Angel Avenue by Sarah Michelle Lynch

Author:Sarah Michelle Lynch [Lynch, Sarah Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sarah Michelle Lynch
Published: 2013-12-17T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jules

When I open my eyes, I remember who I am, where I am and whom I am with. I just checked out for about an hour or so there while we were wrapped up in one another, eking out our lovemaking session.

His lips swipe across my chest and I moan, feeling him twitching inside me still, my muscles still gently throbbing around him. My arms are wrapped around his head, bundles of his hair in my grasp. His arms are locked around the back of me, his hands stroking my shoulders. We’re both still panting like hell. We just tried a few more positions and ended up finishing in this one, the Lotus. My legs are wrapped around his back, locked at the ankles. I don’t ever want to let him go.

“Uh, fuck, Jules. You’re going to kill me.” He continues holding me tight, licking my breasts. I throw my head back and groan. He just gave me multiple orgasms. I don’t know how this happened but I’ve fallen in love with a man who sees me in a way nobody else ever has.

“You don’t swear. Or fuck. What have I done to you?” I laugh a dirty laugh and he takes my buttocks in his hands, gently pulling me off him. I whine and complain but sense he needs relief from my grip.

We lie back and when he’s caught his breath, I feel him kissing my arms. I throw my hands above my head and lazily enjoy his worship of me, a perpetual smile on my face.

“Bloody hell, this body, it’s the fault of this body,” he groans, kissing me wildly, up and down my arms and across my shoulders, my throat, my hands, my stomach. A little peck to my breast makes me flinch and gasp, my nerves hypersensitive. He strokes my legs, my hips, kisses all the way down to my toes – and I let him. He’s already done this a thousand times in the space of just an hour but he can kiss me as much as he likes, I’m in love with his kiss. I’m floating on a cloud, bathing in his love.

He comes back up in the direction of my head and fists my hair in his hands, breathing it in, wrapping it around his hands and arms, tugging me closer. He pulls me on my side and into his embrace, my hair a web cocooning us as he wraps himself all around me.

Into his neck, I say, “How old is your son?”

“Ten, eleven next year.”

“You married young?”

“Hmm. We were both twenty-two. We were going to wait a few years before trying for a baby, but Joe was unexpected. She got pregnant only a year after we wed.”

I have my preconceptions about his first marriage, like he was too young, etcetera, etcetera, but he’ll elaborate one of these days I’m sure. I don’t know the half of it but I wonder if there was more to it than the undercover work he did.

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