Page 31 of Where Angels Fall

The thick erection strains against the material of his pants, and I can tell he is turned on. I ache to go to him, to move towards him, but I fear if I do it on my own regard, I’ll never come back from it. He watches, waiting like a dare, as if he knows I want to come to him, but won't do it without him demanding it. One of his eyebrows rises in a smug movement as I tremble and come down from the high... still on the table.

Finally, I peel myself off the sticky wood, standing on shaky feet. Dressed in nothing but my heels, I feel exposed in a way that I bet few people have ever felt.

He says nothing, just lifts a hand and motions towards him with a finger.

It's enough. I listen.

Everyone is silent, except for the clack of my heels against the wood as I slowly make my way towards him. My legs feel like they're about to give way, and my core burns as I walk. I've lost count of how many dicks have been inside me tonight.

Stopping just in front of him, we are still the same height, even though he's sitting in a chair.

“Do a spin for me, my pretty little used-up angel,” he murmurs, and although my face burns with shame, I do it.

I let him see all of me. All the bruises, the marks and cum that covers me, slowly turning and meeting the eyes of everyone else in the club. When I'm facing him again, hunger burns in his eyes. He leans forward, he's hand cupping my sex.

“Is this pretty pussy sore now, Angel?” He asks, and I nod, dropping my eyes to where he holds me softly.

I don't know if I can take another cock, but with the way his is straining, I doubt I'll have a choice.

“Did my men make you feel good?”

I nod. I couldn't lie right now, even if I wanted to. He stubs his cigarette out on the table, blowing out his last exhale.

“On your knees, baby,” he mutters, and I fall to the ground. There's something about the way he utters his commands that makes me want to listen. “Take my cock out.”

My hands fumble with the button and the zipper. My fingers brushing past the curls at the base of his cock before it springs out hard and hungry. Pre-cum glistens at his tip, and I'm surprised by the way my mouth waters for a taste of it.

Blow jobs have always been something I have dreaded. Right now, the need to wrap my lips around him and make him feel good is so strong that I can barely hold myself back.

His hand comes up as he softly brushes the hair out of my face. It's soaked with sweat and tears, and saliva. His eyes shine as he looks down at me, but then something hard crosses his face, and in an instant, his hand fists my hair, pulling painfully at my scalp.

He says nothing as he drags my mouth to his cock and uses my face to fuck it. He rocks into me from below and uses firm hands to push me down and down and down until I'm spluttering and choking on his cock. My throat already feels bruised, but I keep swallowing around him, trying to let him deeper into my throat. My breath soars in and out through my nose as he chases his orgasm.

“You make me like this, Angel. You turn me into this monster,” he growls, thrusting in and out of my throat like a man possessed. “So now you must swallow every drop of my cum. I’m your devil, and you do as I say.”

And even in the brutality of the moment, his hands on my skin feel like heaven, and when he explodes in my mouth, his taste makes me moan, and my legs clench for more.

I’m utterly and thoroughly damned.

Chapter 13

Ash

Her weight settles against my chest like she belongs there, head tipped just enough that her breath ghosts warm against my neck. She’s out cold, spent in a way that I know she’s never been before, body all worn out and used.

Her lashes lay heavy across her cheekbones, mouth parted just slightly as her even breaths fall out. I tighten my hold without meaning to, eyes tracking every rise and fall of her chest as I carry her through her apartment building.

The elevator doors slide open, all glass and steel, nothing like the rusted cages and cracked concrete I’m used to. I step inside and punch in the code to her penthouse, the code Kai gave to me the day after she wandered into our club.

The city glides upward around us in reflected lights, and I watch her face instead of the floor count. Every second. Every breath. Like if I look away, something will slip.

She stirs for a second, a soft sound leaving her throat, and I shift her higher against me, careful not to wake her. The elevator hums us towards her fancy little penthouse apartment.

I slip us inside, using the key I have copied. It’s all glass and polish and views. Immaculately tidy just like I’d imagined it would be with marble floors and white furniture. Money thrown into every basic little detail. I stand here in my leather vest, blood-stained boots and unruly skin, and with this perfect angel in my arms, for the first time I feel the contrast bite.

This world she lives in is so fucking far above my world that I couldn’t even spot mine down in the sprawling city views. Too shiny. Too fucking perfect.

Yet, it’s paid for by Howard Dally, so it can’t be that perfect. In fact, this apartment may as well be coated with blood, with the money he uses.