His Brazen Angel

by Blake, Tessa

  I feel him slip my panties down, and I lift my hips so he can get them off. There’s a rustling noise, and I open one eye to see him kicking off his pants and boxers. His legs are strong, muscled, and I remember he told me he runs track.

  He strips his sweater off and then—because apparently even in the middle of sex he is unbearably sweet and thoughtful—he lifts my head gently and slips the sweater underneath to cushion it.

  I smile up at him. “You’re sweet,” I say, running my fingers over his chest, his abs.

  “Yeah,” he mutters, “check back in with me in a few minutes.”

  And he pulls my hips down until they’re even with the edge of the desk, takes his cock in his hand, and sheaths himself in me.

  I cry out—in pleasure, in shock. He’s not abnormally huge or anything, but I’m full, stretched. He goes deep, hooking his elbows under my knees and tilting my hips so he can push, push himself into me, all the way. My hands fist in the sheets under me, and then his hand is between us, his thumb stroking my clit in time with his thrusts.

  “Fuck,” he says, and stops. Just stops dead. “Oh fuck, Alyssa, I didn’t even think. I have a condom in my wallet.”

  I clench my pussy as hard as I can and watch his eyes just about roll back in his head. “You don’t need it,” I say. “I promise, you don’t. I’m on the pill, I don’t sleep around—”

  He pushes my knees back and his eyes lock on his cock as it slides back into me. “Look at you,” he says, and I tip my head forward and watch his cock reappear, glistening, then disappear as he fills me again.

  This position has the head of his cock rubbing against the sensitive front wall of my pussy, right behind my clit, and I feel like my brains are going to leak out of my ears.

  “Yes,” I say, on a moan. “Don’t stop, holy shit, don’t stop.”

  He pulls me to the edge again—he’s fucking me so hard I keep sliding along the desk—and his fingers dig into my hips. “I’m not going to stop till you come,” he says. “Touch yourself. Make yourself come.”

  I lower my legs, then reach down and glide my fingers across my slippery pussy, feathering them across my clit. It’s hard and sensitive, and my breath catches. “It’s too much—”

  “Do it!” he says, his breathing harsh.

  I obey, using just the tips of two fingers to press on my clit, so, so lightly, feeling that pressure build and my skin go hot, then cold. I don’t need to rub, or stroke—just the light pressure, pushing my clit down so that the shaft of his cock is sliding across and back, across and back.

  I call his name, helpless, as the orgasm swamps me, and press down on my clit, hard, feeling it throb and pulse under my fingers. Dev, lets out something that might be a moan, might be a growl, and his cock stabs into me, just this side of painful. It jerks and bucks inside me as his come splashes the walls of my pussy.

  He thrusts again—once, twice—and my fingers are slippery with come now. I raise them to my lips without thinking, and taste him. Salty, bitter. I want a whole mouthful.

  Seeing me lick my fingers, he groans again and thrusts one last time, then collapses on top of me, his weight flattening me against the desk, his face pressed against the side of my neck.

  “Holy fuck,” he says. “Holy shit, I knew you were going to feel good, but I had no idea.”

  He moves as though to rise, and I wrap my arms around him and hold him close, not wanting him to get up yet. His cock is growing soft inside me, and I wonder how quickly he can be ready again.

  I want more. And I know, for sure, that I’m never going to stop wanting more.

  “I love you,” I say, softly. It feels right, feels good on my tongue.

  “That’s insane,” he says. “I love you, too, and that’s insane.”

  “I know,” I say. “So let’s just be insane, and see what happens.”

  * * *

  Devlin

  Eight months later…

  “I’m so glad that’s over,” I say, stripping my graduation gown off and throwing it on my bed.

  “Me, too,” Alyssa says, gathering her hair into a bundle and holding it up off her neck. “It’s hot as hell out there.”

  I grin over at her. She’s wearing a barely-there little white sundress, and her legs look a million miles long. “Seems like an angel wouldn’t be much of an expert on hell.”

  “Everyone knows it’s hot,” she replied tartly, looking at me through her lashes. “Don’t be sassy.”

  “I’m not the sassy one,” I say, pulling her in for a deep kiss. Her hair tumbles around us, and that smell of vanilla that’s always with her envelops me. “You stop being sassy, or you might get a spanking later.”

  “Oooh,” she breathes. “I certainly hope so.” She squirms out of my arms and laughs as she strolls out the door. “But I don’t think you’re going to do anything with your parents right downstairs, lover.”

  “You’d be surprised what I could do, if you give me a minute,” I mutter. I can’t get enough of her; I can never get enough. It’s been months now, and I just want her more every day. I didn’t know it could be like this.

  I follow her downstairs and grab a beer, then hang back and watch her as she chats with my dad. About football, of all things. I don’t even talk to my dad about football.

  My mom walks out of the kitchen with a glass of wine in her hand, and comes to stand beside me. “She’s just lovely, Devlin.”

  “Yeah,” I say. I know I’m grinning like an idiot, but I don’t even care. “Best eight months of my life.”

  Mom taps her glass against the neck of her bottle and winks at me. “To many more?” she says.

  “Hell, yes.” I wonder if she’s got some kind of mom-telepathy, if she knows somehow what I’m about to do.

  “It was like that with me and your dad,” she says. “I knew. I just knew, and so did he. And here it is, twenty-five years later, and I hope we have another fifty.” She smiles at me, and her eyes glint a little. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I say.

  She moves away and goes to stand with Alyssa and my dad. Dad looks over and waves; I salute him with my beer bottle.

  They like her. Even if they didn’t like her, it wouldn’t change my mind, but the fact that they like her just makes everything that much easier. I reach into my pocket and wrap my hand around the jeweler’s box there.

  A heavy thump against my back has me spinning around. It’s Curt, still wearing his graduation gown. He’s got his mortarboard in one hand—I guess he didn’t throw it when the rest of us did.

  “Sorry, man,” he says. “Didn’t see you.”

  This is clearly bullshit—I’m right here, and totally visible—but I let it go. “No big,” I say. I set my beer bottle aside on a side table and turn back to look at my parents and girlfriend again.

  “They seem to like her,” he says. “Happy little family.”

  He sounds weird. I look over and he’s staring at them—glaring, really.

  “What’s up with you?” I ask. “You’re always weird about Alyssa, always saying something under your breath. Do you have a problem?”

  He shrugs, like it doesn’t matter. “Just didn’t think she’d end up with you, that’s all,” he says. “I had it all figured out, but then it went wrong.”

  I realize he’s swaying a little; he’s either been drinking or he’s on something. “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  He points at Alyssa and says, “She was supposed to be with me that night. I had it all worked out. I’d been trying to get her attention in class for weeks. But she acted like she didn’t even see me.”

  “Okay,” I say. “That sucks, but why on earth are you telling me?”

  “I just want you to know,” he says, and sways closer to me, getting up in my face, “that you didn’t get her fair and square. She had a little help into your bed that night, buddy. You didn’t think she picked you on purpose, did you?”

  I stare at him for a second, and it
all makes perfect sense. Alyssa has always maintained that she didn’t drink so much that night, at the Halloween party. Not enough to black out and forget everything. But we’ve let it go, because what other explanation was there? She said Michelle asked if I slipped her something, but of course I didn’t.

  But I look into Curt’s eyes, and I know that someone did. That he did.

  “What are you fucking saying?” I growl at him, my vision washing over in red. I’m a calm guy. I don’t get riled up about shit. Life’s too short. But right now? I could rip this guy’s throat out with my teeth.

  “Oh, don’t act like that,” he says, waving it away with a hand. “I did you a favor.” He mimes pouring something out with his hand. “Just tipped a little Liquid E in her drink—she was supposed to end up upstairs with me, not you. And I would have fucked her brains out, not tucked her in like a nanny. But I guess that’s the way it goes.”

  Liquid E. That’s GHB.

  “You slipped my girlfriend a date-rape drug?” Both my hands clench into fists.

  “Well, she wasn’t your girlfriend, was she?” He shrugs. “I wanted to get in her pants real bad, but here we are.” He glances at me, then smiles, an oily, terrible smile. “Is she as hot a fuck as she sounds? Sometimes when I walk by your bedroom door I stop for a minute and listen—”

  And before I even understand what’s happening, he’s on the floor. I’m looming over him with my knuckles stinging where they split open against his teeth. He struggles to sit up, then apparently thinks better of it and slumps back to the floor.

  “Devlin!” Alyssa’s pulling me back, away from him. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking out the fucking trash,” I say, and kick out at Curt. My foot connects pretty solidly with the side of his knee, and he yelps.

  Two of my frat brothers come over, and they’re asking questions at the same time so I can’t hear either of them. “Shut up!” I say, and everyone falls silent. “This fucker”—I kick Curt again, and he rolls away, holding his knee—“roofied Alyssa at our Halloween party.”

  No one says anything for a moment.

  “Get him the fuck out of here,” I say. “That’s not what ADP is about.”

  The two guys, joined now by the president of ADP, muscle Curt out the front door. He’s cursing all the way, but I know they mean business. That sort of shit is not okay around here. It shouldn’t be okay anywhere.

  I turn back to Alyssa, and she’s gone bone-white. “He drugged me?” she says, her voice tiny. “That’s why I couldn’t remember—”

  “Hey.” I take her into my arms. “That doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Look at me.” I tip her face up and look into her eyes. “You were with me. You were safe. That’s what was meant to happen.”

  Her eyes are full of tears, but she tries to blink them away. “Okay,” she says. “Okay, yeah. Okay. I was with you. Thank God I chose you that night.”

  And that seems like as good a cue as any. Yes, I just punched a guy in the face, and yes, she just got a hideous piece of news, and yes, all around us people are chattering about all this juicy new gossip.

  Fuck it, let’s give them something to gossip about.

  I take Alyssa’s trembling hands in mine, and staring into her eyes, go down onto one knee. The traditional pose.

  Her eyes widen, and she tilts her head. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re right,” I say. “Thank God you chose me that night, because that night is when my life changed. That night is when I stopped being one person and started being half of a person. The other half is you, Alyssa.”

  I’m not saying it right. That sounded so stupid. I fumble in my pocket and pull out the box, opening it carefully and setting it on the palm of one hand. I hold it out to her. “That’s what was meant to happen. We both knew, we knew right away, that this was it, that this was the real deal. And I know you still have a year of school, and you’re going to fucking kill it, and then you go off to make a difference in the world. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever known, and I love you. I’ll love you till the end of time.”

  Her hands are over her mouth, and those tears she tried to hold back are falling freely now. Everyone in the immediate vicinity has fallen silent, all watching us. Watching her.

  “I want to marry you, Alyssa. I want you to be my wife.” I hold the box up closer to her. “Please say yes.”

  She reaches out with trembling hands and touches the box, runs a finger over the delicate filigree of the ring, the iridescent opal at its center. “It’s the ring I would have chosen, if you’d asked me what I wanted,” she says. “How do you always know?”

  “I always know, because it was meant to be.” I stand and take the ring out of the box, hold out my hand for hers. “Say yes.”

  “How could I say anything else?” she says, and then she starts to cry in earnest. “Yes, a million times yes. Of course I’ll marry you.”

  And she puts her hand in mine, and I slide the ring onto her finger as the people around us break into applause.

  “Love is a familiar,” I say. “Love is a devil.”

  “Are you calling me a devil?” she says, resting her head on my chest as I pull her close to me.

  “Not at all, my love.” I wrap my arms around her and hold her, like I plan to hold her for the rest of our lives. “You know you’re my brazen angel.”

  Thank you so much to Frankie Love for inviting me to write a Halloween Honeys story, and to the other authors for making this so much fun!

  * * *

  Thanks to the Book Tarts for sticking with me when everything went pear-shaped this spring. We are few, but we are awesome.

  * * *

  And, as always, thank you to the writers in the Authors’ Corner who inspire me, impress me, and never fail to pick me up when I fall down.

  * * *

  Tessa

  October 17, 2018

  Tessa Blake lives in Central Maine with her kids and pets—and the hot men in her imagination. Her books include The Billionaire’s Contract, Big Mistake, and the upcoming The Billionaire Black Sheep.

  Join her in her Facebook reader group, Book Tarts, or find her at:

  tessablakewrites.com

  fb.me/TessaBlakeWrites

  twitter.com/TessaBlakeToo

  tessablakewrites@gmail.com