“Are you telling me you’re cracking?” Angel spits. “You need to get your shit together.”
“My shit?” I hiss, trying to keep my voice down in case anyone is trying to listen outside. “You came in here ready to blow my fucking brains out because you heard chatter. I’m just trying to play this fucked-up game until we can get them out of here.”
“Lola leaves tomorrow?” he asks, backing away a few steps.
We’re both used to being the one to make the hard decisions, and it’s fucking with both of us.
“Yes, and he contacted me again this morning asking about other stock. We have to figure out a way to get the other women out of the house. I wouldn’t put it past that bastard to want to explore every inch of the house. I told him we have nothing else, but he didn’t seem satisfied with that response. He may even back out now that I’ve told him we have only one girl available. Why don’t you go grab Lola so we can game plan?”
He gives me a quick nod before walking out of the office.
It takes forever for Angel to return with Lauren. So long that I have to leave my office and go find them. As I open the office door, I’m once again overcome with the same fear I had when I got the text and discovered that Juan was hurting one of the girls.
But as I step out in the hall, it’s not violence I encounter. Well, not on the same level I was fearing.
Lauren has Angel pinned to the wall with her forearm against his throat. Their lips are locked in a kiss so passionate that there’s no way it’s their first. Her hand is inside his jeans, working his cock as he groans into her mouth. For a woman that likes to be manhandled and commanded, she doesn’t seem to have any trouble taking the reins right now.
I clear my throat, snapping Angel to attention, but Lauren is slow to look my way. Her lips, wet and as red as ripe cherries, her hooded eyes tell me she isn’t happy with being interrupted.
“Stop, stop, stop,” Angel gasps, his hands going to the front of his jeans where Lauren is still working his cock.
I cock an eyebrow at Lauren, but she doesn’t stop.
As a goal-oriented person, I know she won’t unless she’s forced, and despite Angel’s insistence, he really isn’t putting up much of a fight. I should stop them. Anyone else in the house could walk around the corner and see what’s going on, but I also can’t deny just how erotic it is to see her practically bringing this man to his knees and making him beg.
Her eyes stay on mine for the longest time before she reverts that attention back to him.
With her mouth partially open, she has every ounce of his attention. His hands have fallen away, both arms hanging loosely at his sides. His lower half is bowed away from the wall, hips jutting forward in a silent plea.
“That’s it,” she praises, her whispered words a mix of gravel and seduction. “Come.”
Angel’s mouth falls open, low grunts filling the air around us as a slow smile spreads across Lauren’s face. She licks into his mouth as he shudders, his eyelids heavy as he orgasms.
It isn’t until she slowly pulls her hands from his jeans, licking at her fingers that he begins to regain his senses. This whole time he’s been completely enraptured by her, a puppet at the end of her strings, and from the looks of it, he’s still a little spellbound.
Slowly, his head rolls on the wall, as if noticing me standing there for the first time with my arms crossed over my chest.
“Fuck,” he hisses, trying to move away from her like he can lie about everything I just saw and make me believe it. “I’ll be back.”
Angel leaves us standing in the hallway, Lauren still licking her fingers and me both annoyed they’d do something like that out in the open and a little jealous of the moment they just shared.
I’m not jealous of him at all. I have no proprietorship over her, and if he were the one pushing her against the wall, it wouldn’t be an issue, but the people in the house are supposed to believe that we’re sex traffickers for fuck’s sake. They’d never believe he was in control if they saw what I did. Bad guys don’t tend to come on command when they have a woman’s forearm against their throat.
“Hey,” she says after a long minute. “You wanted to—”
“Get in the office,” I snap.
“Green doesn’t look good on you,” she says as she passes by me.
I follow her inside, closing us into the office together.
“You’re supposed to be a sex slave, Lauren.”