“I wasn’t going to fuck you when you were a virgin,” he says. “I’m too big for that. But now that you aren’t… What’s the holdup? You’ve already done it.”
“I know, but…”
“Haven’t I made you feel good?”
“Yes, but—”
“I always will,” he promises, his eyes going serious. “I’ll take care of you, Mercy. You can trust me. I’m not just out to get off. I’m here for you. To make you cum. It’ll feel so good. I promise.”
He kisses me before I can answer, his lips coaxing and gentle and warm. And I do trust him. I do feel good. I feel safe in his arms, in the dim light of the candle he lit and set next to the bed, in the warmth of his embrace that always comforted me, even when we were kids watching scary movies when our parents weren’t around or hiding from the priests who chased us out of the graveyard. Angel’s tongue dips into my mouth, a tease,before he draws it out. I open for him, craving more, and he gives it.
He works his hand between us, undoing the button on his jeans and pulling them down. I gasp in shock when I feel his hot, bare, hairy groin against my bare sex. I expected him to be wearing underwear, but we’re suddenly skin to skin.
He grinds, slow and sensuous, against my center. My breath picks up speed, and he tugs my hand over my head, linking his fingers with mine. His other hand grips my thigh, tugging it aside. The hard, hot ridge of his erection crushes against my tender flesh, still bruised and sore and torn, but throbbing with pleasure. I feel a strange hardness, too, foreign and unyielding. He moans into my mouth, and I feel his body shudder against mine when my wetness blooms over his length, coating him.
“Just let me put it in one time,” he says, his voice rough with desire and need.
“It’s too big,” I answer as he notches it against my entrance.
“Just let me put it in once,” he says. “I promise I won’t fuck you. I just want to feel how you fit around me. Come on, baby. I’m in pain too. I’ve had blue balls since the day you showed up on campus.”
He takes my other hand and pulls it down, wrapping it around himself. I suck in a breath. He’s even bigger than I thought, too big to close my hand around, and there are hot beads of metal along his length. His skin is smooth as silk, and I run my thumb over the tip, finding it wet. Angel lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a hiccup and a moan.
“Please,” he says, begging as shamelessly as I do whenever they push me to the edge and I need to reach the end. It makes me feel better to know I’m not the only one who does that, that I can make him that needy too.
“It won’t fit,” I say, biting my lip and looking up at him.
“Just try,” he says, resting his forehead against mine, his breath hot on my lips. “Watch.”
“Watch what?”
“Watch me put it in,” he says.
“I don’t know…”
“Have you ever looked at your pussy?” he asks, drawing back and smirking while his fingers graze up the bottom of my thigh. He slides his hand around my hip, cupping my bottom.
“No,” I admit, scowling at him.
He slides his fingers down my crack, tapping my back entrance and chuckling when it contracts.
“What about this sweet little hole?” he asks.
“No,” I protest, my cheeks heating.
“Not even in a mirror?”
“No.”
“Then you definitely need to watch this,” he says, kneeling up.
His cock stands straight up against his belly, almost a foot long and ribbed with thick veins, dark and foreboding against the backdrop of his tattooed skin. Eight pairs of silver studs line the underside, shiny against his velvet skin. The crown is impossibly thick, as big as my fist at the base, sleek and red, a dark ring of skin pulled down just below it.
My core clenches at the sight, but Angel just grips my hips and lifts me onto his thighs. His length presses against my belly, trapped between us, and my throat goes dry when I feel it throb.
“How do I get on it?” I ask, my voice faint.
He chuckles and lifts me up, tilting me back a little at the same time.
