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His finger left my clit, and he palmed my breast for a bit until I felt the sensation building up again. My head fell back against the pillows as he lavished attention on my neck again. Apollo pushed my leg up, sliding into me deeper.
As my second orgasm started washing over me, I felt his thrusts gets harder and his pace increase just a little.
“Harlow.” He breathed my name reverently, like I was really that goddess everyone expected me to be.
I felt him throb in me, his lips found mine again, then he tensed as he came. One, two more languid thrusts as we kissed deeply, then I felt his smile brush across my lips.
“Give me a minute,” he said, before getting up and dealing with the condom.
When he came back to bed, he snuggled me up, his hands and lips all over me still.
“I wouldn’t have called that hard and fast,” I teased him. “I think I’ll be walking fine, thank you.”
He gave a rough, breathy laugh. “Who says I’m done with you, darling?” he asked me wryly.
By the time Apollo left my room, we’d almost missed dinner and we’d used up four condoms. It was good the man maintained a decent supply on his person at all times, but we still had to raid Florence’s stash for the last one. I had a feeling she’d forgive me when I told her what went down.
Chapter Seven
After dinner, Florence and I had gone straight to our room, and I’d given her the play-by-play. Twice. She’d been impressed with Apollo’s performance and decided that it seemed there really were men who lived up to the lofty expectations after all so, “Suck it, Romance haters,” were her actual words.
As we got dressed the next morning, I felt buzzed. Happy buzzed. I looked forward to my day and the people in it, even if those people were Valen’s grumpiness. Hell, just then, I felt like I could take on these Black Bloods all by myself.
“Fender?” I said as I saw him leaning on the wall outside our dorm room.
He pushed off it and gave me a short nod in lieu of a bow as he took his vape pen out of his mouth. “Morning,” he said simply.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Florence bumped into the back of me and frowned. “Angel escort?” she asked.
Fender got a wicked gleam in his eye, but his lips barely lifted. “I don’t usually take payment.”
Florence shook her finger at him with a grin. “Well played, sir.”
“But why are you here?” I asked.
“Marco sent me.”
“And you always do as Marco tells you?”
He shrugged like that was a given and didn’t deign to give me a verbal answer.
I was vaguely aware there was a hierarchy within the Angel’s structure. Valen was, obviously, their leader. In theory the other three were equal. In practice, hierarchy depended on the length of your tenure. Fender was the last one to sign his contract, so he was on the bottom rung. He’d only become one of God’s Angels after God had risen to power. It had been an impressive fight, only ended when Marco had pulled Fender off the other guy.
It wasn’t the first time I’d wondered why Fender had been so keen to be an Angel that he’d nearly killed a guy, but then I also guessed that’s what their world demanded of them; get what they need, what’s expected of them, at any cost. It didn’t have to speak to any particular underlying motive.
Sinners they were indeed, for they were all forced to be too soulless to be true Saints, before I’d even met most of them.
“Do we…?” Florence started. “Do we just go to breakfast, and you trail behind?”
Fender shrugged again. “Behind. In front. I’m easy.”
Florence looked at me like she was wondering if he was still making innuendo, or whether he just didn’t realise he was making innuendo. I could only shake my head and shrug.
“Okay.” Florence nodded. “To breakfast then, I guess.”
“God is detained this morning,” Fender said as he followed us.
