“Luca,” he said, breathless from kissing, “there’s still some other stuff we should talk about tonight.”
Ugh! We’d done so much talking already! Talking responsibly was like donating blood—yes, it was fun to feel smug about my moral fortitude . . . but I was also exhausted and wanted a cookie.
Although I wasn’t that exhausted . . .
“Later,” I said against his lips. “I need help getting clean first.”
I could feel Angel’s smirk curve against my mouth, and then I felt the resulting puff of breath when I found one of the hands he had curled around my hip and guided it down and over my ass to the tight ring of muscle waiting for him.
Getting clean was a lie, really, because I’d taken a pre-sexy-bath shower while Angel had taken a call from a panicked Sunny, who was now anxious about the cinematographic kinship between her porn masterpiece and Pretty Woman, and suddenly wanted to run the entire film through the blue Twilight filter instead. So by the time we’d clicked open the lid on Mr. Bubble, my body was ready and my nether entrance was clean enough to eat off of—or at least to eat, which was more important to me anyway.
But Angel accepted my pretext, and rubbed his fingers over my opening, pressing and testing the firm eyelet there as he caressed me. My erection jerked, and as I lifted to give him better access, it slid against the firm muscles of his stomach, the tip breaching the bubbles to the cool air of the room. I shivered.
“Yes?” he asked in a husky voice, his finger now toying with my opening.
“Yes,” I breathed. I’d die if, after everything we’d been through, we didn’t have a bubble bath bonedown.
We’d earned this bubble bath bonedown!
I reached past him to the small table next to my tub, which was mostly there for tub-wine purposes, but it was also convenient for other reasons . . . like a little drawer where I stored a bottle of silicone-based lube. I took the bottle and pressed it into his bubble-dripping hands.
“The condoms are in my bedroom,” I said. “But . . . I haven’t been with anyone since you.”
He let out a long breath, ruffling some of the curls that hung over his forehead. “I haven’t been with anyone since you either,” he admitted.
I knew monogamy was a construct and a prison, et cetera et cetera, but God, it felt good to know that Angel had been right there with me. Alone, pining. Hungry but hungry only for a certain person. It made me feel wanted and chosen and together with him, and okay, maybe monogamy was a construct, but sometimes it had its charms. Like right now when no one had to do the wet-foot-shuffle across the tile to go get condoms.
“Then I’m okay going without,” I told him. We had gone bare in Christmas Notch, both of us recently tested, since that was basically as easy as walking into the Uncle Ray-Ray’s offices on nurse day.
“Okay,” whispered Angel. “Only if you feel good about it.”
I brushed wet fingertips along his narrow jaw, up to his temple. Without his glasses on, he looked younger and softer. Less genius and more artist. With those dark, heavy-lidded eyes and lush mouth, he could play a tortured Victorian poet in a biopic or something.
“I feel amazing about it,” I replied. And then his finger brushed against me again and I moaned. “Please.”
“Fuck, I want to be inside you,” he mumbled, pulling his hand out of the water to open the bottle of lube.
Joke was on me, and maybe even him, because he was already inside me. In all the ways that mattered. Since Christmas Notch. Since that fateful day two years ago when I saw him painting the neon pink Uncle Ray-Ray’s logo in the lobby of Teddy’s tiny strip mall office.
Angel paused what he was doing, and then reached over to the table and turned the Mr. Bubble bottle around, so Mr. Bubble was facing the other way.
“He doesn’t need to see this,” Angel said, and then squeezed some lube onto his fingertips.
He reached under the bubbles and smeared the cool liquid against my entrance, getting some more before he started pressing against the rim, teasing me open. He slowly, slowly breached me, sliding his finger into the first knuckle, and then the second as I quivered at the intimate touch.
My breath hitched as he added another finger, and Angel’s eyes searched mine.
“How does it feel?” he asked. “Good? Slower?”
I slid my hands down to press against his chest. “It feels like I want more,” I told him, and he laughed in a low, rough voice.
“I can do more.”
He slid his fingers free and then got more lube. There was something about feeling his hands underneath me, getting his erection nice and slick for me, that made me so hard and squirmy. And when he grabbed my hip again and urged me against the slippery head of his cock, I could barely stand it. My eyes fluttered closed as the wide tip slowly worked the pleated aperture open and gradually, so gradually, pushed past the rings of muscle to slide all the way inside.
I was panting on top of him, and his free hand found my chest, pressing wetly against my heart.
“Still okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine. But have you ever considered not being so big?”
He laughed, and his organ flexed inside me, making my toes curl. “My apologies.”
“Sunny always said it was the lanky ones to watch out for,” I mumbled as I lifted up a little and then pushed my way back down. I felt the invasion between my legs, but in my stomach and chest too, trembling, panting, shivering as I finally seated myself fully on Angel’s rigid inches.
I opened my eyes to see him watching me with rapt wonder, his chest moving fast, goose bumps all over his shoulders. They matched mine.
“Now fuck me,” Angel said, the words husky and bossy and sexy as sin. “I want to feel you moving on me.”
I pushed my hands through the bubbles to splay against his chest as I started riding him. Slow bounces up and down, the water making everything buoyant and easy, and then I moved in deep circles that had us both gasping and groaning. My erection was sliding against his stomach, and I gripped the edges of the tub so I could lean back and take him even deeper.
His eyes were locked on mine, his hands now roaming all over my body, my thighs and my ass and my chest, like he couldn’t get enough of me, like he couldn’t feel enough of me. And I felt the same, all the way warmed up now, taking him to the hilt over and over, riding him right into the sunset, needing him deeper and harder and faster.
“You feel so good,” I said, my words coming out fevered and broken. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I went without this for so long. It feels so fucking good.”
Angel responded by getting more lube and then wrapping his slick hand around my penis. I let out a ragged cry on the first hard pump of my cock, fucking myself even harder in response. He jerked me mercilessly, his cheeks flushed and his jaw tight, and his free hand possessively gripping my hip.
“That’s it, babe,” he rasped. “Show it to me. Show it to me.”
I couldn’t have stopped it if I tried. His cock was too perfect and his hand was too slippery and tight and he was too beautiful, so, so beautiful. With an almost painful contraction, my cock seized in his grip and started painting his chest with stripes of white. We both watched as Angel kept working the cum right out of me, as I pulsed heavy and hard in his hand, and it felt pulled from every corner of me, from the soles of my feet, from my chest, my throat, all of me emptying onto his chest while still spread open by his cock.