Angels Fall (Original Sin Book 2)

by JA Huss

  “Keep going,” I say. Meaning it as I unzip his jeans, slide them over his hips, and start furiously pumping his cock.

  I’m gonna take what I want for once. And right now, I want this. So I squirm underneath him and flip over, pushing my ass in the air like an invitation. “Take me from behind,” I moan. “Right now.”

  He slaps my ass as he backs off the bed and stands up. Two seconds later he’s got his boots, pants and shirt off. Scarred and naked, he locks his eyes with mine as I watch over my shoulder.

  We hold our stare as both hands grip my ass and he slides his cock inside me.

  TYLER

  I did a shitty job at following my plan about how I would approach her delicately when I entered her room. So, I plan to make up for it by doing an excellent job of not being delicate at all now that I’ve entered her.

  I couldn’t be even if I wanted to. I am drawn to her. I need her. We are destined.

  I tell her this with my glare, holding her gaze with mine as I push my cock forward, grinding into her from behind, never breaking eye contact. That is until the very last push as I force her ass into my hips - trying to pull her completely through me - and her eyes close, her head and neck arch backwards, and she lets out a low, guttural moan that causes the muscles in my calves to tighten and my knees to dig into the edge of the mattress.

  The vibrator is still buzzing on the bed. I take it up and reach down in front of my thigh, feeling the vibration as it rubs against my balls. I slip it forward to meet the lips of her slick, wet pussy that are gripping my shaft so tight, and then let it come to rest on her clit. I continue stroking in and out of her, all the while being sure to keep what has turned into a second dick (only far less charming and noteworthy than my own) planted on that spot that makes her whimper.

  “How’s that feel?” I mutter out, my mouth just above a whisper. Just loud enough for her to hear the question over the hum of the vibrator and the sound of her own moans.

  “Good,” she whines back.

  “Just good?” I ask.

  But before I let her answer the question, I slide the vibrator back to the opening I’m currently pouring myself into and work the very tip of the second dick inside of her as well, stretching her just that much more open and continuing to thrust back and forth while the vibrator massages the inside of her walls. She begins panting.

  “How ‘bout now?” I ask.

  “Fuck yeah,” she groans back.

  Her hands splay out in front of her, gripping at the sheets, her arms stiffening and her lower back arching more as she continues pressing into me. I pull the vibrator away and lay it on the bed.

  “What are you doing?” she pleads. “That was amazing.”

  “No,” I whisper as I bend over to kiss her shoulder blades and bury my face in her hair. “That wasn’t amazing. This is amazing.”

  And before she can ask ‘what?’ I’m up on the bed, my knees under me, her pulled back onto my dick, ass pressed into my thighs like she’s sitting on my lap, her legs sticking out behind me, and I tell her, “Put your arms out in front of you. Like Supergirl. I’m gonna make you fly.”

  “What?” she says.

  I take both of her arms, throw them out in front of her, grab her hips as tightly as I can, and pound in and out of her ferociously, bouncing her on my cock.

  “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” she huffs with each thrust.

  She keeps her arms suspended in the air that way like the sexiest goddamn super-hero ever, flying through the sky, propelled forward by the force of our fucking. I support her weight with my hands on her hips and the hard, fast motion of my thighs driving into her creamy skin, over and over again. I can feel her muscles tighten as she strains to hold herself aloft and it just makes me fuck her harder.

  I keep my right hand in place and with my left, I take up a fistful of silky red. I yank her hair back, exposing her neck to the ceiling and her hands now fly up to grab at my fist, making sure to keep it locked there on her head.

  Or so I think.

  Because suddenly, she’s pulling my hand away from her hair and bringing it around to rest on her throat.

  “Here,” she pants. “Squeeze.”

  I lean back, allow myself to land in a full sit with my heels beneath me, her legs straddled behind me, and both of us upright, my right arm reaching around her chest and pinching her left nipple, and my left hand wrapped firmly around her gorgeous neck. Her hair rising up and spilling down as we fuck makes me think of flames being blown in the wind. Flames that refuse to be extinguished. She’s springing up and down on my balls, almost crushing them with every strike—and I fucking love it. I want to be crushed by her. Pulverized into ash and blown into the wind too.

  Her hand is now reaching frantically for the vibrator, still singing its vibrator melody somewhere in the sheets. She finds it, forces it onto her clit again, and says, “Harder.”

  I’m not sure if she means pinch her harder, fuck her harder, or choke her harder, so I decide to be safe and just go with all three.

  I squeeze her nipple and she shrieks. I tighten my grip on her throat and she coughs out, “yes.” And I fuck her with the force of a tornado, sweat starting to form on my brow and drip down onto her already slick and sweaty flesh… and she comes.

  She thrashes back into me so hard that we both collapse backwards off the bed and land in a heap on the floor. I make sure to move the hand that’s around her throat so that I don’t crush her goddamn windpipe and I twist to stay underneath her so that I mostly break her fall, very nearly snapping my dick free from my body in the process. But luckily it stays attached, which is a good thing, because I still have more for it to do.

  “You hurt?” she asks. Which, given our current status with each other might either be a question of concern or hope.

  “Yeah, I’m ok,” I tell her. “By the way,” I add, “I was right.”

  “About what?” she pants.

  “You should write a book. THAT’S how you win friends and influence motherfuckers.”

  MADDIE

  “Shut up and fuck me,” I tell him back. This is not at all what I planned on doing with Tyler Morgan tonight. And that pisses me off. Because it makes me weak. I mean, am I that desperate and needy that a few charming words from him make everything OK?

  I disgust myself.

  “I will,” he says. “I’m just gonna do it slow now.” He repositions us so he’s on top of me, his forearms resting on the floor on either side of my head, his legs straddling mine so that each rocking movement of his hips stimulates my clit in just the right way.

  He winks. There’s even a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he does it. Which is charming. I’m not gonna deny that. Tyler is one hundred percent charisma. He draws people to him without even trying. He should write that stupid book, not me.

  I make a face at his wink.

  “What?” he asks, kissing my frown away. And then he kisses my mouth, whispering, “What could I possibly be doing wrong now?” as he does it.

  I have a list. Ten things on it, at least.

  But I don’t feel like explaining. He doesn’t even deserve my explanation. So I just kiss him back and make the whole conversation go away.

  Sex with Tyler Morgan is something I can handle right now. All these feelings he suddenly wants to talk about? No. I won’t do it.

  “Tell me,” Tyler prods.

  “Tell you what?” I ask, trying to distract him by sliding my fingernails up and down his back.

  His spine arches in response, but it’s not enough. Because he says, “Why do you look like you want to kill me when everything we’re doing right now finally feels right?”

  I close my eyes and concentrate on how he feels instead. Not his feelings, but how he feels inside me. “Is this how you want to come?” I ask, eyes still closed. “This boring slow fuck is how you want to remember me?”

  My eyes open just in time to see him frown. And I get the feeling my dismissal is just another cue for him
to keep asking questions. So I stop that shit before it starts and push him off me.

  He gives in and rolls off to the side, still frowning, still looking like he’s gonna keep talking, but I know just what to do.

  I grab his dick, still wet with my come, and slide my palm up and down his shaft in a slow, twisting motion.

  He practically growls in response.

  Which, I can’t deny, turns me on a little. But more importantly, it takes his mind off what’s not being said.

  I climb on top of him, my hand still very busy keeping him quiet as my legs settle between his knees, and then it’s my turn to wink.

  The smile he shoots back sums up everything I hate and love about Tyler. And the gruff chuckle has my pussy throbbing. I keep my eyes locked on his as I lower my mouth to his cock, my tongue reaching for his tip, and hike my ass up in the air just as I cover his head with my lips and slide my mouth down his shaft.

  His hands go to my hair, grabbing it in fistfuls. A shiver runs through my body as I think about the way he was pulling it a few minutes ago. I take him deeper into my throat, his hands responding to the call, pushing my head down until his cock is practically in my throat. I gag, pull away, but he holds me there until saliva is pooling in my mouth. I pull back again, but he doesn’t relent and the pool becomes a waterfall spilling over my lips and down my chin.

  Finally, he lets up and I draw back, sucking in air, watching him watch me. His smile is gone, no frown replacing it. He’s just looking at me like… like I’m his fucking salvation. Like I’m the only hope he has left.

  I dive back down to try to erase that look, my eyes closed now, my mouth working him as I bob my head to the rhythm of his rocking hips.

  He fists my hair again, but this time he tugs my head up until his cock falls out of my mouth. Erect, and red, and swollen, and glistening wet from my sucking and pumping.

  I don’t want to look. I refuse to look at him.

  “Maddie,” he groans, the word just a hint above silent.

  I shake my head and try to suck his cock again, but he holds me by the hair, tugging it up towards him now, like it’s a leash and he’s leading me.

  “Shut up,” I say, my voice as husky and low as his. “Just shut up.”

  He opens his mouth as if to reply, but then he closes his eyes and sighs. Giving up or giving in, I don’t really care. Because he lets me resume.

  I forget everything as I suck him off. One hand reaching down to play with his balls, which makes him tense up and box me in with his knees.

  For some reason that makes me want to cry. I’m not sure if it’s because I like the way he’s surrounding me right now, when the whole world is falling apart and every day I fight the inevitable decline, but every night I close my eyes feeling utterly alone and defeated, and being boxed in by Tyler wipes all that away. Or if it’s because I’m just lonely and haven’t had anyone make me feel so… protected in so long.

  Either way, I can’t deny the sadness of the moment. So I don’t. I embrace it. I let the tears flow, my face hidden by my long, flaming-red hair. And I just suck his cock until everything goes tight. His body. His grip on my hair. The pressure of his knees against my shoulders.

  He urges me to back off, probably so he can put me on top of him before he comes. But if I do that, he’ll see my face. He’ll see through my charade. He’ll see everything and I don’t want him to see anything.

  So I refuse and just work harder. I suck him until he starts moaning. I flatten my tongue on his shaft and force myself to take him deeper into my throat. And when I swallow, the muscles pushing against his cock in a wave do him in.

  He comes.

  And I take it. Because I can take it. I swallow every drop. I let him fist my hair until my scalp stings. And when it’s finally over I have it all back together. The unraveling of Maddie Clayton has wrapped back up into a tightly wound ball of nothing.

  I say, “Take me to the shower,” because I need to feel clean after everything that’s happened these past few days. And he does, cracking some boyishly-charming joke that hits me hard. Because I love that part of him. The innocent Tyler. The one I could always count on. The one who I loved once.

  But I don’t love the one who loves me now.

  I’m falling and it’s a long fucking way down. And I know, if I get my hopes up that Tyler will catch me before I splat, he’ll only disappoint me again.

  I can take a lot, but I can’t take that.

  I can’t fucking do it again.

  I lean against the wall of the shower, water splashing against my hip as Tyler soaps me up. He fingers me, and plays with my breasts. And we kiss and it feels good. So fucking good. I even talk a little, but beg for bed because I’m exhausted.

  It’s not a lie, either. I am exhausted. So, so tired of this fight I never seem to win.

  He dries me off. It’s a tender gesture that once upon a time I’d have appreciated more. And then he leads me to my bed, and we climb in, and he talks, and I pretend to live this new fantasy with him. Until finally, I don’t have to pretend anymore. Because he falls asleep, or I fall asleep, or who the fuck cares.

  All I know is that the day finally ends.

  I wake early by some miracle of fate, or punishment, or maybe it’s the devil on my shoulder just calling me home to hell.

  Either way, I heed the call and get up for my new shift at Pete’s, quietly gather my clothes and dress in the new dawn light, grab the car keys left carelessly on the counter, write two notes, leaving one behind, then exit the house with the other note clutched tightly in my hand.

  I lift his windshield wiper, slide the piece of paper under it so that it’ll be the first thing he sees when he comes outside, and then go get into Annie’s car and drive off.

  The note inside said, Borrowing your car. Be back around noon.

  The note on Tyler’s window said, If you love me then please, please stay away.

  I don’t want to be his hope. I don’t even have enough hope for myself.

  Chapter Six - Tyler

  “‘If you love me then please, please stay away.’” She reads the note aloud.

  “Yeah,” I say, nodding. “Found it on my car.”

  “Uh-huh. And when was this?” she asks.

  “Like two days ago. My original instinct was to just go find her. Y’know? Because, shit, we had just had sex so how could she mean that? But then I was like, well… Maybe if I show her that I can give her the space she needs, she’ll feel like she can trust me and then we can try again for real. But I don’t know how long to wait. Fuck. This shit is frustrating. I’ve never actually been in a situation like this. A relationship, I guess. Usually I just fuck a chick once or twice and then move on. Not sure what the play is here. Thoughts?”

  A moment passes. Two blank stares face me. Then…

  “Shit, kid, I dunno what to tell you. I’m a strip club owner, not a goddamn shrink. Raven, you got anything?” Pete looks over to the stripper whose name I just learned is Raven, who is holding the note Maddie left me. The note I’ve been rolling around in my fingers for the last two days like a fuckin’ fidget spinner.

  “Babe,” she says in my direction, “don’t know how to break it to you, but you’re not in a relationship now.”

  “But—”

  “Well, YOU might be in one,” she cuts me off, “but Scarlett ain’t.”

  Hearing this Raven broad refer to Maddie by her stripper name makes me sad and nostalgic at the same time.

  “Kid,” Pete says, “what the hell are you doing here?”

  “Dunno. Just felt like I needed to talk to someone about it all.”

  “Don’t you have a family you can go to? Therapist? Anybody?” Raven asks.

  “I mean, sure, I’ve got a friend whose house I’m staying at, but it’s three in the morning and he’s gotta work later and I didn’t wanna wake him up and, you know…”

  “So you came here?” Pete asks.

  I shrug. He and Raven look at each oth
er.

  Pete stands, rounds his desk, stops in front of where I’m sitting, and puts both of his hands on my shoulders in a grandfatherly way. (I’m assuming. Both my mom’s parents died before she had me and my dad’s dad took off on him and his mom when he was a kid, so I can’t know for sure. But I’ve seen movies with grandpas doing grandpa shit, and very often it’s the kind of thing Pete’s doing now.)

  “Tyler… It’s Tyler, right?” I nod. “Tyler, when you came in here the first time asking about Maddie, I was a little nervous. You look like a homeless psycho, and I’ve seen enough of those in this business to know what I’m talking about. Right, Raven?”

  “That’s for damn sure.” Raven kind of snorts.

  “But then you told me the whole story, which is just too goddamn bizarre not to be true, and you seemed like a genuinely good guy who was trying to do right, and I felt like helping you.” (That, and I gave the guy five large. I’m crazy, not naïve.) “But kid”—he bows his head to stare in my eyes—“I think maybe I was right the first time. You might just be a psycho.”

  He pats me on the shoulder and walks over to the door of his office. He opens it. Heavy bass thumps up the stairs as if riding along with the reddish glow emanating from the stage lights below. Pete doesn’t say anything. Just stands there with the door open. It’s clear that this is my cue to leave.

  I nod a little bit, give this Raven chick a polite smile, stand and walk to the office’s exit, pausing there to say something to Pete.

  But I don’t.

  I just make my way down the stairs. It feels a little like I’m descending into some kind of hell. Like the end of that movie, Angel Heart, with Mickey Rourke and Lisa Bonet. The movie that got her fired from The Cosby Show for doing a really dirty sex scene. (Which, now that we know what we know about Bill Cosby, seems pretty fucking hypocritical, but you can’t know shit until you know it, right?)

  I walk across the almost empty main floor. Probably fifteen or twenty sad-dicked dudes sitting around, nursing their drinks, watching some Pole Artisan on the stage spread her ass cheeks and jiggle ’em around.