Page 5
Story: Desiring an Angel
We left her boneless on our bed a few minutes later, both of us going to the bathroom to clean up.
“She’s not it,” I whispered, tying off my condom and tossing it into the trash with a little more force than necessary.
Rhett hugged me from behind, his sweaty, hard body relaxing the tension riding me. I sagged into his familiar, comfortable hold. “We’ll find her.” He kissed my shoulder, his lips warm and sure.
I clasped my hand over his atop my heart, twining our fingers together.
“Promise.” Rhett kissed me again, and my back grew cool while he retrieved a wet towel for the woman we’d left sprawled in our bed. “I’ll take care of Maeve and send her on her way,” he whispered.
A heavy exhale caved my chest as he exited the bathroom.
She was far from the first to come between us. She wasn’t the first Rhett would see out the door while I showered either. But he’d always been better with letting people down, the confrontations I didn’t handle well, so I left him to it and accepted the fact we would have to continue our search.
I stepped into the spray, tilting my face into the pelting, hot water. The scent of rose perfume, sweat, and cum, swirled down the drain. While my balls had emptied, I hadn’t found anything satisfying about sex with Maeve outside of sensing Rhett’s dick a membrane apart from mine, his focus on me, and the connection I’d felt since that night he’d found me crying by Archer’s grave.
Rhett had been the one to give my life worth, value, when I’d thought I should have been buried six feet under instead of Archer—
The glass shower door opened, and Rhett stepped in to join me, his allaying presence enough to ease my disappointment over our latest failed match and the swamping sense of worthlessness that always attacked whenever I thought too hard on my brother’s death.
Rhett wrapped me up in his arms again, and I melted into his chest, my head tipping back to his shoulder. “Sorry,” he whispered, his scruff scraping across mine and sending shivers down my spine.
“Nothing to be sorry for.” I reached around behind me, palming his ass, holding his groin tight against my backside.
“I chose her when you weren’t that interested,” he murmured against my ear, his breath warmer than the water hitting my chest.
“If there’s a match that catches your eye, I’m not going to say no just because I don’t feel it after a few emails and video calls. It’s like my sister always says,” I reminded him for at least the fiftieth time, “just because you don’t like a dress on the hanger doesn’t mean you won’t rock the shit out of it.”
Rhett chuckled and kissed my cheek. “Which sister?”
“All four,” I muttered.
He lightly laughed again, and I turned.
“Love you so damn much it hurts,” I murmured and gave him my mouth before he could reply. Tasting him—hot male, heady and intoxicating—trickled life back to my groin. My body had always been insatiable when it came to him, but he pulled away before my dick thickened fully.
“Let me take care of you, baby,” he murmured, reaching for the bodywash.
I went pliant as he washed me from head to toe like he’d done as promised earlier that morning, cleaning all trace of the woman from my skin. He massaged shampoo, then conditioner into my scalp until my eyelids fluttered closed, my entire body blissed out from having his attentive hands on my body.
When Rhett finished, he tugged me against his chest, his firm touch grounding. “Are you okay?” he murmured.
His question came as it always did after a waste-of-time date, but I knew he referred to more. The edge of concern lacing his voice was a telling, rare sentiment.
The following week I would experience the pain of an anniversary I despised. The one that had left me feeling incomplete and reminded me that denying death didn’t reverse its effects. Even though Rhett coming into my life had lessened those emotions, I still struggled with my grief and survivor’s guilt.
Losing a twin was devastating, especially if they were the happy sort, the one with light in their eyes regardless of circumstance. Always joking and laughing, thinking the best, and expecting great outcomes.
The sunny opposite of what I couldn’t help but be—
“Hey.” Rhett’s firm tone stopped my thoughts, his dark eyes peering into mine as he lifted my cheek from his shoulder, hands cradling my face.
I attempted a smile while he rubbed his thumb over my lower lip. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
A lie, one Rhett could read on my face, expected after twenty-plus years of being partners, but he wouldn’t refute.
We crawled into a freshly-made bed a few minutes later and came together like magnets, front to front. Shared breath, arms wrapped around one another. I rubbed my cheek against his chest, shuddering as a sigh rippled through me.
Rhett had always been home to me, even when we had lived apart, beneath the care of our parents.
“She’s not it,” I whispered, tying off my condom and tossing it into the trash with a little more force than necessary.
Rhett hugged me from behind, his sweaty, hard body relaxing the tension riding me. I sagged into his familiar, comfortable hold. “We’ll find her.” He kissed my shoulder, his lips warm and sure.
I clasped my hand over his atop my heart, twining our fingers together.
“Promise.” Rhett kissed me again, and my back grew cool while he retrieved a wet towel for the woman we’d left sprawled in our bed. “I’ll take care of Maeve and send her on her way,” he whispered.
A heavy exhale caved my chest as he exited the bathroom.
She was far from the first to come between us. She wasn’t the first Rhett would see out the door while I showered either. But he’d always been better with letting people down, the confrontations I didn’t handle well, so I left him to it and accepted the fact we would have to continue our search.
I stepped into the spray, tilting my face into the pelting, hot water. The scent of rose perfume, sweat, and cum, swirled down the drain. While my balls had emptied, I hadn’t found anything satisfying about sex with Maeve outside of sensing Rhett’s dick a membrane apart from mine, his focus on me, and the connection I’d felt since that night he’d found me crying by Archer’s grave.
Rhett had been the one to give my life worth, value, when I’d thought I should have been buried six feet under instead of Archer—
The glass shower door opened, and Rhett stepped in to join me, his allaying presence enough to ease my disappointment over our latest failed match and the swamping sense of worthlessness that always attacked whenever I thought too hard on my brother’s death.
Rhett wrapped me up in his arms again, and I melted into his chest, my head tipping back to his shoulder. “Sorry,” he whispered, his scruff scraping across mine and sending shivers down my spine.
“Nothing to be sorry for.” I reached around behind me, palming his ass, holding his groin tight against my backside.
“I chose her when you weren’t that interested,” he murmured against my ear, his breath warmer than the water hitting my chest.
“If there’s a match that catches your eye, I’m not going to say no just because I don’t feel it after a few emails and video calls. It’s like my sister always says,” I reminded him for at least the fiftieth time, “just because you don’t like a dress on the hanger doesn’t mean you won’t rock the shit out of it.”
Rhett chuckled and kissed my cheek. “Which sister?”
“All four,” I muttered.
He lightly laughed again, and I turned.
“Love you so damn much it hurts,” I murmured and gave him my mouth before he could reply. Tasting him—hot male, heady and intoxicating—trickled life back to my groin. My body had always been insatiable when it came to him, but he pulled away before my dick thickened fully.
“Let me take care of you, baby,” he murmured, reaching for the bodywash.
I went pliant as he washed me from head to toe like he’d done as promised earlier that morning, cleaning all trace of the woman from my skin. He massaged shampoo, then conditioner into my scalp until my eyelids fluttered closed, my entire body blissed out from having his attentive hands on my body.
When Rhett finished, he tugged me against his chest, his firm touch grounding. “Are you okay?” he murmured.
His question came as it always did after a waste-of-time date, but I knew he referred to more. The edge of concern lacing his voice was a telling, rare sentiment.
The following week I would experience the pain of an anniversary I despised. The one that had left me feeling incomplete and reminded me that denying death didn’t reverse its effects. Even though Rhett coming into my life had lessened those emotions, I still struggled with my grief and survivor’s guilt.
Losing a twin was devastating, especially if they were the happy sort, the one with light in their eyes regardless of circumstance. Always joking and laughing, thinking the best, and expecting great outcomes.
The sunny opposite of what I couldn’t help but be—
“Hey.” Rhett’s firm tone stopped my thoughts, his dark eyes peering into mine as he lifted my cheek from his shoulder, hands cradling my face.
I attempted a smile while he rubbed his thumb over my lower lip. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
A lie, one Rhett could read on my face, expected after twenty-plus years of being partners, but he wouldn’t refute.
We crawled into a freshly-made bed a few minutes later and came together like magnets, front to front. Shared breath, arms wrapped around one another. I rubbed my cheek against his chest, shuddering as a sigh rippled through me.
Rhett had always been home to me, even when we had lived apart, beneath the care of our parents.
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