Page 33 of His Relentless Angel

“Quiet. Fist. Now.”

Bailey makes a show of doing what I told her, and that makes my dick twitch too.

“Good girl. Now I’m going to eat this pussy, and you’re not going to make a peep.” I carefully set my glasses aside on the black dresser next to a photo of the kids with their grandparents, which I lay face down.

Bailey wiggles her ass with impatience, and I kneel, spreading her pale, plump asscheeks. I bury my face in her pussy from behind, spearing my tongue through her slit. She’s already so wet and ready for me that it doesn’t take more than a few minutes of massaging her clit with the pads of my first two fingers and licking her good and deep before her toes are curling with her orgasm.

I don’t give her a second to draw a deep breath before I jump to my feet and shove the length of my cock inside her, not meaning to bottom out in one go, making the front of my thighs clap against the back of hers.

I kiss the base of her neck and ask hoarsely, “You good, baby? That wasn’t too rough?”

“Don’t stop!” she whisper-yells, then digs her teeth into her fist again.

I bite her neck where I kissed her, blood rushing hot in my veins, knowing she’s ok with me being rough with her tonight. “Won’t ever stop, baby. Going to make love to my woman every day for the rest of my life.” I dig my teeth into her skin deeper, holding onto her as I drive all the way home time and time again, pinching her sensitive clit after forcing my hand between her hips and the firm mattress.

Bailey screams my name into her fist, her pussy clenching each time I withdraw like she’s trying to suck me back in until she’s a bucking, wild mess and cumming around my cock.

“Fuck, your little pussy is so tight, B. Take it,” I whisper-shout right before releasing inside her, my body jerking on top of her small form. She squeezes her thighs together when I pull out, making me groan. “Goddamn, that’s so sexy,” I say with a croak when I kneel behind her once more and grip the back of her silky thighs, still twitching with aftershocks of pleasure.

“Oh my god, what are you doing?”

With my thumbs on her inner thighs, I part them slightly, and she can guess what I’m looking at with her bent over the edge. “Never seen anything prettier than my cum stuffed in your swollen pussy.”

“Oh Jesus, that’s…”

“Fucking hot? Yeah, baby, it is.” I nip the bottom of her right asscheek, then spring to my feet and lift her to place her on her stomach in the middle of the bed. “Stay just like that.” I grab two satiny pink pillows from the head of the bed, yank her hips up so she’s on her knees, and stuff the pillows under her.

“What are you doing now?” she asks, though she stays in position.

I lay beside her opposite the window that looks out at the backyard and set a timer on my phone. “Give it at least five minutes. Thirty would be better, but I’m not sure when the kids get up, and I don’t want you running ragged in the morning if I keep you up any longer.”

“Five minutes for what?”

I rub my hand up and down her back. “James said this is what he and Shayla did when she couldn’t get pregnant as quickly with Clara.”

“Ew, what? Why?”

“Right?” I chuckle. She makes an I’m waiting expression. “Didn’t want to hear it at the time, but now I’m glad he told me. It’s useful information.”

“Oh my god, Isaiah, answer my question already.”

I pat her bottom and grin. “Gravity, baby. This position keeps my cum from leaking out just yet so it can do its job.” Her jaw drops. “Sexy, right?”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Isaiah? I thought I was supposed to be the crazy one with all my schemes.” By her tone of voice, I know she means it as a joke, but my smile and the high from my orgasm dull. In the sex-induced fog we’ve been in for the best three weeks of my life, I’ve apologized countless times for the way I’ve hurt her in different ways, but there are still some hurts we haven’t talked about yet, and this is one of them.

I scoot closer and tuck the short strands of her hair framing her reddened face behind her ear. “You aren’t crazy.”

She looks away from the intensity of our eye contact. “Since when? Because everyone always treats me like I am. Crazy, overly dramatic Bailey and her inappropriate obsession with the man who hates—”

“Stop, baby, please. Not once did I ever hate you. Not even for one second.”

“Sure didn’t seem that way in your letter,” she says quietly, remembering the worst day of both our lives. The five-minute timer on my phone goes off, and I tug the pillows out from under her, then curl her into my chest.

“Please understand…when I wrote that letter, it was the angriest I’d ever been.”

“Wow. Thanks. That makes me feel so much better,” she says sarcastically, which is a ploy to hide her pain.

I growl and pinch her butt. I love getting to freely touch her wherever I want, so I do it again. “Hush, and let me finish what I was saying.”

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