His Innocent Angel (Heaven's Ballroom Book 1)

by Aiden Bates

  Kevin would’ve fucking died if he’d only known where I was right now. He’d told me once that he was nine inches—but now that I was holding what must have been close to ten in my hands, I realized that Kevin had barely been five.

  “God—that’s fucking good. You sure you’ve never done this before?”

  “Stop talking,” I ordered him, leaning forward.

  He moved his knuckles up to his mouth, licking my precum off of them with a shrug. We were both too worked up for niceties. He was hard. So was I. He was no virgin, and my naive imaginings that my first time would be on a bed covered in rose petals on my wedding day had died the second I saw that picture of Kevin with his hand down another man’s pants.

  I wanted Max inside me. Wanted him now. I positioned myself over him, circling the tight pucker of my ass with his tip. I felt his own precum spread around my entrance, further lubricating the heat of my hole.

  “Fuck, you’re wet,” Max growled. “All that honey for me?”

  “I must like you,” I growled back, feeling my wetness coat the head of Max’s cock, slickening it and preparing it for me.

  Hard and fast and rough. That’s how I wanted it. Fuck slow and gentle—I wanted him to ruin me. But as I pressed down on his head, desperate to rid myself of that shred of innocence that had been tying me down and holding me back, a sharp pain shot through me and I cried out.

  Immediately, Max wrapped his arms around me. Held me close.

  “Shh. Stop.” He kissed my cheeks, running his fingers through my hair. “We take this slow or I take you back inside. Okay?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ve got you.” His kisses moved to my lips, humid and soft. “But if you want me, you let me lead.”

  I nodded again, letting my body rest against his.

  This time, he was slow as he pressed into me. Gentle. Even the tiniest movement of his cock against my ass sent waves of heat through me, flushing my chest and making my head feel light. Suddenly, something gave. My ass stretched for him, taking just his tip. Max’s hands guided my hips, sinking me down onto him. My lips trembled as he kissed me again and again, soothing me with his lips, and every breath in my lungs came more ragged than the last.

  But it didn’t hurt. Not this time. Fuck—if anything, it was the best thing I’d ever felt. I pulled away from Max’s lips for just long enough to moan in ecstasy, then sought them again like they were my only source of air. He pistoned in and out of me, slowly building up speed until my body felt like it was mere moments away from falling apart altogether—or maybe finally becoming whole.

  “Damn,” Max growled, nipping at my lower lip. “You’re so tight, Riley. So fucking tight.”

  “You’re…god, you’re so big,” I gasped back. “I’m going to…fuck, I think I’m going to come, Max.”

  “Good.” Max raked his fingers through my hair, his hips bucking beneath me while his thumb ran across my nipple. “Good, baby. I want you to come. Come for me—come around my big, thick—”

  “Come with me,” I moaned, digging my fingers into his shoulders. “Come with me, Max—come inside me—”

  “Fuck.” Max hissed in a breath of air, his lips pulling back to reveal gritted teeth. “Don’t fucking tease me like that. Bad idea.”

  “I want it,” I pleaded with him. Taking Max’s cum was suddenly a matter of dire urgency in my mind. The more the heat swelled in my core, the harder and faster he pumped inside of me, the more I wanted it. Needed it. Needed it bad enough that I was willing to beg. “Please, Max—come with me! Fill me up! Please—please, it’s okay—”

  Max’s body tensed suddenly. In an instant, that tension turned kinetic. A growl roared up from his throat as he held me against him, driving his cock deeper and deeper into me. My head felt full of cotton candy and helium. My body, warm and liquid, molten and burning hot from my skin all the way down into my soul.

  Max erupted inside me, thrusting as deep as he could go. I felt wave after wave of his hot, creamy seed flood my insides as his balls tightened and released. My ass throbbed with pleasure, batting me over the head with it and leaving my whole body spasming.

  One moment, we were both moaning. Crying out to the heavens—or at least, to the skylight of Max’s Mercedes. The next, we were silent. Only the sounds of our breathing, heavy and ragged, and the sound of the wind outside the car.

  “God,” I panted, squeezing my arms around him tight. His body was slick with sweat. It beaded down his chest, pooling between his abs, as I rubbed my skin against his. “Fuck. I needed that.”

  A tiny laugh bubbled up from his chest. “So did I.”

  He held me for what felt like hours. No music. No grinding. No clever one-liners or idiotic posturing. Just his strong, thick arms around me. The warmth of his body beneath mine.

  “You need a ride home?” His chest rumbled beneath me as he spoke.

  “No,” I told him. “I’m okay.”

  “I know you are. I asked if you needed a ride.”

  I laughed. A ride home with Max would only turn into a repeat of what had just happened here in his car—and I needed time to clear my head. Time to think. “No. You’re sweet, but I need to go inside. Grab my things. Clock out and everything.”

  “I could wait for you,” he offered.

  I shook my head, pressing a little kiss to the tip of his nose. “No, you go on home. This was…”

  “Don’t say it was fun.”

  “But it was fun,” I insisted. “The most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

  His brow furrowed. “Can I see you again?”

  I leaned back, pulling his jacket off my shoulders and dropping it onto the passenger seat. “Maybe.”

  His eyes narrowed. A cocky smile spread across his lips. “So you do like me, then.”

  “I said maybe, Max. I might.”

  He reached over to the glove compartment, popping it open and pulling out a pen. His thumb ran across my palm before he touched the tip of the ballpoint to my skin, scribbling nine digits there.

  “Just in case the scales tilt in my favor,” he said softly. “Don’t lose it.”

  He curled my fingers over the number and helped me back out of the car. But even as the wind whipped against my shoulders as I made the quick jog back inside, I couldn’t help but feel warm. Maybe it was his cum inside me, hot and slick, making me feel whole again—

  Or maybe it was the way I could feel his eyes on me until the door closed behind me. Watching me go.

  6

  Max

  The New York wind swept in from the alleyways, blasting me with colder air with every side street I passed. I shoved my hands deeper into the pockets of my overcoat as I made my way to Rennot’s, running one thumb across my cellphone and then over my wallet.

  It had been three weeks since that night with Riley at The Ballroom. Three agonizing weeks of waiting. Of keeping my phone by the bedside every night when I normally would have switched it off and left it by the door. Of wondering if what I’d done had been right. Of wondering what I’d done wrong.

  He didn’t owe me shit. Just two people in need, coming together to bang one out in the front seat of my Mercedes. I’d gotten the sense that Riley had needed someone that night. He’d practically told me so himself. And me—I’d needed someone too. More than I’d been willing to admit.

  Like most dealings in strip clubs, it had been transactional. That’s what I’d been telling myself. Rebound sex. Nothing more. But if that was true, I should have left it behind me in the parking lot—not driven home with it in the passenger seat. My memories of Riley, eyelashes fluttering and hair turned bronze by moonlight, had crawled into bed with me that night. They hadn’t left since.

  When my phone finally lit up with an unknown number and an invitation to lunch, my heart had skipped a beat then promptly lodged itself in my throat. He’d signed it simply. Two little Xs and an initial—R. I’d debated for a good twenty minutes about whether or not I should sign my response before I’d deci
ded that it didn’t fucking matter.

  He wanted to see me again. It was something.

  Something was a start.

  I found Riley sitting in the back of the cafe. He smiled when he saw me—as did the waiter who was hovering near the table.

  “Thanks for coming,” Riley said as the waiter slipped us our menus.

  “Wouldn’t miss it. I made the reservations, didn’t I?”

  “About that.” Riley watched the waiter walk out of earshot. “I think the wait staff took one look at what I was wearing and decided I couldn’t afford this place.”

  Glancing at Riley’s outfit—a Bruce Springsteen t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans—I sighed. He was out of place amongst all the suits and ties that generally frequented Rennot’s at lunchtime, sure, but that was no reason to be a snob. “Sorry. Guess that’s why they waited to give us the menus until I showed up.”

  “Guess so.”

  “For what it’s worth, you look great.” Great was an understatement. He’d looked great on that night that I’d first met him. Now, he was fucking glowing. “If I’m being honest, I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

  “That makes two of us,” he said with a tense laugh. “Sorry—I think I felt a little embarrassed about the way I acted that night. I was…unhinged.”

  “I like you unhinged.”

  “Yeah. Well…I guess, I’m just sorry in general. It was unprofessional of me.” A pink flush rose to his cheeks as he stared down at the menu. “How hungry are you?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Riley?”

  “No—no, not at all. I’m starving, though. Wanna split an app? The spinach artichoke dip looks great, but I’m also eying the baked brie…”

  I snagged the waiter by the elbow as he passed our table and ordered both.

  “Oh,” Riley said softly. “Max…that’s too much…”

  “No such thing,” I told him. “Fancy a drink to wash it down? They’ve got a great champagne here…”

  The waiter raised his eyebrow expectantly, pen at ready.

  “Just water for me, thanks.” Riley gave the waiter a little nod and the man meandered away again.

  “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” I asked again. I couldn’t put my thumb on it yet, but something seemed off.

  “Maybe you just don’t like me as much when I have so many clothes on,” he teased quietly.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” I nodded at his shirt. “I like looking at Bruce Springsteen’s ass almost as much as I liked looking at yours.”

  He smiled. “It’s a pretty nice ass.”

  “And Bruce’s isn’t half bad either.” I echoed his grin.

  It was strange seeing him like this. There was a tension in his shoulders. A reluctance to his smile. When he laughed, it seemed like his heart was only half into it. Not that my jokes were that funny—but it hurt to see him forcing it.

  Shit. Maybe I really had done something wrong.

  At least he seemed to perk up a bit when the appetizers arrived. I’d never seen anyone dig into melted brie with such gusto. He’d eaten half of it before he realized that I hadn’t even reached for my knife.

  “God. Fuck. Sorry.” He slid the brie toward me, blushing harder.

  I slid it right back to him. “No need. They feeding you over there at the Ballroom?”

  “Please. After the tip you gave me the other night, I’ve been eating like royalty.”

  “I gave you more than just the tip, if my memory serves me right.”

  He laughed. “And I liked it. Believe me. I’ve just been having the weirdest—” He paused, looking startled, then became overly interested in the spinach dip. “The weirdest cravings lately.”

  “Cravings, huh?” I leaned forward, determined to ease whatever was bothering him. To draw him back in. “Cravings like what?”

  He shook his head, refusing to meet my eyes. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

  He went to lean back, but before he could, I reached across the table and caught him by the hand.

  “Riley. Come on.” I ran my thumb across his knuckles, climbing and descending each ridge. “If you don’t want to fuck me again, that’s fine. I’m okay with that. But I’m assuming you wanted to meet for lunch for a reason. I agreed for a reason. You’re charming. You’re clever. I like you. If you just want to be friends, that’s fine. We’ll be friends.”

  “That’s not it, Max.”

  “Yeah? What is it, then?”

  “I’m pregnant.” He blurted the words out hard and fast, like they couldn’t escape his mouth quickly enough. Only, once they were out, his hand twitched beneath mine like he was desperate to clap it over his mouth.

  As the words hit me, I blinked in stunned silence.

  “You’re what, now?”

  “Pregnant,” he said again. Enunciated it like it was a death sentence. “I’m pregnant, Max, and it’s yours.”

  I laughed. Didn’t mean to, but it came out anyway. Dismissive. Harsh. Cruel enough, it made Riley hang his head in shame.

  Being pregnant was nothing to be ashamed of, of course. He was an Omega. He was handsome, and young, and I was sure he had no shortage of offers for sex. He’d been a virgin when I met him—I was sure of it—but the look in his eyes when he’d straddled me was one I’d seen in many an Omega’s eyes before. Virgin, but desperate to be rid of it. Hungry to be touched and none too concerned about who was doing the touching.

  It was the second claim that threw me. The second claim that I knew couldn’t be true.

  “I don’t need you laughing at me,” Riley said, tossing the napkin off his lap and rising to leave.

  I caught him by his wrist before he could. “I’m not laughing at you. Honestly. I’m just surprised. You can’t really think I’d believe that, can you? That it’s mine?”

  “We had unprotected sex, Max. You came inside me.”

  “Which you said was fine!” The word came out louder than I’d intended it to, attracting the attention of our waiter and nearby diners alike. Worse—it made Riley flinch. I didn’t give two fucks about what all the suits dining around us thought. But for Riley’s sake, I made a point of lowering my voice. “I thought you meant you were on birth control. You do know how babies are made, don’t you?”

  “I don’t have a Harvard education, Max, but yes—my high school did manage to cover that,” he spat at me.

  “I don’t have a Harvard education either—Riley, wait!” His wrist slipped through my fingers before I could tighten them. Instead, I stood, tossing the waiter a crisp hundred from my wallet and followed him out the door.

  He wasn’t dressed for the cold. I realized it the moment we were out on the street. His jacket was made of some thin material ill-suited for weather. It wasn’t going to get any warmer, no matter how low he hunched into it.

  “Riley, stop.” I shrugged off my own overcoat instinctively and jogged to catch up to him, draping it over his shoulders the same way I’d done that first night. But this time, I wrapped my arm around him, holding it into place so he wouldn’t shrug it off. “I’m not trying to be an asshole here, okay?”

  “Then what are you doing, Max? Because the asshole thing—it’s coming in loud and clear.” He shifted away from me, but with my arm around his waist, he couldn’t get far.

  “I just want to understand,” I told him. “You’re pregnant—I get that. But why the hell do you think it’s mine?”

  He looked over to me, glaring daggers. “You do know how babies are made, don’t you?”

  If the situation hadn’t been so tense, I might have laughed. There was that wit of his. Spitfire. He threw my own words back at me like a knife.

  “If you weren’t on birth control, why did you tell me that you were?”

  “I didn’t.” He stared at the cracks in the sidewalk beneath our feet intensely. “I was…I wasn’t thinking straight that night, Max. It was a bad night for me, and I made a bad decision—”

  “Glad to know you enjoyed it so much.
And how many other bad decisions did you make after that, huh?”

  Another glare. “Are you calling me a slut?”

  “Maybe I wouldn’t be, if you’d bothered to call me at all. You had my number. Obviously, you didn’t lose it.”

  “I needed time to think.”

  “And how much of that thinking did you do on your back?” I regretted the words as soon as they came out of my mouth, which didn’t mean fuck all, since I had no way of shoving them back in. I’d never been good at thinking before I spoke, and I was worse at it when I was riled up.

  Riled up didn’t even feel like it cut it at that moment. I was confused. Unfocused. My head was spinning with possibilities, none of them the kind that brought a smile to my face. Either Riley was pregnant, and it really was my fault—or Riley was pregnant, and it was some other asshole who’d sired a child on the only man I’d had a single damn feeling for since I caught my ex in bed with another man.

  Either way, I’d said the worst possible thing at the worst possible time. Riley shoved away from me, marching forward at double speed. His damned dancer’s legs were carrying him faster than I could keep up with. I had to settle for a jog to end up back at his side.

  “Max—fuck! Just go away, okay? It was a mistake to fuck you that night, and it was a mistake to tell you about the consequences of it just now.”

  “I’m not going away.” I wracked my brain for a good reason not to listen to him. “You have my jacket.”

  “Take it back, then.”

  “You’d be cold.”

  “And I’d still be pregnant with your baby—but if you don’t believe me, there’s nothing I can do about that either.”

  Shit. I was losing him—maybe I’d even lost him already. I was good at numbers, not people. Maybe that was why all my boyfriends always ended up fucking around on me in the end.

  “Are you keeping it?” I asked, trying my best to soften my voice.

  “What do you care?”

  “Here’s a thought—maybe I give a damn about you. Have you considered that?”

  He laughed. “Please, Max. You barely know me.”

  “Maybe I’d like to.”