Capture an Angel Ch. 01

"Tell me when you're ready," the woman panted. "I do not wish a child."

"I'll not be silent," he muttered, his breathing coming out in soft gasps.

Riding Trynt like a trotting horse, her hand moved between her thighs, fingers circling, panting cries escaping her lips as her plump breasts bounced. She was touching herself -- wanton, uninhibited.

Biting her lower lip, Aingeal marveled at the woman's courage. She, herself, feared that her partner would have been disgusted at such a vulgar display. But Trynt didn't seem to notice, let alone mind. He writhed beneath her, soft encouragement escaping his lips in low moans.

The woman riding him cried out, her hips jerking forward, her shoulders slumping, her face turning downward. Curling into herself, her denouement was brief, the spasms reflected in her closed expression. Straightening, she leaned forward and put her hands on the back of the lounge, a wicked expression curling the soft bow of her lips.

"My God," Trynt murmured. Rising to meet her with each increasingly brutal heave, he finally opened his eyes. Silver, glinting with lust, they focused on her face. "Now," he gasped.

Rising swiftly, leaving him shining in the fire light, she sank down on his thighs and took the rigid arrow in her hands. Her face was intent, the small pink tip of her tongue protruding to touch the curve of her lower lip. Below her, Trynt stiffened, arching his back as far as her weight on top of his legs would let him. A strangled cry announced the contracting jerk of his sex. Thick semen, reminding Aingeal of warm tallow, coated the woman's hands.

Staring, unable to look away, Aingeal shivered as the woman smiled and raised a hand to her lips, touching her tongue to them with a sigh of pleasure. Trynt's answering grin sent her away from the door, leaving it open the scant few inches in her haste. Blushing, the feel of her own body unfamiliar and tingling, she entered the room she was sharing with Fiachna and closed the door.

"Are you all right?"

That was Fiachna's voice from the other side of the room, concerned. His footsteps moved toward her. "Yes," she answered swiftly.

"You were gone a while. Are you sure I didn't hurt you?" His hand on her shoulder turned her to face him.

How could she explain the rush of desire she'd felt while watching Trynt make love to a woman she didn't know? How could she explain without Fiachna's jealous reaction taking things all out of proportion? No, he would never understand, and he would probably be disgusted that it had aroused her at all. "I'm fine," she whispered, moving forward into his arms, the soft material of his robe caressing her cheek. "I got lost in thought."

The smile in his voice reassured her. "As long as you keep finding your way back."

Nodding, she tightened her arms around his waist, holding him close.