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“Just the sweetest, juiciest peach.” The sensual tilt of his lips as his gaze came back to hers made him look like a sex god. Hot, powerful, hard. “And I can’t imagine anything as sweet and juicy as my own personal peach.”
“You really do have a thing for peaches, don’t you?” She gave him a devilish grin.
“Spread the shirt open,” he demanded. “Let me see my peach.”
The playful wickedness gave the intensity a softer edge, the feel of an adventure rather than something to be wary of.
“You’re crazy.” She grinned, breathless, blood thundering through her veins, heat rushing through her body.
“Naw, I’m so fuckin’ horny my dick’s like iron,” he groaned, one hand stroking the length of the shaft as she parted the edges of the shirt.
“Can I do anything to help?” she asked, running her fingertips from between her breasts to the top of her sex before stroking upward once again.
She’d never done this, teased sexually, but she could definitely see the benefits of it. The absorbed, fascinated look on his face could become addictive. Maybe it was addictive. An invisible drug rushing through her system as her fingertips reached her breasts again.
Spreading her fingers she cupped one mound, let them curve over the swollen flesh before rubbing over the nipple with the tip of one finger.
“Son of a bitch.” He breathed out, his voice hoarse, guttural with lust.
Feeling his gaze on her, knowing she was pleasing him, making him hungrier for her, Angel became bolder. As he watched, she gripped her nipple, rolled it, and couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped her lips as pleasure shot through her senses.
“God, yes,” he encouraged her further. “Spread your legs for me. Let me see how juicy you’re getting, baby.”
The demand had the wet heat spilling harder from her vagina, slickening her, making her sex highly sensitive.
Lifting her knees and pressing her feet into the mattress she spread her thighs, the brush of the AC against her inner flesh a caress all its own.
“Oh hell yeah.” He breathed out, the sound roughened and filled with lust. “You’re so slick and wet, baby. You just keep petting those pretty breasts while I eat all that sweetness.”
Coming up on the bed between her spread legs, he slid his hands beneath her rear, lifted her to him, and sent his tongue licking between the sensitive folds to the engorged bud of her clit.
Angel jerked in his grip, her hips rising to him, her fingers tightening on her nipples, increasing the lash of white-hot sensation tearing through her.
She would never grow used to the explosions of building sensations. Her senses flooded with the drugging sensuality she only felt with Duke. Only his touch could do this to her. Only his hard male groans and the carnality of his lips and tongue consuming her intimate flesh.
Arching, crying out, her entire being was completely possessed with every slow lick through the narrow slit, every lashing caress against her clit and shocking thrust of his tongue inside the aching center.
Writhing beneath the pleasure, her head tossing on the pillow, she had no thought of rushing it or falling into the chaotic
grip of the orgasm awaiting her. She didn’t want to rush it, didn’t want to miss a single second of the ecstasy building and burning inside her. She wanted to hold this to her forever. She needed to memorize every surge of deepening sensation. Every lick, every thrust of his tongue and draw of his hungry mouth.
As the intensity of the pleasure rose, her fingers curled into the thick, heavy strands of his black hair, holding him to her, her hips rising and falling, grinding against his ravenous lips and tongue. Deep pulses of sensation began building in her womb, in her sex. Hard, convulsive spasms that echoed to her clit as his mouth enclosed it, sucked it, his tongue licking, stroking . . .
The explosions shattered her.
One second she was flying on the pleasure, the next she was spiraling through the maelstrom of complete ecstasy she lost herself to. For blinding, rapture-filled seconds she jerked in his grip, her body thrashing against the onslaught of pure ecstasy.
• • •
Fuck.
He couldn’t wait. If he didn’t slip inside the silky vise of her pussy he was going to pump his release onto the sheets instead of the milking heat of her body.
Forcing himself from the lush sweetness he’d found, Duke rose quickly to his knees, coming over her as he held her beneath him, her gasping cries echoing around him. He positioned the tortured length of his cock between her thighs and thrust into the clenching heat. . . . Ah God.
Releasing her hips he braced his knees in the mattress, fisted his fingers in the blankets next to her, and gave himself to the desperation clawing at his balls. An inch at a time he penetrated the clenching grip of her pussy. Each thrust sent him deeper, increased the pleasure and the tension gripping his balls.
Just another minute. Just another second in time to experience the most exquisite pleasure. To burn in the center of the flame his Angel possessed.
