Page 168 of Till The Sun Dies (Checkmate 2)

I smile. “He’s so funny.”

“He’s an asshole.”

I reach back, wind my arms around his neck, and pull him in until his grumbles turn to a pleasant buzz of his lips along my throat. “It all worked out. It always works out in the end.” I arch my neck when his tongue slides up to my ear. The sunrise is beautiful, but I can hardly keep my eyes open as his hands explore beneath my sheet.

Last night was full of gentle hands and uncertainties. Ang was terrified, I was terrified, we were both nervous and unbelievably unsure. But today, his hands move with confidence. He slides his palm over my right thigh until I drop them open with a sigh and let him in.

I worried. I wondered. I mulled over the idea that a man touching me – even Ang – might upset me. That I might freak out and run away.

But I didn’t.

His hands are nothing like any that’ve touched me in the past. They wanted to control and hurt. He wants to pleasure. That’s all there is to it; he wants to make me feel good.

His fingers slide along my sensitized flesh and rob me of breath. A double assault, one single finger slides inside my body in the same moment his teeth pull my earlobe between his lips.

“Ahhhh. Ang.”

“Mmm.” Slowly, he slides in and out of my wet heat while his tongue works magic on my ear. My brain can’t figure out which pleasure to focus on. “You’re so beautiful. Laine. So stubborn and beautiful.” His thumb slides over my clit until I buck in his lap. Anticipating my move, his spare hand anchors my hip against the solid length beneath my ass. “You feel so good. So perfect and tight.”

I arch back and melt into his chest. Part of me wants to tense up, to rush my orgasm to the surface, but the other part, a more dominant side, allows me to melt into a mass of laziness, allowing him to play me as skillfully as he plays his instruments.

“So beautiful.” He adds a second finger. “So wet.” He bites my ear and adds a third finger until I hiss at the stretch. “So tasty.”

My chest rises and falls. His spare hand leaves my hip and slides along my ribs until he cups my breast. Gently, so very gently, he plays with my nipple until my nerve-endings overload and I can do nothing but sit andfeel.

“Oh my God,” I pant. “Oh… Ang. That feels so good.”

“Good.” His tongue works my ear. His fingers work my nipple. His thumb works my clit.

I’m a bundle of nerves until he strikes the match minutes after he started and I explode in his lap. Jolting limbs, clenching hands, quiet cries into the early morning light.

Before I come down from my high, before my orgasm dies down, I push his hands away and spin in his lap. Straddling his naked hips, I stare into his eyes and slide over his dick in one smooth move.

When a girl declares herself a born-again virgin, the first few times sting just like they did the first time she lost her virginity. Even if I had years of unspeakable things done to my body, when you take an extended period away from men, things tighten up until it’s like starting all over again.

The tip of Ang’s dick taps my womb and drags a cry up my throat. Pleasure and pain. It hurts, but I lift onto my knees and drop back down, because the pleasure is so worth it.

There’s no way I’m stopping.

“Laine.” Face to face, he cups my jaw and pulls me closer so our chests slide together and our tongues duel. His hands slide up my thighs to clasp my hips, lifting me up and slamming me down, I cry out from the pleasure.

“So perfect,” he breathes.

I can’t keep my eyes open. The pleasure is too potent, too much, so I scrunch them closed and allow his strong arms to lift my weight.

With his cock still nestled deep inside my body, he stands from the balcony chair and moves toward the doorway, leaving the sheet to flutter to the ground.

I trust his strength. I trust him unconditionally, so I continue to play with his tongue while he takes me to the fancy piano inside and lays me out over the cold surface.

* * *

“Areyou almost ready to go home?”

Ang moves around the room in nothing more than boardshorts and messy hair. I haven’t moved in an hour. I starfish the king-sized bed with nothing more than a sheet barely covering a foot of flesh.

Kneeling on the bed between my legs, he takes my hip in his large hand and rolls me half over so he can nibble on my thigh. “It’s almost time to pack up and go home again.”

“I dunno.” I purr as his tongue slides along my hip. “Vacation has been fun, and it took youwaytoo long to pull your pants down. I feel cheated.”

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