Angel of Redemption (52 page)

Dean

It’s early when I wake.
There’s not even a hint of sunlight coming through the curtains. I’m completely
wrapped around Kayla, my hand holding her tit like it’ll disappear if I let go.
She’s breathing in and out through her nose—deep, slow breaths. One arm
is under the pillow she’s lying on, the other is covering the hand I have on
her boob.

I carefully untangle myself and sit up on the
edge of the bed with my back to her. Running both hands through my hair, I tug
at my scalp in frustration.

I knew I was in trouble the moment she turned her
back to me at her house and I saw all that skin. But when she revealed that she
was wearing those shoes, I was completely fucked. The fact that we even got out
the door is a miracle.

But now I’m wondering what the hell I just did. I
fucked her. I fucked Kayla. I wasn’t gentle, and I wasn’t safe. I wasn’t
thinking of consequences—I just did it.

I’m a fucking idiot.

I have the urge to run, to get away, but that’d
be even worse, because I still have to face her. I have gone so far beyond the
line of a professional relationship. I know we’re friends, but she could
fucking destroy me if she wanted to. Rationally, I know she’d never do that,
but it doesn’t stop the trainwreck of thoughts barreling through my head. I
feel the bed shift behind me and hear her sigh.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

I turn back to look at her. She’s sitting up with
the sheet pulled up over her chest, one long leg naked and bent beside her. Her
hair is wild, her makeup smeared. She looks unbelievably beautiful.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I mumble, staring at her leg.

“Are you okay?” She yawns. I nod and turn away
again. Her arms wrap around my waist, breasts pressing against my back, mouth
against the back of my ear. “Come back to bed.”

I don’t say anything, choosing to fiddle with my
fingers instead. Her lips kiss down my neck and land on my shoulder.

“Do you want me to go?” she asks softly, sitting
back and taking her hands away.

I whip my head around. “No! Why?”

“You seem
…”

“I’m fine,” I insist, even though I’m not quite
sure I am. She doesn’t believe me
—I can see it in her eyes. She’s
trying to hide her hurt. I hate that I’ve done that to her.

I crawl back under the covers and lie flat on my
back, lifting my arm in invitation. Kayla curls into my side, resting her head
against my shoulder and her hand on my chest. My dick twitches when I feel her
leg wrap over mine. Obviously, it’s much less conflicted than I am.

Running my fingers over her shoulder blade, I try
to figure out what to say.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go?” Kayla
tilts her head up toward me.

“No, sweetheart, I don’t,” I assure. “I’m sorry.
I’m not trying to be an asshole.”

Kayla sniffs. “Your phone went off a few times
after you fell asleep, but it stopped around one o’clock, I think. I would have
looked to see who it was, but I couldn’t move.”

“How come?” I frown.

“Um, you’re kinda heavy.”

“Oh,” I chuckle.

She smiles almost shyly. “I’m not complaining. It
was nice. Really warm, but nice.”

I stare into her eyes. She’s so fucking beautiful,
it hurts. I kiss her forehead and nudge her so she knows I want her lips. I put
my hand on the side of her jaw while I slip my tongue into her mouth.

She shifts, rubbing against my leg a few times,
reminding me that she’s completely naked under the sheets. I moan as my dick
hardens and her fingers drift across the head.

“Kayla,” I mumble into her mouth.

“Want me to stop?” she asks, slipping her hand up
and down my shaft.

“Uhhhhh.” Speech is beyond me when she’s doing
this.

“Is that ‘uhhhhh’ yes or ‘uhhhhh’ no?” she
teases.

“What do you think?” I rasp, thrusting my hips up
into her hand. She smiles, but it fades quickly.

“I think
… I’m afraid I’ve pushed you too
far, Dean,” she admits. “I think I wanted you so badly that I didn’t consider
you might not be ready. I think I’m still being incredibly selfish because,
despite all that, I want you again,” she whispers.

“You didn’t push me,” I say, reaching down and
stilling her hand. Sliding my hand between her legs, I push a finger into her,
making her inhale sharply. “And shit, you’re more than ready for me. Goddamn,
you’re wet.”

“You make me that way,” she whimpers. “All the
time.”

“Even when I’m being an asshole?” I ask, adding a
finger and pumping them in and out of her.

“Especially when you’re being an asshole. That’s
why I—ah—try to see you at the end of the—shit—day.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“So I don’t—God that feels good—have
to go through my day all worked up. I can go home and
…”

She’s riding my hand now. Maybe I should stop so
she can finish her sentence. I kind of like where it’s going. I pull my fingers
out of her and focus on just her clit, drawing firm but lazy circles.

“Finish your story, sweetheart. So you can go
home and what?”

“So I can go home and take care of myself. Dean,
please.”

I chuckle against her ear. “You touch yourself?”

“Yes.”

“And think of me?” I slip a finger back inside
her.

“Yes.”

“Do you use your hand or something else?” Now I’m
playing with her. I know all about her Mr. Big. I’m not sure that right now is
the best time to bring up her drunken phone call, though.

“Both,” she croaks.

“Both? Now I’m intrigued,” I say, slipping
another finger back inside her. “What’s better?”

If I thought I had the upper hand, I was wrong.
Kayla’s like a bolt of lightning, shoving me onto my back and climbing on top
of me.

“I’ve discovered very recently that I like the
real thing best.”

She looks down, and the grin on her face
disappears. She gently traces over the words on my hip with her fingertips
before her touch slides down over my thighs. Leaning over, she presses her lips
against the tail of my scarring. I swallow dryly. I can’t feel her touch
—my
nerve endings were destroyed in that area. All I can do is watch. I feel the
pressure of her mouth, but not the softness of her lips.

She kisses up my side, following the trail until
it disappears behind my back. Instead of stopping, she moves up over my
collarbone. Now I can feel her
—in a lot of places. I feel her
breath on my neck, her teeth scraping across my earlobe, her nipples grazing my
chest, and her wetness sliding across my hard on.

Placing my hands on her hips, I encourage her
movements. With each pass, she gets closer and closer to letting me slip
inside. It’s pure fucking torture.

Finally, mercifully, she sits up on her knees. I
watch her sink down onto me slowly. It’s agonizing. I can feel every inch as
her body takes me in. She winces as she adjusts her position a few times.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathes. “I’m just a little sore.”

I was too rough with her last night. She deserved
much better than how I treated her.

“We don’t have to do this, sweetheart. I should
have
—”

“Shut up!” she growls, beginning to move. “Oh my
God. That’s so deep.”

I keep my mouth shut and, after a few seconds,
she seems to be moving easily. As much as I have the urge to flip her over and
take control, I fight it. I really like what she’s doing, and I don
’t
want to hurt her again.

I can’t stop watching her ride me, completely
mesmerized by the roll of her hips. I can see everything. Her hands are resting
against my chest, squeezing her tits together in my face and giving her
leverage to slide my cock in and out of her.

I’m not sure what to do with my hands, so I put
them on her boobs. It seems like a good place, especially when my attention to
her nipples makes her clench around me. She groans and begins moving faster,
causing my balls to tighten in anticipation.

“I’m gonna come,” she squeaks.

That’s my cue. I grab her hips and take control, thrusting
up into her hard and fast. Her mouth drops open, her eyes close, and she throws
her head back as she comes. Fucking stunning. With one last push, I follow. She’s
still tensing as I empty inside her with a very pathetic series of grunts.

Kayla leans forward again and drops down on top
of me. “That was nice,” she sighs, planting a kiss on my neck.

I laugh.
Nice
. Not exactly the
adjective a guy wants to hear after sex. After a couple minutes of silence, she
sits up and moves off me. I watch as my semen trickles down the inside of her
thigh. It’s extremely erotic…and frightening.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, darting away into
the bathroom. I
’m glad—it gives me a minute to figure out what I’m
going to say.

When she walks back out, her face is freshly
washed. She looks happy.

“Kayla?” I choke as she gets back into the bed
beside me and pulls the covers up over our legs. She looks up at me in
question. “We, uh, we
…” Shit. How the hell do I even have the right to
tell my boys how to handle themselves in sexual situations if I can’t man up
and do it myself? “That was stupid!” I blurt out. Kayla’s staring at me with a
blank look. “I mean, we didn’t use anything,” I hurry to correct myself before
I get slapped.

“Oh,
” she sighs, looking relieved. “I
thought about that when I was cleaning up. I get the shot, if that’s what you’re
worried about. And I got tested in November. I haven’t been with anyone since.”

I nod. I trust Kayla more than almost anyone, but
in my experience, babies seem to come along at the most inopportune times. She
shoves her thumbnail in her mouth, looking nervous. I need to say something.

“I’m clean, too,” I mumble. “I just
—”

“It’s okay,” she says, reaching for a pillow and
burrowing her face in it. “Probably something we should have talked about
before fucking each other silly.”

“Probably,” I chuckle, reaching over and running
a finger down the perfect skin of her back. I think about my own marred skin as
I trace the black swirls on her hip. Now that we
’re not completely lost
in a sexual whirlwind, I have a minute to examine it. “Why didn’t you tell me
about this?”

She shrugs lightly. “I don’t know. It seemed
trivial compared to the reasons behind yours.”

“What does it mean?”

“It’s a manta ray. It’s supposed to symbolize
strength, freedom, and protection. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” I disagree.

“I went over to the wall and pointed at a dozen
of them asking what they meant,” she snorts. “It was the one that fit best. The
guy modified it a little bit, though. He said he likes to give each piece its
own individual flair. So I guess I’m not a total walking clich
é.”

I frown, still running my fingers over her skin. “How
long have you had it?”

“I got it when I was twenty-three. Warren and I
went to Tahiti, and he talked me into getting one. He was supposed to get one,
too, but he chickened out.” She laughs. “Fucker. I should have known when he
insisted I go first that he’d never do it.”

“He doesn’t have any ink?”

“Well, he sort of does.”

“How do you sort of have a tat?”

Kayla snickers. “Okay, so a couple of years ago,
we got pretty plastered. I was giving him shit about Tahiti, and I dared him to
let me put my name onto his body.”

“And he did it?” I gape.

“Yep. I used a pin and carved it into his foot
and then rubbed pen ink into it.”

I shake my head. “So your name’s tattooed on his
foot?”

Kayla nods with a grin. “He screamed like a
little girl and then passed out on the floor of his living room. He didn’t even
remember it the next morning. He got into the shower, and all I heard was him
bellowing my name. He ran out buck naked, dripping wet, hopping up and down on
one foot, asking what the hell I’d done to him. We laugh about it now, but at
the time he didn’t think it was so funny. It’s not very noticeable, though, and
it could have been worse. He originally asked me to tattoo it on his ass.”

I laugh and let my fingers drift over her skin.
After a few minutes, Kayla yawns and rubs her eyes.

“Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

She shakes her head sleepily. “I’m okay.”

“You look exhausted. We’ve got plenty of time.
Sleep.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise.

She yawns again, humming before closing her eyes.
Once she falls asleep, I slip out of bed, grab my underwear from the floor in
front of the bed, and put it on before picking up my phone. Four missed calls
and three texts, two from my brother and one from Emily: