Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
“No. But neither have you.” Her scowl was a dark mirror of his. “You need a haircut, you’ve lost enough weight to start getting hollows in your cheeks, and I know from the time your messages came in that you haven’t been sleeping even as much as you usually do!”
They glared at each other.
Then they were kissing, their arms wrapped fiercely around each other as she drank in his taste, he hers, ravenous in their need to be one. “Is the glamour still on?” A breathless question.
“I’ve just reinitiated it,” he said, aware that her ability to sense the shield remained erratic.
She tore off her jacket to reveal a tank top. His mind blanked. He had no memory later of how they stripped her pants, panties, and boots off or when they undid his pants just enough. All he knew was that he ended up with a wild-haired and sumptuously half-naked hunter riding him while he gritted his teeth and tried to hold off, not come in a hot surge like a callow youth.
He pulled her tank top down so hard he ripped it. Her breast filled his palm, her nipple a rigid point. He squeezed the soft flesh of her lower curves with his other hand, voracious for her. She cried out when he suckled the line of her throat, then hauled her up and off him to suck hard on her breast.
Unwilling to be a quiescent participant, his hunter shoved at his shoulders and shifted her body at the same time to tell him what she wanted. Him. On the ground. “Wait,” he said, and pulled away long enough to tug off the top half of his leathers and kick off his boots.
Then he was on his back on the leaves, and she was sliding the tight slickness of her body over his cock once more, her naked thighs pressing against the leather of the pants he still wore.
His back arched, his cock driving so deep into her that their bodies slammed in a passion that was almost violence. Wings spread, she pressed her hands to his chest and ground herself against him. His own wings were glowing—he could see the reflection of it in her eyes. Reaching between them, he pressed the pad of his thumb on her clitoris, so slippery and hard.
“Raphael!” She came in shocked pulses around the intrusion of his cock, her wings fluttering in an erratic beat and her eyes aglow.
Gripping her waist with one hand, he rubbed and played with her clitoris with his other, pushing her to the edge and beyond. Her pupils expanded; her breath lost.
Then he touched her where their bodies joined, the intimacy stark and primal.
A gush of slick heat, Elena’s body turning liquid for him.
No longer the Archangel of New York but a man who had turned barbarian with his lover, he rose up into a seated position and lowered his mouth to her breast even as her thighs quivered around his hips.
“Archangel.” A shaky, husky word whispered against his ear.
“Again, Hunter-mine,” he said, wanting to give her pleasure enough to wipe out the pain, erase the agony of her tears.
Her laugh was soft and a little lazy as she played with the ultrasensitive arches of his wings. He ran his fingers up the inner curves of her own wings in vengeance, aware that his hunter had developed an extreme sensitivity in just that spot.
She shuddered, her muscles clamping down hard on him. “No fair.”
He smiled against her throat . . . right before he pushed up into a vertical takeoff from his seated position, with Elena’s thighs locked around him. She screamed, then laughed. “How did you even do that?”
“I’m an archangel,” he said, moving her body on his in a way that made sweat break out on his skin and his consort shiver. The truth was that what he’d just done took effort even for an archangel, but for whom else would he attempt such feats?
Only her. Only Elena.
Arms wrapped around his neck, she rubbed her breasts against his chest, kissed and nibbled at his throat. Raphael could feel his control fraying, his need for her a pulse inside his skull. But he wanted to give her more, still more.
So, after kicking off his pants at last, he flew them high, high, higher.
Then he dropped in a wild spiral, their bodies locked, naked and sweat-damp and hot. His cock moved in her in erratic motions due to the spiral, creating a vortex of pleasure that had her nails digging into his skin as the wildfire of her hair haloed around them, their lips connected in a kiss that held need stripped of all artifice.
He ate her up, one hand fisted in her hair while he held her safe with his other arm.
“Raphael, Raphael, Raphael.” She gasped his name against his lips as they met again for kiss after kiss, no touch ever enough.