Christmas Angel
Opal Carew writing as
Amber Carew
Given one chance to break the curse which has held Angelique in its grip for two hundred years, she is faced with a heart-rending decision. Can she sacrifice the happiness of the man she loves for her own freedom?
Nick Berringer’s life is turned upside down when a very sexy angel stumbles into his life—and his bed—to make this the most memorable Christmas of his life.
Angelique has been alone for one hundred and fifty years. The closest to heaven she has ever been is in Nick’s arms. How can she sacrifice Nick’s happiness—and his life—for her own freedom?
Praise for Christmas Angel
5 Hearts!
"
CHRISTMAS ANGEL is an enchanting story that springs with incredible
emotions. Carew takes two likeable characters and weaves a delicious
tale with believability, tender love and affection that laces with
electric sparks. She pens a most remarkable read that will make you
cry, laugh and applaud with elation while making your heart leap. I
love every story that she fashions."
Linda L, The Romance
Studio
4 Blue
Ribbons!
"This book is full of emotions… it enthralled
me with the passion. All in all, CHRISTMAS ANGEL was a most wonderful
story. It makes you believe in miracles, laugh, cry and then shout
for joy. Since this is the first book I have read from Carew, I look
forward to reading more of her books."
Natasha Smith,
Romance Junkies
Four
Angels!
"…interesting plot twist on a Christmas story…
heart wrenching… a powerful addition to the romance holiday genre
and one sure to please the most avid of readers and romance
enthusiasts."
Anita, Fallen Angel Reviews
"Carew's
CHRISTMAS ANGEL is a sweet, yet scorching story of the consequences
of love."
Trang, eCataRomance
Christmas Angel
Published by Opal Carew at Smashwords
Copyright © 2011 by Opal Carew
Previously
published in 2005 under the same title,
but with a different cover
and using author name Opal Carew
Discover more books by Amber Carew at her website
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First Amber Carew edition: November 2011
Christmas Angel
Amber Carew
Dedication
To my family
Prologue
"Angelique. I want to help you."
The words startled Angelique.
She stared into the darkness, trying to breach the fog surrounding her memories. Her body felt cold and stiff. With alarm, she realized she couldn’t move her arms or legs.
Green branches spread out below her. Panic welled up inside her as she began to remember things. Tremors started inside her.
She glanced at the large picture window, the blinds drawn wide, the lit tree reflected in the glass. There, on top, sat a blond glittering angel dressed in white. An angel who could neither move, nor smile. No one knew the pain that angel felt. The suffering she’d endured over two centuries.
Tears prickled Angelique’s eyes. Tears she could not shed. Because that angel was her.
"Who are you?" Angelique asked the voice.
A wispy, shapeless form floated toward her.
"I am an angel."
Angel? The thought sent shudders through Angelique. It was one thing to know—by personal experience—that the supernatural existed. It was quite another to come face to face with it.
"Do you remember Bertrand?" a voice asked her.
Memories lurched through her mind like stones in a landslide, one over another, violent in their momentum.
Long ago, she had been in love with a man named Bertrand. She remembered the loving look in his eye and the gentle touch of his hand on hers when he had proposed to her. She had accepted joyously and melted into his arms.
When Bertrand had slipped the ring on Angelique’s finger, panic had gripped her. A strong sense of foreboding filled her, and she felt cold, as if the life were being sucked out of her. Instinctively, she’d known that it would steal her happiness and destroy her life. Before it reached her knuckle, she had jerked away, shaking her head.
"I was with you then," the angel said. "I warned you."
The wispy shape moved closer, then hovered in front of her.
"You see, the Berringer men are cursed. An engagement ring carries the curse from generation to generation. Every time a Berringer male finds the woman he was meant to love and slips the ring on her finger, his love flickers out and dies. Like a candle snuffed out by the wind. I did not want that sad existence for you, Angelique. Unfortunately, I didn’t know the horrible fate that would be thrust upon you when you refused the ring."
Angelique remembered all too clearly what happened after she rejected the ring. She had been slammed in the gut by a powerful force, crushing the air from her lungs. She had felt herself shrink. Her whole body had turned rigid until she could not move at all. She could not draw in a breath. Panic had overwhelmed her as she’d tried to breath, knowing if she didn’t she would suffocate.
But she didn’t suffocate. Mercilessly, the despicable magic of the ring had stolen her life without letting her die. She had been transformed into a tree-top angel, cursed to sit atop a Christmas tree every Christmas season, with a lifeless body, but all the emotions and consciousness of a real person.
"As soon as you became a tree-top angel, the ring erased you from Bertrand’s memory, thus protecting him from the rejection of love. You became a family heirloom, passed through the generations."
Angelique glanced around the masculine apartment laid out below her, filled with the sparkle of Christmas. The style was eclectic, accommodating contemporary pieces alongside antiques she recognized from generations of Berringer homes. Many she hadn’t seen since the divorce of George Berringer and his wife, Elise. They’d had two boys. Peter, a toddler at the time, had gone with his mother. So had Angelique.
After his mother’s death two years ago, Peter had made plans to move to Australia. She recognized the grandfather clock in the corner and a few other items from Peter’s small country cottage. He must have passed her on to his brother in Canada.
Nick. That was the other boy’s name. He’d be a man now, but she remembered the wide-eyed, curious boy who used to read books by the fire and would laugh and play games with his younger brother, Peter. He’d had such patience with his younger sibling. His adoration for his brother had been very clear. Angelique had been saddened to see them parted.
"Why are you helping me now?" Angelique asked.
"Because not the time is right," the angel answered vaguely.
Hope swelled in Angelique’s heart.
"Will you break this dreadful curse and turn me back to human form?"
"It’s not quite that simple."
Angelique sighed. Of course not.
"The curse can’t simply be broken, but it can be shifted. I will return you to human form—temporarily—to accomplish this."
Elation glittered through her. The thought of being human once again pulsed through her! The angel’s words, however, troubled her.
"Shifted? You mean, another person would take my place as an angel?"
"If the eldest Berringer male takes your place," the angel explained, "the ring, and its magic, will go with him, never to harm another soul. There are only two Berringers left, but if the ring—and its curse—are gone, the family will heal and grow again. Isn’t one man’s fate worth the future of an entire family?"
A queasy feeling stirred in her belly at the thought of condemning anyone to the fate she’d suffered so long, but the angel’s logic was persuasive. For centuries, she’d seen the pain in the eyes of the Berringer men and their wives. If she could stop that pain, she had to do it.
"What must I do?"
"When you refused the ring two hundred years ago, the curse entrapped you. To reverse the curse now, you must accept the ring from Nicholas Berringer."
"Why would Nicholas Berringer offer me the ring? He doesn’t even know me."
"You must make him fall in love with you. When he proposes and slips the ring on your finger, he will turn into a Christmas angel. You have until midnight on Christmas day."
"Two days! How will I make him fall in love with me in only two days?"
Silence hung between them like a thick layer of fog.
"Remember, Angelique. If you fail, you will return to your current form and this generation of the Berringer family will be the last."
Angelique’s brain seemed to flood with fog and the last words she heard the angel say were, "Brace yourself. It’ll take some time to adapt to being human again."
Extreme disorientation gripped her and her mind blanked.
Chapter 1
A loud clatter jolted Nicholas Berringer from a sound sleep. He sat up and shoved his fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his face, waiting for any other sound to give him a clue as to what had awakened him. A clunk, definitely from the next room, sent Nick scrambling to his feet. He rushed to the bedroom door and cautiously pushed it open. He fully expected to come face-to-face with an armed burglar.
To his total surprise, he stood gazing at an angel.
He blinked, then shook his head.
The beautiful woman standing in the middle of his living room wore a white gown that glittered in the moonlight, with soft waves of pale blond hair floating to her hips, and wings of downy white feathers that looked so real he could almost swear they were a part of her.
"Who are you?" His voice came out in a whispered tone, full of awe.
What was wrong with him? Bowled over by some woman dressed in an angel costume who had broken into his home!
He drew up his shoulders and demanded, "What are you doing here?"
Her large, luminescent eyes blinked a couple of times.
"I … do not know," she said in a lilting French accent.
Her words, like a half-forgotten melody from his childhood, washed over him in gentle waves. That voice stirred something deep inside him.
Damn. He had to shake himself out of it! She might look like an angel, but Nicholas didn’t believe in angels. In fact, he didn’t believe in much of anything, especially when it came to women.
"What do you mean, you don’t know? Do you always walk into other people’s apartments in the middle of the night?"
Her fingertips grazed the velvet, paisley cushion on the arm of his burgundy leather sofa as she glanced around in bewilderment, then her fingers clutched the back of the couch as if needing the support to keep standing.
"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude."
He stepped forward to stand beside the loveseat across from her. As he passed his brother’s gleaming mahogany grandfather clock, he noticed the time. Two in the morning!
Her eyes widened and she stepped backward and bumped into the tree, which started to topple sideways. Nicholas leaped forward and grabbed it just before it knocked over the stained glass lamp on the occasional table. He set the tree back in place.
She seemed a little inept to be a thief.
Maybe she’d been drinking? She may have gone to a Christmas party—some costume affair from the look of her outfit—and overdone it.
He retrieved two glittering glass ball ornaments, which had rolled across the taupe carpet and bumped against the raised hearth of the fireplace, then re-hung them on the tree branches.
Maybe she’d gotten confused and mistaken his door for hers. But how had she unlocked it?
He surveyed her face—heart shaped, with a pert little nose and full, inviting lips—and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Wide and bewildered.
"Do you live in the building?"
"No, I do not think so."
She stepped forward and stumbled on the hem of her skirt. He reached out and caught her elbow so she wouldn’t fall and she leaned against him for support. The warm softness of her body against his sent his hormones into an uproar. His blood shot straight to his groin and his cock started to swell.
He eased her to her feet and released her immediately, concentrating on reigning in the tumultuous effect she had on him.
Her lips turned up in a delicate smile.
"Merci."
Despite the powerful sexual effect she had on him, she seemed quite fragile. An intense feeling of protectiveness he’d never known he possessed surged through him. Her effect on him certainly was unusual.
He guided her to the sofa. "Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you a drink?"
She lowered herself onto the couch and he fetched a glass of orange juice from the kitchen. Brandy might have been better, but he didn’t know what, if anything, she’d been drinking already.
He handed her the glass, then sat down on the chair beside her. They sat quietly for a few moments while she sipped her juice.
"You live here alone?" she asked.
"Yes, that’s right."
She rested her hand on his arm. Warmth seeped into him at her gentle touch.
"I think being alone is not something you like." She glanced at him with luminous, blue eyes and their gazes locked.
He wanted to protest, wanted to deny her words to himself, but he couldn’t. It was true. He wanted a woman in his life. A partner who would give his life meaning, give him a reason for coming home at night, but his fear of being hurt overrode that need.
She stood up and stepped toward his tall, mahogany bookshelf and ran her fingers along the diverse volumes lining the shelf.
"You have interesting books here." Her finger came to rest on one of Stephen Hawking’s. "You want to understand the universe. Solve the problem of life, I think."
She smiled at him and his heart stopped at the beauty of her face. She could be a real angel, sent here to lift him from his lonely life—to help him find meaning in it all.
"You should trust yourself, you know." She tapped her head with a long, slender finger. "The answers are inside you. Just listen to your inner voice."
He felt unnerved. She seemed to see into his soul. She seemed to understand him on a level no one ever had before.
For a moment, he indulged himself in whimsy. What if she was an angel here to grant a Christmas wish? What would he wish for? Peace in the hearts of men? Joy in life? Love everlasting?
But love wasn’t real. And life was what one made of it. Best to go for peace, and the best way to achieve that would be to deal with her quickly so he could have the place to himself again and get back sleep.
Her hand fluttered to her forehead. "Perhaps I could lie down. My head aches."
He gazed down at her pale face. Her hands were shaking and she seemed delicate and fragile. That strange protective urge rushed through him again. Damn, he couldn’t turn her over to the police—he didn’t really believe she’d broken in to rob him—and he couldn’t throw her out in the street.
It looked like he had a houseguest. So much for a peaceful night alone. More proof that wishes really don’t come true, especially where women were concerned.
Though as he became increasingly aware of the soft swell of her breasts under the iridescent white fabric, and the narrowness of her waist, accentuated by a shimmering silver sash, one wish fluttered through his head. A wish she might be willing to grant. A wish his throbbing cock demanded he pursue.
But a wish he wouldn’t state to this vulnerable woman.
"Come on, I’ll take you to the guest room."
* * * *
Once the door closed behind the man, Angelique sank onto the bed. Her body ached with longing for the handsome man who’d taken her into his home.
She took a couple of deep breathes and the pain in her head eased as the disorientation diminished. Memories of the angel and of the curse swam through her mind.
She stared down at her hands, palms up, then turned them over and wiggled her fingers. She was human again. She stood up and stretched, swinging her arms wide, then walked around the room, luxuriating in the feel of her body. Alive. Blood pulsing through her veins. Muscles stretching and contracting as she moved.
And more, a boiling heat inside her. A longing for the feel of Nicholas Berringer touching her, holding her. The strength of her desire shocked her.
She tugged off her clothes and draped them over the back of a cozy, upholstered chair. The feel of slightly cool air caressing her naked flesh felt wonderful. In the mirror across the room, she saw her naked body reflected back to her, her tightened nipples pointing straight out. She reveled in the strong, erotic feel that pulsed through her body. She slipped under the covers, the smooth, cool sheets silky against her skin, and flicked off the bedside lamp. Moonlight drifted in the window, illuminating the room in a soft glow.
Nicholas Berringer was a very handsome man. Despite his stern tone, he seemed to be attracted to her. She was fairly certain she could seduce him into her bed, but was it possible he would fall in love with her? Could she even bring herself to sleep with him, a virtual stranger?
This was no time for shyness. If she had any chance of making him fall in love with her, starting an intimate relationship would be the best springboard. The thought of his strong, warm hands caressing her body sent thrilling sensations rippling through her body.
Chapter 2
The grandfather clock bonged three times as Nicholas approached the guest room, then hesitated outside the door. After the angel had gone to bed, he’d started to wonder if her headache had been the result of hitting her head in a fall. That could have been the sound that had awakened him. It would explain why she couldn’t remember things. He wanted to see if she had a concussion.
He tapped on the door. "May I come in?"
He heard a murmured "yes."
He pushed open the door and stepped into the room, then stopped, mesmerized by the sight of her. Moonlight washed over her white shoulders and the long, blond hair that rippled over the navy duvet shimmered like glistening waves.
His groin tightened.
This had been a mistake. A big mistake. He considered turning around and closing the door behind him.
She blinked and rubbed her eyes. "What is it?"
The hoarseness of sleep in her voice made him acutely aware of the intimacy of the situation. The angel costume hung over the back of the ruby-red armchair in the corner. He didn’t see any undergarments with it, yet no straps marred the soft line of her shoulders. She was naked under the covers.
His penis pulsed to life. Breathing became more difficult.
"I was concerned you might have a concussion. I want to check your eyes to see if the pupils are dilated."
In truth, he wanted to check more than her eyes. He wanted to slowly strip away the dark duvet, revealing her full, round breasts. Would her aureoles be large and dark, or small and rosy? Would her nipples be distended, or soft but slowly rising as he watched them harden with need? He would draw the covers below her stomach, then her hips. Would she shift a little under his wandering gaze, becoming as aroused as him? Pulling the duvet lower, he would slowly reveal the fine, blond curls of her pubic hair, then the mound of her womanhood.
He licked his lips.
If he asked her, would she let him share the intimacy of her body?
"Certainement."
He blinked at her, desire swelling like a tidal wave. He released his pent up breath as he realized she meant he could check her eyes for signs of concussion.
"I am sorry," she continued. "I do not know your name."
She pushed herself up a little in the bed. The duvet shifted downward with her movement, exposing a fraction of an inch more skin. He licked his lips and his cock stiffened. He desperately wanted to touch her skin, to feel its velvet warmth.
Good heavens, what was wrong with him? No woman had ever affected him this strongly before.
"Call me Nick." Thank heavens his words sounded normal, not choked with desire. He drew in a deep breath trying to settle his raging hormones.
"Nick. And I am Angelique. Thank you, Nick, for letting me stay here tonight."
He loved the melodic way she said his name.
He stepped further into the room, toward the angel on the bed. He flicked on the bedside lamp, then knelt beside her. A few tendrils of hair had drifted over her eyes. Hesitantly, he stroked them behind her ear. At the feel of her silky tresses beneath his fingertips, his throat tightened. His cock lengthened—pushing at the confines of his boxers. Thank heavens he wore a robe. He couldn’t believe how much he wanted to drag her into his arms. To tear back the covers and press his body against hers until every part of him touched every part of her.
Except their hearts.
"How are my eyes?" she asked, smiling at him.
He stared deep into the lapis blue depths. "Beautiful."
She shifted her gaze downward, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
"You are so kind, Nick, but I mean are the pupils dilated?"
"Oh, right." He cupped her cheeks and tilted her head back a little. The feel of her soft skin made his penis throb in painful need. "They seem fine."
Better than fine. As they stared into each other’s eyes, he felt incapable of moving, a man chained by desire. He didn’t like it, this control she had over him, but he couldn’t deny it.
He wanted to kiss her. He needed to kiss her.
Angelique gazed up at this man with fascination. Dark, green eyes set among strong, sharply defined features forming a handsome, masculine face. Wavy, tousled hair she’d love to stroke smooth. When his fingers had trailed across her temples, tingles of awareness had danced along with them, sending tendrils of warmth skittering through her. His hands on her cheeks triggered a gentle flush of heat. The coldness that held her in its grip eased a little for the first time in she didn’t know how long.
Maybe she had to seduce him in her journey to breaking the curse, but right now, she sincerely wanted to share intimacy with him. And it seemed little seduction would be necessary.
He leaned toward her and anticipation rippled through her. His lips touched hers with a sweet gentleness that ignited an explosion of feelings within her. Her lips tingled and goose-bumps quivered across her skin. She had been alone for a very long time and she needed the warmth of a human touch. She slid her arms around his neck, wanting to be closer. Wanting the warmth of his body to melt the glacier of loneliness inside her.
His arms encircled her and he drew her closer. His mouth moved on hers and her pulse surged. The incredible sensation of being held by a man felt like heaven. With the tip of her tongue, she outlined his lips, rejoicing in the intimacy. He groaned and dragged her closer. His fingertips brushed lightly against the side of her breast and his tongue thrust between her lips, strong and hard. Her breasts felt heavy and her nipples swelled in arousal. Her vaginal muscles clenched in raw need. She gasped, stiffening in his arms.
Too much. Too fast. The intensity of the feelings that stormed through her threatened to overwhelm her.
Immediately, he loosened his hold and eased away. He stared at her with dark, somber eyes, and a ghost of passion flickered, then disappeared.
"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that," he murmured.
All she could do was nod, her throat locked tight by desire coiled with confusion. It hadn’t been his fault and she should have told him so, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t find her voice. He rose and left the room leaving her feeling empty and alone.
* * * *
Nicholas closed the door, then stood in the dark hallway, fists clenched.
What the hell had he been thinking?
Of course, that was the problem. He hadn’t been thinking. Just reacting.
He had always promised himself no woman would control him in any way.
He had lived with the grief of losing his mother—being abandoned by her—every day of his life, until he’d finally grown up and taken control. He’d pushed aside the pain, vowing he would never allow himself to be hurt like that again.
This woman had been just as caught up in passion as he had, yet she’d left the blame to him, proving that she would watch out for her own needs ahead of his. Just as he expected from a woman.
* * * *
Angelique shivered. The coldness of being alone seemed worse after the warmth of being held. When Nick had held her in his arms, he’d made her feel vibrant and alive, like she hadn’t in a very long time.
Her body pulsed with desire. She wanted him.
She wanted him to hold her and stroke her skin, to bring life to every part of her.
She wrapped the sheet around herself and stood up, tugging the sheet free from the bed, then she slipped from the room, intent on finding him.
Chapter 3
Nick heard the doorknob turn. He glanced at the door in time to see it swing open slowly. Framed in the doorway, silhouetted by the hallway light shining behind her, stood Angelique. Wrapped in a sheet.
His breath caught and his cock leaped to life again. Anger stormed through him. Why the hell had she come here?
"Nick, are you awake?" She spoke softly. He didn’t answer, waiting to see what she would do next.
She stepped further into the room. A stream of moonlight illuminated her, dancing across her creamy-white shoulders. A shapely calf appeared from the dark sheet every time she stepped forward.
Damn, why had she come to tease him like this? He could swoop up and claim her in a devastating kiss, convincing her she needed him as much as he needed her.
But he wouldn’t do that. He tried to ignore the increase in his heart rate, the difficulty in drawing an even breath, the race of blood to his lower body resulting in a growing erection.
"Nick." She spoke a little louder this time. "I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’d like to apologize."
"For what?"
"For sending you away. For allowing you to believe you had done something wrong."
His stomach clenched and he stomped down the slim hope rising within him.
"You wanted me to stop."
"No. The feelings you triggered in me.… They were very intense. I became overwhelmed. I needed a little more time. When you backed away, I couldn’t find my voice."
She took another step forward.
"But I did not want you to stop," she continued.
Her words seared through him.
She dropped the sheet to the ground. Her naked body glistened in the moonlight. His gaze shifted to her breasts, large and round, accentuated by her tiny waist. Her long, shiny hair flowed over her shoulders, drifting around her breasts, the nipples peering out from the golden waterfall of silk. The aureoles were the size of quarters and the nipples fully erect.
His gaze shifted downward, past the gentle slope of her hips and her flat stomach, to the perfect triangle of fine golden curls.
His cock throbbed with need. With an iron will, he held himself still, lying stiffly on the bed, resisting the urge to leap at her like some horny teenager.
She stepped forward. "I definitely did not want you to stop. Your touch makes me feel alive."
She sat on the bed beside him, her delicate curves inches from him. He fought valiantly to maintain the tight grip of control he held on himself not to grab her and fling her onto his bed, then impale her with his cock.
"I want you to touch me," she murmured, hers eyes glittering in the moonlight.
She stroked the hair from his eyes and stared down at him. The delicate touch of her fingertips felt like heaven. Her wide, luminous eyes seemed to plead with him. Not to reject her. Not to hurt her.
She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, a delicate, whisper of a kiss. He touched her cheek then trailed his hand down her neck, then across her shoulder. The silky feel of her skin sent his senses reeling. He cupped her cheeks and took her lips with his in a long, tantalizing kiss. Her arms slid around him and her soft breath against his cheek quickened.
Oh, God, he wanted her. But could he cope with these intense feelings? As his penis lengthened, he wondered, did he have a choice?
Need overwhelmed common sense and he dragged her against his body, feeling her breasts crush against his chest, only the thin veil of his silk pajamas between them. She reached for the buttons on his top and released the first one. He grabbed the sides and ripped it open, then tossed the garment aside. She smiled and he embraced her again, drawing her delightful breasts against his skin, her nipples hard and taut.
He eased back onto the bed with her lying on top of him. She kissed his collarbone, following the curve to the base of his neck. Her tongue lapped delicately at the hollow in front, then she nibbled up to his ear lobe. She nipped then blew softly in his ear. He stroked his fingers through her silky blond hair, holding himself calm at the riot of sensations she triggered in him. She slid downward again, this time capturing his right nipple in her mouth.
He moaned as painful pleasure spiked through him.
She tugged and sucked, then swirled her tongue around it. She released it, leaving it cold and hard, while she worked on the other nipple. She smiled at him, her hands running along the planes of his chest, her sweet touch awakening exhilarating sensations throughout his body.
He rolled over, taking her with him. As he gazed down at her, smiling up at him, he longed to taste her breasts, to sample her honey-sweet femininity.
"Angelique, are you sure?"
She stroked his cheek and nodded. Her smile belied a deep, intensity. He could feel it. He could see it in the darkness of her eyes.
"Absolutement. I am sure." She nipped his earlobe and whispered in his ear, "I want you." Her soft breath quivered through him.
He kissed her, sliding his tongue into the warm recesses of her mouth. Her tongue tangled with his and they swirled and churned together. Their mouths parted and he stared at her for a moment, taking in the ethereal beauty of this blonde angel, then he kissed her neck, right at the base, gratified by her soft moan.
"Angelique, you are so beautiful."
He captured her breasts in his hands, loving the feel of her soft mounds and the taut nipples pushing into his palms. He licked one pink nub, then drew it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it as she had done to him.
Her raspy breaths delighted him. He dabbed the tip of her nipple with his tongue then drew her in deeper and harder.
"Oh, yes," she moaned.
Her hand stroked down his belly to his erection, running along the length of it, his pajama bottoms a barrier between her skin and his. She shifted to her knees and grasped the sides of his waistband, then tugged his pants downward. His penis popped free and her eyes glazed a little as she stared at it. The tip of her tongue traced her lips. His breath dragged like silk over sandpaper as he shimmied the rest of the way out of the pants, then kicked them to the floor.
Her fingertips brush against the head of his penis and it twitched as intense pleasure shot through him. She stroked downward, then back to the head, circling around, sending his heart-rate racing.
Angelique had never seen such an enormous erection before. She loved the feel of his full, rigid penis in her hands, but more, she wanted it inside her. She ached for him. Her vaginal muscles contracted around the emptiness, longing to hold him inside her.
She lifted one leg over his hips and sat on his thighs, the curly, slightly prickly hair of his legs stimulating her damp, hot flesh. His hands cupped her breasts and she undulated into grasp, her nipples swollen and aching in pleasure. She wrapped one hand around his enormous penis and stroked the length of him.
"Nick, I want you inside me."
She drew his hand to her mouth and drew one finger inside, gently sucking on it. She nibbled the end then released it, all the while stroking his rigid cock.
"Oh, God, I want to be inside you."
She led his hand down her body, over her belly, to the soft curls below her navel, then guided the damp finger to the dampness between her legs.
He groaned softly at the feel of her need.
"I need you now," she murmured.
He stroked her cheek and drew her down for a kiss, her soft lips and breathy response to him boiling his blood. He rolled them both sideways, then shifted over her. She placed the bulbous end of his penis in the slick cradle of her womanhood. All he had to do was shift forward to impale her with delight.
"I’m going to make love to you now, Angelique." He kissed her neck. "Long and slow."
She readied herself for his first thrust.
"No, do it quickly, Nick."
She didn’t want him to stop because of her innocence. "I am so ready for you. I want you now."
He smiled at her. "You certainly are enthusiastic."
He edged forward, then hesitated. "You feel so tight."
She drew his face to hers and kissed him, plunging her tongue deep into his mouth.
"Nick, now."
He thrust, and she suppressed a cry. The pain flashed briefly, then eased as he held still, allowing her to grow accustomed to being stretched. He held his weight above her, his intense gaze locked on hers.
"Angelique, why didn’t you tell me?"
"If I had told you, I don’t think you would have continued."