Johnny Angel Read Free Page B

after.”
                  “What did come after?” She put the plate of gingerbread men down, her attention rapt on him.
                  “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
                  “Lame.” She stuffed a peanut butter ball in her mouth, her tongue swiping the last of the chocolate from her fingers. Even after what had just happened, every swipe of her tongue sent sensation straight to his cock.
                  “Jesus, do you have to do that?” he muttered in a strangled voice.
                  “Do what?” She licked more of the chocolate.
                  “Fellate your fingers.”
                  “Yes.”
                  “Why? There’s more. There’s a whole stack of those chocolate things.”
                  “Because I’m good at it.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Three 
    The Nutcracker Suite
     
                  The words just leapt out of her mouth like lemmings into the sea. Just like those lemmings, there was no saving them.
                  Heat flooded her face and she was sure that her cheeks were the same color as the poinsettia on the end table—bright red.  “I didn’t mean that.”
                  His eyes narrowed. “You mean that it isn’t true or you didn’t mean to say it?”
                  Something about the tone of his voice settled low in her belly and she licked her lips. “I didn’t mean to say it.” Sofia realized her voice sounded low and throaty.
                  “Meaning that you are good at it?”
                  “Eating chocolate? What woman isn’t?”
                  “That’s not what you meant.” He was smug and much too sure of himself. Unfortunately, it looked incredibly good on him.
                  “You have a foul mind for an angel.”
                  “Stop calling me an angel.”
                  “What am I supposed to call you? A ghost? You look pretty solid to me.” Dear God, yes! Solid, and strong, and hot, and… She fanned herself and looked away.
                  “How about you just call me Johnny?”
                  The TV flickered on and Shelley Fabares’ face came into view and Johnny Angel blared through the speakers.
                  He rolled his eyes at the tune.  “They’re not very angelic up there, either. They know I hate this song.”
                  Sofia wasn’t sure what to say that. Awkward was her standard outfit, but the feeling was highlighted in red Sharpie after having spontaneously confessed that she had suction power like a Hoover.
                  “So…” She let the sentence hang.
                  “Well, it’s late. I’m sure choking to death was exhausting. We’ve got a long day tomorrow, so you should go to bed.”
                  “Yeah, about that. Where will you be?”
                  “Here. I can’t leave until you learn your lessons.”
                  “Here?” she squeaked. This man—dead man—she reminded herself, he was going to be staying in her apartment? No, no and more no. “I don’t think that’s going to work.”
                  “Look baby doll, neither of us have a choice. We’re both stuck. Go to bed. It’s not like I’m going to watch you sleep or anything.”
                  “I don’t have a guest bedroom,” she protested.
                  “I don’t sleep. So, no problem. You’ve got cable? I’ll watch Sports Center. A great thing, that. Back in my day, we only got three channels.” He stretched his long legs out and propped his feet on her coffee table.
                  This. This was why she didn’t date. Inconsiderate. Uncouth. She growled