Send Me An Angel Read online

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Send Me An Angel

  ISBN # 978-1-906811-00-6

  ©Copyright Alysha Ellis 2008

  Cover Art by Lyn Taylor ©Copyright July 2008

  Edited by Janice Bennett

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2008 by Total-E-Bound Publishing 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.

  SEND ME AN ANGEL

  Alysha Ellis

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmark mentioned in this work of fiction:

  K-Mart: Sears Brands

  Chapter One

  Wow. Ellie knew it was her birthday, but in thirty-two years, this was the first time anyone had ever given her a naked man—a beautiful naked man, who looked like he’d been created by some benevolent god, just to give women pleasure.

  She was astonished that any of her friends would have had the nerve to pull off a trick like this. Ellie was not noted for her flexibility or her tolerance of the unexpected. She had rules, and she didn’t bend them for anyone. Surely her friends knew her first reaction would be to call the police.

  Some sort of decisive action was definitely called for. After all, it wasn’t an everyday occurrence to open your front door and find someone curled up, fast asleep and naked, on the top step. At the moment, though, he was harmless, so she stopped to think. After all, there was that saying about not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Although that wasn't quite right because she wasn't looking anywhere near his mouth.

  He groaned—a deep, painful sound wrenched from somewhere deep inside him. It shouldn’t have made her shiver with delight, but it did.

  He moved, dragging himself into a crouch. Ellie completely forgot about calling the police. Her breath caught in her chest, her eyes widened, her lips pulled together and opened again with a decidedly lustful, smacking sound.

  She clapped a hand over wayward mouth. What was she thinking? How could the sight of one man, no matter how outstandingly, amazingly gorgeous he was, so completely scramble her normally no-nonsense, decisive brain?

  The man raised himself onto one knee. His forearm was draped across his other thigh. Ellie’s no-nonsense brain went into shock. To get from the sight of that one knee to the opposite thigh, her eyes had to take a long, scenic journey. And in the middle of that journey, she stopped. And stared. And smiled.

  Tie it up with a big red bow, because that package was hers. Can we all sing, Happy Birthday to Ellie?

  Her birthday present braced himself on his other arm. The sight of the powerful curve of his shoulder muscles, the flex and bulge rippling all the way down to where his thumb and forefinger strained to push him up, for a brief moment took Ellie’s attention away from his penis, which hung, thick and inviting, between his muscular thighs.

  Her breath caught in her lungs. Her entire attention was riveted on the man in front of her. She’d get to the bottom of this mystery…later. If her friends had set her up, someone would die, but not right now. Right now she was having trouble even thinking.

  The stranger raised his head and his celestial blue eyes looked straight into hers. Somewhere in the distance Ellie heard the sound of harps being gently stroked. A sensation of absolute peace, absolute rightness, overwhelmed her.

  Control-freak Ellie, who needed everything and everyone to be slotted into the right place and stay there, fell right into those cerulean pools and forgot thirty-two years of caution, prudence and control.

  He smiled and her knees sagged. Her back slid down the door jamb as she dropped to the floor.

  He instantly scrambled to his knees, his hand reaching out to hold hers.

  “Are you hurt? Have I frightened you?”

  Ellie shook her head dazedly. “Not frightened. No.” She stopped, swallowed hard and began again. “Who are you? Where have you come from, and what on earth are you doing, naked, on my doorstep?”

  He looked around him and then turned those amazing eyes back to Ellie. “On Earth. Yes, I am on Earth.”

  Ellie had almost staggered to her feet but the impact of his gaze made her wobble. Instantly his arms were around her. It brought him into close contact. His naked body brushed hard up against hers as he supported her.

  He yelped once and jumped back, looking into the small space between them, eyes wide with horror. “What is it doing? How do I stop it?” Fear made his voice husky. “How big is it going to get?”

  Ellie looked down and smiled wickedly. His penis, impressive even at rest, was swelling and growing. It was an awe-inspiring sight, but he didn’t seem to appreciate it.

  He pulled his hands up, well away from his groin. His face was pale and tense. “Please, what’s happening to me?”

  The question achieved what nothing else could. It snapped Ellie’s fascinated eyes upwards. What she saw there confused her completely. This wasn’t a joke. The man was truly bewildered, and, if her judgment was correct, frightened. How could a fully-grown man be afraid of his own equipment? Had he lived his whole life in a monastery?

  There was only one way to find the answers. She assumed her best don’t-mess-with-me look. The Ellie-glare had cowed everyone who’d ever been subjected to it.

  In a voice that could make grown men tremble, she attacked. “What are you doing here, naked, on my doorstep?”

  If he heard her, he didn’t flinch. His eyes remained transfixed by his penis. The distraction provided by Ellie’s question had stopped its awesome progress to full rigidity. As the potential hard-on subsided, the worry left his face and his attention returned to Ellie. “I fell.”

  “Fell? Fell from where?” She gazed up at the empty sky. “And why does it involve being naked?”

  He looked down at his body then back to Ellie. She glared back. The sound of a motor coming down the street broke the impasse and jolted her into action. No matter who he was, or where he’d come from, she couldn’t leave him standing on her front step.

  She dragged him inside. Considerations of personal safety were less important than her reputation in the neighbourhood.

  In her living room, with his tempting body so blatantly on display, Ellie couldn’t think. She snatched a blanket from the back of the lounge and threw it at him. “Here. Wrap this around you. And tell me who you are and what you’re doing here, or I’ll call the police.”

  The man smiled his astonishing smile again. Ellie shook her head to rid it of the persistent sound of distant harps.

  “My name is Peter. I am an angel. I fell.”

  A stripper-gram. That had to be it. One of her friends, maybe a whole bunch of them together, had sent her a stripper-gram,
and somehow the poor guy had started his routine too early, fallen and knocked himself out on her step. He probably had post-traumatic confusion.

  Of course, if her friends had had the temerity to send her a stripper-gram, they’d have been here to watch her get it. His car should be parked in front of her house. There would be some clothes scattered about. The man had to strip out of something, after all. And no man who had ever worked as a stripper was going to be afraid of a hard-on.

  What had he said he was? An angel? Maybe he meant that was his stripper costume. Ellie’s thoughts whirled around her head in dizzying circles.

  “Did you say you were an angel?” She scowled. “Where’re your wings?”

  “I was an angel. I’m not any more. I don’t have wings. Not since I fell.”

  The furrows on her brow deepened. “Falling and knocking yourself out on my doorstep stopped you from being an angel? That’s ridiculous.”

  He blinked. It occurred to Ellie her tone was a bit sharp, especially when contrasted with his melodious voice.

  “You’ve got it back to front,” he said. “I landed on your doorstep because I stopped being an angel.”

  He sounded so convincing, so sure of what he was saying. A part of Ellie’s mind began to consider the possibility. “You got yourself kicked out of heaven and ended up on my doorstep? Why here? Since when has my house been the gateway to Hell?”

  His shoulders lifted into a shrug. Ellie dived for the blanket and pulled it back up. She grabbed one of his hands and thrust the folds of material into it. He held onto it obediently. “I didn’t get kicked out of Heaven. I chose to leave. And I’m certainly not on my way to Hell. I don’t have a clue why it was your doorstep I landed on, though.” He gave her a wide, appreciative grin. “Just good luck, I guess.”

  “Good luck? You appear unconscious on my doorstep, I’m probably going to get sued because your brains have been scrambled, and you call it good luck?” She pushed him down on the lounge and strode off to her room. It was at moments like these, a girl had to call her best friend. One, to find out whether she’d been responsible for sending Ellie the world’s most clumsy stripper, and two, to do something Ellie never did—ask for advice. Maybe telling it all to Jeanne would silence the niggling whisper in the back of Ellie’s brain, What if he’s telling the truth?

  Except Jeanne wasn’t answering her phone. Ellie tried and tried, but the out-of-service message just kept droning on. With no more idea of what to do than when she’d left, Ellie walked back into the room.

  And stopped dead. She could not have moved if her life depended on it.

  Her angel was still exactly where she’d left him, on the couch, but he was leaning back, the covering blanket slipped once more from his shoulders. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open.

  The bulging pads of his chest muscles stood out, and she could see the faint sprinkling of golden blond hair flowing in a thin line down the groove between the hills and valleys of a perfect six-pack.

  After that, words failed her, because, oh-m-my-g-god. His fist clutched the base of the most delicious, most enormous, eye-popping, mouth-watering cock to ever grace the earth.

  His hand moved. Just an exploratory stroke. Up and down. He groaned. Ellie felt her skin burn. Felt the hot clenching in her own groin. Felt the moisture pool.

  He tightened his fist, and his cock leaped in his hand. His other hand reached down between his legs, cupping his balls. He groaned again. Louder, more desperate. His breath huffed out in short, sharp bursts. The hand gripping his cock moved faster and faster, up and down, squeezing rhythmically. The other hand stroked his balls.

  It was the most wildly erotic thing Ellie had ever seen. She leaned up against the door jamb. Her own hand crept to touch her clit through her clothes.

  The more his back arched up off the couch, the harder she rubbed herself.

  A drop of pre-cum glistened and tantalised at the tip of his cock. Her mouth went dry with longing to lick it off, but nothing on earth could have made her legs support her long enough to get her there.

  His balls contracted. He moaned once, as if his soul was being torn from his body, and his cock pulsed in a series of spasmodic jerks. Creamy-white cum erupted in spurts. It splashed over his chest, decorating his awesome six-pack like whipped cream.

  Ellie’s fingers pushed hard against her clit. She felt waves of orgasm surge over her, beating and pulsing. Her legs sagged, and she slid onto the floor.

  The lust-induced fog cleared when he sighed. Loudly.

  Ellie rolled shakily onto her knees and crawled over to him.

  She knew her face was bright red. She could feel the flames heating her cheeks.

  It didn’t stop the throb between her legs. It didn’t stop the almost unconquerable desire to straddle his body and lick him clean.

  What did stop her was the look of stunned satisfaction on his face.

  He turned dazed eyes to her. “That was sex?” His face glowed with the power of his smile. “That was the most wonderful thing. It was worth my fall to earth.”

  He suddenly leaned over and studied Ellie’s face closely. He touched her cheeks and then lifted his fingers to his own, where the red flags of sexual excitement still flew. “Did you do sex too?” He thought for a moment. “I would like to see that. Is it possible to perhaps do it together, do you think?”

  Ellie almost laughed, but it came out as a queer little moan. “That was a part of sex. A type of sex. But most people prefer it when it’s done together. It’s, um, generally held to enhance the experience.”

  “Make it better?” His incredulity was obvious. If it were possible for that deep, harmonious voice to squeak, it would have. “It can get better than that? How? Show me?”

  “I don’t think anyone needs to show you anything. For a man who, ten minutes ago, was afraid of his own hard-on, how did you come, if you’ll pardon the expression, to do that?” She licked her lips and pointed to the droplets of semen still clinging to the light golden hairs on his chest.

  He looked down, his face a mixture of bemusement and satisfaction. He trailed one finger through a little blob of cum. “My penis felt funny, and I thought rubbing it might make it feel better.” The perfect smile gleamed out again. “And it did. Much better. Although not in the way I had intended.” He raised his finger to his nose and sniffed. A frown creased his perfect brow. “Is it dangerous that I have leaked like this?”

  Ellie smothered a snort of laughter. “It’s perfectly natural. Surely this can’t be a complete surprise to you.”

  “Well, I knew sex happened. I just didn’t know how it happened.” As he spoke, he absently grabbed a corner of the blanket and dabbed at his chest.

  “Eeeew. Don’t you dare.” Ellie snatched the blanket away. “Into the shower. Now.”

  She shoved him down the hall. “You do know how to shower, don’t you?”

  His bottom lip poked out in a very sexy way. “Of course I know how to shower. We are very clean in Heaven.”

  To demonstrate, he stepped into the stall and turned the tap. Water cascaded over the muscled planes of his body, making them glisten. It was almost impossible for Ellie to walk away. But she gritted her teeth and bit her lip and, mustering more resolve than she thought possible, she left the room.

  She muttered to herself as she wandered through the house. She would not jump his bones. She could not have sex with someone who turned up naked at her door. She knew nothing about him. He might be a homicidal maniac. Okay, she didn’t think he was, but it was possible. Maybe she’d better go back and check up on him. Just to make sure he wasn’t stealing the soap. The soap he’d be rubbing over his glistening, gleaming body. Ellie clamped down harder on her lip.

  Her reluctant legs carried her into the kitchen. Absently wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead, she sat down to think.

  She needed to know more about him because she was not the kind of person who had sex with total strangers. In fact if recent trends were any indi
cation, she was not the sort of person who had sex at all.

  It was so long since she’d been with anyone, she didn’t even have a condom in the house. In spite of what her friends said, it was not being excessively cautious to throw out the last condoms in the drawer because they had almost reached their use-by date.

  Nothing in her house was out of date, or out of place or untidy. She was neat, maybe even a little bit fussy. A friend once said no man felt comfortable enough to hang around Ellie, for fear he’d be treated like just so much more clutter, packaged up, put in his place and expected to stay there. He’d claimed it would take a saint to live up to her expectations.

  Ellie didn’t think she was that bad. It was just she’d never really cared enough for any of the men she’d brought home to put up with their sloppiness, their inability to use a coaster or a laundry hamper, their total refusal to even see why things needed to be kept in order.

  There’d never been a man she felt comfortable having in her house. And if she wasn’t comfortable with a man in her house, she wasn’t comfortable with him in her life either.

  Peter chose that moment to stride, stark naked, into the kitchen.

  Obviously, modesty was a concept he hadn’t had much experience with. While anyone, anywhere, would have to concede it was a sin to cover up a body like that, if Ellie was going to do anything other than stare at him all day, slack-jawed with lust, she had to get him clothed.

  The problem was Ellie’s excessive neatness meant there was nothing for him to wear. He was much too big to fit into anything of hers. If any past lover had left any clothes in the house, they had long ago been washed, ironed, parcelled up and sent back to their owner.

  The solution was obvious. She stood up. “Shopping. I have to go shopping for some clothes for you.”

  Peter looked from his naked body to her clothed one. “I observe that you wear clothing. I will need some sort of garments to fit in, won’t I?” He walked to the door. “Shall we go and get some?”