Grits slings her arm around me and we silently walk away from Anders’ office and toward the bar. The room is littered with people, but the atmosphere feels relaxed and jovial. A TV is quietly playing in the corner and I glance at it as we walk past.
My feet root to the spot and I stare at the screen. Grits turns to face me, noticing that I’ve stopped. Her eyes move to see what I’m staring at and then back to me. “My picture’s on the TV.” I say quietly.
“I know, honey. Didn’t Anders’ tell you that your dad’s been plastering your face on every local station since lunchtime?”
“No, he told me, but it’s right there,” I say pointing at the TV sitting in the corner of the room.
Grits nervously glances around us to the men that are lounging throughout the room, but no-one seems to be paying us any attention. “Come on, Dove, let’s get you some dinner and take it back to your room, okay? No point drawing too much attention to yourself tonight.”
I let her pull me across the room and follow her through a door into a huge industrial kitchen set-up. Gleaming aluminum counters edge two walls, with huge stoves, fridges and dishwashers built underneath. Scanning the room, my eyebrows lift in surprise. “Wow, this kitchen is like something out of a restaurant.”
“If the club’s full there are a lot of hungry men to feed and we need a big kitchen to be able to cater for everyone.” She walks over to the huge crock pots that are sitting on one of the counters and lifts the lid. “You like chili?” She asks with a smile.
The rich, spicy flavor hits my nose and my stomach growls in response. “That smells amazing,” I say and move closer to look into the pots.
“Go grab bowls for you and Daisy, they’re just over there.” She points at a rack in the corner of the room stacked high with bowls, plates, and serving dishes.
“Are you eating too?” I ask.
“No, I’ll eat with Anders a little later.”
Grabbing two bowls, I walk back over to the food and hold them out while Grits spoons the steaming chili into them, then places huge chunks of corn bread on the sides. Grits leans over and starts to rummage under the counter, finally pulling out a large black plastic tray. I place the bowls on the tray and then grab cutlery from the baskets by the china.
Opening one of the fridges, she pulls out bottles of beer and water, adding them to the tray, just as the door swings open and Ali saunters into the room.
“Oh my God, are you still here?” Ali says to me, rolling her eyes and sighing dramatically.
I want to speak, but I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if Ali knows who I really am and if she doesn’t, I don’t want to be the one to let it slip. So I ignore her and instead pick up the tray and walk to the door, ready to escape.
“Give it a rest, Ali. She’s Daisy’s, so get used to her,” Grits snaps at Ali.
Ali looks me up and down, fully assessing every inch of me. Her mouth twists into a sneer and she raises her eyebrows dismissively. “How old are you? You look about ten. Are you his sister or something?”
I wait for Grits to say something, but she just looks at me expectantly. “No, I’m not his sister, and I don’t really think my age is any of your business,” I say politely.
“Daisy’s my business. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing with you, jailbait, but don’t get comfortable. He’ll get sick of you soon enough and I’ll be in his bed again,” Ali says acidly.
“Jesus, Ali, take the fucking hint. Daisy isn’t interested in you. You’re the club whore, honey, you take more cock a week than a hooker. There’s nothing wrong with that, you always seem to be enjoying it and God knows I walk in on it enough. But really, stop trying to force your way into the guy’s bed, it makes you look desperate,” Grits says with a smirk, holding open the door for me as I gratefully escape the kitchen.
Grits doesn’t walk, she struts, and I can’t help admiring the confidence that exudes from her with every step. I have no idea how she does it. I’ve been wearing these heeled boots for less than an hour and my feet are already pulsing. She opens the door for me and I cross the room and place the tray on the dresser.
Kicking off the boots, I groan in pleasure when my bare feet hit the cold wooden floor.
“How are your legs feeling?” Grits asks.
“Fine. Apart from where the skin was broken I can hardly feel it.”
“Are you sure, honey? They looked sore yesterday,” she says sympathetically.
“I’m sure. It wasn’t that bad this time.”
Flopping down onto the bed, I sit against the pillows and Grits perches on the edge. “How long has it been since your sister passed?”
“It was two years a few months ago,” I say, picking at the sides of my nails.
“How long after she died did he start hurting you?”
Sighing, I scan the room, looking for something, anything, that will mean I don’t have to talk about this. When my gaze reaches Grits’, she raises an eyebrow at me and just waits expectantly. “Pretty much straight away. He was so angry that she’d left. She’d been gone about two months and he came back from work one day with his tie loosened and his hair all messy. He told us that the police had visited him at his office and that Nicole had been in an accident. He had to identify the body. Mama broke down, she was hysterical—so full of grief—but my father was cold. I remember being confused that he wasn’t upset, his daughter was dead, and he’d had to see her body, but it was like he didn’t care. It didn’t sink in straightaway; I didn’t believe that she was really gone and I asked if I could see her at the funeral home, to say goodbye. He got real mad and slapped me across the face. I couldn’t believe he’d hit me, he was always mean, and he shouted at me all the time, but he’d never hit me before. My mama didn’t leave her room for a week, she just lay in the dark and cried. My father went back to work, he carried on like nothing had happened. When I asked him when the funeral would be he completely lost it.”
I pause and look up at Grits. She reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it. “You don’t have to tell me, Dove, but it might help to talk about it.”
Gripping her hand tightly, I blink back the tears that try to escape. “He started to yell. He told me that I was stupid and that I shouldn’t ever say her name again. He said she didn’t deserve a funeral, that she was a dirty whore who’d disgraced our family. When he punched me in the face, I was so shocked that he’d punched me, and it hurt so much. He stood over me and said I was just like her and that I needed to be taught a lesson. Grabbing me by my hair he hit me in the face again and I remember crying and begging him to stop, that he was hurting me. He was ranting about Nicole being a whore and me being stupid and useless, that she deserved to die, and he was glad she was dead. My father said he wished they’d had an abortion, that her dying was just God’s way of rectifying their mistake. He kept hitting me and I fell to the floor, cowering with my hands in front of my face. I thought he would stop, but he didn’t. He dragged me up off the floor and threw me onto the bed. He pulled off his belt and just started hitting me with it. I was screaming, begging him to stop. I tried to get up, to get away, but he pushed me back down and told me he’d kill me if I didn’t stay put and accept my punishment. After that he turned the belt around, pulled down my panties and started to hit me with the buckle end; the pain was so bad that I just lay there. I don’t know how long it lasted, I passed out. My mama found me the next morning. She did the best she could to take care of me, but some of the cuts got infected and my father wouldn’t let her call a doctor or take me to the hospital. Most of the scars are from that day. We never got to go to the funeral; my father arranged it for two days after he attacked me. He had her cremated, came home and handed Mama a wooden box with her ashes in. Mama begged him to buy a headstone, so we could at least bury her ashes with some dignity, but he refused. Neither me, nor Mama ever got to say goodbye to her.”
My voice cracks, tears stream down my face and I want to curl in a ball and force the memories of that night back into the box in my mind. I’m clinging to her hand, and sensing I need it she pulls me into her arms and holds me tightly.
Silent minutes pass and I force myself to move out of her embrace. Wiping my cheeks, I pull in a deep breath and look up at Grits tear-streaked face.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry this happened to you, baby girl. Did he, did he rape you?” Grits asks, her face pale and haunted.
My vision blurs from the tears that refuse to stop. I shake my head and she exhales an audible breath of relief.
“Never again, Dove. You have to say it to yourself and believe it. Never again, will someone hurt you like that. Never again will someone make you feel like that. Being helpless is the most soul- destroying feeling, but never again,” Grits says, her voice strong and firm.
Blinking away my tears, I look at her and her eyes echo an understanding that only someone else who has experienced this can offer.
“Never again,” I say squeezing her hand tightly.
“Never again,” she replies.
Something passes between us in this moment. I don’t know what Grits has suffered but I know that she has. She pulls me into a hug and I go willingly, holding her tightly as she strokes my hair.
We pull away from each other and I can see more tears shimmering in her eyes. Shaking her head, she blinks the emotion away with a smile. “I went shopping for you again today. I’ll bring the new stuff over in the morning and we can pick out another outfit for you.”
Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I nod. “Thank you, Grits. You didn’t need to do any of this, but I really appreciate it.”
She waves off my thanks. “You don’t need to thank me, baby girl. I love to shop. Maybe once all this is over we could go together? Fill that closet up with clothes for the newest addition to the Sinners Old Ladies.”
I smile shyly and blush. “I’d love to go shopping with you; it’s been years since I’ve been. But I still don’t think I’m going to be able to stay here, not in the same town as my father. He’s gonna lose his mind once he finds out I’m here. I’m being lulled into a false sense of security hiding out with you guys, but I’m not safe, not once he knows where I am.”
“The guys will figure it all out for you, baby girl. This place is a fortress and no-one’s getting in here unless they’re let in. You’re Daisy’s old lady now, we protect our own. I promise you, this is the safest place in the world for you.”
I sigh, slide off the bed, pick up the bowl of chili, and then sink back down against the pillows. I eat a spoonful and moan. “Wow that’s good chili. Who made it?”
Grits smiles ruefully. “Ali did. She might be a pain in the ass but that girl can really cook.”
“Ali? Wow. She doesn’t strike me as the type of girl that spends time in the kitchen.”
“Most of the time she’s harmless, but she’s got a real lady boner for Daisy. She lives here with one of the other girls; they cook and keep the place clean and the Sinners take care of them. The guys love her because the girl loves sex, and she’s not shy about it. She stays away from the guys that are taken, so the old ladies don’t mind her. I’ve never known her push so hard for a guy before,” Grits admits.
“Daisy said he, err, had sex with her,” I say, my eyes firmly fixed on my bowl.
“Doesn’t surprise me, that girl’s spread her legs for pretty much every member of the club. But he wants you as his old lady not her.”
“I don’t really understand the Old Lady title. I’m only eighteen,” I say.
Grits bursts into laughter. “Oh, baby girl, I forget how sheltered you really are. Old Lady is the official title given to a biker’s woman. Some guys still get married but for most, the title’s enough.”
My hand refuses to move and my spoon wavers in mid-air between the bowl and my mouth. “What?”
Grits looks at me quizzically.
“I only met Daisy a few days ago,” I whisper.
“Yeah, I know, baby girl, but he’s your man and given the circumstances it makes sense.”
“I don’t understand,” I say.
“I think it might be best if you let me explain,” Daisy says from the doorway.
My eyes jump to look at him, I hadn’t realized he was there. Grits stands from the bed and makes her way to the door. “See you in the morning, Dove,” she says over her shoulder as she leaves. She pats Daisy on the shoulder as they pass in the doorway and he closes and locks the door before slowly padding across the room to the bed.
“You get me any?” he asks pointing to the bowl.
I nod and gesture to the tray sitting on the dresser. He steps over to it and twists the top off one of the bottles of beer, putting it to his lips and drinking deeply. After a moment he lowers the bottle to the dresser again and then lifts a beer in one hand and a bottle of water in the other and gestures to me. “Beer or water?”
“Water please,” I say and take the bottle when he hands it to me. I watch as he grabs his beer and his bowl and walks around the room to climb on the bed next to me. He starts to eat, and I do the same. He finishes quickly and places the bowl on the floor. When he turns to face me, my appetite vanishes and I place my bowl on the dresser next to me and copy his body language.
He stares at me for a minute and then reaches for my hand and pulls me into his chest. His lips drop to mine and he kisses me. My mind scatters, all rational thought lost and replaced with the sensation of his mouth covering mine. The kiss is soft and sweet, his tongue gently tangles with mine and I moan in pleasure when one of his hands slides down my ribs and around to caress my butt.
I tangle my hands in his hair and push myself closer to him, wanting to sit in his lap but unsure how to tell him. His lips still and firm hands move me carefully away from his chest. My eyelids flutter open and I stare at him in confusion. I don’t want to stop kissing him. I love kissing him. I love being close to him and feeling his body pressed against mine.
“Why did you stop?” I ask breathily.
“Because we need to talk.”
My shoulders tense and I pull my hands into my lap, absentmindedly picking at my nails. “Is this about my father? I’ll understand if you decide you don’t want to tell him I’m here. This is my problem not yours and I still think maybe running is the best option.”
“You’re not running,” Daisy says sternly.
I lift my eyes to look at him, his face is twisted into a frustrated scowl. “How many times do I have to tell you, Angel, you’re not running anywhere? I want you here with me where we can keep you safe. Where I can keep you safe. What I need to talk to you about is something different.”
“Okay,” I say drawing the word out in confusion.
Daisy sighs and scrubs at his face with his hands. “I like you, Angel, a lot.”
“I like you too.”
Daisy smirks, then his face clears, and the smile falls away. “Fuck. Okay, I don’t really know how to explain this. From the age of two to eighteen I lived in thirty-five different homes. The first few times I had to move I got really upset. I was just a kid, and I didn’t know why every time I got settled with a new family, they’d make me pack up and move somewhere new. By the tenth home I decided to stop caring, it was easier that way. I couldn’t keep making friends and then have them taken away from me every single time I moved, it was too hard. So instead of trying to be nice, I blocked out all the other kids crying because they missed their families or the siblings they’d been split up from. I got real good at not caring and until I met Billy and got involved in the club, there wasn’t a single person in my life that I gave a fuck about. When I patched into this club, I gave them my loyalty and they gave me a home and a family and, Angel, I really fucking like my life.”
“I understand,” I say interrupting him. “These people are your family, I understand that you don’t want to drag them into my mess.”
“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying. The guys are my family, but you, you are everything.”
“I don’t… what?” I say, shocked.
“I know we haven’t known each other for that long, but from the very first time I saw you I’ve felt everything. Lust and want, fear, anger, hope and adoration. You make me feel everything, every emotion that I’ve tamped down and buried for years. Angel, I have no idea what love is, but I know that I want you here with me, in my room, my bed, in my life. I promise I’ll take care of you and keep you safe. Baby, I want you to be my old lady and wear my property patch. I’m in so fucking deep with you, and I have been since that day at the park. Your dad doesn’t scare me but the idea of you leaving fucking terrifies me. I’m doing a shitty job of explaining this, but I need you. Sometimes you just know, and I know, that you’re it for me.”
Shell-shocked, I stare at him. I think of everything that’s happened since I first met him. He’s taken care of me and kissed me. He’s held my hand and told me he likes me. More than that, he’s made me feel safe and worthy. He makes me want to risk staying in Archer’s Creek, when all I’ve thought about for the last two years is running away.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay?” He says.
“Yes.”
“Be more specific, Angel. What are you saying okay to?”
My heart’s pounding and my chest feels tight, but I force myself to speak. “I’ve spent the last two years hiding and I can’t promise I won’t do that anymore, but I want to show you the version of me that’s not scared. You make me feel safe and even with everything that’s happened you’ve made me smile and feel happy. I don’t want to leave you either, Daisy, you make me want to risk staying.”
He moves closer and reaches out to cup my cheek with his palm. “Angel, will you be my old lady?”
Smiling shyly at him I nod. “I’m too young to be your old lady, so how about I just be yours?”
Daisy laughs lightly and leans his head down until our foreheads are touching. “Mine. I like the sound of that.”
Our lips touch and we kiss. Slowly our mouths move together in a tender sensual caress. This kiss is a promise, and it’s perfect.
Eventually we pull apart and Daisy lies back against the pillows, tugging me down next to him. “I want you to wear my property patch.”
“What does it mean?” I ask, my fingers drawing patterns on his t-shirt.
“It just means that you’re mine, my old lady. It’s a smaller version of the cut I wear, with a patch that says ‘Property of Daisy’ on it.
I stiffen. “I’m not property, Daisy.”
“I know that. It just means that you’re my woman. The Sinners aren’t metrosexual pansies, baby, when we claim a woman they belong to us. You’re mine, but I’m yours too.”
I frown and push myself up onto my elbows. “So, you belong to me?”
“Angel, you’ve owned my ass since that day at the park.”
Laughing, I settle back down onto Daisy’s chest. Reaching for the remote he turns the TV back on and we carry on watching the boxset we started earlier.
A couple of hours later the heroes of the show are on the verge of defeating the bad guy when I start to yawn. “You want to shower tonight or in the morning?” Daisy asks
“Tonight,” I say yawning again.
Lifting me up he walks us to the bathroom door and gently lowers me to the floor. “Go shower, then we can get some sleep.”
Nodding, I pad into the bathroom and turn on the shower. “Do you need another one of my shirts to sleep in?” Daisy shouts from the bedroom.
“Yes please, and could you pass me my backpack.” A few moments later Daisy’s arm pushes through the door with my bag and a shirt clutched in his fist. Reaching up, I take my things from him and his hand disappears back through the gap. “Thank you,” I say, stripping out of my clothes and stepping into the hot shower.
I wash quickly, then dry myself and re-dress in his shirt and a pair of my cotton panties. Wiping the mirror free of condensation, I look at my reflection—the bruises are still visible and my cheek is still a little puffy, but I’ve looked much worse in the past. Pulling the hair brush from my bag I quickly run it through my wet hair then plait it into a long braid that falls over my shoulder. I look so young. Daisy says he wants me, but when he could have women like Ali, how long can I hold his interest?
Shaking my head, I ignore the insecurities that are trying to push their way into my thoughts. Daisy asked me to be his, he told me I was everything. If he wanted Ali he wouldn’t have said those things to me. I walk back into the bedroom. Daisy is lazily sprawled on the bed watching the TV so I make my way to the other side and climb in, lifting the cover up so I can crawl underneath.
Daisy leans over and kisses me quickly then rolls off the bed. “I’m gonna take a shower, baby.”
“Okay,” I say, watching his retreating back as he pulls his shirt over his head. The shower turns back on and steam billows from the open bathroom door. Tilting my head to the side I stare into the steamy room hoping for a glance at him. Before I get a chance to see anything the shower turns off and a wet Daisy walks out, wearing a towel wrapped around his hips and another slung over his shoulders.
I blatantly watch as he drops the towel and slides on briefs. It’s the same routine that he did last night and just like before he starts to set up a pallet on the floor next to the bed. “Daisy.”
“Yeah, baby,” he replies, not looking up.
“You don’t need to do that.”
He pauses and looks up at me. “Do what, Angel?”
My cheeks flush red and I fidget with the edge of the quilt. “Sleep on the floor.”
“That’s okay, I don’t mind.”
“This is your bed, Daisy,” I say hoping he’ll understand what I’m making a mess of trying to tell him.
“I know. My woman, in my bed,” he says grabbing a pillow and dropping it to the floor.
“Daisy.”
He stops and looks at me again.
“I don’t want you to sleep on the floor. I want you to sleep in here, with me,” I say, forcing my eyes to stay locked with his.
“What?”
“Please don’t make me say it again,” I whisper, embarrassment coloring my cheeks.
Daisy stares at me for a second and then sits down on the bed and pulls me into his lap. “Angel, you being my old lady now doesn’t change anything. I have no expectations. We’ll get to that side of things when you’re ready and whenever that is I’m okay with that. So much has happened in your life in the last few days and I don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for.”
“Daisy, I want you to sleep in the bed with me. I’m not saying it because I think you expect it, I’m saying it because I like lying in your arms.”
Grabbing my chin, he lifts my face up so our eyes lock. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I say, slowly leaning in to kiss him. He cradles me to his chest as I explore his lips and tentatively push my tongue into his mouth. Warm hands move up the length of my spine and one wraps around the back of my neck while the other tangles into my hair. Wiggling restlessly in his lap, my heart races and the steady ache between my legs becomes desperate for more. Pushing myself closer to him I freeze when my butt rubs against what I think is a very large, very hard erection.
“Angel,” Daisy whispers pulling back from our kiss.
I force open my eyes and look up at him. “That’s what you do to me, Angel, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever fucking laid eyes on. I want you baby, I’m not gonna lie, but only when you’re ready, okay?”
I bite my lip, I want him too. But I have no idea what to do with him. I want to run my fingers across his tattooed skin and into the defined peaks and valleys of his muscled stomach. I want to follow the line of hair that disappears beneath his briefs, but I’ve never even seen a penis, apart from on TV and the internet. Right now, I really wish I wasn’t this clueless idiot who has no idea what she’s doing. Ali wouldn’t be unsure, she’d be naked and confidently having wild monkey sex with him right now. “I’m sorry,” I say and cover my face with my hands.
“What the hell are you sorry for, Angel?” he asks, pulling my hands down and forcing me to look at him.
“For being so clueless. You could have any woman you want, who would know how to do this. You shouldn’t be stuck in this PG-13 hell.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Angel?” he snaps at me. “I want you and only you. Do you have any idea how fucking sexy it is, knowing that no-one else has ever touched you? You’ve turned me into a fucking caveman, baby. I’m beating my chest and celebrating that you’re untouched. I’m gonna be the first and only man that gets to sink into your perfect pussy. God, I’m rock hard just thinking about it and I don’t care how long I have to wait for it. I get to teach you how to ride me and suck me and I can’t wait to explore every inch of you. You’re the holy fucking grail, Angel, and when you’re ready to give yourself to me, I already know you’ll be utter perfection.”
My breathing has turned ragged and the ache between my legs has morphed into a pulsing heat. “I want that now,” I say, my voice barely audible.
Daisy chuckles. “No baby, not tonight.”
“I need…”
“What do you need, Angel?” Daisy drawls, his voice smoky and low.
“I don’t know,” I admit, ashamed and frustrated.
“I think I know what you need. Do you ever touch yourself, Angel?”
My cheeks burn red. Mortified, I focus on my hands and shake my head.
“You’re telling me you’ve never pushed your hand inside your panties and stroked that virgin pussy, Angel?”
“No,” I force out of my dry throat.
“I don’t believe you. I think late at night you lie in your bed and stroke your hot clit until you come. Show me baby, touch yourself.”
“I don’t. I’ve never,” I stutter.
Daisy’s eyes widen for a second, then wordlessly he lifts me up and turns me so my back is to his chest and I’m sitting between his legs. He leans back against the wall and pulls me with him.
His fingers tangle with mine and he holds one of my hands against my stomach and then guides my other down my torso toward my panties. “Tell me if you want to stop,” he whispers against my ear.
“Don’t stop,” I gasp as I watch his hand guide mine slowly beneath the waist of my white cotton panties.
“This is what I was talking about, Angel. Lying in bed and pushing your fingers into your panties. Moving through your wet heat and moaning quietly when your finger slides over your needy clit.”
As he whispers the words into my ear, he mimics the actions with our fingers, moving us over my skin until we meet the hot, wet folds between my legs. A tingling sensation pulses through me as he glides our fingers through the wetness that’s coated my sex and drags upwards until he pauses and circles. I moan when a glorious spasm of pleasure hits.
“That’s it, baby. Circle your clit, tease yourself, so it doesn’t end too quickly.”
His fingers move mine as he speaks, glancing over the sensitive peak then moving down to my center, only to drag more wetness back up and circle again. Heat pools in my stomach and butterflies dance as the sensations consume me.
“Fuck, Angel, once you’re hot and ready then you slide a single finger into your wet pussy and push at the needy spot deep inside.”
He pushes us back down to my center, untangling our fingers so that mine still while his moves further between my legs. My fingers rest on top of his hand and I grip him tightly as he pushes a finger slowly inside my hot sex. The feeling of fullness is blissful, and I moan through my ragged panting breaths. My head falls back against Daisy’s shoulder and I watch as he oh-so-slowly, pumps his finger into me.
I gasp as he withdraws and then fills me again. His thumb lifts and he slowly starts to circle my clit. My back arches and the muscles in my thighs tense, a heaviness building in my sex as heat starts at my toes and slowly burns upwards.
“Beautiful, Angel, so fucking perfect. Your pussy is so tight and you’re gripping my finger so hard. Focus on how it feels, baby, my finger deep inside of you, my thumb on your clit. I can feel you tightening around me. Come for me, Angel. Let it happen, let me see.”
His words leave me breathless, the heat builds and builds and I pant. My sex burns, a painful bliss that I don’t understand, but never want to stop. His thumb pushes on my clit and I explode. My shoulders clench and I feel my body fold into itself; the tension releases and a wave of tingling floats over me. I groan with the sheer feeling of pleasure and gasp when the tension takes me again and another wave of tingling cascades through me.
My head flops against Daisy and a desperate sigh escapes from me. My eyelids flutter open and I look down to where both mine and Daisy’s hands are still nestled inside my panties.
“That was so fucking sexy, Angel. Watching you come is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” Daisy rasps.
He slowly withdraws his hand, taking mine with it. Firm fingers grip my hips and I’m lifted into the air and turned so we’re face to face. His eyes are hooded, and his chest is rising and falling in ragged breaths. He stares at me for a moment, then slowly lifts the hand he used to pleasure me up to his mouth and sucks his fingers clean.
I gasp.
“You taste so fucking sweet, Angel,” he says and leans forward and kisses me. He releases me a moment later and then settles back against the pillows and pulls me to lie on his chest.
“Sleep,” he whispers into my hair, and I fall asleep sated and listening to his heart beating beneath my ear.