Chapter Eighteen – Angela
Chapter Eighteen
Angela
In the end, Mark had to help me get dressed as the water started running in Christa’s shower. I was feeling too many emotions—elation, surprise, confusion, fear—while Mark went so quiet I didn’t want to ask him why, suddenly afraid I wouldn’t like the answer.
After my dress was on, I held my hands out to be freed.
He surveyed the damage I’d done to his belongings, and tsked, tucking them into pockets without putting them back on.
We left her room and walked back to the elevators, through the casino, I thought back to his car, but he detoured us, as if we were going back to the club.
“Mark?” I finally dared to ask him, as got into the VIP elevator again. He keyed in a button, it rose—and then he hit a black button, stopping it. “Mark—what?”
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Angela—and you’re so beautiful when you fuck, do you know that?” I didn’t know how to answer as he went on. “I need you. Now.”
I knew what he meant, but I looked over my shoulder, at the casino floor, and panicked. “But everyone—"
“One way glass, I promise,” he said, his hands already undoing his slacks. The hard on I knew had been waiting for me all this time thrust out just as I fell to my knees and kissed the tip of it slowly, like I was kissing him.
“Oh God, Angela—oh God,” he breathed. We were close enough to the glass wall that he could put both his hands on it as he pushed toward me, begging me to take more in.
So much precum, he must’ve been aching. I brought a hand up to rub his balls as I started sucking on his head. “Yeah,” he said, with a shudder.
I tongued the bottom of his shaft how I knew he liked, and wondered—after watching all of that—what he needed to be satisfied.
I worked my lips down his ramrod cock like it was a ticking time-bomb, waiting to explode.
When it didn’t, I started going faster, sucking with more force.
How hard it must’ve been to watch me fuck and get fucked, and not be inside me—to be even maybe a little worried I was leaving him for her.
I tried to suck any residual fear out of him, showing him how much I loved him now on my knees in this elevator, a whole casino floor outside, seemingly watching on.
He brought one hand down to run through my hair and pull me off of him. “More,” he demanded, and I wanted to give it to him. I stood up as his hands moved to help me, and turned around quickly—I barely had time to brace against the glass before he’d pulled up my skirt and pulled my panties aside.
I was so wet he slid in fast, filling me all at once—I grunted and he moaned. “God, yes,” he breathed. “Your pussy feels like home.”
This was what my wolf wanted—what she’d been waiting for—we pressed back against the glass with our hands and bent over. With the extra height our heels gave us we were aligned perfectly.
“Angela,” he said appreciatively—then stepped up so he was right behind us, cock in to the hilt, like we were one.
We stayed there for a long moment, just feeling each other, me stretched out, him stretching me, until I couldn’t help but move a little and then he started to thrust and—his hands found the zipper at the back of my dress, opening it up so he could reach in and grab me.
And it was like my nipples, already sensitive after Christa, were on fire, everything he did to them covered me in electricity.
He started fucking me then, using my breasts for leverage, pulling me toward him as he pushed himself in.
My jaw was dropped and I was panting and thirty-feet below us no one was the wiser, tourists walking around, drinking, talking, spending money.
Suddenly I wished the glass were see through—I wanted everyone to know I was being taken by my man—and Mark’s hands went to my hips.
“Angela,” he warned me as his cock dove in—he started taking me roughly, like he had to mark his space in me all over again, he needed me right in this instant, all of me, wrapped around all of him—I knew he was getting close, I could hear it in his breathing and feel it in his cock.
“Angela!” he shouted, claiming me at full volume, his cock twitching up as his hips spasmed.
The glass was not soundproof—at him shouting, several of the people on the floor looked up.
“Angela!” he shouted again, not caring, then turning it into a savage growl.
He fucked me through his orgasm, giving me every last drop of his load, until he pulled back. I held myself up on the wall, panting, absolutely sure I was full of cum.
Mark reached into his pocket for his phone and made a call before I could object.
Hopefully telling them to erase the security tapes, although I almost liked the idea of some bored security guard covertly jerking off to me getting fucked.
I dared to stand up as Mark put his phone away, and felt his leftover heat swell and leak between my thighs.
He hit a code on the elevator door and I laughed.
“I can’t go back to the club like this, Mark.” I took his free hand and pulled it between my thighs so he would know the state he’d left me in. He gave me a sly grin and chuckled.
“Who said anything about the club?” he said, as the elevator rose higher.
The elevator doors opened on I didn’t know what floor, but it took us over a minute to get up there—long enough for me to push down my skirt and for Mark to help me with my zipper.
The doors to the rooms were wideset, so I knew we were on a penthouse level floor, because each of them needed space for several rooms inside, for crazy things like nannies and butlers.
I felt a little out of place walking beside him in the hall. “Who’d you kick out this time?” I asked, remembering our night after the restaurant.
“No one—some ultra-high roller will just have to get comped on a lower floor.” He waved his key in front of a door, and I saw a green flash as I heard the lock unlatch.
“Go on—go in,” he said, and I opened it up.
It was as nice as the other room we’d been in but the lay-out was different—the wall that showcased the entire Strip was dominated by a deep hot tub that was already full and running.
“Really?” I said, asking him.
He grinned at me. “This is the honeymoon suite,” he said, already shucking off his clothes.
“That’s ridiculous!”
“Isn’t it though?” he was three buttons down his shirt and he paused. “I like being ridiculous with you. Almost as much as I enjoy watching you get terrorized by lesbians.”
“Technically, the terrorizing was mutual, and I liked it.”
His hands on the next button down paused. “I know. That’s what made it so hot.”
I took off my shoes and kicked off my useless underwear. “Were you worried at all?”
“Of course. Who wouldn’t be worried about losing you? But I’m a big enough man to know that if one night with another woman makes you leave, you were never really mine.”
I managed to catch my own zipper and pull my dress off, standing naked on the tile. His shirt was off, and his slacks were on their way, after he kicked off his shoes. “You know what made me come so hard at the end there, with her?”
He freed himself from his last sock. “What?”
“The thought of you fucking the shit out of me, afterwards.”
Mark grinned. “We’ll get to that—but first things first,” he said, walking over to the tub to stand inside it, offering a hand out.
I got in much less gracefully, it was easier when you were tall, but then we were both in the water safely.
He lowered himself first, and I sank into his lap, fitting against him, the water barely covering my breasts.
His arms wrapped around me, his chin against my forehead, my body giving into the water’s heat and to him.
We sat there, quiet and calm, staring out at the Strip, and for the first time in a long time I felt completely relaxed.
“This is nice,” I whispered, not wanting to break the mood.
He kissed my forehead. “I know.” But then he picked us up and started to turn us and I knew some new good thing was coming—and suddenly I was hungry again, for whatever he had in mind—my wolf was always ready for her mate.
Mark hit a button on the tub’s edge, and gentle jets started to spray beneath the water’s surface. Then he moved us, pulling himself into the center of the tub, taking us with him, and spreading our legs wide.
A jet swirled and—I gasped.
“Uh huh,” he agreed, pushing me closer, one arm under my breasts, the other keeping one thigh out wide. “Just….”
“Oh,” I said, as the water raced over me again. Like the tongue of a mermaid, strong and wet. “Oh,” I gasped again.
His face nuzzled against mine and he whispered in my ear. “I want you to come for me Angela.” The water raced, flicking under the hood of my clit, enveloping it before racing away again. “There’s nothing in the world I like better than making you feel good.”
My breath caught and he pushed me in, so that the jet hit me harder. It was like a metronome, just long enough to be torturous between each stroke. “More?” I begged. His hand splashed out of the water and changed the setting, speeding it up and—
“Ohh….” It was double time now—doubly good, doubly satisfying. I arched my hips up as he pressed his hand between my legs to spread my pussy wide and—I bent my head against his, breathing.
“That’s so good,” he said, encouraging me. “Keep going.”
I gave myself up, rocking my head back, letting the water take me. The jets spun so that just as one finished another started, it went from one to a dozen mermaids licking me and if I tilted my hips right it was like one deliciously continuous stream.
“You’re so close,” he said, feeling me tense.
“Come for me, come for me, come for me,” he whispered—and I did, rocking up.
My body thrashed in the water as he held me tight, keeping the jets aimed right at my clit until I squirmed away, panting, all my hair wet.
He held me tight then, curled up in a ball in his lap.
“Are you good?” he asked. I nodded against him. “Good,” he said, licking up the shell of my ear. “Then—again.”
“Oh God,” I whispered, as he pushed my hips forward, but I didn’t stop him.
Mark made me use the jets until I was a wreck.
All the cum he’d put into me had definitely been washed away by the tub and my clit was almost sore from overuse.
At the end, he’d taken me into his arms with a towel and stood, holding me like he really was Thor, and carried me into the next room for the bed.
He lay me down gently, dried himself off, and then joined me, laying himself alongside me.
I had no idea what was coming next, but could already feel myself regrouping.
For his part, he looked like he had something important to say, so I reached over to trace the outline of his lips. “What’re you thinking?”
“That I love you.”
I pulled my hand back, as if the words burned. No one I wasn’t related to had told me they loved me in years. And here was this perfect, exceptional man, offering his love to me—and worse yet, I knew I loved him back.
But was it fair for me to let him love me, when he didn’t really know what I was?
I reached back out for his lips carefully pressing them with my fingertips so he wouldn’t protest what I was going to say next.
“Mark—I,” I started, and I saw his face light up, and then his phone rang. He groaned.
“Ignore that—keep talking,” he said, with hope in his eyes.
I wanted too—but it was hard as we both waited for whoever was calling him to go to voicemail. I nervously laughed and grinned and the second his phone stopped he leaned forward again. “Go on?”
I regathered myself, inhaling to tell him, I’m a werewolf, no, really—and then my phone started ringing.
Mark could ignore his, but I was a mom—I swung my legs off the bed and lunged for my purse.
As I picked up mine, his began to ring again.
We looked at each other, and this time he dove for his phone.