Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Promise
The industrial elevator brings us through the levels of the building, revealing raw wood and unfinished spaces.
Until we reach the top floor. The elevator opens into a hall that nods at the industrial space while looking finished, a massive reclaimed wood door in front of us.
Angel doesn’t put me down, just shifts my weight to fish keys from his pocket.
“Arms around my neck,” he grunts.
I do as he commands, and he drops my legs, tightening his grip around my waist so he’s holding me up, while my feet dangle a foot from the floor.
He could set me down.
But something in me softens a little when he doesn’t. No one is watching, this isn’t some show.
He’s just keeping my bare feet off the cold floor.
Then again, I shouldn’t get too mushy. He did also insist that I wax my bits today and then demanded I show him the results.
He unlocks the door and carries me in, flicking on the lights.
The place is gorgeous. Not traditional like my father’s house at all. This is all modern, but still warm with its giant windows, exposed brick, and refinished but still worn wide plank hardwood floors. I wiggle in his arms just because I want to explore.
“Bed,” he rumbles. “It’s been a long fucking day.”
I frown. Apparently if he’s in bed, I’m in bed. But I spent most of the evening lounging and then sleeping, and now I’m wide awake.
Which leads me to a question. Other than sex, what is my job here?
With my father, I had a purpose. Granted, it was to stand at his side looking both attractive and adoring. But it was a job.
Angel is still carrying me, I’ve barely even walked, so I wiggle again. Just a little, just testing. He tightens his grip, crushing me to his chest.
No one has ever mentioned that large, tattooed criminals feel amazing. I guess it makes sense that the conversation wouldn’t come up. One, I’ve never thought to ask, but two, even if I had, this seems like the sort of information people don’t tell a future governor’s daughter.
We pass through the kitchen, down a small hall, and into a bedroom.
It’s not large, the bed a queen size, the bedding plain white. Is this the guest room?
My guess is that this man sleeps in a king-sized bed.
He finally sets me down, my toes curling against the cold of the hardwood.
Still, I step back, out of his grasp.
I’m not supposed to like it. Him. And for all I know, he’s dangerous. He’s told me so. Much as I think seduction is my best option, I’m neither skilled, nor do I have any clue, even if I was, whether it would have any effect on this man.
I blow out a breath as I move to take another step back. His hand shoots out, catching my hip.
I freeze, fear skittering down my spine.
His hand only tightens. “Tomorrow, or really today, we’ve got an appointment to see the wedding venue.”
I cock my head.
“A bag will arrive with all the necessities you’ll need to prepare yourself. Your father will have the press there so be camera-ready.”
I frown, my chin notching. I can see how marrying me off will help his campaign, but my father can’t mean to make a PR thing out of me marrying a sex club owner, can he?
I heard what was happening when Angel carried me down the stairs. His club is far more than just a strip club.
He doesn’t even ask. This time, he just hands me his phone. I quickly type:
Why does he want to sell our marriage to the press?
Angel reads it, one corner of his mouth quirking up. “How did you know he’s selling it?”
I take the phone back, typing again.
He sells everything. I just didn’t think this would be the angle he’d take.
Angel reads the words, staring at his phone for several seconds. “What did you think he was selling?”
I nip at my lip considering those words. I’m not sure how much I should say. The truth is, I understand a great deal more than anyone gives me credit for. But will Angel appreciate my knowledge? My father didn’t. If he realized how much I’ve gleaned, I’d be dead.
I take his phone back:
I thought he was getting rid of me to strengthen his campaign.
“He’s definitely doing that,” Angel says as he scrubs a hand over his jaw. “I need a few solid hours of sleep, and I need to look like a happy groom tomorrow.”
I nod. I don’t care about playing my father’s game, no one made me a deal. Except one, I guess. I do what they say so they don’t hurt me.
Angel shrugs off his jacket, tossing it on the chair in the corner. My eyes go wide.
“Take off your dress.”
He did make me show him my shaved bits today. But he also said that he was dumping me in the guest room and going to bed. Why? I mouth.
“Because.” He kicks off his shoes and then pulls his T-shirt off, revealing a rippling chest that dances with tattoos. “I want to cum on your tits.”
I blink several times, my lips parting. He spins me around, jerking down the zipper of my dress. I’m not a whore.
He starts to push the fabric down my shoulders, but I clench the front to my chest, holding it up as I shake my head.
He stops pushing and I have a moment to wonder how violent this is going to get when I hear the zipper of his fly.
I spin back, still clutching my dress, as he shucks his pants down his powerful thighs, revealing his raging hard…penis.
My eyes go wide as my mouth forms an O.
I know he can do whatever he wants to me, overpower me at any moment. And I’d prefer to do this with as little violence as possible, but I can’t quite make my hands unclench.
He reaches between his legs and gives his junk a couple of quick tugs. It fills his large hand and I have to confess, it’s impressive.
The man is a god. I should be revolted but my mouth goes dry as I watch.
“Dress off,” he commands again and this time, I find my arms relaxing. It’s something in his tone. He doesn’t seem angry, only resolved.
He grunts his approval. “I’m just going to cum on your tits, but if you’re a good girl and get in that bed naked, I’ll make you cum too.”
I freeze again.
Did he just say that he’d make me cum? I don’t even make me cum. The pulse between my legs throbs at the invitation, like it’s been dying for this moment.
My arms relax a little more, the fabric falling to the top of my breasts.
He reaches out, giving another tug, pulling the wool down to my waist. “In. The. Bed.”
Angel still pumps his junk, even as he pulls again, the fabric clearing my hips and hitting the floor.
“Underwear off.” But he doesn’t hook them. Instead, he waits as I slowly comply, sliding them down my thighs until they drop to the floor.
His eyes go dark, the amber turning to molten gold, before he reaches out to touch me. He starts at my collarbone and slides his palm down, settling over my breast and then he squeezes.
I draw in a quick breath, my nipple peaking against the rough skin of his hand.
He grunts as he moves forward, pushing me back until my legs hit the bed. His hand slides to the other breast and then he pinches my nipple, a sharp sting of pleasure moving through me.
Leaning down, he replaces his fingers with his mouth, his tongue sliding over the stiff peak.
It’s so good, the pleasure that zips through me, it has me wrapping an arm around his neck, my body arching into his mouth.
He sucks the nipple deeper between his lips, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh.
I can feel this flood of liquid and heat coating my thighs. His body bumps mine, pushing me back on the bed, and my ass lands with a soft thud.
He keeps moving forward, his legs pushing mine apart, his penis only a few inches from my face as he stands in front of where I sit on the bed.
He’s still stroking himself. “Open your lips,” he orders, thrusting his hips forward as the head of his junk bumps against my lips.
But now I do what he asks because I’m curious and honestly, because this is actually interesting and fun.
As I open my mouth, he rubs the tip against my lips, coating them with a sticky, salty liquid. I automatically dart my tongue out to lick it off.
“Fuck, Promise. Are you tasting me?” And then he pushes himself against my mouth again, the mushroom head sinking between my lips.
His head tilts back and he lets out a loud groan. I expect him to keep going, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls out and then pushes my shoulder so that I fall the rest of the way back on the bed.
Before I can even settle myself, he’s climbing up my body, his knees on either side of me, caging me in as he keeps pumping his rod.
“Your nipples are the prettiest fucking color,” he grunts, squeezing one again. “I can’t wait to paint them in my cum.”
I’m half relieved that his plan seems to be to just jerk off on my chest, like he promised, when he reaches back and slides his hand down my stomach and over my mound, his middle finger grazing over my clit.
It feels so good, I buck off the bed but can’t go anywhere, his body hardly allowing me to move as he starts tracing a circle over the sensitive bud.
My whole body responds, the pleasure too intense. I squeeze my eyes shut pressing into his hand.
I had no idea it would feel like this.
I grip his thigh as he thrusts his hips forward and hits my mouth with the tip again. I open my eyes and my gaze locks with his, my eyes wide. “Suck my cock, Promise.”
I open my mouth and he slides in, another groan falling from his lips. His hand is moving faster over himself, but his finger on my clit is moving faster too, and I can feel the sweetest tension I’ve ever known building even as he pushes his thickness over my tongue and deeper between my lips.
“Fuck yeah, sweetheart, now close that mouth and suck.”
I do as he commands and he presses even harder on my clit as my reward. My hips are bucking against his hand, my thighs shaking as my body gets tighter and tighter.
He pulls out of my mouth again, sliding back as he angles the tip right over my chest. “I’m going to cum all over you and then I’m going to dip my face between your thighs so that your juice is all over me.”
It’s the dirtiness of his words that undo me. It’s so delicious that I cry out, my body spasming as I break apart. He starts to cum too, thick white cum coating first one nipple and then the other.
He’s still cumming as he swings one leg over my body and turns, diving face first between my legs.
I watch as his broad shoulders hover over my hips, his head dipping between my thighs.
The first sweep of his tongue is so intense that I start to cum again, my body shaking even as a long, loud moan falls from my lips.
And then my eyes pop open as I try to scramble away.
Because…
I don’t make noise like this. Not ever. A sigh is one thing. But a moan?
I’ve been locked up as tight as a vault, my silence my only power.
And he just overrode my one defense.