37

The sigh that escaped Angel's lips was like a live button for Dave. She was no longer thinking about anything other than the passion that was rapidly burning through their bodies, swirling in their cores of longing for each other. 

The work clothes Dave was wearing were wrinkled. A few of the buttons on his shirt were undone, and the bottom part of the fabric was coming out of the pants whose belt had also been opened. Meanwhile, Angel was no better, the towel she was wearing had been removed by Dave and, just as Dave thought, Angel was wearing nothing under the towel.

“How could you only wear this piece of cloth when you're in the room with me? Did you do it on purpose, Angel? Hm?”

Angel's mouth opened, but not an answer came out but another sigh. Dave pampered her, touching every inch of her body like he was worshiping something beautiful; with his hands, with his lips, with his tongue, or with the strands of his hair that tickled Angel's skin