22. Ash #2
My chest tightens, pride and fury tangling together until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. I fall over her back, caging her against the ground, my teeth latching onto her lobe.
“Look at you,” I murmur with reverence in my voice. “There you are.”
She inhales, steadying herself. Moonlight catches the line of her jaw, the set of her shoulders, unyielding now. Unapologetic. Anyone who mistakes her for prey is already dead.
My hips slam against her, our skin burning from the touch as I stretch her around my cock.
And then she moves.
It happens fast, so fast it knocks the breath from my lungs. She twists, hands coming up to shove hard against my chest, catching me off guard enough that I stumble back against the grass, a wild laugh bursting out of me. Then her weight is on me, decisive and confident.
She straddles me without hesitation, knees brace in the damp grass on either side of my hips, her silhouette cutting me off from the moonlight. For a split second, I don’t move. I just stare.
Her hands fist in my shirt, buttons stretching tight before giving way with a sharp rip that echoes in the quiet garden. Cool air hits my chest as her nails drag down skin, claiming and demanding as she sinks down onto me, punching the breath out of me.
There’s no fear on her face now.
No shame. Just fire.
I grin up at her, my hands falling back against her waist as she starts a slow rhythm, bouncing on top of me.
Her eyes sparkle as she smiles back, sensual wickedness alight in her face as she takes from me, her hips circling above me.
Her perfect tits bounce as she does, and my hands skim up to grip them tight, her back arching into my touch.
“God, Angel,” I breathe wondrously. “Ride me, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock like the good fucking girl you are.”
And she does. She picks up her pace, her ass slamming down on me before bouncing back up.
Instinctively, my hips rock up into her, chasing the feeling of her perfect pussy.
Blood draws where her manicured nails dig into my pecs, and I grip her wrists, forcing her to claw deeper into my skin, the pain drawing the most perfect pleasure within me.
“I feel...” she says breathlessly, “I feel fucking alive,” she finishes her revelation on a cry, the words filling me up with life.
A moan spills out of my lips, rough and raw and she digs even deeper into my chest, like she’s anchoring herself, like she’s daring me to try to move her.
I don’t.
I wouldn’t dream of it.
Behind her, the marble angel towers over us, wings stretched wide and gleaming in the moonlight, perfectly aligned, framing her body as if they belong to her. And I know in this moment, everyone who has ever met this woman has underestimated her.
Until now.
Christ. She looks like a vision. My reckoning. Something holy and dangerous all at once, as she rides me like a succubus.
My hands hover at her hips, not touching, not yet.
I’m frozen beneath her, utterly undone, my chest heaving as I take her in like this, above me, in control, eyes locked on mine.
Then she looks down at the blood streaking my chest, tattoos smeared with the liquid she drew out of me.
She lifts a hand in front of her face, a drop on her nail sliding down her finger.
When she puts it in her mouth and sucks, her cheeks hollowing out, my eyes roll into the back of my head.
“I’m going to come, Angel,” my voice is barely there, taken away by everything she is doing to me. “Fuck, what are you doing to me?”
Her face lights up, and my hand drops, thumb finding her clit as I circle it softly. Her body bows over me, locking up at the friction.
“Yes, Ash! Come inside me. Fill me... Fill me up.”
And who am I to deny the angel? Continuing to work her clit, my hips thrust into her from beneath, bucking wildly into her as I chase my orgasm.
Her cries are a hymn I’ll memorise forever as she falls apart on top of me, as I chase away the feeling of another man.
Tensing and shivering on top of me, her pussy grips me like a fist, the feeling of ecstasy as I fall off with her.
My cum pulses inside of her, our lips colliding as I spill everything I have.
Our breath is ragged when we pull apart, and her eyes are wild and ignited, dark irises swallowing up the night. Makeup smears down her cheeks and her lips are bare of lipstick as she smiles.
A real fucking smile.
My angel leans down and kisses the marks she made on my chest, her lips coming back blood red, before kissing me again, the taste of metal flooding my tastebuds.
Sick little Angel.
We share a few more silent moments before she climbs off me. That confidence and unapologetic side to her fall away in the blink of an eye as she looks towards where we know the event is still going.
Fingers closing around her face, I make her meet my eyes.
“Get dressed, put yourself back together,” I tell her quietly, trying to push the death that is slowly seeping back into my thoughts now that I’ve had my angel.
“I have something I need to do real quick. Meet me out front in half an hour. We are leaving.”
I kiss her once, then turn away, my jaw set, and my fists bunched. Leaving her to get ready, while I do the one thing I decided on when I saw her on her knees in that corridor.
Fury fuels me, everything else falling away as step back into the event, the grating sound of posh laughter and corrupt voices filtering into my ears. My eyes lock on the Senator. The man who just signed his death warrant, next to his poor wife.
I wonder if she’ll thank me after this.
I pull up to him, giving him a sly smile. “Mr Hargrove,” I drawl.
I don’t miss the way he fidgets uncomfortably, not knowing whether I’ll keep my mouth shut or not. But guys like the senator are awfully predictable.
“Ash, was it?” He replies, eyes slightly narrowed. “You own the club Horns & Tails, don’t you?”
“Among others,” I shrug. “But I’m not here to talk about work. I’m here for fun.” I offer him a wink and see him visibly relax. “You like fun, don’t you, Senator?”
His grin is disgusting, his vile face crinkling as he agrees with me.
“I knew you would. Come with me.”