Page 23 of Angels Fall

Because suddenly, she’s pulling my hand away from her hair and bringing it around to rest on her throat.

“Here,” she pants. “Squeeze.”

I lean back, allow myself to land in a full sit with my heels beneath me, her legs straddled behind me, and both of us upright, my right arm reaching around her chest and pinching her left nipple, and my left hand wrapped firmly around her gorgeous neck. Her hair rising up and spilling down as we fuck makes me think of flames being blown in the wind. Flames that refuse to be extinguished. She’s springing up and down on my balls, almost crushing them with every strike—and I fucking love it. I want to be crushed by her. Pulverized into ash and blown into the wind too.

Her hand is now reaching frantically for the vibrator, still singing its vibrator melody somewhere in the sheets. She finds it, forces it onto her clit again, and says, “Harder.”

I’m not sure if she means pinch her harder, fuck her harder, or choke her harder, so I decide to be safe and just go with all three.

I squeeze her nipple and she shrieks. I tighten my grip on her throat and she coughs out, “yes.” And I fuck her with the force of a tornado, sweat starting to form on my brow and drip down onto her already slick and sweaty flesh… and she comes.

She thrashes back into me so hard that we both collapse backwards off the bed and land in a heap on the floor. I make sure to move the hand that’s around her throat so that I don’t crush her goddamn windpipe and I twist to stay underneath her so that I mostly break her fall, very nearly snapping my dick free from my body in the process. But luckily it stays attached, which is a good thing, because I still have more for it to do.

“You hurt?” she asks. Which, given our current status with each other might either be a question of concern or hope.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” I tell her. “By the way,” I add, “I was right.”

“About what?” she pants.

“You should write a book. THAT’S how you win friends and influence motherfuckers.”

MADDIE

“Shut up and fuck me,” I tell him back. This is not at all what I planned on doing with Tyler Morgan tonight. And that pisses me off. Because it makes me weak. I mean, am I that desperate and needy that a few charming words from him make everything OK?

I disgust myself.

“I will,” he says. “I’m just gonna do it slow now.” He repositions us so he’s on top of me, his forearms resting on the floor on either side of my head, his legs straddling mine so that each rocking movement of his hips stimulates my clit in just the right way.

He winks. There’s even a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he does it. Which is charming. I’m not gonna deny that. Tyler is one hundred percent charisma. He draws people to him without even trying. He should write that stupid book, not me.

I make a face at his wink.

“What?” he asks, kissing my frown away. And then he kisses my mouth, whispering, “What could I possibly be doing wrong now?” as he does it.

I have a list. Ten things on it, at least.

But I don’t feel like explaining. He doesn’t even deserve my explanation. So I just kiss him back and make the whole conversation go away.

Sex with Tyler Morgan is something I can handle right now. All these feelings he suddenly wants to talk about? No. I won’t do it.

“Tell me,” Tyler prods.

“Tell you what?” I ask, trying to distract him by sliding my fingernails up and down his back.

His spine arches in response, but it’s not enough. Because he says, “Why do you look like you want to kill me when everything we’re doing right now finally feels right?”

I close my eyes and concentrate on how he feels instead. Not his feelings, but how he feels inside me. “Is this how you want to come?” I ask, eyes still closed. “This boring slow fuck is how you want to remember me?”

My eyes open just in time to see him frown. And I get the feeling my dismissal is just another cue for him to keep asking questions. So I stop that shit before it starts and push him off me.

He gives in and rolls off to the side, still frowning, still looking like he’s gonna keep talking, but I know just what to do.

I grab his dick, still wet with my come, and slide my palm up and down his shaft in a slow, twisting motion.

He practically growls in response.

Which, I can’t deny, turns me on a little. But more importantly, it takes his mind off what’s not being said.