Angel Dreams - An Angel Falls, #2 By Jody A. Kessler

Monday, August 31, 2015

The melting butter sensation had made its way to my back and is creeping north and south simultaneously. In another minute I’m going to be a warm puddle. “An Irish Dullahan is a being that comes at night, he’s headless, and forewarns of death.”
“Ah, maybe that is what I used to be, but definitely not anymore.”

His velvet rich voice caresses me from the inside out. I can feel his strength pulsing through his fingertips as he strokes my palm. His clean scent lingers in the air and I let myself drift away with the symphony of sensation.

“Sweet vixen, are you all right?”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No, why?”

“Your eyes are closed, love.”

“It’s fine. Please don’t stop, Nathaniel.” There it is again, a part of my brain notes, speaking without my permission.

He raises my hand to his lips and kisses the heel of my palm, then the inside of my wrist and up my forearm to the inside of my elbow. The top of my shoulder becomes his next destination and then along the edge of my collarbone. I want to protest — remember, taking things slow — but the jelly which my insides have turned into must include my voice box because recognizable sounds are no longer possible. Feather soft tickling on the side of my neck leaves me breathless, and all reason has now left the building. Somehow my hands have joined my betraying mouth and are doing things without my consent, like they have a separate mind of their own, even though I can still feel what they feel. Strong cords run up the back of his neck. The thick waves of his hair are soft and scrumptious between my fingers. My hand wraps around the base of his skull as he teases the underside of my jaw with his too warm mouth. My other hand moves over his muscular shoulder and down his back. He’s so strong and so solid.

At some point I must have pulled him on top of me because I’m suddenly aware of the smell and feel of crushed grass beneath me. My ear is being nibbled and I can hardly breathe, not because of the weight of him, but because of the sheer excitement and the rush of blood pounding through me. It’s taken my breath away. Turning my face to find his mouth, he’s all too agreeable to meet me. My self-control has become as distant as yesterday’s breeze.

“You have the most kissable mouth I’ve ever seen,” he whispers and then proceeds to prove his statement.

Nathaniel is strong and gentle and urgent and tender. I send out a silent prayer to Father Time to let this perfect moment last forever. How did I not know kissing could be like this?

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