Wrath

by LJ Baker

  After accommodating to his girth, Ronnie pulled back and thrust forward onto him, coming up on the balls of her feet and using his chest for support. Luc switched hands, grasping her hip with the one previously on her left breast, and went to work on the right with his other. He was rougher than she was probably used to, intentionally, but she didn’t complain. In fact, she enjoyed the sting of his twists and tugs on her sensitive nipple.

  With his hand on her hip, Luc helped lift her off him, and let her slam back down with enough force that he was sure would leave her limping for days. She cried out with each thrust in, the slapping of their bodies backup vocals to their song that would end in a raw crescendo of wild need.

  It would be over far sooner than Luc would have liked, though. He felt her tighten and tense around him. Her insides gripping him like a vice, as she exploded into orgasm. He wasted no time, flipping her over onto her back and took the lead, bringing him his own rapid explosion.

  “Oh my God,” Ronnie said through breathless pants.

  “Leave him out of it.” Luc rolled off and laughed. “You’re in bed with the devil now, sweetheart.”

  Chapter Six

  Waking up in her own bed, Ronnie was starting to think it had all been a dream. A dirty, sexy, oh-my-effin-God that was amazing, crazy dream. She didn’t really just sleep with her brand new boss, for a job she hadn’t even technically started yet. Did she? She had not even been that reckless in college. Not even on her drunkest night.

  Had they even used protection?

  All she wanted was to throw the blanket over her head and hide there for the rest of her life. If she never got out of bed, everything had to go away. Of course, everything included the electric, the heat, the house, and her siblings. Ronnie groaned and tossed her covers onto the floor.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and did the once over for injuries. It was the typical routine for the morning after a fight. The ones she didn’t wake up in a hospital bed anyway.

  There was some bruising and a line of stitches on her forehead, but everything else seemed okay. In fact, it was the best she’d ever felt after a fight, except that one time when she KO’d a girl with the first punch. And she didn’t really count that.

  “Knock knock.” Lizzie peeked her head into the room and looked around. “Okay if I come in?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  Liz handed Ronnie a steaming cup of coffee, which she gratefully accepted. The heat from the mug warmed her hands and she took a deep inhale of its rich scent. Nothing beat the smell of coffee in the morning.

  “Uh, well, I didn’t know if your hot boss stayed or not after he dropped you off last night. Or should I say early this morning, because really, that’s what it was?” Lizzie climbed up on the bed and rested her back on the headboard.

  Ronnie searched her memory and it started coming back to her in chunks. “It’s kind of a blur.”

  “No wonder, after the beating you took last night. You probably have a concussion.” Lizzie reached over and felt Ronnie’s forehead as if that could confirm the presence of any possible head injuries.

  “No, I’m pretty sure I don’t. Not even a headache.” Ronnie blew across the top of the steaming mug and took a small sip.

  “Really? I don’t know how. I thought she was going to kill you. Like for real, death. I’m not ready to plan your funeral. Hey, you don't want to be cremated, do you? I kinda feel like I should know these things.”

  “No on the cremation, and to be honest, so did I at the end. I don’t know though. When I woke up at Luc’s, I thought for sure I’d have some broken bones, or worse, but I felt good. Great actually.”

  “I bet you did.” Lizzie snorted. “I’m sure he made you feel really good.”

  Ronnie scooted up to sit next to Liz, her back resting on the headboard and her head on Liz’s shoulder. “Oh my God, he sure did.”

  “Well, at least you broke the dry spell. I was starting to think your vag was going to dry up like the Mojave.”

  “Hey.” Ronnie slapped Liz’s arm. “You try to work and raise three kids, and tell me when you have time to date.”

  “Who said you had to date? Are you telling me you’re dating your boss now?”

  “Well, no. I mean I’m sure it was just sex, but still. You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I do and it’s a bunch of bullshit.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ronnie twisted around to face Liz.

  “You know damn well what it means,” Lizzie said. “You use the kids and what happened as an excuse. You’re afraid to get close to anyone because you don’t know what will happen. But newsflash, no one knows what will happen. There are no guarantees in life. That doesn’t mean you stop living it.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing.” Ronnie put her coffee down on the nightstand and hopped off the bed. “You do realize it’s only been six months since the accident, right? Just because I don’t want to go around spreading my legs for every guy I meet, doesn’t mean I’m making excuses.”

  “You mean like you did before your parents died? You mean like I do now? Is that what you’re trying to say?” Lizzie climbed off the bed and stared at Ronnie like she didn’t know her at all. “I’m out of here.”

  She watched Liz storm out of her room and heard the front door slam shut. They hadn’t had a fight since middle school and a small twinge of guilt reminded Ronnie that she was probably wrong, but she didn’t care. Who she slept with, or didn’t sleep with, was none of Lizzie’s business. It had nothing to do with her parents death, and if she was going to try to blame it on that, she could screw off.

  Not that Liz would hold a grudge. She never did. But Ronnie knew that she would need some time to cool down. If only letting things go was that easy for her.

  In the beginning, after the accident, everyone was sympathetic. There were offers to help, anything she needed, they’d say. The looks of pity followed her everywhere she went. As the weeks, then months, wore on, the offers dried up. The looks of pity turned to impatience.

  Everyone expected her to be over it by now. As if six months was plenty long enough to grieve the loss of both her parents, college, any future dreams, and basically her whole life.

  But six months wasn’t long enough.

  Ronnie wasn’t sure how long it would take. Maybe a lifetime. All she knew was that she felt like she was drowning, unable to come up for air. She had no idea what she was doing and she wasn’t sure she ever would. Her life was a mess, out of control. There was no end in sight.

  And now she was even pushing away her best friend.

  ***

  “You seriously slept with her already? Don’t you think you should get to know her a little bit first?” Harley lifted one eyebrow and gave him her typical judgmental look. Luc was used to it. Coming from a family of angels, judgment was all around him. Good thing Luc didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought.

  “Sorry, I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “Liar. You give me enough details to make me want to vomit half the time. Who do you think you’re fooling?”

  “Okay, maybe I do kiss and tell, but this is different.” He didn’t know why, but it was. Ronnie was. Maybe even Luc himself was.

  Harley rolled her eyes, but at least she had the decency to turn to the side to avoid Luc seeing her. Though she did fail.

  “Lucifer, finding true love doesn’t work the same way as finding a piece of ass to spend the evening with. You need to take things slower and get to know the girl.”

  “Since when are you an expert on true love? Has Cupid been tutoring you?”

  “Ha ha. I’d rather take a trip back to medieval times and spend an afternoon on the rack than hang out with that asshole.”

  “Seriously though, he’s been leaving me voicemail. Like fifteen or so of them.” Luc made sure to keep his cell number from Cupid, but the little bastard still got hold of the business phone number.

  “Why don’t you just an
swer and see what he wants?”

  “Why should I? Every time I try giving him a chance, he makes me regret it. He’s nothing but trouble.” Luc picked up his glass, sniffed the alcohol, and put it back down on the bar.

  “You’re nothing but trouble, but people answer your calls.”

  “Whose side are you on?” Luc huffed and gulped down half of the unappealing drink in front of him.

  “Yours. As always, Lucifer. Now forget Cupid and back to the topic you’re trying to avoid.” Harley took Luc’s glass, dumped the contents, and poured him his favorite bourbon.

  “I’m not avoiding anything. I’m not even sure what we’re talking about at this point.”

  “We’re talking about Ronnie Falcon and how you’re about to screw this up.” She stood, hand on hip, give him her know-it-all look. But she didn’t know it all. She was wrong this time.

  “Last night you didn’t want to leave me alone with her and now you’re concerned? What is this really about?” It was the second time in as many days that he’d found himself asking her that. It was so unlike Harley to behave that way.

  “Yes, I’m concerned because of the same reason I didn’t want to leave you alone with her. You can’t go treating this like every other girl you hop in the sack with. You aren’t getting to know her and that’s what this is all about.”

  “Oh I promise you, I got to know her quite well last night.”

  Harley slapped Luc’s arm. “That is not what I mean and you know it.”

  “Stop abusing me, demon. I have every intention of getting to know her. That’s why I went to her fight and took her home afterward. That was more effort than I’ve put into a woman in longer than I can remember. And I have an excellent memory.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  “You can take a breath, Harley. I’ve got this. I didn’t plan on sleeping with her last night, but it happened. You need to take a few Xanax and relax. I’m following your little rules. I’ll get to know her.”

  Harley let out a deep sigh and flopped onto a barstool. “You’re right. I know. I just can’t help but worry about you. This is all new territory for me too, you know?”

  Luc grabbed the bourbon off the bar, poured a large glass, and pushed it at Harley. “It’s just a game. If you don’t want to do this anymore, we can stop.”

  “No. I promised you I’d help find your true love and I will. But I do think you should call Cupid back.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t trust that shifty bastard. If you ignore him, who knows what he’ll do.”

  She might have a point. The last time Cupid wanted to get in touch with Gabriel and he was ignored, the little asshole sent an elderly nymphomaniac after him. The poor woman was missing most of her teeth, had almost no ability to hear, and creaked when she walked. Lucky for Gabe, she didn’t live long enough to become a real nuisance. Even luckier, she ended up in Hell, rather than Heaven, where she would have even more access to Gabe.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  The air in the room changed, and the tell-tale flash of light appeared, alerting them to an angel arrival. Luc knew it was Azrael before he even turned around. Not because of anything in particular, but because Az was the only one who visited unannounced on a regular basis.

  “Brother, how are you? Anything new on the love life front?” Az climbed onto a stool and helped himself to Luc’s expensive bourbon.

  “Back again so soon?” Harley yanked the bottle back before he could finish it off and faked a smile.

  “I can see you’re thrilled to bits. Why can’t we be friends, Harley? I’m a nice guy. You’re a nice girl. It makes sense.”

  “I am not a nice girl,” Harley said in a clipped tone. “And you aren’t a nice guy.”

  Az shrugged and turned to Luc. “Seriously though, how’s it going with the angry chick?”

  “Did you actually come here just to ask me that? You can just send me a text, you know?”

  “Has Cupid been calling you?”

  “He has. Do you know why?”

  Az gulped down the contents of his glass and gave Harley the puppy dog face for more. “I spoke with him earlier and he mentioned that you weren’t returning his calls, but he wasn’t letting on why he was calling you.”

  “I’m hoping he will go away. Like an annoying rash.”

  “Maybe.” Az shrugged. “But he can be a vindictive little fuck, so don’t piss him off too much.”

  Luc had other things on his mind. Things more important than Cupid, or his oversensitive little feelings. There was something different about how he felt around Ronnie. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew that there was. He wanted this to work. Maybe Ronnie wasn’t his true love, but maybe she was. He had to make this game his priority. He’d waited for this long enough.

  ***

  “Hey pretty girl. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?” The asshole was clearly intoxicated, wobbling foot to foot on the pavement, but Ronnie wasn’t in the mood. A strong scent of alcohol oozed from his pores and assaulted her nose before she could get far enough away.

  “No thanks.” She walked past him and hurried down the street. The fight had paid well, but she didn’t want to waste the money on a cab. If she’d gotten out of the house sooner, she could have taken the express bus, but the damn kids refused to cooperate.

  As usual.

  So there she was, walking down the street, trying to make it to her first day of work without being late. The morning after she screwed the boss. Yeah, it was going to be a great first day.

  “Oh come on. Why don’t you like me, pretty girl?” The asshole jogged behind her, trying to get her attention. Somehow he managed to stay upright, despite his wobbling. She ignored him, like she should have done from the start, but he wasn’t giving up. The heels of her boots clacked on the pavement louder than she preferred and the sound reverberated through her head, bringing an ache at her temples.

  She was grateful that she decided not to wear the uniform when she left the house. Even though her jacket would have covered the worst of it, she still would have looked like a streetwalker. If she’d went with the crop top and booty shorts that she was required to wear on the job, it might have made sense that the idiot following her was being so persistent. But she hadn’t, and nothing else about her, her dress, her demeanor, and definitely not her response to him, said she was up for a little fun with a complete stranger.

  Normally, men were a bit intimidated by Ronnie. Which was a nice way of saying that she scared them off. For as long as she could remember, the opposite sex shied away from approaching her unless she made it clear she was interested. She didn’t mind that so much. But this idiot, he wasn’t taking the hint.

  She had two choices. One, she could stay on the main street and make it to work twenty minutes late. Two, she could cut through a dark alley and only be about five minutes late. The creep was still following her as she paused, deciding whether to turn, or stay on the populated street.

  Ronnie turned and looked at the stranger, standing about five feet behind her with a wicked smile on his face and his hand hovering over his crotch. He probably thought she was trying to make up her mind about letting him buy her a drink, aka, a quickie in the alley. What she was really doing, was sizing him up, making sure she could take him down if he laid one filthy finger on her.

  She was sure she could handle him.

  So down the alley she went.

  Unsteady footsteps followed behind her and she knew he was going to be trouble. It was the last thing Ronnie needed when she was already late, but true to her typical luck, nothing would be easy.

  “I know I promised you a drink, pretty girl, but maybe we can just cut to the chase.” He hurried to keep up with her, his stride nearly half of hers with his drunken stumble.

  “Get lost, asshole,” she called over her shoulder. Every time he called her pretty girl, it grated on her more. She was ready to haul off and knock him on his ass before she was half
way down the block.

  “Oh, come on now. We could have some fun together.” He run-walked and caught up, only a step behind her. How that was possible in his drunken state was beyond her. She even swore she could feel his breath on the back of her neck and smell the alcohol settling over her skin.

  She was about to tell him that it was never going to happen, when he grabbed her around the waist, digging his filthy fingers into her, and tried to spin her around.

  Ronnie’s lungs seized up and her heartbeat went into overdrive. The sound of her blood rushing through her veins filled her head.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Ronnie stared at the asshole, millimeters from his eyes, her breath being sucked in with quick pants.

  The idiot actually thought he had the upper hand when he pushed her against the brick and tried to stick his hand down her pants. It only took a split second of shock before Ronnie’s survival instinct kicked in. She kneed him in the crotch, hard, but he only winced, numbed by the alcohol. In retaliation, he punched her in the jaw with equal force. She had to give him credit, he was stronger than he looked.

  But she was even stronger.

  Everything happened so fast. It was as if lightening crashed down around her, blinding her with a rage so hot, she thought the smallest spark would ignite it to flames. The world around her went dark, except a crystal clear focus on her target.

  In a flash, she had him on the ground, her full weight crushing his chest, as she barreled her fists into his face. Her head ached from where he'd slammed her into the brick, but nothing mattered except pounding the asshole into stillness.

  He tried to block, but it was no use. His face was bloody, broken, and finally he stilled, taking each blow with a lifeless thud. Ronnie laughed at the sound, something like sloshing her hands into ground meat. Her fists were the meat tenderizer, and his face was sure to be pulp. It wasn’t until she felt strong arms lifting her from behind, holding her back, that she even realized what was going on.