by Carly Fall
Chapter 23
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Liam knew that what he was doing was wrong. He shouldn’t be at Grace’s apartment pushed up against the door, and he certainly shouldn’t be letting her take off his shirt. He shouldn’t be caressing her breasts, and he certainly shouldn’t be thinking about condoms.
But he was.
He also knew that he should stop this nonsense, but damn, it felt good, and he had too much tequila rolling through his veins to care about the consequences—if there even were any. Nowhere did he remember a lecture from Evangeline about abstaining from sex. All that concerned him was getting naked and rubbing up against this woman.
Grace ran her fingers through his hair as he unsnapped her black bra, pulling her closer so their bodies pressed together. Their mouths moved over each other urgently. There wasn’t any love involved in this; there was simply a need to be physical with another being, an attraction to be sated.
She took his hand and led him over to the brown couch, pulling him down on top of her. They kissed a while longer, and her hand snaked down to his erection, squeezing him through his jeans. He groaned and decided enough was enough. It was time to get down to business.
Standing, he undid his belt buckle and let his jeans and boxers fall to the carpet. He reached down and unbuttoned her pants, pulling them along with her pink silky underwear over those legs that seemed to go on for miles, just like Adela’s.
He stopped, surprised. Why the hell was Adela making an appearance in his thoughts during a time like this?
Shaking his head, he lowered himself down, kissing Grace again, and reveling in the softness and warmth of her skin.
“Condoms are in the side table behind us,” Grace whispered. So, the lady was prepared and had obviously done this a time or two.
He got to his knees and found the condoms in the drawer. He slipped one on, his breathing heavy with anticipation, his head swimming in an alcohol haze. Sliding into Grace, he cursed and began pumping into her as her legs wrapped around his waist.
She was hot, slick, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long. Hell, it had been five years and it felt so good. After all, he was only a mere mortal.
No, he wasn’t a mere mortal; he was an angel. An angel who was supposed to be doing a job to save mankind, not get his rocks off with some random chick named Grace who he didn’t find all that attractive. He preferred blondes, and he thought of running his fingers through Adela’s long, flowing hair.
What the hell was wrong with him?
He lost some of his enthusiasm for the act with Adela haunting his thoughts but continued the motions.
“Harder,” Grace demanded, so he obliged, his hips pumping, his orgasm closing in on him.
“Harder!” she yelled, her nails digging into the flesh of his back. He was certain she was drawing blood. And if he went any harder, he was going to fuck her right into the floor beneath the couch.
He sat up, bringing her with him. “You go as hard as you want, love,” he murmured as he put her on his lap. He looked up into her face and saw that she wasn’t as attractive as she had been at the club. Shutting his eyes, he tried to fantasize about someone—anyone else—but all that came to mind was Adela.
Grace screwed him good and hard, then collapsed against him as her center milked his length. His orgasm wasn’t nearly as good as hers, but what did he expect when he was wishing he were having sex with one woman while screwing another?
Sighing, he pulled her down next to him on the couch, hoping like hell she didn’t tell him to leave. He was exhausted and needed to sleep.
In a few minutes, he heard her soft snores, and he shut his eyes letting the exhaustion overtake him.
