Page 11 of Where Angels Fall

“Hello, Angel,” a familiar voice purrs straight into my ear. A voice that has been haunting my mind since the moment I stepped foot into a dirty, run-down bar. My skin erupts into goosebumps, and I cry out in fear against his palm.

My feet thrash at his legs, but he doesn’t so much as grunt, obviously unaffected by my movements. My heart beats so violently I think it might burst through my chest. Warm air dusts my ear, the low rasp of his voice vibrating at my back.

Tears run over his fingers as he grips my face tight in his hand. Twisting harder, trying to dislodge myself from his grasp, pure adrenaline rushes through me. But he pins me tighter to his chest, the curves of his body hard and unrelenting against mine. The scent of smoke and leather flood my senses, so strong and inebriating.

“You smell like a dream,” he murmurs, nuzzling the shell of my ear, inhaling deep and groaning low and deep. “Like sweet vanilla and innocence.”

His hand leaves my mouth, only for a second. Just long enough for me to suck in a gasping breath and part my lips to scream. But I don’t get the chance. His other hand finds the neckline of my blouse and rips, the fabric tearing with a horrifying rip. My scream dies in my throat as the cold air hits my chest, leaving me bare in just my white lacy undergarments.

“But something tells me you’re not that innocent...” He breathes behind me, voice low and ragged.

“No!” I gasp, trying to pull my shirt together, but he is already grabbing for my skirt next.

Another brutal tug, another rip, and the fabric falls past my heels and onto the cement below.

I’m shaking, completely exposed in my lace lingerie, to anyone who might walk past. Before I wanted to scream for help. Now I’m begging myself to stay silent, dreading the thought of someone seeing me like this.

Because the people I work with, my father, will punish me. It’s always the woman’s fault for acting like such a whore.

I think he knows this too, because his hand doesn’t go back to my mouth, instead wrapping around my throat and squeezing tight. Oxygen barely gets through his vicious grip as he secures his other arm around my stomach, tighter than before.

“My good little girl, learning to follow instructions,” he growls in my ear. “One day I’ll have you crawling to me on your hands and knees... begging for my cock.”

A shuddering sob wracks my body as a warm tear falls down my face. I’m completely at his mercy, and he knows it. “Stop,” I whisper. “You need to stop.”

My eyes are wide, glued to the elevator and praying it doesn’t open. Sliding down my waist, his broad palm lowers, until his fingertips slide past the band of my panties. Searing heat radiates from his skin, so at odds with the chill carried by the dark car park.

“I don’t need to do anything,” he growls, hand tightening around my throat until I’m gasping for breath, face heating.

I’m vibrating as his long fingers dance over the soft curls above my core and stop just above the throbbing bundle of nerves that betray me. My body jolts in his grip, not just from fear, but from the unbearable heat surging through me. I hate that he feels it. I hate that I feel it.

“I bet your little cunt is dripping fucking wet right now, isn’t it, Angel?” His hand finally lowers, cupping my sex in his hand and feeling the obvious arousal growing damper by the second. All the fight leaves my body as need takes over. He huffs a cruel laugh when he realises, he is right. “What a perverted little thing you are, getting so turned on by a Devil like me, taking what he pleases from you.” He tsks his tongue, and it has me trembling. “Naughty little Angel...”

My face heats a million degrees, shame and terror and need, spiralling into an intoxicating cocktail. A gasp slips out of me as two thick fingers slide through my damp lips and pull them apart. Unconsciously, my hips twist, searching for the friction he seems to purposefully be denying me.

“God...Ughhh... Enough!” I gasp nonsense, words barely sliding past the pressure he is putting on my neck. My blood hums in my ears and my vision blurs.

“Next time you are on your knees,” he growls. Behind me, his body vibrates with unchecked rage. “It’ll be fore a Devil, baby. Next time you’ll remember who you belong to.”

Gritting my teeth, I fight the sensation he forces onto my body. The way it feels taut and wired. The pleasure sparking through all of my nerves.

“I don’t belong… to you,” I choke the words out.

He squeezes tighter, effectively cutting off my oxygen, and I begin to panic, my body writhing against his in instinct. My arms whip up to claw at his thick, inked forearms.

“Shhhh...Shhh, it’s okay, Maddy,” he coos in my ear. “If you keep wriggling like that, Angel, my cock is going to want to come out to play...”

In a swift motion, he plunges two thick fingers, knuckle-deep, inside my pussy. Even with the unrelenting grip on my throat, a shrill cry falls out of me, my body igniting with feeling.

He works his fingers in and out of me, finding a punishing rhythm as black spots begin to dance before my vision. I’m going to pass out.

My head lolls back onto the muscular shoulder behind me as my eyes fall closed, and just as I’m about to slip from consciousness, his grip eases.

Gasping and shuddering, I suck in deep gasps of air through my ravaged throat. Sobs wrack my body. Tears and spit fly from me as a cough and cry, his thick fingers still working in and out of me, stretching me from the inside.

A ding sounds, and the elevator slides open, revealing Conrad and Linda. Stifling any sounds that beg to slip out of my mouth, I bite my lip hard as they walk past us, hidden in the shadows. I could scream for help. I could beg and plead for them to call the police. But I don’t.

They would see me, bared and covered in only lace, my nipples tight and my pussy dripping. All my dignity, which at this moment is very little, would be stripped, and Father would be disappointed.