by D. M. Davis
My Angel deserves better.
Grabbing the shampoo, I guide her under the spray to wet her hair before losing myself in her dark locks. “I’ve always loved your hair.” It’s black as night and matches mine like we were forged from the same slab of marble.
When I finish, she washes mine as I explore her with my hands, my fingers, my mouth with the pretense of getting her clean, like she wasn’t already pure. Austin may have hurt her. He may have touched her, but he could never make her dirty.
By the time she’s washed me and grips my cock, I’m on sensory overload, ready to plunder, ready to blow. I rinse us off, pull her from the shower, towel us off, and carry her to bed.
If my Angel had any sense of shyness, I’ve washed it away. She lies on the bed, her legs open enough to see the glory land, bare and ready. I rip open a condom, hating the idea of any layer between us. We will be discussing going bareback, but for now, I sheath my beast and crawl between her legs.
Her hands ignite chills as I come in reach. Her legs wrap around mine, urging me forward as I settle over her. “Slow, Angel.” It’s not a command but a plea more for myself than her. “The first time I saw you, I knew.” I press between her folds, letting my cock do the investigating. She arches, drawing me closer to where she needs me, where I’ve been destined to be since the day I was born, my fucked-up life bringing me to this point.
The head of my cock slides into her warmth. My groan silences hers, the feel of her so perfect. “I acted like I didn’t care.” I surge forward, sinking in deep and stilling.
“Gabriel,” she cries against my lips.
Cupping her face, I hold her gaze. “I cared, Angel.” I pull out and pause at her entrance. Her eyes water, and I thrust in again. “I care so fucking much, it scares me.”
“I thought you hated me.” Her hand brushes my cheek as tears run down the corners of her eyes, and that damaged organ in my chest breaks.
“I never have.” I kiss her tears. “I never could.”
I thrust into her over and over until she arches, coming off the bed as she squeezes my cock and falls over the edge.
“So fucking beautiful.” Holding her to me, I rise up, sitting back on my haunches, pulling her into my lap, her legs straddling my hips, circling my back—my dick fully seated inside my Angel... My heaven.
With my arm supporting her back and my hand cradling her neck, I gently guide her as I swivel my hips, gliding slowly in and out. “You’re mine now, Angel.” Not fucking his. “You’ve always been mine.”
She gasps, clenching me in a vise grip as her body responds to my declaration. Biting my lip, she whispers words I want to hear over and over again, “You’re gonna make me come.”
I surge deep, circling, pressing her ass, getting maximum pelvis to clit contact. “When you do,” I swipe my tongue across her mouth, dive in deep and claim what’s mine, “I’m coming with you.”
“Yes.” Her exultation on writhing hips has my orgasm tingling in my balls.
“Fuck, Angel. Ride me. Just like that.”
Her moans grow as her movements become demanding, needy, and sexy as hell. I squeeze the back of her neck to get her attention. She locks on me. “I want your eyes, baby.”
She grabs the back of my neck. Nose to nose, she rides my cock in rolling movements as I thrust into her. Her fingers press into my scalp, and I wish I had longer hair for her to hold on to.
When she falters, I swallow her cries as she comes, my mouth feasting with a hunger I’ve never known. I bark my own release into her mouth as she hungrily feeds on me, her grip so tight, I fear she’ll hurt her shoulder. But there’s no letting up for either of us. We continue to ride until the wave of pleasure ebbs, and we’re panting in exhaustion.
“Holy hell,” she whispers across my mouth.
I kiss her soundly, surging in one more time, and relish her soft sigh in response. “Holy fucking hell is right.”
“I never knew…” I fall to the bed, worn out, in shock, and buzzing from two remarkable orgasms.
He collapses beside me after disposing of the condom, pulling me into his body. “Never knew what?”
“That sex could be like that.” I peek up at him, feeling shy all of a sudden. Sex with Austin was good, but it was different. Never like this.
“Because it wasn’t just sex.” He tips my chin, pressing his mouth to mine. “That was the universe coming together.”
I can’t stop my laugh. Mr. Asshole has become rather deep and share-y.
He pins me to the mattress, his eyes alight with humor. “You don’t believe me?”
“I think it was a fluke,” I tease. Fluke or not, it was incredible.
“Really?” He presses his impressive, already hard again cock against me. “Maybe I should prove my point.”
“You couldn’t possibly,” I taunt. He’s not one to pass up a challenge.
“Angel.” He tenderly caresses my cheek. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, especially when I have you as inspiration.” He pulls my leg up over his hip and pushes inside me, groaning, “Fuck. Tell me we don’t need a condom.”
“I’m on the pill. I’m clean.” I don’t think this is the right time to tell him Austin hasn’t entered my pussy in months. He preferred my ass, which he made abundantly clear the last time we were together. Plus, he always used a condom with ass play.
“Hey.” Gabriel kisses my neck. “Don’t think about him. He has no place here between us.”
I nod, unable to find my voice.
“I’m clean. We get tested every month, but you know that.”
I do. Testing is required for all of Black Ops’ fighters.
“I’ve never not used a condom, Frankie.” His sincerity touches me in a way that’s surprising—he’s surprising.
“Then prove your point.” I move under him, loving the weight of his body on mine, his strength and power, all focused on me.
He chuckles. “Remember you said that.” He drills in deep. “Fuuuck, you feel good.” He sits back, pulling my legs over his thighs, my ass and lower back off the bed, gripping my hips, and sinks in again and again. His head falls back. “So fucking good,” he groans to the heavens like a prayer.
His pleasure sends tingles through my body, and I clench around him.
“You like that?” He brings his thumbs closer, separating my folds, edging my clit, watching the whole time.
“Yes,” I hiss, wanting more, but too lost in his enjoyment to demand it.
He thrusts, then grinds. One thumb rubs my clit as the other hand squeezes and teases my breasts. “I’ve neglected these.” He pinches my nipple, and I cry out. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to play with these more next time.”
Next time. I love that he plans on there being one.
I grip his arms for leverage, trying to keep up with his thrusts, and lose myself in his movements, his touch, his dirty words of praise. I feel like a goddess in his hands. Like I could do no wrong. Like I could have no better body. Like I couldn’t be a better lover. All of which I know are not true, but for the moment, in his eyes, I am all of those things.
We come like rolling thunder, our ecstasy reverberating off the walls, our bodies mere vessles for the bounty of our joining—like the universe becoming one.
He was right.
And I’ll gladly let him prove it anytime.
Somewhere between round three and the sun rising, I get her to talk to me. Tell me what Austin said, what he did. The intimacy of our bodies broke the emotional barrier we’ve spent years erecting between us.
Perched on my elbow, hovering over her, I rub the spot on her neck where his thumb left a bruise. “I’m sorry, Angel.” I want to suck on it until my mark covers his, but that’s a selfish move. She’s not a toy to be claimed. She’s a woman to be worshipped.
She traces the tattoo on my right bicep. It was my first and why no mercy was my call sign and now part of my MMA name.
“Mercy is granted not earned,” she reads. Her thoughtf
ul eyes meet mine. “Do you still believe that?”
“Yeah.” Now more than ever.
She nods her acceptance. “And this one?” She rolls to her side, pulling my hand that’s supporting my head to read the other bicep. “Loyal. Brave. True.”
I watch as she studies it, not asking, but pondering all the same. “It’s so you.” She smiles as I run my fingers through her hair.
“You think so?” I’m honored she sees it. It’s what I strive to be, and what I expect from others if they care to have any place in my life.
“Yep.” She pops the p. “Totally you.”
Pressing a kiss to her mouth, I lean back on the headboard, bringing her with me. “I think it’s you too.”
“Austin said I’m loyal to a fault.”
I prop her on my lap, covering us with the blanket. “He’s falling off the deep end. Don’t let his craziness change who you are.” I cradle her against my chest. “You love him. Loyalty is part of the package. Or, at least, it should be.”
Her eyes, full of sadness, meet mine. “I loved him.”
“Loved?” My heart pounds, wishing it were true, but it seems too soon for her heart to be open for me.
“I may always love him.” She sits up, her eyes watering. “He saved me, Gabriel. Without him, I wouldn’t have survived my father.” Her chin wobbles, and I want to take away her pain and kick the ass of every man who hurt my girl.
I cup her cheek, holding her face and kiss away the tears. “It’s okay.”
She nods, her eyes pleading. “I thought he was it. I thought he was the one.”
My gut twists for her, for me. He should have been. That’s what I had accepted—what she was expecting.
Burying her head in my neck, she cries. I comfort her as best I can, trying to be a friend and not the guy who wants her all for himself.
“He broke something in me. He took what I gave him and shit all over it. He’s so angry. I don’t even know what I did that was so wrong. Why did he turn on me? Why did he cheat? Was I old news—the ball and chain?” Her stream of questions kills me. Questions only he can answer.
“I don’t know, Angel. It’s like he’s become a different person since his injury. We’re not the only ones to notice.”
“He said he cheated before the accident.” Shame lines her words as if it’s her fault. Her admission proves he was spiraling before the accident.
Fuckwad. “He’s an idiot for not holding on to you, Frankie.” I kiss her swollen lips and pull back to capture her glassy eyes. “I won’t make the same mistake.”
She simply blinks in response. I’m not sure she heard me over the thoughts in her head and the exhaustion in her bones.
Quietly, I lay us down, holding her until she falls asleep.
I hope Grant has some answers for me in the morning. I’ll call him, but first I need sleep. My body is getting sorer by the minute. I didn’t do any of the post-fight care I normally would. I’m going to regret it tomorrow, but my Angel is worth the sacrifice.
Any sacrifice.
The night comes rushing back to me the moment I slip from sleep. The delicious soreness of my underused sexual parts brings a smile to my lips and a flush of heat to my cheeks. But the discomfort around my neck serves as a reminder of where the night started and the state of my life.
“You’re thinking too much for having just opened your eyes.” The morning edge to Gabriel’s voice has me digging deeper into his embrace and breathing him in. He chuckles, his hand pressed to my back. “Did you just scent me?”
I squirm and glance at his smiling face. “Maybe.” I pull away, needing the bathroom and a toothbrush.
He tightens his hold on me. “Maybe, huh?” He’s enjoying this entirely too much. With the ease of a seasoned wrestler, he rolls us so I’m on my back. On automatic, my legs open for him and wrap around him. When his impressive manhood rubs against my core, he moans, “Fuck, Angel.” Closing his eyes, he circles his hips and buries his nose in my neck. His deep intake of air and his exploring mouth have me rocking under him. He kisses up my jaw and pecks my lips, his eyes burning with want. “Good morning.”
A smile teases my lips. “Morning.”
He grinds his hips and stills. “Food.”
What? Who wants food when there’s a sexy beast between my legs?
He brushes my cheek and lips with his fingertips. “If we don’t get out of this bed, I’m going to fuck you all damn day.”
“And that’s a problem… Because…?”
A tender smile softens his rugged features. He presses a kiss to the tip of my nose. “Because you’ll be too sore to walk, much less take me tonight.” He rolls off me and the bed in one fell swoop. “I’m gonna shower and make breakfast.”
Any disappointment I feel is squashed as I watch his fine backside lumber to the bathroom. He looks back and smiles when he catches me. “I’d ask you to join me, but we both know where that would lead.”
I sit up, letting the sheet pool at my waist. His eyes fall to my breasts, and I can feel my nipples pucker under his stare. He turns around, arms bracketing the doorframe, his body filling the space as he takes me in.
Slipping out of bed, his heated gaze fueling my bravado, I walk to him, stopping when my nipples brush his chest and his hard cock bobs between us.
“Angel,” he warns.
“Gabriel.” My tone rasps with want. He thinks I’m trying to seduce him, and maybe a part of me wants to. Actually, a very large part of me wants to. But what I do next isn’t about sex or fulfilling long suppressed carnal desires for the man who’s been a running stream of negativity in my life for the past five years.
I wrap my arms around his waist and press the side of my face against his chest and hug him.
His muscles flex, and his breath catches. “Frankie?” he asks seconds before hugging me back. I sink into his warmth and let out a sigh of contentment. He curls around me, his head resting on mine, his entire body encapsulating me in his hard planes and tattooed art. “Angel.” It’s a prayer whispered into my hair and wraps around my broken heart. It’s power threatening to heal and mend what I never thought possible.
“Thank you,” I breathe into his neck. I don’t want to make it weird, but I don’t think he’ll ever know how much last night meant to me. How much I owe him for the past few weeks. He may be Mr. Asshole much of the time, but he’s given me a soft place to land by offering up his home, by taking care of me even when he was the last person I thought I wanted, by showing me I’m not nothing to him.
As if he heard all of that, he kisses my neck and squeezes me tighter. “Anything for you.”
…and for the first time in a long time, I believe in a man who’s giving me more than he’s taking.
I wander through the house. It’s not that big of a place, but my Angel disappeared a half hour ago, and I haven’t seen her since. The ache in my chest warns me I need to ensure she’s safe. After checking all the usual places, I stop in the laundry room doorway, finding her folding clothes.
“I have a woman who comes and does that for me.” Granted, I haven’t had her come since Frankie has been staying with me. I didn’t want even Mable invading our space.
Frankie jumps and squeaks out her surprise, clutching a towel to her chest. “Jesus, Gabriel, for a man your size, you’re entirely too quiet.”
“I’ve been told.” I come up behind her, gripping her hips, and kiss her behind the ear. “Why are you doing laundry?”
“Because I needed clean clothes.” She continues to fold the stack in front of her.
“But these aren’t yours.” By the stacks of clean clothes, towels, and sheets, she’s been at this for a while. “When did all of these get washed?”
“I’ve been doing it on and off all day.”
WTF? How did I not notice? “You don’t need to do my laundry.”
“I don’t mind.” She places the folded towel in her hand on the tower of towels.
“Where are your clothes?” All
I see are mine.
“In the dryer.” She points to the rack in the corner. “Except for those.” What seems to be every shirt she has with her is hanging up, air drying.
“Mable wouldn’t mind doing yours too.”
“I wouldn’t feel right about that. Plus, this way I’m assured my tops don’t get dried.”
“Hmm.” She’s wearing one of my black V-neck t-shirts. My hands travel up her waist and then down to investigate her bare thighs. When I don’t find what I’m looking for, I have to ask, “Where are your panties?”
“Drying.” She leans into me, her head resting in the crook of my shoulder, her butt shimmying against me as she rubs her thighs together.
My girl needs me.
I turn her away from the folding table, keeping her back to my front. “Place your hands on the washing machine, Angel.”
Stepping back to take in the visual of her leaning forward enough for her ass to stick out, barely covered by my t-shirt, I pull mine over my head and discard it on the floor. She’ll be wearing it later.
I slough off my workout pants, boxer briefs, and cozy up behind her, clasping her hips and grinding against her. Her sigh of appreciation isn’t lost on me, but I force myself to go slow. The last time she had a man saddled up behind her, he hurt her. That won’t be happening here.
I slide one hand around her front and between her legs, running my fingers through her folds—testing the waters. She must have been thinking of me to already be this wet. I trail my hands up her stomach to her bare tits under my shirt. God, I’d nearly forgotten what real breasts feel like, how they respond, how much I love their supple peaks in my mouth, against my tongue. My Angel has great tits, round and full with dark rosy nipples and sensitive as fuck.
