Angel of Redemption (51 page)

He stares at me, looking deep into my eyes.
“Do
you want to go back?” he asks, his voice hesitant.

“No.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Let’s go, then.”

We walk silently back inside and toward the
elevators. There are people from the gala in the foyer now. I see Aiden and
Emily talking to Tracey and Bill. Aiden’s eyes flicker in our direction and
then back as though he didn’t even see us. Everyone is smiling happily.

When the doors open, I follow Dean into the
elevator. I look up at him just as they close again. He brings the hand that he’s
holding up to his mouth, kissing my knuckles. It’s an invitation that I readily
accept, pressing myself against him, my lips meeting his tenderly.

The elevator opens, and my heart begins to pound
in my chest. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so nervous in my life. He pulls the
envelope the coat check girl gave him out of his inside coat pocket, removing
two keycards. There are sticky tabs on them with numbers. He picks one and
slides it into the lock.

I don’t even get a chance to see what I’m walking
into before the floodgates open.

He pulls me to him, pressing his lips against
mine with such passionate fury that I’m left breathless. He grunts when I
thread my hands through his hair, encouraging his eagerness. His lips, his
tongue, his hands touch every inch of my body. They
’re all working in
tandem, driving me crazy with lust.

“God, I need you,” he murmurs. “So fucking bad.”

I can only whimper as he takes my mouth again. I
push at his jacket. It slides over his shoulders and down his arms. He has to
let go of me for a second to get it off and then lets it fall to the floor.

“Jesus, how many layers do you have on?” I
grumble, unbuttoning his vest. It joins his jacket on the floor, as does his
bow tie, once I’m able to tug on it enough to make it come undone. His shirt’s
a little more difficult, only because he’s hitched my leg up and is pressing
himself into me. It feels incredible, but I
need
to get him
naked. I finally manage to get the shirt open, but can’t pull it from his arms.
His cuffs are still buttoned.

“Dean,” I growl. “Get it off!”

He backs away for a second, unbuttoning his cuffs
and tossing his shirt on the ground. He stands in front of me in nothing but
tuxedo pants, all muscles and ink. His eyes scan up and down my body.

“Your turn.
”

He spins me around, his chest against my back,
his mouth on my neck. His hands run up my sides, ending at my shoulders, and
slide the dress down my arms. He leaves the top of my dress hanging around my
waist and brings his hands back up to cup my breasts.

“How do I take this off?” he asks, pulling
lightly at the silicone bra I
’m wearing.

I cover his hands with mine and push them down
over my ribcage before discarding the bra myself. My eyes roll back in my head
when his hands crawl back up.

“Fuck,” he groans in my ear, his thumbs passing
over my hardened nipples.

All too soon, his hands drift away. I’m about to
protest when I realize where they’re headed. The room is so silent that the
sound of the zipper teeth on the lower half of my dress echoes loudly. The
dress falls to the floor, pooling at my feet and leaving me wearing nothing but
the skimpiest pair of underwear known to man and my Jimmy Choos. At least they
match.

Dean’s not touching me anymore and, for a moment,
I worry that he’s having second thoughts
—that his demons are too
strong for us, and he’s going to pull away again. I turn slowly to face him. He’s
staring at me like he’s never seen a naked woman before.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he rasps, before clearing his throat.

“Then why aren’t you touching me?”

He licks his lips. “I’m trying to figure out if
you’re attempting to kill me.” My face breaks out into a relieved smile. “You’re
so little,” he says, tracing a finger over my collarbone.

“Are you afraid you’re going to break me?” I ask,
looking up at him coyly.

“Maybe,” he answers, his finger dipping down
between my breasts.

Reaching out in front of me, I flick open his
slacks and slip my hand inside, gripping him over his boxers.

“Don’t be. I’m pretty sure I can handle you.
”

I slide my hand down farther and then back up. He
bends down, gripping the backs of my thighs and lifting me. I squeal and yank
my hand from his pants to grip his shoulders. My legs wrap around his waist as
he carries me toward the bed.

When we get there, he lays me down and climbs on
top of me, one knee settled between my legs. I moan loudly and grind against
him, trying to get friction. I feel frantic
. He gives me what I need,
pressing his knee up hard against my center, while bending down to kiss my
mouth.

I reach down to pull off my shoes, but am
distracted when Dean grips my face, moving my head to the side, his lips
working furiously against my throat. When he lets go to cup my breast, I try
again.

Growling in frustration, he grabs both my hands
in one of his and slams them against the bed above my head.

“Stop,” he orders firmly. His eyes are on fire,
scorching, piercing, making my stomach twist in anticipation of what he’s going
to do to me. The ache between my legs begins to pulse and throb almost
painfully. I need more. I roll my hips against him in an act of sexual
desperation. His lips curl up into a seductive grin before he presses them
against mine and then pulls back again.

“Leave the fucking shoes on, Kayla.”

Dean

Kayla pauses and lifts her
head to stare at me.

“Oh my God! You do have a thing for shoes,” she
laughs.

“Just those ones,” I mumble, smiling against her
skin.

“You li
—ah, that feels good,” she
moans as I suck on a pulse point. “You’re always looking at my feet.”

“I’m always looking for those shoes,” I admit,
without thinking about the questions it might bring up.

“Why?” she asks in a whimper as I drag my mouth
across her throat.

“Long story,” I grunt. “Not now.”

She opens her mouth, but I want her to stop
talking, so I cover it with mine and rock against her. I’m desperate, aching. I
want to touch her everywhere at once. I have one hand still holding her wrists
and the other splayed out over her hip. When I let go of her wrists, she moves
her arms, but I push them back, maneuvering her exactly how I want her.

“I need to touch you,” she begs.

“You’re just gonna have to wait, sweetheart,” I
say, smirking. “I have plans for you.”

Lowering my hand again, I cradle her breast,
pushing it to a peak so that I can finally put my mouth on it. I swirl my
tongue around her nipple before flicking it rapidly. Kayla bucks her hips,
hitting my dick and making me groan in both pleasure and pain. Her hands move
to my hair, gripping, tugging. I let her keep them there.

“More,” she whispers.

I’m not exactly sure what she’s asking for, but
regardless,
more
requires removing my pants. I release her nipple
and trail kisses down her stomach and over her underwear between her legs. She
smells so fucking delicious it’s hard to leave my position. I hum lightly
before kissing the insides of her thighs and moving away. My feet hit the
ground, and Kayla lets out a cry of frustration.

“Now you know how it feels to be teased all
night.
” I smirk, kicking off my shoes and socks. My pants are already
undone and they slip over my hips easily, landing silently on the ground at the
foot of the bed. Kayla leans up on her elbows, watching. I’m about to take my
boxers off when she sits up completely, grabbing my hands to stop me.

“Can I do it?”

I nod and hold my hands up in surrender. She
wraps her arms around my back, dipping her fingers beneath the fabric just
above my ass, her mouth pressing against the skin of my navel. A coy smile
appears on her face as she looks up and pulls the fabric down, uncovering me.

Closing my eyes, I let out a long, steady breath.
I suddenly have an odd feeling of
déjà vu
. It’s uncomfortable and
creates a lump in my throat and a sharp pain in my head. This is another
fucking dream—it has to be. Some things are different, but too much is
similar. I don’t want to open my eyes, because I’m afraid if I do, she won’t be
here. Instead, I clench them shut even more tightly, waiting for the inevitable
moment when I wake up alone.

I’m completely unprepared for the feeling of her
hand wrapping around my cock. I startle, my body jerking, my eyes shooting
open. This is definitely
not
a dream.

“I’m sorry,” she yelps, letting go.

“Don’t apologize,” I choke.
“It’s
just—fuck, your hands are cold.”

“Oh.
” She glances back down at my cock,
tilting her head. “I think my mouth is pretty warm.”

She doesn’t wait for me to respond. She stands
up, causing me to take a step backward, and then drops to her knees.
“I
might need a little guidance,” she says, batting her eyelashes playfully.

“Guidance, huh?”

“Mmhmm.
”

“What do you want me to do, sweetheart?” I ask,
my gaze flickering between her face and her heaving chest.

The look she gives me is innocent, but the words
that come out of her mouth are nothing but sin.

“I want you to fuck my mouth.
”

I pretty sure I just died and went to fucking
heaven. Every last cell in my body is on fire. Our eyes meet, and her lips curl
up into a smirk. She knows what she’s doing to me, and she’s loving every
second of it.

I reach down with both hands, brushing my thumbs
over her cheeks before gripping the back of her head. I’m rougher than I should
be, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She opens her mouth, waiting for me. I
oblige, pushing myself in, feeling her tongue glide against the underside of my
cock. She presses down hard with her lips, creating unbelievable friction.

The teenage boy in me is so fucking excited he
can barely contain himself. I pull back out and push in a few times, giving her
more of me every time. I don’t know how much she can take, and I don’t want to
jam my dick down her throat, so I continue to move slowly. When I’m about
halfway in, she gags, and I stop for a second as she looks up at me.

“Ugh, Kayla,” I rasp when she starts sucking. “I
gotta move.”

Her hum of approval sends vibrations through all
the sensitive nerves, causing me to swell even more. Keeping one hand on her
head, I wrap the other around the base of my dick to keep myself in check
before going for it. I watch her intently for any signs that I
’m being
too rough, but all I see is a woman who is clearly loving what she’s doing.

As I figured, it doesn’t take me long. Within a
couple of minutes, the pressure becomes unbearable. I moan, gritting my teeth.

“I’m gonna come.” I let go of Kayla’s head,
allowing her to pull away if she wants to, but instead she snatches my hand,
putting it back into place. I spill into her mouth, throbbing and pulsing,
shooting long, hot streams down her throat.

Releasing my cock, she wipes her mouth with her
fingers and looks away. Her cheeks are flushed, and I see her slip her
thumbnail in-between her teeth. She looks embarrassed. I lift her chin, looking
into her suddenly cautious eyes. The woman who was so sure of herself five minutes
ago has inexplicably disappeared.

“Get up here,” I demand gently, helping her
stand. She tries not to make eye contact, but I don’t like it
—I
need her to look at me. Pushing a few strands of hair from her face, I lean in
to kiss her, then again gently a couple more times, before attacking her with
my tongue.

She doesn’t respond at first, but when I wrap my
arms around her, pressing our bodies together, she gives in and begins to kiss
me more fervently, her hands on my chest.

My body is already starting to recover and react.
I want her underneath me, writhing and clawing at me, completely at my mercy.
She moves backward, and I follow, refusing to detach my lips from hers. I crawl
over her as she makes her way up the bed. When we can’t go any farther, I strip
the covers down to prevent anything from getting in my way.

Once again, my hands are all over her. I’m almost
frantic as I fumble to get rid of those fucking panties. I have to lean back on
my knees to pull them down her legs. I’m able to slip them off one leg easily,
but they get caught on the heel of her shoe on the other. I’m momentarily
distracted by the lace panties hanging from the fantasy shoe, but Kayla doesn’t
let me dwell.

“Dean?”

I grip the red fabric and yank it. I hear it tear,
but I don
’t give a shit. The moment she’s bare, she spreads her legs,
inviting me in.

Any and all thoughts that might be left in my
head are gone. There’s absolutely nothing to stop what’s about to happen. She
wants it. I want it. Fucking hell, do I want it.

I gaze down at her and lick my lips. The urge to taste
her is too strong to deny. I shift backward, making it clear where I
’m
headed, but she closes her legs. I look up at her in confusion.

“Later,” she begs. “I need you to fuck me. Right
now.”

I grin. If that
’s what she wants, who am I
to say no? I settle between her legs and stroke myself a couple of times before
running the tip of my cock up and down against her.

“Oh, God,” Kayla gasps. She’s wet and ready. I
don’t have the patience or the self-control to hold back anymore. I thrust
inside her, making her scramble for something to hold onto. I moan as her soft
flesh envelopes me
—so tight, so warm. My dreams didn’t do her
justice. Or maybe when I dreamt of her, I didn’t realize just how much I cared
for her. Now, holding her in my arms, having her writhing beneath me—with
this intense emotion between us—never in my life have I felt anything
like this.

“You feel so good,” I groan in her ear.

“I’ll feel so much better when you move,” she
mewls, lifting her hips in an attempt to get some friction.

Bracing myself on my hands, I pull all the way
out and slam into her. Over and over again, I make her cry out. I love the
sound of my name on her lips while I’m pounding into her as hard as I can.
Watching her body move underneath me, with me, for me. I don’t ever want this
to end.

“Does that feel good?” I pant, leaning in and
changing my angle.

Her fingernails dig into my forearms.
“Don’t
stop,” she pleads.

“I don’t plan on it,” I mumble, pushing back into
her and quickly resuming my pace.

Then I feel it
—a sharp sting in the
back of my thigh. Her leg is hitched up, wrapped around me, the goddamn heel of
one fantasy shoe biting my flesh. I must be a fucking masochistic bastard, because
I really like the pain.

I shove my arm under the small of her back,
forcing her hips up. Her heel slips, dragging across my ass cheek before
settling back down on my thigh. By the way Kayla starts shrieking, I can tell
this position must be a good one.

“Oh, Jesus. Oh
…uh…uh…”

Without thinking, I cover her mouth with my hand.
The last thing we need is the hotel manager bursting into the room to make sure
I’m not killing her. Her eyes darken. I slow slightly to make sure I haven’t
just made a huge mistake, but the second I do, she moves against me,
encouraging me to keep going. With renewed confidence, I continue to fuck her
with everything I have.

My hand slides down a little so that just my
thumb is left, perched over her lips. She opens her mouth and takes it between
her teeth, never looking away from my eyes. I’m inside her, and yet, it’s not
enough. I need to be closer. I need to be part of her. I press my whole body
into hers.

She’s close, I can tell. Her breath speeds up,
and she starts gasping. She opens her mouth, and I pull my thumb out. I want to
get her there. I want to make her feel good.

I grip her hands, which are now on either side of
her head. Entwining our fingers, I drive my hips against her pelvis hard and
fast, watching her face as she crumbles with a high-pitched moan. Her back
arches as I continue to slide in and out of her, focusing everything I have on
bringing her through it. But I push myself too far, and I can’t stop my own
orgasm.

I pant loudly, getting closer, bringing myself to
the edge. I have to pull out. Fuck! My brain is telling me to pull out, but
every other part of me wants to stay inside.

“Kayla?” I plead, hoping she understands what I’m
asking. I need her to call it, because my primal, animalistic side is screaming
at me,
“
Don’t you fucking leave
.
She’s yours. Take her
completely.
”

She wraps her other leg around me and squeezes,
making it clear what she wants me to do. Fuck it
—with a low,
grinding moan, I bury my face in her neck and come, pulsing rhythmically inside
her. I collapse, feeling like a huge weight has just been lifted from my chest.
My dick is still hard but begins to soften with each aftershock.

I
’m speechless for a few moments. As I
pull out of Kayla, awkwardness sets in. What the fuck do people usually do after
sex? Normally the second I’m done, I get up, get dressed, and go. That’s not an
option right now—it’s not an option with her. She means more than that to
me. Do I wrap my arms around her? Cuddle? Do I thank her, or would that make
her feel like a slut? I’m not versed in sexual etiquette. Seconds ago, the room
was filled with grunts and groans and wet, slapping skin. Now, it’s too quiet.
I’m completely out of my league.

Reaching down, I tug on the sheets. Kayla must
have kicked off her shoes at some point, because they fly off the end of the
bed when I pull the covers up over us. I press my mouth against her shoulder,
kissing it a few times before moving up her neck. When I get to the side of her
mouth, she turns her head to look at me.

“Hi,” I try.

“Hi,” she says quietly.

“You okay?”

She nods, smiling.
“More than okay.”

I take her upper lip between mine and rest my
hand on her rib cage. I can feel her heart beating, slowing down from the
erratic pace it was at just a few minutes ago. Our kiss is slow and lazy. All
the frantic desperation is gone.

I don’t know who falls asleep first. All I know
is that I’m exhausted. And warm. And comfortable
… And happy.