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She smiled. Her hand stroked the side of his cheek, spreading her smile to his face like magic. “Like what?”
“Like a warm caramel cake when my aunt would add too much sugar to the icing. Caramel cake is a southern treat, a light, and fluffy yellow cake, that is the most delicious thing you’ll ever eat. I suffered through long Sunday Services with the two of them, knowing their cake was waiting for me at home. But as much as I loved that cake, it was the icing, crusted with melted sugar, butter, and cream, that I died for.” His eyes prowled her lips, staking their claim. “I found that taste again, here,” he tapped her lips. “And here,” he tapped her rapidly dampening pussy.
“Really? I taste like caramel?” She arched her brow.
“I gave you a taste earlier, but I can get some more.”
Hannibal brushed her next words off her lips. He was done talking; besides, their bodies spoke louder than words. He crested down, sucking her nipples into his mouth until she moaned. The deep sound rumbled from the bottom of her throat like the chassis on a bike. Starting her engine, he smiled around her breasts, greedy for more of her love sounds.
“Give me more, baby. Give me you. All of you. Every piece, every part. Don’t you fucking hold back.”
He sucked a bruise into the valley, dividing her breasts. Angel arched up, the sudden movement almost breaking her rib on his chin.
“Yeah, like that.” He paired his mouth with the swipes and swirls of his fingers. How many times had she come from his fingers alone?Did he mind?Not one fucking bit. Watching her was like a porno movie blown up on an IMAX screen. Angel was all he could see and hear. Her face as she rode his fingers blocked everything out of the room. Everything from his memory. Purging them and replacing them with her—only her.
“Hannibal.” She wailed, rotating her clit in jerky brush strokes over his fingers. “Hannibal, I’m going to come.” She screeched.
He sucked a nipple into his mouth and bit. “Don’t you dare. You fucking wait.”
“C… Can’t.” She writhed and moaned.
“Better.” He growled as he slid down. Kissing his way to her pleasure seat.
“Hurry.”
“Who’s running this?”
“Y… you.”
“And whose fucking body is this?” He growled and hooked his finger like a hanger into her pussy.
“Yours.”
“Like you mean it. Like you fucking know it.” Two more fingers hooked her open while his mouth sucked the long pod of her desire.
“Yours, I know it. Yes, dammit. Now. I’m coming.”
Shit, that didn’t take long. She’d told him it was hard for her to come. That she only came by herself. She better fucking remember the man who could get her off like a fucking rocket. In fact… “Say my name.”
Her brows drew together, and she scrunched her forehead. Panting out, “Huh, what?”
“I said, say my fucking name. I want you to fucking remember who is getting you off.”
“Hannibal.”
“The whole damn thing.”
“Hannibal Arroyo gets me the fuck off. Now fuck me, or get off, and I’ll do it myself.”
He bit her clit hard enough to elicit a squeal. “Whogets you off? Now we have to start over.”
“Shit. Hannibal Arroyo.” Her pussy grasped and squeezed his hand frantically.
“And nobody else. You got that, Angel? Not even you. Not without my permission.”
He rolled over. Pulling her on top and her eyes flew open, dazed and foggy. Her lips tensed, “What—?”
“This time, you ride.”
