Angel (A Companion Book to Monster) (Impossible #1.5)

by Sykes, Julia

  The bartender clunked the shots down on the hardwood, and I shook off the dark thoughts. I was here to forget about my problems, not dwell on them. I flashed a smile at the hottie who would be my drug for the evening.

  “So, Mr. Fancypants,” I said with a mocking smile, intentionally trying to get a rise out of him. “Do you have a first name?”

  I was hoping to see a flash of anger in those remarkable eyes, some indication that I had provoked him. But he just smiled broadly and laughed. The sound was melting chocolate, dripping warmth onto my bare skin before being licked away by a hot, demanding tongue.

  “Clayton,” he responded easily. “And you seem to be misinformed. My surname isn’t Fa-”

  I quickly pressed two fingers to his lips, silencing him. I didn’t want to know who he was. I didn’t want him to know who I was. Hell, I didn’t even plan on giving him my real first name. It was better that way, really. For both of us.

  “‘Clayton’ will do for now. I’m Mary.” The false name rolled easily off the tip of my tongue.

  Clayton smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Mary.” As he spoke, his soft lips moved against my fingertips. I wondered what those lips would feel like caressing other areas of my flesh, a thought that elicited a sudden flash of dissatisfaction at the sound of my fake name on his tongue.

  Rose, I wanted to say. Call me Rose.

  But it was too late to correct him. I would seem like a crazy person if I admitted that I had lied about my name. So I just returned his smile and reluctantly drew my fingers away from his mouth. Clayton started to lift the shot of tequila to those full lips, and I found myself licking my own unconsciously. His looked delicious, and I couldn’t wait to feel them against mine.

  I lightly put my hand on his wrist, stopping him short. I had to suppress the urge to shiver that the contact awoke within me. The intensity of it was almost unsettling. And “almost unsettling” was just what I needed; I wanted to be pushed to the edge, to that elusive place where passion was so intense that I would only barely be able to piece my shattered self back together in the aftermath. In my personal experience, that perfection had yet to be fully realized, but it was a hell of a lot of fun trying.

  Keeping myself focused on the game, I gave him a playful but slightly censorious smile.

  “You don’t drink tequila often, do you?” I asked. “Here, let me show you how to do it properly.”

  I released him, raising my hand to my own mouth before I slowly licked the sensitive flesh between my thumb and forefinger. My eyes locked with his I did so, and I was pleased to see him shift slightly on the barstool, clearly affected by me. It seemed I would be initiating the seduction here. I could only hope that he would turn the tables on me soon. It would be a shame if he turned out to be completely vanilla. He was hot enough that I might be able to make an exception for him, but I wasn’t really into that.

  I sprinkled some white granules of salt over the dampness on my hand. Then I licked it off, enjoying seeing Clayton’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. I bit into the slice of lime, pursing my lips at the sour juice that filled my mouth. I took my shot quickly to wash it down, the flavors mingling and becoming something rich and delicious as it slid down my open throat. It burned a little, and I grimaced for a moment before turning my smile back on Clayton. He raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Impressive,” he said simply.

  “I know,” I said with a confident shrug. “Your turn.”

  To my surprise, he reached out and grasped my hand firmly, drawing it towards him and raising it to his lips.

  My breathing hitched. “What are you doing?” I asked, confused.

  “Doing it properly.” He shot me a wicked grin that made my stomach do a little flip just before his tongue snaked out to stroke against my skin. Heat instantly flared between my legs, and to my surprise, I blushed. I never blushed.

  His smile was roguish and knowing. Oh, he was definitely turning the tables. I thrilled at the thought.

  His thumb traced lightly over the back of my hand as he sprinkled the salt over it. This time I did shudder when he licked it off. I blushed more deeply, embarrassed by my conspicuous reaction. I had wanted him to take control, but this was moving far too quickly. I didn’t like losing the upper hand outside the bedroom.

  He didn’t release my hand as he bit into the lime and took the shot back like a pro. Oh, he was a quick learner. The realization was both thrilling and discomfiting.

  “Another?” He asked, that wicked smile still in place as he maintained his grip on me.

  “Sure,” I agreed breathlessly. I definitely wanted more of this.

  We repeated the process again, and I could feel wetness pooling between my legs as I became more aroused by his touch. I needed to get a little of my own back, regain some modicum of control over our interactions. No one had ever elicited such sudden, visceral reactions from me, not even during my kinkiest encounters. Images of Clayton dominating my body, holding me down as he fucked me roughly, ran across my mind.

  We would get to that in a little while. But not yet.

  “So,” I said lightly, trying to cut into the intense sexual tension between us. “What were you sulking about before I came over here?”

  He looked affronted, but the playful gleam in his eye let me know that he wasn’t really offended.

  “I wasn’t sulking,” he insisted.

  “Okay, you were brooding then,” I shrugged. “Women trouble?” I sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case. He hadn’t been acting like he was attached, but it wouldn’t be the first time some cheating asshole had made his way into my bed without me realizing it.

  He surprised me by chuckling. Apparently it was impossible to get under his skin.

  “I appreciate the more manly term, but not your perceptiveness,” he said. “I came here to brood in peace. Work is a bitch right now.” He grinned, eyeing me in a way that made me flush pleasurably. “But things are suddenly looking up.” He cocked his head at me. “And what are you doing here, taking shots with a stranger? Man trouble?”

  His tone was casual, but the spark of true curiosity in his eyes let me know that he hoped I was unattached too.

  “In a way,” I admitted. “Brother problems.” My tone was casual as well, but I could feel that my smile was a bit tight. Why had I admitted that? I didn’t want anyone to know about my brother. He was my dark secret, the thing that I was trying to escape from. When I had come home from work earlier, he had been high again, completely strung out. Over the past several months, I had tried to get him clean, but seeing him go through the agony of withdrawal pained me almost as much as seeing him fucked up out of his mind. It was a vicious cycle that I couldn’t stop, so I did the only thing that I could for him: I took care of him. As much as I was able to. But seeing him like that… Nothing made me feel shittier. It was hard to leave him alone, but tonight I hadn’t been able to take it anymore. I had hidden his stash so that he wouldn’t overdose in my absence, and then I had gotten the hell out.

  So now I was here, seeking my own fix. I struggled to make my smile more genuine as I steered us away from the subject.

  “Things do seem to be looking up now, though,” I agreed. But man, could I use another drink. Alcohol would dull my wayward thoughts, keep me focused on the here and now. I waved down the bartender and ordered four more shots.

  Clayton’s eyebrows rose. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

  I forced a sly smile. “Nope,” I said definitively. “It’s just enough.”

  He frowned slightly. “One more each. We’re not negotiating on this.”

  My lips parted slightly. The utter gall of him! “You’re rather bossy.” I had intended for my voice to be hard, but instead it came out low and breathy. I could definitely deal with bossy. I craved it.

  His smile was a touch twisted. “Doesn’t seem like you mind,” he said teasingly.

  I shot him my best smoldering look. “Not one bit.”

  His rem
arkable eyes glinted, clearly intrigued. I still wasn’t sure if he was experienced in this area, but it didn’t seem that that would be a problem. My clit pulsed in anticipation. We had exchanged enough conversation. It was nice enough talking to him. Perhaps too nice. It was time for him to shut up and fuck me already before I became even more dangerously intrigued by him.

  His eyes widened slightly as my hand closed around the back of his neck, boldly holding him in place as I pulled myself up into him quickly. His lips were frozen under mine for the space of a moment, but he soon responded. I felt a strange, delicious lightness fill me like a rush of blood to the head as his lips caressed mine. He was gentle at first, but I didn’t want that. I sucked his full lower lip into my mouth and traced the line of it with my tongue before biting down sharply. To my satisfaction, he didn’t pull away in shock but instead reacted aggressively, driving his tongue into my mouth roughly and exploring me thoroughly. I had to suppress the moan of pleasure that wanted to escape me. His arm closed around my waist, pulling me off of my barstool until my body was pressed up against his, my pelvis wedged between his legs. I pressed my hands against his chest to steady myself after the sudden movement, but his other arm was around my upper back, holding me to him so that I couldn’t put any distance between us. The feeling of him taking my mouth was heady, even more intoxicating than the tequila.

  Then I felt something hard against my hip, and I gasped into his mouth as I realized that he wanted me. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who was strongly affected here. My panties were already soaked with my arousal; I was as wet and ready for him as I usually was after a long period of foreplay. And from nothing more than his kiss. This was definitely going to be a great night.

  Clayton only pulled away from me when the bartender cleared his throat loudly, interrupting us. The stocky man was looking at us disapprovingly, his brows drawn as he hitched his thumb in the direction of the door.

  “How about you two lovebirds go find someplace else to do it? This is a bar, not a brothel.”

  It’s dirty enough to be one, I thought acidly, but I bit my tongue. I didn’t want to look like a bitch. Delivering cutting retorts was a rather unfortunate specialty of mine. Choosing not to directly acknowledge the man, I kept my attention on Clayton.

  “The man does have a point,” I said throatily. “How about we go back to your place?”

  To my dismay, Clayton pulled away from me slightly. There were small frown lines around his mouth, and he looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Ah, I don’t really do that,” he told me. But I could see the lust in his eyes, and I was sure that I could persuade him otherwise. Besides, I didn’t think I could handle his outright rejection. Did he think I was a slut for wanting to go home with him when we barely knew each other?

  Probably.

  But you are a slut, I reminded myself. I might as well accept what I was. It was easier than fighting it.

  “Listen,” I said softly, “it’s clear that you and I have both had a shitty day. Hell, I’ve had a shitty year.”

  Give or take twenty-four years, I thought bitterly. But that was none of his business. He didn’t need to know anything more about my life, and I didn’t need to know about his. The only thing that I needed to learn about him was his body.

  I splayed my fingertips across his chest to renew our contact, and the heat within me ratcheted up another notch when I felt the hard planes of his muscles. My tongue snaked out to wet my lips as hunger filled me, and his eyes followed the movement, obviously transfixed.

  “So why don’t we go somewhere and do something to forget about it?” I purred.

  “Mary…” He trailed off indecisively. I could see that he was cracking; the twin blue flames of his eyes told me how fiercely he wanted me. Not to mention the persistent hardness against my hip.

  “Haven’t you ever done anything wild? Reckless?” I asked, allowing a note of temptation to imbue my tone.

  His smile was half-regretful. “Not in a long time,” he admitted.

  “Don’t you want to now? I know I do. And if you don’t remember how, I’ll remind you. ‘Wild’ is kind of my thing.” The smile I gave him was full of wicked promises.

  He seemed to deliberate for a moment, reason warring with desire in his handsome features. Finally, desire won out, and he stood, offering me his arm as he did so.

  “Shall we?” He asked, every inch the formal Fancypants.

  I grinned and looped my arm through his. “Why yes, good sir, I do believe we shall,” I said, my voice slightly mocking. But he just took it in stride, chuckling at me. I thrilled at the sound. Nothing ever ruffled this guy’s feathers, did it? I found the thought… comforting. Sure, I had gone home with plenty of strangers before, but there was always an element of danger in doing so. Who knew what they might do to me? In truth, that sliver of trepidation, of fear, was part of the allure. But with Clayton I felt safe. And I enjoyed the warmth that flooded me at the thought more than I had ever appreciated the little twist in my gut at the thought of doing something dangerous.

  It was a fairly lengthy cab ride from my crummy little corner of Brooklyn to Manhattan’s Lower East Side, but Clayton and I kept ourselves busy. Our lips only parted for as long as it took to pay the driver and walk across the foyer of his building to the elevator. As soon as the silver doors slid closed, he grasped me with such intensity that I fell back against the wall. His body was as unyielding as the cool metal as he pressed against me, his fingers tangling in my hair as mine curled around his shoulders. I wasn’t exactly sure when or how we made the transition from the elevator to his apartment; he commanded the full attention of all of my senses. Clayton was the only solid thing in the world as we tore our way through it, banging against walls and doorframes as we made frantic progress to his bedroom. There were long minutes where he was kissing me so thoroughly that my head was spinning from lack of oxygen. Instinct told my body to fight him, but I just clung to him more fiercely as I reveled in the resultant rush of endorphins. When he did finally give me the space to draw breath, I breathed in his heady masculine scent and became even more intoxicated by him.

  His hands were at the hem of my dress, fisting in the material as he shoved it up my body. I moaned as he began to explore my heated flesh where I desired it most, and I was desperate to touch him as well. My efforts to tug off his suit jacket proved fruitless. He was far too strong for me to manipulate his movements, and he seemed content touching me for the moment. Undeterred, I went for his belt buckle, working quickly to release the bulge that had been straining against his zipper ever since we had left the bar. I barely had a moment to fully realize his impressive size before he let out a low, guttural sound and shoved me hard. Panic shot through me at the sensation of falling, but I was barely jostled when I hit the soft mattress beneath me. The flash of fear only served to keep my adrenaline thrumming, keeping me riding high.

  Clayton had pulled a condom from a bedside drawer and was rolling it on. I was soaking wet and beyond ready for him to take me. My dress was bunched up around my waist, and he was still wearing his suit. But I didn’t care. What was passing between us now was raw and animalistic, a primal need that demanded to be met.

  He grabbed my legs and pulled me toward him roughly, positioning my body where he wanted it. When my ass was at the edge of the mattress, he settled my ankles on his shoulders and leaned forward to grip my hips with both of his hands. His eyes met mine, and I marveled at the electric blue sparks that seemed to crackle in their multifaceted depths. The light that I saw there was wild and hungry, but there was still a trace of concern, of compassion, there. He was at my slick entrance, but he hesitated.

  I gripped the hands that held my waist and squeezed so that his fingers dug into me almost painfully. “I want you to fuck me hard, Clayton.”

  At my throaty, brash words, that compassion in his eyes was consumed by lust, and his expression twisted into something exquisitely fierce. He shoved my panties aside and thrust into me mercilessly;
the intensity of our bodies joining was almost jarring. I was no virgin, but he stretched me wide enough and fast enough that my cry of delight was tinged with pain.

  The sound made him pause. The concern was back. But I didn’t want him to be concerned, and I didn’t want him to stop. Pain and pleasure were a double-edged sword that I would happily die on a thousand times over. I pushed up my hips and ground against him in a circular motion. Bliss flared as the movement caused his cock to rub against my g-spot.

  “More,” I gasped. “Please…”

  He groaned and shifted his grip on me, splaying his fingers across my ass and hooking his thumbs over my hips. Then he pulled almost all the way out of me before driving in swiftly once again. The intensity of his thrust would have moved my entire body, but his firm hold on me ensured that I stayed where he wanted me.

  “Yes!” I moaned. “Hard. Just like that. Please…”

  Whatever vestiges of concern he had left were obliterated. He took me roughly and urgently, using my body as he wished in order to find his release. It was exactly what I had craved: something so passionate and all-consuming that it claimed the entirety of my spirit.

  The head of his cock hit my g-spot over and over again, sending me skyrocketing as the ecstasy of my coming orgasm built within me. I felt his cock twitch, and I knew that he was close too. Everything exploded when his thumb pressed down on my clit hard, rubbing in practiced, demanding circles as he wrung my orgasm from my body. His rough shout and my scream were a violent crescendo, a testimony to the fierceness of our shared, desperate passion.

  I moaned softly as he pulled out, leaving me feeling utterly empty. But for the first time in a long time, that feeling of emptiness wasn’t accompanied by the feeling of being suddenly, starkly alone. Clayton tumbled down on the bed beside me and wrapped his arm around my waist. Little lines of sizzling pleasure continued to slither beneath my skin as he held me against him. We were both gasping for breath in tandem, our bodies still perfectly in sync.

  When our heaving chests slowed to a more normal rhythm, Clayton rolled off of me. A cold knot twisted in the pit of my stomach. Being held by Clayton had felt nice, but it wasn’t wise to read too much into his actions.