Kate Hoffmann - The Sexy Devil

“I’m counting on that,” Angela said.

He bent his elbows, his mouth hovering over hers. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Angela murmured.

He kissed her, his lips soft against hers, his tongue tracing the shape of her lower lip. As she lost herself in the tantalizing taste of his mouth, he reached down and pulled her leg up beside his hip. Angela knew that with just one shift of her body, he could be inside of her. But she was willing to wait, allowing Max to choose the moment.

As his mouth drifted over her body, Angela closed her eyes and enjoyed the fresh rush of need that pulsed through her veins. Though the after-effects of her orgasm still controlled her responses, she felt a new desire begin to grow inside her.

Again and again, he brought her close, with his fingers, with his tongue, until she was whispering his name, pleading for relief. When she tried to finish it herself, he gently drew her hand away and then began again.

When she finally couldn’t take any more, he sensed her need. Before she could open her eyes, he had retrieved a condom from the bedside table and sheathed himself. She waited, arching against him as he settled between her legs. And then he was there, softly, slowly entering her, inch by delicious inch.

Angela held her breath, the pleasure so intense every nerve in her body was on fire. Max began to move, drawing away and then driving into her in a languid rhythm that betrayed his own desire.

She looked up at him and he smiled sleepily, his eyes drifting shut with each thrust. Her pleasure only intensified and she was surprised at how quickly he brought her back to the edge again.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she urged him on, deeper and faster, bringing her closer and closer. And then, to Angela’s astonishment, another orgasm wracked her body. But this time, he was with her, tensing, then shuddering as he thrust deep and hard.

When it was over, Max kissed her softly, nuzzling his nose against hers. It had been everything she’d dreamed it might be and so much more. Maybe Ceci was right, Angela mused. Maybe this was some kind of karma. They seemed to fit together so perfectly, as if they’d been made for each other.

He lay down beside her, his hand clutching hers, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “I’m really, really hungry.” His stomach growled and he pulled her hand up and kissed it. “Sorry. There are just certain parts of my body I can’t control.”

Angela turned over and patted his belly. “We can order pizza now.”

“Pizza will take too long. I want something sweet,” he said. “Not that your body wasn’t delicious, but I need carbs right now if we’re going to do this again.”

“Are we going to do this again?” Angela asked.

“Damn right we are,” he said, sitting up. “Do you think we could send out for ice cream? Does Dairy Queen deliver?”

“No,” Angela said. “But I have another idea. Go get my bag. I think I left it next to the door.”

He crawled out of bed and Angela watched as he walked out of the room, admiring his wide shoulders and tight backside. He really did have an incredible body, so perfect. Except for the surgical scar on his shoulder, he could pass for one of those Greek statues. She wondered how many other women had admired his butt from the seats of various baseball stadiums.

When he returned, Max set the bag on the bed.

“Please, tell me you have a candy bar in there.”

“Nope. Do you have milk? We need milk.”

He left again and Angela pulled out the desserts she’d pilfered from the stadium. Spreading the napkins on the bed, she rearranged the miniature cream puffs and éclairs and frosted brownies on the napkin, then waited for him to return.

When he did, he stopped at the door of the bed room, staring at the feast laid out on his bed. “I’ve never understood the mysteries that lie at the bottom of a woman’s bag, but I won’t question this one.”

Angela patted the spot beside her. “Sit.”

He handed her the half-gallon of milk and she set it down beside her bag. “Is there a fully-equipped pastry kitchen in your purse?”

“No, I took these from the table at the ball game.

They were just going to go to waste and they were so good.”

He tipped his head back and laughed. “I swear the surprises never end with you, Angela. And just when I think I have you figured out.”

“What’s surprising? That I’d steal goodies for future consumption? I’m a very practical girl, Max.

You should know that by now.”

“That you’d admit it with such unabashed glee.

Besides it’s not stealing when it belonged to you in the first place. It’s relocating. Or even liberating. You liberated those éclairs.”

She picked one up and held it out to him. “Taste.”

Max bit into it and then moaned softly. “These are good.”

“Better than sex?”

Max pretended to consider his answer, furrowing his brow. “Better than bad sex. Doesn’t touch what we have, though. That would take a double chocolate cheesecake with raspberry sauce and whipped cream.”

Angela pretended she was insulted, then playfully pushed an éclair into his nose, leaving custard dripping onto his chin. But before he could return the favor, she leaned forward and caught the dripping custard with her tongue. Slowly, she licked the rest of the mess off his face.

“Do that again,” he murmured.

Angela straddled his crossed legs, facing him, the éclair in her hand. She touched the chocolate to his nose, then licked it off. Dotting custard and chocolate on different parts of his body, his shoulder, his chest, his biceps, she used it to explore the perfection of his form.

When she was through, she took a huge bite of the éclair and handed it to him. “Yum,” she said with a wicked grin.

“Now I’m all sticky,” he said.

“We could go back up to the roof for a swim.”

“That sounds like a plan,” he said. “Or we could just take a shower.”

She lay down next to him and groaned. “I love éclairs but I don’t think they love me.” Angela rubbed her belly. “Let’s stay here a bit longer. I’m not sure my legs are fully functional yet.”

He grabbed the milk and took a long drink, then set it aside. “I could get used to this,” he said.

“Eating éclairs in bed?”

“No, having you in my bed. Naked and happy. I like it.”

Angela smiled to herself. She’d expected to feel a tiny bit of guilt over what they’d done, a sliver of doubt over her choice. But there was nothing about what happened between them she could regret.

“I guess our second date went pretty well,” he said, staring up at the ceiling again. “Swimming, sex and dessert. My batting average is quickly rising.”

She reached out and smoothed her hand over his belly, coming to rest at his groin. “You’ve got a few more innings left to play, Max,” she said.

MAX ROLLED OVER IN BED, opening one eye to the morning light. A sharp pain in his shoulder caused him to curse and he rolled back again, working out the twinge. Though the surgery had been nearly four months ago, he still had pain. Either the swimming or the sex had been too much for him and considering how much time he spent at both last night, Max was sure it wasn’t the swimming.

When the ache had subsided, he sat up and found the other side of the bed empty. “Angela?” he called. His voice echoed through the silent apartment. Then he noticed the note on her pillow. Max snatched it up. “I have to work sometime. Date number two tonight. Better make it good.”

He chuckled, then flopped back down onto his pillow. Smiling seemed to be the only thing he could manage. His body was exhausted, his desire completely sated and he felt completely transformed. He reached for the phone beside the bed, ready to call her, merely to hear her voice. Then he realized he didn’t know her number by memory yet.