All Chapters of Dangerous Pleasures: Chapter 1031 - Chapter 1040

Connor, now... oh god, he was something else. Unkempt and touselled but so, so delicious underneath the weather-beaten exterior. Something about him bypassed all my usual mental blocks and went straight to the core of me, flicking every switch and lighting every candle as it capered down.I squeezed my legs together, bouncing one knee half in frustration, half out of nerves. "Careful, Ceri," I cautioned myself. "Don't go off the map. Dragons. Dragons and sea beasts out there."But it was no use. I pictured him; the dark stubble of several days softening his jaw, the ragged, un-ironed collar of the blue cotton shirt under his waxed cotton jacket; the glimmer of his smile in the dusk. And I hoped he'd not be long.Time had other ideas though. ITV filled the background with white noise, and a Patrick O'Brien novel served as a moderate distraction against my urge to play with myself. As the evening turned into full night, though, I grew more and more nervous and more and more worried that

"Mm." I leaned in against him, enjoying the warmth of him, the immediacy of him. "I'm glad.""I don't do this, Ceri.""Do what?""Fling myself off the cliff into the unknown like this. Something about you makes me take that risk.""I got out of a bad relationship, Connor," I whispered. "A really bad breakup. I was... I am, still, pretty fucked up about it. I..." I paused, swallowed, tucked my head back into his chest. "This... this is the first time I feel like I can breathe. These two days since I've met you. It's the first time I feel like I can just take a breath, that there's a chance that I'm going to come through this... that I'm going to be OK.""You're crying." He wrapped his arms around me and held me as I shuddered."As I said, still pretty fucked up. Sorry," I sniffed. "Sorry, but I... I needed to warn you. That I'm damaged goods. Before I can't...""You have nothing to be sorry about. You don't have to apologise for feeling, and I never want you to hide anything from me. A

He took me at my word, and I arched backwards, mouth agape, as he slipped his two fingers into me. He crooked them over, pressing on the wall of my pussy, and I clawed at his hand as I cried out. I felt him shifting, I felt him move my hand, I drew breath to protest, and then I froze, locked in place, as I felt his tongue on me."Oh... god..." I wailed.He was slow. He was languid. He concentrated on the nub of nerves at the base of my clit with the utter tip of his tongue, and the warmth of his breath flowing over my lips and crotch was exquisite. I whimpered, moaned as he stroked his fingers in and out of me in time with my own panting breaths. I vaguely heard the groan he gave as I tangled my fingers in his hair, holding him to me, grinding on him. I burned. I ached, my pussy cramping with need for more, dying a little bit in side as my orgasm built slower than a life age of the world. Every few breaths he teased a fingertip in and out of me, or spread his fingers in me to stretch

Summary: An angel of Death makes an utter mess of things. (Enjoy)***********I closed the door with a sigh.A hard habit to break, breathing.Angels don't need to do it, see - though we have everything we need to do it with.I still haven't learned how not to, though. Lucius always jokes that I'm still a "fresh" one, and that I'll eventually forget.I smiled wryly to myself, and turned to face the corridor.I tugged my shawl, settled it more comfortably around my shoulders, took another habitual breath, and sighed it out again.Old habits die hard.Like living.I glanced once more at the unremarkable wooden surface of the door, then ambled away.Stanley Lee Pearson had gone out quietly, in the end. Old, alone - his only surviving child estranged since his wife died seven years before. In... I ran the numbers... two days time, it would have been, actually.Sad, but not as sad as it might have been. He'd had a life to do with as he pleased. He'd never really faced any grave crisis, if

"I... I..." I stammered, totally off guard."I said... who the fuck are you? Did I stutter? Are you fucking deaf? Who the fuck do you think you are, barging in to Annie's room like that, you fucking... fucker! She's... she's leaving us, and you come and... and stick your nose in...and... and..."And then she began to sob; harsh, horrible, end-of-the-World tears of the sort I was only too familiar with.She released me and buried her face in her hands and made noises that hurt even me.I watched her for a moment, off guard, confused by the intense conflict I felt within me.The almost overwhelming need to escape, to run.And the even stronger compulsion to offer comfort...We're not supposed to bother the living more than we absolutely have to. People can't deal with our true Aspects, it fucks them up to a farcical degree and the end results are, apparently, spectacular.So of course I did the instinctive thing.The wrong thing.I wrapped my arms around her and held her close.I took a