Chapter 24 Archangel
TWENTY-FOUR
ARCHANGEL
Because I know how this will end, but I can’t fight it anymore. I need him too badly. I need him more than I need anything else in my life, and I want to be the one who makes him happy.
“I’ll stop saying no if you want me to.”
“I want you to,” Wolfe whispers, stroking the hair out of my face. “But you can’t do this because I want you to.”
“I told you I don’t want to say no,” I repeat.
“Then why are you?” He’s so soft, stroking the backs of his fingers across my cheek.
I want to hold on to it, and at the same time, I want to reject it because it can’t last. But I’m not strong enough to. Instead, I cup his face, lifting higher on my toes. “Because I’m scared.”
His expression morphs to concern. “Why?”
“I’m worried about fucking us up.” The excuse wouldn’t hold up if he really analyzed it, but without outing my true feelings, it’s impossible to explain. And the core of it is the truth. I’m scared, and I know I’m going to fuck this up by falling for him.
He puts his hand over mine and turns into it, kissing my palm. “I won’t let you.”
I believe him, but at the end of the day, he has a future with a woman, and I don’t. This is not the same for us, and it’s impossible to explain, so I don’t even try. “Let’s go to my room.”
He nods. “Yes, because I want your lips around my cock. I’ve been thinking about it since last night.”
I groan.
How could I possibly say no to that?
We slip back into the house, and it looks like everyone else went to bed. Good. I don’t need to deal with my sister. For as big as Wolfe is, being a goalie made him pretty graceful, so we move in silence, getting to the stairs when someone clears their throat.
I spin and find Mark sitting with a glass of scotch, sitting in a decorative chair in the formal living room.
No one even uses that room. What the fuck is he doing?
“What do you want?” Wolfe crosses his arms, defensive already, so I put a hand on him, like I can hold back the attack.
“Do you two just get off on embarrassing her?” His words are low and forced out through gritted teeth. Whatever Mark believes, it’s a big deal.
What the fuck could Steph have said?
I’m not even scared of him, I’m fucking curious.
“What are you talking about?” Wolfe asks.
“From one goalie to another, I thought there was more respect.”
“Why the fuck would you think I owe you respect? You play for the worst fucking team in the league, and you’ve threatened my boyfriend.” The way he says boyfriend makes my stomach flip. I should not like it as much as I do.
“The team plays the way they do because of our former coach. He’s gone. But there should still be respect among goalies!” Mark shoves to his feet.
Wolfe levels him in a stare. “Not with douche bag ones.”
I tighten my grip on Wolfe because this seems like it’s going to devolve fast. “Let’s go to bed.”
“No, first I want to know what this motherfucker’s problem is.”
“I’m the motherfucker?” Mark points to himself.
“Yes, you threatened Angel and keep doing this shit. I want to know what your problem is.” Wolfe glances at me, clearly in a ‘who does this guy think he is’ way.
“She told me what you did.” Mark turns his head away, and it almost looks like his eyes are watering? Is he crying?
“What I did? I was nothing but good to her, and she cheated on me the first fucking chance she got.” Wolfe clearly didn’t clock the emotion on Mark’s face.
Mark gasps and stalks up to Wolfe to jab a finger into his chest. “Don’t you fucking make up lies because you can’t deal with your own guilt.”
“My guilt?” Wolfe pulls his head back like he can’t believe Mark has the gall. The height difference between them is super evident. Wolfe’s got like six inches on him, but that doesn’t seem to faze Mark.
“You both owe her an apology and to stop flaunting your relationship in her face.” Mark shoves past Wolfe, shoulder-checking him.
I wrap my arms around Wolfe’s bicep so he doesn’t go after him. “Just let him go.”
“He fucking ran into me.” Wolfe doesn’t fight me, which I’m thankful for because I would lose. “I have every right to hit him.”
“It’s not worth it. Steph will just make it a problem.”
He groans. “I need a Dr. Pepper if I’m going to quell this rage.”
“A Dr. Pepper and then a blow job?”
He side-eyes me then nods. “That might calm me down.”
“It better. We need to sleep before everyone comes over tomorrow for Christmas Eve.”
We head to the kitchen, and I open the fridge, but there isn’t any Dr. Pepper in there.
Weird.
I go to the butler’s pantry and check the fridge there. None. My mom is obsessive about preparing for holidays. She always has everyone’s favorite drinks and snacks. She plans events for months.
I turn, nearly running into Wolfe. “There’s no Dr. Pepper.”
“Now I’m mad. I can’t hit Mark when he deserves it, I have blue balls, and can’t even get a fucking Dr. Pepper?”
“And there’s not even any gas stations open at this hour in this fuck ass town.”
“So your family hates me?”
I burst out laughing. It’s not funny, but it’s so funny.
Wolfe glares. “I don’t know if I can tolerate this level of disrespect.”
“I don’t mean it.” But I can’t control my laughter.
He turns to go, but I grab his arm, trying to stop him. “Let me make it up to you.”
He glances over his shoulder. “How?”
“Surely my mouth can make up for it.” I stare at him, daring him to say a blow job isn’t as good as a DP.
“Fine…but only if you answer three questions too.”
“Three?” I ask. We always do shit like this and make the other answer stuff, but usually it’s one.
“You heard me.”
“Fine.” I drag him to my room before anything else can get in our way.
As soon as I close the door, I grab at his waistband.
But he grabs my hands. “Questions first.”
“You’re fucking kidding me!” I’m finally giving in to indulgence, and the universe keeps throwing cockblocks.
He’s grinning, and now I know I’m going to suffer for this. “I’m not.”
“Why do I have to pay before? I feel like I’m getting punished when this isn’t even my mistake.” My head falls back as I groan. Being horny and in love with your best friend is a fucking curse—don’t let anyone tell you it’s not.
“You made me come here and told me it would be amazing.”
“No, I didn’t!” I laugh, and he does, too. “Fuck off.”
“Not even a please?”
I sink into a seat. “I thought you were cranky and horny, and I’m just trying to help. You should be saying please to me.”
He lifts a brow, considering my words. “My frustration and need for DP tampered my horniness.”
“I’ll give you DP,” I mutter.
Wolfe perks up. “Got a secret stash?”
I groan again and grip my dick. “Ask your questions, or I’m taking my mouth to the shower and getting myself off.”
“Can you suck yourself off?” He comes to the edge of the bed where I sat and shoves himself between my knees.
I look up at him through my lashes, deciding not to give him another inch. “Is that one of your questions?”
He narrows his eyes, thinking about it way too hard. “No, but I reserve the right to revisit.”
“Alright. Go on then.”
He drops to his knees, parting my legs wider with his massive shoulders. He drapes his arms over my thighs, putting his hands on top while studying me.
I swallow hard.
What the fuck is he doing?
Is he trying to intimidate me? Turn me on?
He rests his chin on my knee, and after what feels like an eternity, he speaks. “What’s your favorite way to get off and why?”
I suck in a breath, trying to act normal about this.
Wolfe knows me better than anyone, knows all about my sexcapades, and probably knows the name of every guy I’ve hooked up with better than I do.
He notices everything and remembers details no one else does.
We talk about everything, except this. Fantasy and actual details around sex are the only parts of each other we haven’t gotten into.
I feel more naked than I did with my dick in his hand. At least when he was stroking me off, I was in a lust fog. This, I have to do sober.
He waits, not pressuring me.
“With another person or by myself?” It makes a difference.
“You have to decide what’s your favorite. I can’t answer if that’s with a person or without.”
I put my hands on top of his. I’m over thinking this. If there wasn’t sex involved, I’d tell him anything. Every aspect of a one-night stand. I love that he knows me almost better than I know myself.
“A deep, deep prostate orgasm.”
“Why?”
I could tell him that’s a second question, but I don’t want to argue, and I find it pretty hot. He wants to know in a strange way. Maybe that’s stupid of me.
“It’s buried inside, and it radiates through my cock, but also through the rest of my body. I’ve never done it without also touching my cock, but I’m sure it’s even better hands-free.” I’m getting hard just talking about it.
“That’s with someone, right?” His question is almost hesitant.
“In theory, this could be done with someone else, but I’ve never had anyone who could get it right. So I’ve only experienced it by myself.”
“Which part?” Wolfe is engaged and interested.
Is this morbid curiosity, or is he asking for some reason? “What do you mean?”
“Have you never had someone give you that type of orgasm, or never had someone make you go hands-free?” The way Wolfe says it is so fucking sexy. It should not be allowed for him to talk about any of this, and it’s not even directed at me, like he’s actually interested.
I’m so fucked when it comes to him.
“Both.” I pause, wondering if I should even tell him this, but fuck it.
He makes a face like he doesn’t quite believe it. “Dudes doing you dirty? No one trying hard enough? It can’t be that hard.”
I laugh because what else can I do? What even is my life? “I’m over six feet tall and a ‘jock,’ baby.”
“So?”
He’s such a little innocent bean, Christ.
“In gay dating spaces, that defaults me to top for most hookups. Guys just assume that’s what you want, and honestly, I’m not going to be into a guy way smaller than me trying to manhandle me.
It takes me out of the fantasy. So I end up topping a lot.
” I shrug. “I’m not complaining. It’s fine, and really, I’m picky about who I allow to top me. ”
“But you’re not a top?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he won’t get the words correct. It’s adorable.
“Is that your second question?”
He considers it for a moment. “Yes. Which do you prefer?” He really has no fucking clue about queer culture.
“I’m okay with both, but I’d much rather be the one manhandled. I dream about a man who can toss me around and fuck me into a coma.” Maybe that’s sharing too much, but it’s hard not to be fully honest with him. I have been about almost everything, most of my life.
“One last question,” I say, and my dick could not be more ready. I’ve been hard during this whole conversation.
“I’m saving it.”
“Bastard.”
He looks me right in the eyes as he presses his lips to my knee, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Get up here so I can suck your dick.”
He slides his hands up the inside of my thighs. “You don’t want me to get you off first? You got me off first last time.”
I groan, but shake my head. “No, I’ll get off harder on making you come.”
He pushes to his feet, stepping between my knees again.
“Do you want it like this? Or want to try something else?”
“What did you have in mind?”