Oh, but it was going to. She'd confess later, take her punishment. Look, the man ripped her wings off, what was she supposed to do if she couldn't fly?
She still hadn't taken her eyes of his cock. "Doctor, are you going to take my temperature with that?" When she finally looked up, his lips bent in an almost smile and his eyes warmed.
"I think I'd better."
Like her, it seemed, he was loath to let this opportunity pass. He stared down at her and his cock twitched as he held it in his hand and rubbed slowly up and down.
Tabitha pulled her gown over her head and tossed it to the floor. They might not have long, she thought. What if suddenly her kisses worked as they were supposed to and they were no longer there in that hotel suite together? "Hurry, Doctor. I'm burning up."
"So I see." He raised an eyebrow and climbed onto the bed. "Now lay back and let me examine you."
She fell back, limp as a ragdoll, arms out. Slowly his hands stroked her legs, from ankle to knee to thigh. Each advance made her heart beat a little faster, her body sink further into the bed. And then he parted her legs, his hands forcing her knees apart, making room for his wide shoulders. She caught her breath, closed her eyes. Now came his lips, damp, soft kisses traced along her inner thigh. A heavy pulse had started in her pussy, as if it put out a signal to lure him in and the closer he got to his goal, the wetter she grew, the harder his lips pressed into her skin.
Tabitha's sexual experience was limited, but she knew what she liked. This. Very much. A small gasp shot out of her when his mouth touched her pussy and she lifted her hips, wanting more.
The tip of his tongue lapped over her aching sex, just enough to tease. "Be patient," he whispered, his warm breath blowing on her labia. "Let the Doctor do his work."
"I think I just took a turn for the worse."
"Really? Hmmm. Let me see what I can do for you." He licked her gently, tantalizing. Once, twice, three times. After each lick he paused, blew on her, waited until she squirmed for another. By the fourth she was moaning, gripping the sheet in her fingers, raising her ass off the bed, pushing her cunt at his mouth. That time he pressed more of his tongue onto her wet lips, let it slide inside a little, linger an extra few seconds. On the fifth lick she began to melt, dripping onto his tongue as he nudged deeper and flicked it over her clit. She was about to cum when he stopped, took his tongue away. Now he opened her with his fingers. She couldn't close her legs, couldn't press her thighs together and finish her orgasm. He wouldn't let her.
"Beautiful," he whispered into her cunt as he held it open with his thumbs and she trembled. He leaned in and licked around the opening. "Sweet, sticky. Just as it should be." Again his tongue circled her yearning sex and then he lifted up on his elbows to kiss her pubic mound, his chin scruff brushing over her pussy lips. "Are you going to cum already?" He asked politely, looking surprised.
She bit her tongue and almost drew blood. "No." Angel's weren't supposed to lie. Add that to her many transgressions.
While his hand played between her legs, pinching her labia together, stroking and cupping her pussy, he slid up over her body, licking her stomach, reaching her nipples, which were taut, standing to attention.
"Everything here seems in order," he murmured, sliding two fingers into her sex and closing his lips around her left nipple. Sucking.
Tabitha arched and another gasp— this one louder—shout out of her.
She drew her knees up on either side of his hips, her feet flat to the bed. "Oh, doctor."
The pads of his fingers found her clit and she exploded.
* * * *
Her cum coated his fingers as she tightened on them, her pussy trying to devour his hand. Henry licked slowly around her peaked nipple and then flicked his tongue rapidly over it, enjoying the bright scarlet treat, feeling it swell between his gentle teeth. Under him her body arched and writhed, making him wilder, his cock harder than ever. But he'd wait a while yet for his own release. He slid his fingers out of her as the quakes and tremors subsided.
"Don't stop," she purred.
Henry softly assured her that he had no intention of stopping. He raised his sticky fingers to her parted lips and let her taste her own cum.
Her eyelashes flickered downward as she shyly took his fingers into her mouth and suckled. His cock throbbed, pressing into her thigh as he laid over her. Blood filled it. Seed rushed into the crest, made him groan out loud with need.
He was going to fuck her all night long. All night. Just what the doctor ordered.
Henry slid back down the bed, easing her thighs wider apart, settling his face between them, his engorged penis pressed into the mattress, wetting the sheet with his pre-cum.
* * * *
She couldn't catch her breath. Tabitha was on the verge again. What magic did he have in his tongue that he did this to her again already? He ate her pussy delicately at first, his touch light and teasing. It drove her mad. Releasing her grip on the sheet, she grabbed the back of his head and ground her quaking pussy into his mouth, into his face. He thrust his hands under her ass and lifted it, not letting her take any control. She groaned, panting, heat rolling off her in drops of perspiration.
"Fuck me, Doctor."
Releasing his hold on her ass cheeks he let her fall back to the bed. When he left her there she couldn't figure out what was happening. Surely he wasn't leaving the suite? Was he angry about something? It took him a few moments to rummage in his suitcase and then he returned to the bed, tearing open a small packet the contained a rubbery item.
"What's that?" she demanded.
"Condom," he gasped out.
She'd heard of them, of course, but never seen one out of its packet. "A prophylactic device? How fascinating. But you don't need that. Not with an angel," she exclaimed, half laughing at the idea.
Henry wasn't listening however. He rolled it quickly down over his erect penis and then he covered her body with his, plowing forward at the same moment so that she was speared. Impaled by every blissful inch.
Tabitha wrapped her legs around his back and he pounded into her, hard, without mercy. She worked his cock with her pussy, squeezing her inner muscles until he growled out her name.
The first time he came that night Tabitha thought she had indeed taken him up to heaven. But it turned out to be not quite the same thing.
* * * *
Each square footage of that suite was used. Henry surprised himself with his own inventiveness. Not to mention his staying power.
But in the quiet moments, when she let him rest, he enjoyed simply holding her in his arms, warm skin to skin, breath to breath, pulse to pulse. He stroked her soft hair, wound it around his fingers. And he let her explore him in return, her small fingers traveling over his body as if she read him that way—as if she was blind and his flesh marked with Braille. He'd never shared tender moments like these; he wasn't that sort of lover. It should have been odd, uncomfortable, awkward.
It was none of those things. He enjoyed it as much as the sex itself. Almost.
"Your mother must be proud of you," she whispered.
"Why?"
"Being a doctor. Saving lives."
He thought of his mother, the last time he saw her. She was sprawled in her chair, chain smoking, watching him through a haze of gin and tonic. "I can't believe you let Sonia walk out," she'd drawled in that croaky voice, laden with disappointment. "She was the best thing that ever happened to you. It's a miracle she ever looked at you, let alone married you. Can't you manage to hold on to your wife? Your father and I managed for forty years and we hated one another."
Henry watched her fingertips stroking the hairs on his forearms. "I'm sure she's proud. In her own way."
Tabitha leaned her head back to look up at him. "Her own way?"
"Sheffields don't express their feelings much. It's not the done thing."
"Oh." She reached up and kissed his chin. "I'm sorry."
No one ever said that to him. Another first.
With her legs spread, she bent over the back of the couch and looked at him over her shoulder. "I want to try it all tonight. Do it. Please. In my ass." In case this was not clear enough she parted her cheeks to show him what she wanted.
Henry would have been amused by her solemn plea for anal sex, if he wasn't so aroused by the sight of her beautiful ass presented for a reaming.
How the fuck could he resist? They'd have to stop soon as he was running out of condoms and despite her insistence that they weren't necessary he was not about to take a chance. For a supposed "Angel" she had quite a repertoire of positions she wanted to "try out" with him. And this one was a treat he'd rarely had the chance to indulge with women he usually encountered.
"We require lubricant," he muttered, running a frustrated hand back through his hair. She was certainly wet enough that he could use some of her own moisture, but if this was her first time he'd need something more just to be certain she had no pain to spoil the experience.
"Oh." She looked crestfallen.
Desperate he looked around the suite. The light was still on in the bathroom. Aha! He had a small jar of Vaseline in his travel bag. Good thing his condoms were polyurethane and not latex. He could use a little Vaseline without risk. Just a little, added to her own significant cream.
"Where are you going now?" she demanded sulkily.
Apparently she was never satisfied, he mused. "To get what we need. Wait right there."
She did. Very obediently. Her ass in the air, spread. Waiting.
Henry's arousal was in danger of putting him in the hospital. Still.
Back with the Vaseline—a small drop applied to her anus and some of her juices rubbed over his condom-clad cock—he was ready. So was she. In fact she bounced on her feet with impatience.
He pressed his cockhead between her round cheeks. Until tonight he'd never known it was possible for his body to make and expend so much seed in a few hours. Perhaps, he thought with a wry smile, he'd write a paper on it for the New England Journal of Medicine.
Slowly, carefully, he pushed forward. She yelped, then sighed.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.
"No. Keep going."
He complied.
* * * *
Of course she didn't know whether she would like it. But she was willing to try. Every inch of her body felt sexually charged, needing his attention. Henry Sheffield, MD was very good at giving it.
He had stamina. Incredible stamina.
As his dick gradually filled her and the pressure increased, her excitement mounted to fever pitch. She felt her pussy opening, yearning beneath the valley he possessed. She tried to push back and claim more of him, but Henry grabbed her hips to keep her steady.
"I don't want to hurt you," he groaned so deeply she felt every word vibrating through her ass and her pussy.
"You won't. I'm ready. I need you...Henry."
She heard him hiss out a low breath of part anguish, part pleasure and then he began a slow, steady fucking. His long fingers found her cunt and entered her there just as she was clenching and pushing.
He spat out a curse and began to ram her faster, harder, thrusting his fingers deeper.
This time Tabitha's orgasm was loud enough to shake all the light-bulbs loose. And Henry was not far behind her. Nor much decreased in decibel.
* * * *
She watched him sleeping. So peaceful. Tabitha leaned over and gently kissed his lips, tasting his warm breath again. It was like wine to her, intoxicating. In fact, his kisses were even better than that. How glad she was that he was her mission, that she'd been sent to bring him up—not one of those other angels who just did their job perfectly and never got a feather out of place. Henry was hers. After all the things they'd done that evening she would never again feel a sense of missing out. It was hard to leave life behind at only nineteen years of age, but she'd made up for that tonight.
"How lovely you are," she whispered into his ear. "Don't ever forget me."
* * * *
Henry woke with a start, head flicked up from the carpet. He was on the floor? How the Hell did that happen?
Pushing himself up on his elbows, he realized he was stark naked.
Someone was in the bathroom, humming tunelessly. Water was running. The shower.
He sat up and shook his head groggily. Probably didn't get much more than an hour sleep. Surprisingly his dick was still attached. Slowly he got to his feet and looked around. Condom packets littered the room and the left-over chocolate cake had clearly been attacked once again for breakfast. Daylight seeped in through curtains.
Where was his bathrobe?
She answered that question by emerging from the bathroom wearing it. Her long hair was wet, her eyes wickedly blue, her smile equally angelic.
"Good morning, Doctor."
On instinct he covered his cock with both hands, but felt it rising again to greet her. "Good morning...Tabitha. Feeling better I hope?
"Much." She laughed. "You must work miracles. Not a solitary sniffle left."
He looked at her and thought she was quite the most lovely woman he'd ever laid eyes on. Not to mention his hands, lips and everything else. "How did I get to be so lucky?" he murmured, not realizing—until it was too late—that he spoke his thought aloud.
She shrugged, her hands sunk in the large pockets of his bathrobe. "Fate sent me to you."
"Fate?" Or mischievous co-workers?
"I'm glad we had last night," she said, a tinge of sadness in her voice. "At least."
Ah. So she was leaving him now. Of course she was. Unless he found some way to make her stay a while longer. "Tabitha, I—"
A sharp rap on the door interrupted him.
She gestured that he should answer it. With nothing else at hand he grabbed his raincoat from the back of a chair and strode to the door.
The young porter from yesterday stood there looking pale and on the verge of vomiting. "Doctor Sheffield...sir. Please come quick." He pointed across the hall. "I think there's been a drug overdose. I know you're a doctor. It says on the card you gave me. Can you help? I don't know what to do." The boy trembled. "I called the front desk for an ambulance. But I thought perhaps you can do something...."
* * * *
Tabitha was standing behind him when she heard the news. The guest across the hall was unconscious, couldn't be roused. People were either panicking or standing around looking dumb. Following Henry into the other suite, she saw the young man in leather jeans, sprawled out on a sick-stained carpet.
And then she knew what she'd done this time. Gone to the wrong room.
This man was supposed to be her soul for collection, not Doctor Henry Sheffield. Somehow the rooms must have gotten switched.
She watched as Henry tried to revive the man. An ambulance was being called, but it was too late. Tabitha was there to do her job. She needed that promotion, didn't she? And if she went back with no soul collected, she could forget about getting a new set of wings. It took her one hundred and thirty four years of good behavior to win the pair that Doctor Sheffield pulled off her body last night. Now she'd probably be sent back to beginners' class again. She didn't know for sure what happened to angels who lost their wings, but she'd heard dark rumors.
All she had to do now was go to the half-dead man and kiss him. She would take him up as it was meant to be. Undo the mistake as best she could.
Oh, but Henry was working so hard, so diligently. As he bent over the man, she stared at the back of his head, his strong neck and shoulders. Last night he made love to her tirelessly, gave her more pleasure than she ever knew existed.
But saving lives was his job and taking them was hers.
The people in the room gathered in sobbing circles, some just staring in blank-faced shock. Whatever their expression she knew they were mutely willing the doctor to succeed. And she willed it too. She didn't want him to fail even if it meant she would.
Henry ignored everyth
ing else around him and worked on the patient. He did not care that these people had annoyed him last night when he tried to get his work done. Now he was needed and he rushed at once into the fray, no hesitation. This was his duty, what he was meant to do with his life.
Tabitha's heart hurt, heavy with anguish about her mistake. But it also ached with something more. With love for a man she would never have met if it wasn't for her own clumsiness, her own failure to follow orders and guidelines.
Yes, it was love. Just like that it had happened. She didn't believe in it until now.
Chapter Five
When the ambulance pulled away from the hotel, sirens blaring, Henry quickly returned to his suite. Tabitha was gone. Even her broken wings had disappeared. He called down to the front desk but they hadn't seen any scantily dressed woman leave the hotel—other than the few creatures from the rock-star's room and they were all in the manager's office, drinking tea until cars could be found to ferry them home.
All that remained of his sexy companion was a few scattered white feathers and fluffy down, here and there on the carpet. And the shattered ruins of a chocolate cake. He also observed that his toothpaste tube had been squeezed from the middle, instead of the neatly rolled end. Typical. But at least it proved she had been there. She was not a lurid dream, conjured by his over-worked, under-sexed imagination.
He'd find out who sent her to him. That was all. He'd get her full name, find her somehow. In this internet day and age anyone could be found. If they existed.
Henry rushed through breakfast, showered, shaved, dressed in a clean suit and checked out with just enough time to get to his interview. It wasn't until he was in the taxi, being jerked sideways in and out of stalled lines of traffic that he realized he'd forgotten to give young Bill, the porter, that tip he'd promised for remembering his dinner order last night. In all the fuss over the overdose it had gone clean out of his mind.
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