After experiencing one of the worst days of his life, Greg stops at the first bar he sees to have a few drinks before heading home. There he meets the enigmatic Angel. Unable to resist the pull he feels for the mysterious stranger, Greg soon finds himself falling under Angel’s spell. But will Angel be his saving grace or is he the devil in disguise?
“What’s your name beautiful?” he asked me.
I blushed suddenly overcome with shyness. After what we were just doing my reaction seemed a little ridiculous, but I couldn’t help it. He’d called me beautiful. Me. Plain old average looking me. Even if it was only a line it was still good to hear.
“Gregory. Greg. And you are?”
“Well Gregory, Greg,” he winked at me, “you can call me Angel.”
“Angel?” I questioned my left eyebrow quirking up in disbelief. His shoulders hunched slightly and I thought spots of color appeared on his cheeks causing an enticing blush in response to my questioning him, but it was too dark in the bar to be sure.
His voice got even deeper as he leaned toward me. “Yes. Angel.”
“N-nice to meet you, Angel,” I stammered.
“And you as well, beautiful,” he said leaning in even closer. “Could I interest you in a dance?”
“I’m not really in the mood to dance,” I answered lowering my eyes.
“I find that hard to believe, beautiful. And I’m betting you’re good at it,” he whispered in my ear. “So how about giving me—I mean it a try?”
His hand found its way into my hair and he pulled my head back so I was forced to look him in the eye again. He moved forward just enough so that his next words were said against my lips.
“What do you say? I’m a superb….dancer. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble following my lead.”
Before I could answer him or even formulate a thought, he pressed his lips to mine kissing me again. He forced his way inside my mouth and I couldn’t hold back the moan that came from deep within me. He swallowed the sound and gave me one of his own. My hands went to his shoulders and snaked around the back of his neck tangling in the hair there. His arms went around me yanking me from the barstool and into his solid frame. The kiss went on as his hands roamed my back and made their way to my ass. He gripped me in his big strong hands, kneading my muscular globes. Angel released my lips to kiss along my jaw line until he reached my neck. He placed open mouthed sucking kisses down the column of my throat. I could only clutch him harder as my knees turned to jelly. I shuddered in his arms as he made his way to my collar bone. He licked and sucked his way from one end to the other. Then he did the one thing that turned me on like nothing else. The sneaky bastard latched onto my Adam’s apple and sucked and licked it. All I could do was moan wantonly as he took tiny bites of my skin. He made his way back to my mouth and lapped at my lips. I opened my mouth and sucked on his tongue. He growled deep in his chest and clasped me even tighter to his hard, muscular frame.
I took another sip of my scotch contemplating what to do next. I could easily take up one of the not so subtle offers I’d received since coming here. Mindless anonymous sex would no doubt get my mind off of things for a while and the thought of it, of losing myself in some nameless man and forgetting everything for a while held great appeal. It’s what I did when I lost the control I needed to keep my little world running smoothly. But I had curbed that part of my psyche that said it was a good idea. Not only would it not solve anything, I knew from firsthand experience that while it felt good while it was happening, when it was over I would feel even worse than I did now. Besides as hot as the some of the men were in this place, none of them truly appealed to me. For what I wanted – needed – only a certain type of man would do. And so far I had noticed no one fitting the bill.
Deciding this was a bad idea; I slugged back the rest of my scotch and winced at the burn as it slid down my throat. I pulled a few bills out of my wallet, slapped them down on the bar and started to get off the bar stool so I could leave. I patted my pocket to confirm my phone was there. I’ll call a cab from outside, I thought. The cool air would probably do me some good.
“You’re not leaving yet are you?” A deep, rough voice said from next to me.
I turned toward the voice to say I don’t know what – because the second I turned and our eyes met, I lost not only my breath but the ability to speak as I stared in to the fathomless pools that were his eyes. The lighting wasn’t the greatest-it was a bar after all-so I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but his eyes were so dark they appeared obsidian. I wanted to see what the rest of him looked like, but I couldn’t look away from his eyes. It was like his captured mine and wasn’t letting go. My eyes widened in response to the look in his. There was so much heat and lust in those eyes they shined with a feral light. I gulped at that look as my heart raced and my dick twitched.
He broke eye contact to look me up and down. From the top of my sandy colored hair to the bottom of my boots, he missed nothing. Everywhere his eyes landed on me felt like a touch. His eyes swept up again and met mine, then traveled back down looking at my crotch which was quickly filling. He licked full, sensuous lips as he stared at my cock which was now hard as a spike and pressing insistently against my zipper.
While he continued to stare, I looked him up and down as well. He had hair so dark it appeared black in the low lighting and a strong jaw with an enticingly heavy five o’clock shadow. It was so thick he either hadn’t shaved in a day or so or he had to shave twice a day. Broad shoulders led down to a flat, ripped stomach and narrow waist. Slim hips, strong legs, and a bulge so big it caused my ass to clench in anticipation.
I suddenly realized while we had been staring at each other, I hadn’t answered his question. But for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what it was. All I could focus on was the gorgeous specimen of manhood standing in front of me. He was pushing all of my buttons. Built with perfect proportions, add in the scrumptious looking chest hair peeking out from the V of his tight T-shirt and I was in heaven. I could see that his nipples were hard beneath his shirt, the outline of a nipple ring visible and felt mine peak in response. My eyes tracked downward stopping at his packed crotch. As I watched, his cock lengthened even more beneath his jeans. I could tell they were favorites by how worn they were. They were almost white in some areas.
“I said, ‘You’re not leaving yet’ are you?” That deep voice washed over me yet again and my eyes flew up to his, my face heating as I realized just how long my attention was focused on his dick. But in all honesty if you were looking at what I was looking at believe me you wouldn’t blame me in the least. It was all I could do not to drop to my knees and worship at his bountiful altar. I raised my eyes back up to his gorgeous face and saw the smirk on those thick lips.
“Like what you see?” He stepped closer, invading my personal space. I could feel the heat emanating from his body. I could smell his delicious scent. Hot, musky, all man with a hint of sandalwood. My mouth watered. I was in so much trouble. Standing before me was the embodiment of every fantasy, wet dream, and wish I ever had. I felt my knees go weak. It was a good thing I was still sitting on the bar stool or I surely would have slid to the floor in a puddle at his feet. How was a mere mortal such as me supposed to carry on a coherent conversation with a god such as him? My brain was trying to catch up with my cock, but it was a little difficult since all of my blood as well as my good sense had fled my brain and now resided in my cock. Again it took every bit of will power I possessed not to slide off the stool, drop to my knees, unfasten his fly, and suck what I was sure was an impressive dick down my throat.
West Virginia native Miachelle J. Ferguson writes as M.J. Ferguson. M.J. developed a love of reading in the first grade and her voracious appetite for great stories and amazing characters has grown. M.J. discovered her love for writing in the sixth grade and honed her short story and poetry skills through college. M.J. writes about complicated people and relationships, intriguing stories and psychological thrillers. She still lives in West Virginia surrounded by beautiful mountains and rivers, family and friends. M.J. is a member of a local writing group The Wicked Wordsmiths of the West.
Where To Buy:
August 8: Wicked Faeries Tales & Reviews, Man2ManTastic
August 9: Nephy’s World, MM Good Book Reviews
August 10: Prism Book Alliance, Diverse Reader
August 11: Love Bytes Reviews, Bayou Book Junkie
August 12: Drops of Ink, World of Diversity Fiction
August 13: Divine Magazine, Molly Lolly: Reader, Reviewer, Lover of Words
August 14: The Purple Rose Tea House, LeAnn’s Book Reviews
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