Lloyd's Angel: Angela's Other Life
November 2010
I didn't remember drifting off, but I realized the office was quiet except for soft breathing. The familiar tangle of glistening spun silk hovered above me in my mind's eye, and I opened my eyes to find Angel crouched over me, looking intently into my face from mere inches away.
She was completely naked, covered with sweat and feminine nectar, and exuded a musk that completely overwhelmed her usual perfume. Her hair hung in disarray around our faces like a curtain, shielding us from the rest of the world. We kissed without saying a word, the sort of deep lip lock that stole your breath away without being aggressive.
"I missed you," I told her when I could speak again, and watched the smile spread across her face. "How were the girls?"
"Needy," she replied a touch unevenly. "You know, women can cum a lot more often than men." I reflected on what that meant to somebody who climaxed every time her partner did. "I swear two of them were multi-orgasmic," Angel continued, "but it wasn't -- satisfying. I missed you, too." Her hand drifted to my fly. "I missed having you inside me."
My cock was obligingly erect by the time her fingers clasped it. Somehow we managed to work my trousers down my legs without dislodging Angel or pulling a muscle. Sighing happily, she settled herself on my man-root until I was completely encased in her slick satin folds, and began massaging me with her cunt.
It was a virtuoso demonstration of muscular control, but largely wasted on her audience. I gazed up at her toned body and reached out first to cup and caress her breasts, and then to pull her down against me. Angel was breathing heavily, mirroring my own arousal.
"Do I excite you?" she breathed in my ear.
I smiled into the fall of her hair. "You know you do." A roll of my hips emphasized the degree of my excitement. "I spent too much of today dreaming of tapping this tight little body."
"I'm always wet for you," Angel admitted. "Cum in me, please -- I need you now!"
Not for the first time, the bittersweet thought that she told no less than the truth, and that the most beautiful creature in the world belonged to me, absolutely, got my rocks off. Angel bit her lip and convulsed atop me as she achieved her own release.
After a moment, Angel tensed to slide down and clean me, but I held her in place. "Leave me inside, tonight," I told her. "Just stay; we need to talk."
She looked closely at me, absently sweeping her hair over one shoulder, and untensed. "Is everything okay, Boss?"
The feel of her still clutching my organ, the weight of her breasts again my chest, and the soft breath in my ear were far better than just okay. There was something to be said for being old enough to step off the physical rut treadmill once in a while; I hadn't let myself wallow in intimate contact like this for over seven years, not since...
"Boss?"
I refused to let myself get sidetracked now by memories of someone, something, who was dead and gone past all hope of recovery. I'd just push through it like I always did. "Sorry, a stray thought. I wanted to talk with you about Rose Cunningham."
"Rose," Angel breathed, and it was her turn to take on a distracted expression.
If trying to describe my ability was difficult, this was nightmarish. Angel was a creature of the night and my creation, and had no direct memories of a person she'd never "met." She had intellectual knowledge of Angela's memories from before she'd been "born," but nothing more recent. Somehow, she had the ability to pick through Angela's mind -- sort of like asking a friend a question, without the friend remembering the conversation -- but I was always skittish about asking her to exercise it. I didn't know what might happen if something "leaked," and I couldn't bear the thought of risking either of the two women in the body riding mine.
"Good-looking redhead, almost as hot as me, short hair?" she asked me.
