Dumas was about to explain that his words were simply a colloquialism -- he lacked any firsthand experience with angels (much less their asses).  But then Mari raked her fingernails across his chest and all other thoughts flew from his head like a flock of excited birds.  Dumas’s neck arched off the mattress as her touch seemed to amplify every sensation alreading flooding through him.  “Oh god,” he panted, his breath becoming increasingly rapid and choppy.  “That feels so fucking good.”<br/><br/>It was a little odd to hear Mari swearing like a drunken soldier.  But Dumas liked it.  “You’re a nasty girl in bed,” he complimented, clearly pleased.  This was the conflict that had kept Dumas pulled in two directions for so long.  For everyday life, he wanted someone gentle and submissive.  But when it came to sex, he wanted someone wild and a little wicked.  How could he have ever guessed that Mari could give him both?<br/><br/>After they found their rhythm together, Dumas began arching his hips, pressing up against Mari as she pressed down against him.  It had been a long time since he felt this connected to someone, completely in sync with their thoughts and movements.  Surely this was meant to be.  A little reward from the universe to make up for all crap it had dumped on him.  Looking up at Mari, Dumas felt droplets of sweat running down his face like the tears he’d never been able to cry.  But these would have been tears of joy, not sorrow.<br/><br/>Wave after wave of bliss washed through Dumas, pushing him towards an inevitable climax.  HIs hands curled into fists, clutching at the sheets, as he struggled to hold out until Mari was ready.  Unfortunately, the pressure inside him was building to the bursting point.  “Bunny Girl,” he groaned.  “I wish I could fuck you forever.  But I’m getting so close…”