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nipples—sucking. That’s where they’re gonna be, Angel. Me, sucking your tits. My tongue rolling all over you.” He rocks against me, drawing himself out a little before pushing back in.
    “Feel me,” he says. “All of me.”
    And I can feel him—every inch. His head, his shaft, even his balls, a gentle weight bouncing on my taint as he thrusts.
    I groan.
    He groans.
    He picks up speed. His hand comes around my hips, then down; his fingertips parting my lips. He drags one finger through my moisture, glides back up, over my clit. I’m shaking with his impact, poundPOUNDpound.
    His dick in my cunt, slick finger on my clit, and then he parts my ass ch eeks and he presses a knuckle gently at my back door.
    T hat’s the end of me. I shatter.

CHAPTER 4
    Annabelle
     
    “Tell me about yourself, Angel. I want to know about your family.”
    “What about them?”
    “Your mother is sick?”
    I nod. “She has a brain tumor.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    “I’m sorry that it’s true,” I murmur.
    “And you have a sister, too?”
    “She’s mine. My baby. Adrian.”
    His palm cups my forehead, holding my head up as I lean forward, mostly limp. His fingers get to know each pressure point along my neck and shoulders. “You’re tight. Take a few deep breaths. That’s right, Angel.”
    “This feels amazing.”
    “Good. You deserve amazing.”
    “So…nice of you,” I whisper.
    “My pleasure,” he says. “In fact, it’s my demand.”
    His voice, hanging in the air behind me, asks, “How long were you looking for a job?”
    “Long time,” I mumble.
    “What kind?”
    “Counseling.”
    His fingers, on my forehead, press in a few spots, and I feel a floating sensation. “You like helping people, Angel?”
    I can’t nod, so I say, “Yeah. When I can.”
    There’s a pause, and I can feel the tension in it. “That’s not what this is about, is it? Pity?”
    I’m so relaxed I’m drooling, but I manage to laugh. “No. Of course not.”
    He takes my shoulders in his hands and turns me over, so I’m lying on my back.
    “I don’t need your pity. You know that—yes?” As he speaks, he’s peeling my clothes off.
    I’m so limp and zoned out, I can barely nod.
    “ It doesn’t surprise me,” he says as he tugs my jeans off, “that you like helping people.” He pulls my shirt over my head and deftly rids me of my bra. My breasts spring out, round and heavy, and his lips cover my nipple.
    “Oh!” I arch. I grab his neck.
    H e jerks my panties down, one-handed, and I feel the slap of cool air on my pussy. He runs his tongue along my slit. A few lazy circles around my clit and I’m clawing his face.
    He parts my lips a little more and licks my sopping entrance. I arch up. “Inside. I need you…inside,” I pant.
    “That’s too bad.” It takes me a few seconds to comprehend the words, and by then I’m being rolled onto my stomach once again.
    I feel him leave the window seat for a second, hear him dig around for something. Another condom? 
    A minute later and he’s back, kissing my neck, behind my ear; tickling my ass cheeks. He pushes a finger in between my ass cheeks, stroking in a way I almost like. And then before I know what hit me, there’s pressure back there. Not just pressure. I cry out as he shoves something inside.
    Is it his dick?
    It ’s not his dick…
    I shake my ass.
    “What is this?” I moan.
    “It’s a buttplug.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Do you know what a buttplug does?” he asks.
    I clench around it, and on cue, it starts to vibrate.
    I moan, because the pleasure-pain I feel back there seems to have a direct connection to my cunt. I move my hips and clench my ass and feel my pussy pulse inside—as if it knows my ass is filled and envies it.
    He chuckles.
    He presses his hand against the buttplug. I guess part of it is sticking out?
    He pushes it in a little mor e, sending pleasure through me. It vibrates through my inner walls, rings through my