They were sticky and covered in his come when he held them up a second later. I was too tired to ask him what he was doing as he used his fingertips to paint around my areolas and the tightened buds of my nipples. He painted a line down my belly, and then proceeded to rub his semen all over the insides of my thighs and my hips. He smirked like the devil himself when he rubbed his fingers against my lips, and I used the tip of my tongue to taste him.
“Bad Angel,” he whispered, smiling as if to himself. “Close your eyes now. It’s time to get some rest.”