Death’s Angel – New Orleans Christmas Read Online ChaShiree M

Categories Genre: Romance, Virgin Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 11
Estimated words: 9772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 49(@200wpm)___ 39(@250wpm)___ 33(@300wpm)
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“Ah little Angel, look at those berries, trying to escape from this dress. They are pointed right at me, little girl. What should I do about that?” Shivering, so needy and unsure, I shake my head and stutter.

“I-I don’t know.” he rubs his face against my nipples and my knees almost buckle. “Oh… my.” He looks up at me and slides his tongue from his mouth. I watch as he leans further into my chest. His tongue flicks my nipple through my dress and the heat is not like anything I have ever felt. My eyes close and my head falls back. I whimper as his mouth bathes my nipples. Laves them in his heat, over and over moving from one to the other.

“I can taste your innocence through your clothes, tiny Angel.” I smell something burning, but I am too enthralled in the feelings he is eliciting from me. When I feel the air hit my nipples, I gasp and look down. The top of my dress has been burned open, by his finger. Why is that so hot? “I am definitely evil for all the nasty things I want to do to you, little Angel. Look at these little pink buds.” He flicks one with his fingers and I cry out at the tug going straight between my legs. “They bounce so pretty and tight. Are they going to be sweeter with no clothes between us?” he isn’t asking me. He doesn’t wait for a response. He wraps his entire mouth around one, and I blackout for a second, hands in his hair tugging him closer.

“Oh, God.” I shouldn’t be using my Father’s name like this, but holy moly that feels so good. Smack. His hand connects with my bottom, and I moan louder. The sting feels like fire and leaves a tingling trail.

“You call out my name, from now on. MINE! My Angel.” he growls around my nipples before biting it and moving on the next one. His grip has tightened, like he is keeping me from being taken from him.

“Your n-name?” I don’t know how I formed those simple words. He chuckles and pulls his head back from my tits. I drop my mine, eyes half closed and barely able to stand.

“My name is Crane, Angel. But you may call me, Master, mate, conqueror, your everything, because I am going to be all of those from this moment forward. Understand?” I nod limply, words are still hard to come by. “Besides my sweet, horny Angel, what is your name?”

“Luminesce. But my friends call me Lumi.” I don’t know why but I am stroking his head, running my finger through his hair. I have this need to soothe him, calm his radiating energy because I know with everything in me, there is no reason for him to be anxious.

“Your name suits you, sweetness. You shine brighter than any light I saw when I was alive, baby.” He says these soft, sweet words and then he is rubbing his stubble along my nipples. Abrading them, making them ache for more of his attention. “Ah Hell, baby girl. I smell your need. So sweet. Like honey.” He leans into the middle of me, and I try to push back, embarrassed and not sure if the wanton feeling is normal. “Don’t pull away from me, little Angel. I will go mad if I think you are trying to get away from me.” He growls the words and then places his hands on my hips. “Spread your legs, baby girl.” I do what he tells me. I am so achy for him I would do anything.

When my legs are open, he growls and runs his knuckles through my fold. I whimper, grip him to keep from passing out. When he brings his hand to his mouth and licks it, I know I am no longer an Angel. I am something else. “Crane.” I say his name, begging him to make me his.

“I have to mark you, my Angel. This pussy is not only sweet, but it is laced with a teasing syrup. If my mark is not on you, others are going to be able to smell that you have been aroused and they will be banging down the iron doors, baby. I have to show them you belong to me.” His voice is shaking, remorseful even. “I am not worthy of this gift, little Angel, but you let me put your tiny buds in my mouth and taste the honey you're producing. It’s too late.” he shakes his head as he tries to fight it, but we both know he can’t.

His first bite is on my neck, where he sucks, harder and harder. I cry, plead, beg him to continue, and give me more. Each bite is more ferocious and deliberate than the one before it. Heck. His bites are driving me crazy. I have never felt such fire in my body before and having him on the floor, worshiping me like a porcelain goddess, has lust rushing to the surface and aiding in my willingness to give it all to him.


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