The Angel Wore Fangs(61)

She felt his laughter all the way down to his half-limp penis, which was still inside her. Which proved to be convenient.





Chapter 15


Piña coladas and peppermint sticks . . .

Cnut wasn’t about to ignore an invitation like that.

He flipped over so that he was on his back and Andrea was on top, straddling him. And the best part was, he was still inside, even if only half ready for action.

She thought to shock him by saying she’d just experienced the best sex of her life, but he had news for her. It was the best sex he’d ever had, too, and he had a whole lot more years under his belt, so to speak.

She blinked at him. “I didn’t mean right now.”

“Oh. Well, then, you can rest for a while.” He reached to lift her off, disappointed but not crushed that he would have to wait.

But she slapped his hands away. “I can relax where I am.”

He doubted that very much, but he wasn’t about to argue. He was no fool, leastways not all the time. Her eagerness excited him. A lot.

“Fine,” he agreed. “Just relax and let me . . . let me make it good for you.” He stroked his fingertips over her collarbones, along the smooth skin of her shoulders, then down to the curve of her elbow and over her forearm. He was fascinated by the fine hairs he was able to raise by just that soft caress. Was she tingling? He certainly was, just watching her reaction.

“Good? Good?” She stared at him with disbelief. “Any better than the first time and I might need shock therapy to revive me.”

Modern women had such a way with words. Rather jarring at first, but pleasing nonetheless. “I’m sure I can come up with something shocking.”

“As long as it’s not perverted.”

Jarring is too small a word. “Define perversion. There are good perversions and not so good perversions.” In fact, I recall—

“Hah!”

He was admiring her thighs and her buttocks, which rested on his own thighs . . . admiring with the palms of his hands, that was. That’s probably why she was nigh speechless for the moment—Thank you, God!—waiting for what he would do next. He wasn’t sure himself.

“You know a lot about perversions, do you?” What next? Her belly button, which was inverted in an adorable fashion, or her equally adorable breasts? he mused. Instead, he just made a quick pass over her blonde curls.

Her breath hitched, and she jolted, but still she was able to reply, “Plenty. Let’s just say Pete the Perv and leave it at that.”

So much for her speechlessness! He folded his hands behind his neck to prevent any further distractions, by himself. “Now you have me intrigued.”

“Golden Showers.”

“Huh?” Surely, she doesn’t mean . . .

“Didn’t you ever watch Sex and the City?”

“Um.”

“Carrie’s partner wanted her to pee on him during sex.”

He’d thought she was going to liken him to Mr. Big, but he hadn’t been expecting anything like a reference to urine. In fact, her reference had nothing to do with him, precisely. His eyes went wide and he burst out laughing.

“Do that again.”

“Do what again?”

“Laugh so your penis moves inside me.”

“Ah, Andrea, you are a delight.”

She smiled. “I don’t think I ever delighted anyone before.”

“I promise I won’t ask you to relieve yourself on me. There are too many other things I want to do to you, and you to me.” He thought of something then and chuckled.

“What?”

“Thorkel claims there is great pleasure in making a woman fart during sex play. A clear indication that the man has made the woman lose control.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Okay. No Golden Showers and no farting.”

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation, especially in the midst of you . . .” She motioned toward the place where their bodies were joined.

With his hands still folded under his head, he flexed himself to show he understood.

She gasped. “You’re good.”

“I know.” Then, like a master puppeteer, he began to pull Andrea’s strings. He took her hands and showed her where he liked to be touched.

Everywhere.

She, on the other hand, had a preference for breasts and the backs of her knees.

No problem. Then he placed his hands on her hips and showed her how to rock for the best effect on both of them. Forward, backward, fast, slow. They all worked for him.

She seemed to prefer slow and long rocking.

When her hips began to roll wildly, he put his hands on her butt cheeks to guide her in a more even rhythm. Her slickness, a combination of both their fluids, wept around him like hot honey, easing the friction of his massive erection.