Tracing my tongue along her inner thigh, I kiss, and pull the delicate skin as her fingers thread in my hair. Her back arches and her body sways like a dancer the closer I get to her bare pussy, and I’m doing my best to draw it out.
Apparently watermelon has the same effect on taste as pineapple, and I’ve been craving her as much as she’s been craving it. Wrapping my arms around her thighs, I catch her heated eyes before lowering to slide my tongue around her slippery clit.
“Oh, Deacon!” She gasps, her fingers curling against my scalp.
I give her another long, slow figure eight, returning to focus rapid sweeps across that hot spot, and her back arches off the bed. I touch her lightly with my teeth and she cries out, tightening her thighs around my ears.
“That’s it…” she gasps. “Keep doing that…”
She’s bucking against my face, straining and moaning, and my cock is a rod of iron. I have her right on the edge when I quickly move around behind her, moving her leg forward and grasping my erection. As soon as I’m lined up, I thrust to the hilt, and we both exhale a groan.
I want to hold it, to make it last, but she’s bouncing her ass against me, pumping my cock as I snake my hand around her waist, grasping her inner thighs, and trailing my fingers higher to her center. Our fingers entwine, stroking her clit as we move.
“Right there…” Her moans are feverish.
My forehead rests on her shoulder, and we move frantically, chasing the climax just within reach.
“Angel…” I groan, moving faster. “Angel, yes…”
Her moans grow more frantic, her movements desperate, and I know she’s right at the edge. I move my fingers, circling faster, faster as I feel her shimmering around my cock. I’m right there, pleasure snaking up my thighs a bead of sweat trickling down my cheek, when she breaks into spasms.
“Ooh…” She jerks, placing her hand over mine to lighten my touch.
I close my eyes, ready to let go when something unexpected happens. A surge of liquid pushes me out.
“Holy shit!” I move back as Angel’s face crumples.
“Deacon! Oh no… Oh, shit. I think my water broke!”
“What tha…” I’m out of the bed, confused and grabbing towels.
Angel crawls to the side, holding her stomach. “Oh, ow… It hurts…”
“We’ve got to get you to the hospital!” My heart rate kicks higher. Hell, I haven’t come down from that shocking coitus interruptus. I jerk my slacks over my hips and grab the sweatshirt she discarded off the floor. “Can you walk?”
“Bring me a dress.”
I run to her closet, ripping a black dress off a hanger and carrying it to her. It feels like I’m moving too slow but I’m moving as fast as I can. Angel lowers the dress over her head then put
s both feet on the floor and tries to stand.
Immediately, she buckles over. Her head is bowed, and her shoulders shake. She makes a shrieking noise, and terror punches me in the chest.
“Angel?” I put my hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong, baby? What do you need me to do?”
Her chin lifts, and when our eyes meet I realize she’s laughing. Loudly. “I shot your penis out like it was on a waterslide at an amusement park!”
My panic fades, and I’m about to laugh with her—it was pretty damn funny, after all—when she leans to the side and gasps loudly, “Oh, shit! Oh, shit… This hurts!”
Diving forward, I hold her arm, rubbing her shoulder and trying to remember what the hell I’m supposed to do to help her. I hold her hand and count… seven seconds…
She takes a few deep breaths, then she explodes again, laughing hysterically. “I can’t believe my water broke… That’s what I call coming.”
I think my wife is losing her mind. “Honey… we need to get you to the hospital. Can you walk?”
“Yeah…” It’s a high-pitched squeak through a peal of laughter.
I hold her under the arm, and we quickly make our way to my car, grabbing the hospital suitcase on the way.