Angel Series Books #1-2.5

by Tracy Lorraine

  “I don’t want you to go,” I say quietly.

  He doesn’t reply. Instead, he just wraps his arms around me and holds me to him tightly. The heat of his body instantly warms me. I rest my head on his sculpted chest and just listen to his heart beating.

  He’s tense, but the longer we stand, the more relaxed I feel him getting. My heart flutters at the idea that I relax him.

  When I feel him kiss the top of my head, I can’t help myself. My hands slip under the cotton of his t-shirt until I feel his smooth skin against my palms.

  “Connie,” he warns, and I feel him start to pull back, but I hold tight. I’m not losing him yet.

  He must decide against fighting me, because I feel him relax again as I run my hands up his back, before gently scratching his skin with my nails on the way back down. The action makes him growl, and that causes butterflies to erupt in my belly. I’ve waited years to have him again. He’s kept himself at arm’s reach. Please let him forget everything for the night.

  I feel his lips against my head again and I decide that it’s now or never. If he says no, then I’ve got six months to get over it.

  I step back and pull my oversized t-shirt over my head, exposing my naked boobs to him. His eyes instantly drop to them, and his tongue sneaks out to wet his bottom lip. My whole body practically vibrates with anticipation of having those lips on me.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this. He could come back any minute.” He may say the words out loud, but his face and body don’t seem to agree. His eyes are way too interested in my half bare body, and I can see clearly from here that his dick is up for it - literally! His jogging bottoms are very tented.

  “Okay…well…if you don’t want to, then I guess I’ll just go and sort myself out on my own. Obviously, my vibrator won’t be quite as fulfilling as you would be, but if it’s the best I’m going to get, then…” I turn towards my room and start pulling my legging down to expose my thong clad arse to him. I don’t make it two steps after removing my thong before I’m pulled back and pushed up against the wall.

  I barely register the movement as it all happens so fast, but the moment I’m lifted and I feel his cock at my entrance, it’s like time stands still.

  I look up and my eyes lock on to his. He looks fierce; his eyes are wild, almost like he’s not in control of his actions. We continue to stare at each other, no words muttered, until suddenly he thrusts forward until he is seated deep inside me.

  He grabs hold of my wrists and raises them above my head. He holds them both in one hand, just like he did the last time we were together. He must like the control; plus, the position pushes my tits out towards him. He makes the most of this by lowering his head and sucking one of my nipples into his mouth.

  His thrusts pick up pace as he continues to litter my chest and neck with kisses, sucks and bites.

  I felt like I was on the edge of orgasm from the first stroke of his cock, but I can feel it building to extreme levels as he thrusts deeper and faster.

  “Fuck, Fin…fuck,”

  “Come, Connie, come on my cock,” he grunts into my neck.

  I’m there. I feel like my body is just about to snap in half when the sensation of Fin’s cock twitching inside me hits something that makes me scream. Literally scream.

  I’m stopped from riding my high when I feel Fin pull out of me while shouting, “SHIT,” loudly into the room, while pulling at his hair.

  I watch as he paces the room for a bit. He’s fully dressed, and I’m stood here naked with my clothes in a pile at my feet.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I’m going to Australia tomorrow for six months,” he says, like I need reminding. "I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Fin, please,” I say, stepping away from the wall, hoping to stop his rant.

  “No, Connie. That isn’t what I want. You aren’t what I want.” His words slam into my chest. It feels like the wind is knocked out of me. I slump back against the wall in defeat.

  “You d-d-don’t m-m-m-ean that,” I stutter, trying to contain my emotions.

  “Yes, I do,” he says, with a strength that I can’t argue with. “I want someone…someone more mature, who knows themselves. You’re just too…”

  “Immature?” I finish for him, but it comes out as a question. How dare he accuse me of that? I’ve done more than anyone I know that’s under thirty. How dare he.

  “Yeah, I want a woman, not a girl.”

  I can’t help it, I reach forward and slap him as hard as I can across the face. His head snaps to the side with the force of it, and his cheek glows red instantly.

  His eyes are wild when he turns them back on me. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, before turning and leaving the house.

  I instantly burst out in fat, ugly sobs, because more than those harsh words, I knew that would be the last time I would see him for at least six months and that he was going to leave me with that last memory of him.

  I’m still sobbing, leaning naked against the wall, when I hear the door shut again. Knowing it would be Ruben, not Fin coming back to apologise, I quickly scoop up my clothes and uan for my room.

  When I emerge sometime later, it’s obvious I’ve been crying, and I have to try to convince Ruben it’s because I’m sad he’s leaving for so long. He doesn’t question me, so I guess he believes me.

  The next day, after I say goodbye to Ruben in our parents’ kitchen, I refuse to go to the airport with them because I thought it would be too hard, but also because I didn’t want to see Fin. I look at myself in the mirror. I look at my dark blonde hair. It’s long, hanging limply, well past my shoulders. I look at my make-up free face, then down to my nondescript leggings and t-shirt, and I could sort of understand where Fin was coming from. I do look like a little girl compared to the women he brings home. I decide then and there to do something about it, so that by the time he gets back, I am the woman that he wants.

  I asked customers with cool hair to recommend hairdressers, and more than one recommended Altered Images in Oxford, so I made myself an appointment for the following weekend and bought a few hair magazines to get some inspiration.

  Before going to my appointment, I go to Debenhams and let a girl at one of the cosmetics stands do my make-up how she thinks would suit me. I can’t believe it when she holds the mirror up for me to look at myself. My skin is flawless. My eyes pop with the shadow and eyeliner around them, and my red lips look insane. I’m instantly in love with my new look. What I didn’t love so much was the price tag that all the new products came with, but I had the money stashed away for a rainy day. The first couple of years I didn’t see much of a profit from the coffee shop, but that has changed recently, and I’m now earning a good wage. Combine that with not doing much other than working, and I’ve got quite a healthy bank account.

  With my face looking like a million dollars, I headed to the salon to get a hairstyle to match. It took a lot of discussion, but eventually Shane, the stylist, and I agreed on an inverted bob and a headful of blonde highlights.

  I feel like a totally new woman when I walk through my front door that evening. I feel better about myself that I have ever done. All I need is to add some new items to my wardrobe, and I’m set.

  A few weeks later, after a long, slow winter’s day in the coffee shop, I decide to go to the cinema. I’m quite happy going alone; it doesn’t really bother me. Good job, really, because the only people I have to ask are my parents, and I think I already spend way too much time with them than is normal for any twenty-five year old.

  The incompetent, spotty teenager manning the ticket desk causes an epically long queue. Everyone waiting is beginning to complain about him, along with the out of order do-it-yourself machines, when I hear a slightly familiar voice behind me. When I look over my shoulder, Elliot is smiling down on me.

  “Wow, Connie, I almost didn’t recognise you. You look good,” he says, giving me his model worthy smile.

  He is insanely tall and make me fee
l like a little mouse. He’s in good shape, but much more slender than Fin, and his hair is perfect, unlike Fin’s messy blonde mop. My thoughts of Fin obviously show on my face, because Elliot instantly asks me if I’m okay.

  It turns out his blind date has stood him up. She’s an idiot, if you ask me, because he’s charming, sweet, considerate - nothing like I expected after the years of rivalry between him and Ruben. I was expecting him to be the biggest knobhead on the planet.

  After watching the latest 007 film, we head across the street for pizza and a few drinks.

  As the night goes on, I realise that I can’t remember the last time I had such a laugh with someone that wasn’t a member of my family or Fin. I know it’s sad, but it makes me feel more alive than I have in ages. I’ve worked so many hours that going out and letting my hair down has been very low on my priority list.

  It turns out that Elliot had been dropped off by his sister so he could have a drink, and was planning on getting a taxi back, so I offer him a ride home.

  I shock myself when I pull into our village by asking him if he wants to come back to mine for a drink. He doesn’t live that far away, so he can walk home easily.

  Well, a drink turns into a little kiss, and that little kiss turns into a lot of sex! I’m equally thrilled as I am gutted that I’’ve put myself out there to sleep with someone else. As much as I wanted Fin to be the only person I ever slept with, I knew it was a fantasy.

  We had a great night, and it turned into a regular thing. We tried to keep it on the down low because I was worried about it somehow getting back to Ruben, but as the weeks turned into months, we were often out and about together. I’m surprised that one of Ruben’s friends didn’t dob us in.

  I’ll always be grateful to Elliot, because he helped bring out my confidence in the bedroom and discover what I like. My only experience up until that point was Fin being in charge, or me alone with my vibrator. I couldn’t hide my utter shock one night when Eliot asked if I owned one. My embarrassment and the answer must have been clear as day on my face, because he reached straight over to the top drawer of my bedside table and pulled it out. He then introduced me to the fun that two people could have with such a toy. Needless to say, I placed a few big orders for new toys for us to experiment with not long after!

  The closer it gets to Ruben and Fin’s return, the more nervous and excited I get. I missed Ruben terribly. He rang me every week, but it wasn’t enough. I need him home. Fin though, I’m both desperate to see and terrified at the same time. A lot can change in six months, but at the same time, nothing can change. He could come back and want me, just like I still want him, or he could still believe his last words to me and things could be well untruly over between us. Not that anything ever really started.

  One look at him the first time he walks into our house when they get back, and I know more than I ever have that I want him. When our eyes connect, my brown to his blue, it’s like I’ve been beaten across the chest with a baseball bat. I ache, physically ache for him.

  If only I knew that it was only going to lead to even more heartache.

  Fin

  Present…

  I wake with a start. I’m sweating and my heart is pounding in my chest from my fitful sleep plagued with memories of how badly I’ve treated Connie over the years. It takes a while for my foggy brain to clear, but when it does, I see her face. It’s as clear as the day she looked at me: her heart was breaking right in front of my eyes. It killed me to know I was doing that to her, but it was for the best. Every fibre in my body was telling me it was for the best. Well, apart from my heart. That was breaking along with hers.

  Nine months ago…

  Was it the right decision? I had no idea, but it was the one I had made. I was going to leave for Australia without seeing Connie. It would be easier that way.

  Somehow, I’ve managed to pretty much keep her at arm’s length since her twenty-first birthday. It’s damn near killed me to do it, but I know it’s for the best. She deserves more than me. She deserves more than a man that just wants a woman for pleasure. Committing to a woman means that I’ll give her my heart, and by giving her my heart it means that she’ll take it with her when she goes, wherever that might me. She could leave me, because let’s be honest, I’ll do something stupid, or she’ll die. Everyone dies, whether it’s in body, mind or both, so why not her? Once she finds out the truth, she won’t want to stick around anyway. Not that I’d want to burden her with all my shit.

  All I have left to do is say goodbye to my dad and ensure the carer I have arranged is all set to look after him, but I have a couple of questions for Ru before our departure. Seeing as my calls went unanswered, I decide to pop over and ask him in person. I didn’t even think that Connie would be there. She is still usually at work at this time of night. The last thing I expecte to find when I let myself into their house is her sat on the sofa.

  My heart skipps a beat when she admits that she doesn’t want me to go. I’m not stupid; I know how she still feels about me, but I have no intention of ever acting on it again. But knowing my leaving is affecting her so badly weakened my resolve. The need to touch her becomes too great; I have to pull her to me. The second our bodies touch, mine starts to relax. I didn’t even realise I was tense. The prospect of leaving is obviously playing on my mind more than I realise.

  It all happens so fast. One second I’m just holding her, comforting her, and the next I have her up against the wall, naked and panting for me.

  I should have backed away. I should have, but I couldn’t. I’ve never been able to walk away from Connie, so why would I think I would be able to now?

  It isn’t until the euphoria leaves my body that I realise what I’ve done.

  What I say to her afterwards will haunt me for a long time.

  It’s so far from the fucking truth it’s laughable. I don’t think she will believe me, but I have obviously done a better job than I thought I have at showing her she isn’t who I want. All the girls I’d bring back obviously have the desired effect, because when I start telling her I want a woman, not a girl, she doesn’t argue. I’d always try to pull chicks that are the opposite of Connie so I can’t compare them, but it doesn’t work. I always compare them, and no one ever comes close to Connie’s perfection. The skinny fake chicks never hold a candle to her.

  I have to fight with myself all night not to go to her and tell her it’s all lies, that she iss the only one I want, have ever wanted. It’s only the thought of Ruben that stops me. He would choose her over me, and I would be left alone, with dad. Great! I need my adopted family more than I need to do the one thing that will make me feel complete.

  The next morning, I almost convince myself not to go. I planned it all out. I’ll admit to Ruben what is really going on with my dad. I know he’s had his suspicions about him, but I shoot him down every time he brings it up, not wanting to admit it out loud. He will then believe I can’t leave him alone, and it would mean I’d get to stay and see if Connie will forgive me. Maybe we will have a chance with Ruben on the other side of the world. By the time he comes back, maybe he will be on side. Unfortunately, there are a few too many maybes in that scenario, so I stick with my plans, eot up early, grab my bags, and head to the Fosters’ house so they can drive us to the airport.

  I shouldn’t be surprised that Connie doesn’t come with us. I hate myself for hurting her so badly that she didn’t feel she could come to say goodbye to her brother at the airport, but it’s for the best. If I leave with her hating me, it might be easier for her to forget about me. My plan is that, by the time I come back, she will have moved on.

  What I wasn’t anticipating was the pain I would be in when I realised that had happened.

  My first port of call when we return six months later is obviously my dad. I’d had almost daily contact with the carer, so I knew he was doing okay. Yes, he’d deteriorated further since I’d left, but that was expected. I didn’t appreciate from thousands of miles away how m
uch of a shock that deterioration was going to be. I guess to the carer it was small, because she saw him every day, but to me after six months it was huge, and I felt guilty as hell for going. I fought with myself for a long time as to whether to go or not, but in the end, my selfish side got the better of me and I decided I needed to live while I could. After all, if I inherited the bad genes from either my mum or dad, I was pretty much fucked.

  “Stevie, I haven’t seen you for ages. How’ve you been?”

  “Dad, it’s me, Fin.”

  “Oh Stevie, always the joker. When are Mum and Dad back? I’m hungry.”

  I go to argue, but I see that it is pointless and the pain is excruciating as I realise I might have missed his last few months of living a normal life. Stevie was my uncle, Dad’s little brother. He died a few years ago. He was my grandparents’ primary carer for years. They were ill for years with one thing or another. He never moved out, never married or anything. His parents were his sole companions, and when they both went in quick succession of each other, it wasn’t long before he was found by my dad surrounded by empty bottles and packets of pills. He’d been there a long time, and it was the catalyst for Dad’s massive decline. It was like the guilt took over everything and he was losing himself to it.

  I decide the best thing to do is to wait as long as possible to see Connie. I don’t think rushing over there will do anyone any favours. I haven’t spoken to her since the night before I left, but Ruben made sure to tell me all about their weekly phone calls, so I know she hasn’t moved on like I was hoping she would. I do know that she changed her look considerably not long after we left. I can only presume that is because of what I said, and it make me scared that she will still want me and that the situation won’t be any different between us. It didn’t matter how many bikini-clad women I hooked up with while we were away - it was still Connie I’d dream about at night.