Castle: A steamy romance novella (Angels Series Book 3)

by Ashleigh Jameson

  "I'm going to use you, Lizzie," I say. Walking behind her, I reach my arms around her waist to undo her belt before pulling down her jeans and pink knickers in one go.

  I take my time folding her clothes and placing them gently on the chair.

  Now, I can have fun.

  Walking up to her, I lean in until my lips are barely an inch from hers. She feels me, and tries closing the gap but I grab a fistful of her thick hair to hold her in place.

  Then I dip my lips down and kiss her throat, before nipping and kissing my way down the centre of her body in a straight line.

  There's only one thought in my mind. One thing I couldn't get out of my head since I saw her on the security camera yesterday. One thing I'm desperate to do.

  Getting on my knees, I push her legs apart, then press my nose against her soft mound and inhale deeply.

  "Fuck, you smell so good."

  I trail my tongue along her wet slit, coating myself in her arousal.

  A soft moan escapes her lips.

  My tongue finds her hard little bub and I begin sucking on it, licking it while I palm her curvy bum, squeezing the soft flesh hard as I take all the pleasure I can from her gorgeous pussy.

  Soon, Lizzie's moaning gets louder. Her hips buck against my mouth as I make out with her pussy, but with her hands restrained there isn't much she can do.

  I bring two fingers to her entrance and look up into her hooded eyes.

  "Tell me to fuck your hot little hole with my fingers." I say.

  "W..what?"

  "You heard me."

  "Please," she says, "please use your fingers on me."

  Standing up, I grab her by the hair and march her to the 'tombstone', a cushioned bench with knee rests on either side. Straddling her on top of it, I bend her over so her bum is splayed open.

  "What're you doing?" She whispers.

  Her thighs shake as I secure them on either side with leather straps, and I see a glistening spot form on the black bench from her delicious wetness.

  Pulling off my belt, I wrap it around my wrist.

  "When I order you to say something, I want you to say it word for word."

  Raising my arm, I bring the belt down with a loud whoosh. The leather whips into her skin, making her jump.

  "Ah, shit!" She yells.

  I give her a moment to readjust. She's never had rough play before, so I'm very careful to listen to her body.

  Soon, her breathing resumes properly.

  "You're going to countdown with me from ten while I whip this pretty little arse red. Do you understand?"

  "Yes."

  "Good girl."

  I bring the belt down on her again. This time, she braces herself. That's good. And she counts out like I ordered her to.

  We work from ten to one, each whip causing her skin to tremble. The wet spot on the bench grows more and more, and I fight the urge to drink her nectar like a crazed beast.

  By the time I'm done, Lizzie is a quivering wreck on the bench. Sweaty, trembling and moaning like a possessed little slut for me.

  My slut.

  Mine.

  Fucking mine.

  God my cock wants nothing more than to be rammed in that tight little pussy of hers. I will ruin her for other men. I will mark her, and claim her like an animal.

  "Now, what did I ask you to tell me earlier?"

  "Fuck," she moans, "fuck my hot little hole with your fingers. Please."

  Music to my ears.

  I push two fingers into her mouth, swirling them around, watching as the spit drips down my fingers and her chin. Imagining she's choking on my thick cock. I want to make her gag on it. I want her mascara running down her eyes as I fuck her mouth with reckless abandon.

  But not now.

  Satisfied, I trail my fingers along her slit gently, and then shove them both into her at the same time.

  Lizzie screams into the bench.

  "My God, you're so fucking tight," I say, picking up the pace.

  I fuck her rhythmically with my fingers, before hooking them inside her to tease that sensitive ridge of flesh.

  Lizzie's hips grind against the bench and she begins thrusting her hips against my hand like a little minx.

  Harder and faster.

  The veins in my forearm thicken under the pressure I'm exerting on her G spot. I know this woman's a squirter, I can feel it in my bones. And I'm going to make her soak the fucking bench.

  Lizzie's face is buried down into the padding, so I grab her by the hair and pull that pretty face up so I can hear those magical screams better.

  "Scream for me, you dirty girl," I say, finger fucking her furiously.

  I feel like my cock is about to explode in my trousers just listening to her moans and the sound of my fingers hammering into her.

  "Oh God," she suddenly cries. Her body begins to convulse violently as a river floods out of her, drenching my hand.

  "God. Oh God..Oh my fucking God!" Her screams pierce through the air like a banshee as another burst of warm wetness floods the bench.

  Now, I'm satisfied.

  I slowly stop fingering her and withdraw my hand, licking my fingers clean. She tastes so fucking delicious. Her pussy was made for my mouth.

  Lizzie's still moaning silently as she rides down the wave of her orgasm.

  Untying her hands, I scoop her into my arms and carry her to a couch in the corner of the room. I sit her on my lap then gently remove the blindfold.

  Her eyes look disoriented as she stares at me, and I give her a soft smile before leaning down to kiss her on the lips.

  Finally.

  My body lights up as our lips touch, and I tease my tongue into her mouth, savouring her taste. Lizzie wraps her hands around my neck and pulls me closer, deepening our kiss.

  "I want you so bad, gorgeous," I say, nibbling her lower lip. "All I could think of from the moment I saw you, is how pretty you'd look with your mouth full of me. You're driving me so fucking crazy."

  "I want you, Connor." She replies breathlessly.

  Fuck knows, so do I. I want nothing more. But I can't have her.

  Not yet.

  Breaking our kiss, I tilt her chin up so I can look into her pretty eyes. They're so wide, so flustered. There really is nothing more beautiful than a well satisfied woman. They are the ones who bring beauty to this shitty world.

  Stroking Lizzie's hair softly, I kiss her on the nose.

  "Not today," I tell her. "You've just had an intense experience. Now, I'm calling you a cab home. You'll relax, and you'll process everything. Then, and only then, will I come back for you."

  She nods, burying her face against my chest.

  I sit with her until her breathing returns to normal and she's fast asleep in my arms.

  I never want to let this woman go.

  She's mine, even if she doesn't fully realise it yet.

  I'll be her monster, and hers alone.

  6

  Connor

  "Aww, Connor's gone and found himself a missus!"

  "He did, didn't he? Who would've thought it. I, for one, always thought you were some kind of violent monk."

  The two men laugh, their deep, baritone voices filling my office.

  It takes a special kind of person to speak to me like they do. Someone with a death wish, usually.

  Yet, I can't help but look at them with a maniacal grin plastered on my face. Because the amount of people I actually care for in this world can be reduced to the fingers on one hand.

  Jackson Angel and Rykard Simmons are two of them.

  Former princes of London's underworld turned legitimate businessmen.

  They are the only family I have, and the ones who took a chance on me when I was a down and out soldier, getting drunk and sleeping on the streets years ago.

  I was sleeping in a Soho alley one evening and happened to wake up to a commotion.

  Jax and Rykard's car was attacked by a rival gang, their driver and security guard lay dead on the stre
et.

  Being soldiers in their own right, the lads were in the middle of it, fighting and slashing at a group of six men. The night air smelled of blood and sweat and I could see the boys were already bleeding profusely from the confrontation.

  I've never liked bullies, and always had a soft spot for senseless violence. So, I ambled over to even the odds. Picking up a discarded knife along the way, I dove right in. It was therapeutic, almost, carving up those other guys like Christmas turkeys.

  Soon, the ground was littered with their corpses and we could hear sirens in the distance.

  One look at me told the boys that I'm homeless, so they bundled me into their car and sped off.

  Next thing I know, I was employed as a member of their security detail. But the three of us had already formed a bond that night in Soho. One that only soldiers recognise. And it wasn't long until Jax's dad, Bobby Angel, made me head of security for Jax and Rykard.

  Over the years, I've been to hell and back with these lads. My duty to protect them always came first, but we developed a strong friendship. One that'll never die.

  "She isn't my missus," I say, knowing full well my face says otherwise.

  "That so?" Rykard asks, sipping from his bottle of Coke. "When I came down here yesterday afternoon and heard those sexy sounds coming from door number 3, it sure sounded like you were up to no good."

  The thought of Rykard listening to Lizzie's moans of pleasure bristles me. It's a stupid reaction, since everyone knows the dungeon is an open space and we don't try to hide what goes on from our members. The rooms are often left open so people can enjoy the show.

  Yet, it's different with Lizzie. What we shared yesterday was intimate. Special. It feel strange to know we weren't alone.

  "Were you having a wank while listening in or something?" Jax asks Rykard.

  "Fuck no. I heard the moans and dashed away like a wet cat." Rykard chuckles.

  "Oh?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Seems a coincidence that you were here in the afternoon. Sure you weren't just coming in to spy on us and satiate your voyeuristic needs?"

  "You got me," he raises his hands. "I enjoy nothing more than hearing my mate getting his jollies off on a Monday afternoon."

  I give him the finger.

  "Nah, I needed some files for the auditors. Figured you'd be fast asleep, being a night owl and all, so I thought I'll just pop in to get them. Little did I know the owl had caught himself a mouse." He continues.

  I'm thinking up a snarky comment when the atmosphere in the office shifts a little.

  It's always silent in here, just as I like it. The proclivities going on outside never make their way in.

  But now, the silence is deafening.

  Jax moves to stand beside Rykard, who's now sitting up straighter.

  An uncomfortable feeling grips my belly.

  "Come on lads," I say. "Spit it out."

  Rykard scratches his jaw. "That lady you were with. Elizabeth McKinley. Do you know who she is?"

  "Yes," I lie. I don't really know much about her besides the fact she's some hot shot designer.

  "Do you know everything?" Rykard continues. "Like how she was engaged to Jack Pinkleworth?"

  My fists curl around a glass paperweight. I know Lizzie had a recent break up, but engaged?

  "Why does the name Pinkleworth sound familiar?" I ask.

  "Because they're not small fish," Jax says. He finishes his bourbon in a single gulp. "They're old money. Richer than God, with fingers in a lot of pots around London."

  I lean back in my seat, squeezing my eyebrows together.

  "I've got to ask, mate," Jax says. "Are you serious about this Elizabeth, or is she something casual?"

  "It's serious." I snap, causing both sets of eyebrows in front of me shoot up.

  Fuck, what have I let myself in for? I've known the woman barely two days and she has already woven herself into my very soul. I can't think of anything but her.

  The memories of yesterday afternoon play in my head on a constant loop, and I'm walking around with a permanent hard on in my trousers and an aching in my chest.

  Jax and Rykard look at each other. Their faces are unreadable. They always seem to communicate on a different wavelength, and I've never quite understood how they do it.

  Finally, Rykard turns back to me.

  "Alright then, stop fucking about and make this woman yours." He says.

  "Yea," Jax chimes in. "Her ex fiance is a bit of a spoilt brat. He's throwing a tantrum now that she's left his unfaithful arse, but he's going to keep coming for her."

  "Let him fucking try it," I snarl.

  "If you fancy this lady, I suggest taking her off the market. As long as she's single, little Jack is going to keep coming. If he senses you're a threat, well..." Rykard's voice trails off.

  "Believe me, Lizzie isn't going to stay single for long," I reply.

  "Excellent," Jax says, "because I'd rather avoid the alternative."

  "Which is?"

  He smiles. "Which is going to war with a powerful family. I've still got some blood stained clothes in my wardrobe, and my beautiful Alessa will be royally pissed if I start carrying a gun again."

  "No shit, and Lorraine will probably shoot my bollocks off herself if I tried anything funny," Rykard chuckles.

  I smile, shaking my head. "Whatever happens lads, I'll deal with it. Lizzie is mine, and I don't care who the fuck Jack is. If he crosses me, he'll be dealt with one way or another. You guys have families now, and I don't want you getting involved with my mess."

  "We are one, mate," Jax says. "Family. You know how important it is to us. If someone fucks with you, we'll erase their entire bloodline from the history books."

  "Charming," I laugh. "I sometimes wonder who the real killer is among us."

  "We all are," Rykard gestures his hands around. "One big murderous family who enjoy playing businessmen."

  "Indeed. But I promised my wife I'll bring her back a burrito, so I'm heading off before this murderous family loses a member," Jax says, gathering his coat.

  Rykard stands to leave as well, and I hug my brothers goodbye.

  Shutting the door behind them, I grab my phone and punch in Lizzie's number.

  "Hi," she answers softly.

  Fuck, the sound of her voice is enough to send shivers straight to my cock.

  "What're you up to?" I ask.

  "Working."

  "Have you eaten?"

  "Umm.. No, not yet."

  I sigh. "It's after ten, Lizzie. You need to eat. I'll come and get you."

  "Oh, wow. Okay, but I must warn you I'm not exactly dressed for the occasion."

  "I don't care," I say truthfully, "I just want to see you."

  Hanging up, I leave my office. The dungeon is busy tonight, and I say a quick hello to our members as I head for the exit. I spot Diego by the bar and ask him to cover me.

  All I can think of is Lizzie.

  I need to see her, and touch her.

  Hold her, and have my mouth on her delicious sex again. I thirst for her arousal like a ravenous beast.

  Her beast.

  I don't care about her ex fiance or his damn family. They don't even factor into the equation as far as I'm concerned.

  I'll make Lizzie mine. Not because I'm worried about any blow back, but because for the first time in my life, I actually feel something.

  She's awakened something in me which I never knew existed.

  Now, I'm going to claim that pretty little thing. Make no mistake, just because I've put down the guns doesn't mean I won't rip the throat off any man who tries to fuck with what's mine.

  7

  Lizzie

  I touch up my lipstick in the office mirror. Dark red, like the lingerie I have on.

  Never mind that my matching bra and knickers are hidden by an over sized T shirt and jeans, at least I know it's there. And it makes me feel sexy.

  I woke up this morning feeling like a cat in heat. The instant my alarm went off, on
e hand shot to turn it off and the other shot beneath my duvet for some desperate relief.

  Connor cast a spell on me last night which eradicated the old , focused, wholesome Lizzie and replaced her with a little minx with an insatiable lust for the handsome bad boy who prowls the Castle.

  By the time I worked myself into a frenzy of orgasms, I was late for work. Being the boss, I always try to set an example for my staff. First one in, last one out. Yet since I met Connor, I've not only sneaked out for a long lunch which consisted of having my body violated in an amazing manner, I've also masturbated myself to a delay this morning.

  Just great.

  And now I'm hurrying around to make myself look presentable for him.

  I honestly didn't think he'd contact me so soon. Connor strikes me as a man with many options, and come on, he owns his own dungeon! Surely the hunk could have an array of women on him with a click of his fingers?

  Except, he doesn't strike me as that sort of man. And he said so himself that he doesn't partake in the proclivities. Is he really so smitten with me that he'd break his rule?

  My phone vibrates on the table and I smile, tousling my hair one last time.

  I'm about to tell Connor I'll be right down when I spot the name on my screen.

  Jack.

  Again.

  "Fuck off," I mutter. Rejecting the call, I toss my phone in the bag and head down.

  I spot Connor immediately, standing by the front doors in a smart grey suit.

  "How long have you been here?" I ask, hurrying to give him a hug.

  "Not long."

  My body reacts as soon as his arms are around me, by pressing my chest against him. He feels so hard.

  Hard chest. Hard arms. Hard tummy. Hard...

  He is so hard down there.

  Smirking to myself, I rub a thigh against his steel rod teasingly.

  Connor's hands find my bum and he squeezes it so hard that I yelp, instantly reminded of the things he did to me yesterday.

  He kisses the nape of my neck than inhales deeply.

  This man communicates with me so much through his body. His gaze. His touch.

  And I love it.

  "If you keep rubbing up on me like this, I'll forget we have dinner plans." Connor bites into my neck, hard.