He slipped his hand underneath her panties to fondle her now-swollen clit. When he dipped two fingers inside her, she was hot and far wetter than he'd expected. Angel could easily fuck her right now and she would beg him to pound her harder, but he resisted the temptation. He'd promised he would only touch her. The price of sharing his bed tonight was touch, nothing more.
He released her breast and laid his head against the center of her chest. He could hear her rapid heartbeat, could feel the heavy rise and fall of her chest.
He increased the pressure between her legs until he had her right at the edge. Then he pulled his hand away and moved off her.
“Angel, please...” she whispered so softly he could barely hear her over the pounding rain.
“Please what? What do you want? You have to say it or you can't have it.”
“Please let me come.”
He pulled her panties off, and took a glass dildo from the bedside drawer. He liked to keep a few toys nearby. She gasped when the cold, ribbed glass slipped inside her. He fucked her with it until she screamed out her orgasm.
The noises she made rivaled that of the wild howling storm, until finally she was quiet. The storm, seeming to take its cue from her, lowered its own volume down to a gentle rain.
Angel untied her wrists and pulled her against him to sleep. He felt her tense against his raging hard on. He was larger than the toy he'd just shoved inside her. He wondered if that was why she'd tensed or if she was afraid he was about to break his promise.
“I told you only touching tonight.”
It took Astrid a moment to remember where she was. Sunlight streamed in through the window of Angel's bedroom, the sky a brilliant blue after the previous night's storm. She was alone in his bed. What did that mean? Was he still in the house?
He had to be.
She closed her eyes and thought again of the previous night. There was no good reason she could give why she hadn't put up even a token resistance once he'd brought her back to his room. All she knew was that she didn't want to be by herself, he clearly wanted her, and drinking in those delicious sculpted muscles it was so hard to remember why that was a bad thing.
Astrid had found it nearly impossible to maintain the thought in her head that this was a killer. He'd killed Joey. Though how bad could a man who killed her abusive husband really be? Despite the danger he posed, there was an absurd sense of gratitude mixed up in her feelings. She was so unbelievably grateful the bastard was dead.
And the man who'd done this amazing service for mankind came in a package so seductive, how could she be expected to do anything but go along with whatever he wanted? The end results had been better than she'd expected. Now that she knew that, it was even harder to mount a narrative where she might resist his future advances.
Astrid tossed the blankets aside, put on the scant amount of clothing she'd come to his room in, and went down the hall to her own room. She stopped in front of the large sliding glass door to look out at the incredible view. Angel hadn't been kidding about the mountains.
The air up here must be so crisp and clean. She stepped out onto the balcony to find out. Angel had set the alarm when they'd come inside, but he'd opened the balcony door, too. So was the balcony door not connected to the rest of the security system? No alarm had gone off, so it couldn't be.
It seemed like such a foolish oversight until she actually stepped outside. The drop was far too high, and where railing would have been, there was instead a pane of heavy glass that came up to her waist. So there wasn't even a sturdy way she could tie or attach something to climb down some bedsheets or something. And did he even have enough bedsheets to tie together for such a project? Men didn't typically have endless amounts of linens in their houses unless they lived with a woman.
And did he plan to ever leave her alone long enough to try such a scheme even if he had them?
She considered all this while she got cleaned up. The shower in her bathroom was a slate gray tile and had the most amazing water pressure she'd ever experienced in her life. When she finished, she put on a pair of jeans and a soft cotton T-shirt with a vintage grunge band from the 90s emblazoned across the front.
She crept down the stairs, thinking she might avoid him a while longer and get a better grip on what obstacles faced her if she wanted to get out of here.
Do you want to get out?Her internal voice seemed skeptical. Of course she wanted to get out. What kind of idiot wanted to be a hostage?
“I thought you'd sleep the whole day away.” Angel was in the kitchen in clear view of the front door. So much for stealth.
Light grey pajama pants rode low on his hips as he stood in front of the stove flipping pancakes.
Astrid's gaze flitted to the table where he already had two plates out with sausage and two glasses of milk. Butter and maple syrup sat in the middle of the table. The syrup was in a small metal container which rested on a warmer plate that she imagined must have come with it in a set from some fancy boutique kitchen gadget store.
He brought the food over and put a couple of crisp, almost-burnt pancakes on each of their plates. He took the pan and spatula back to the stove then joined her at the table.
Astrid studiously avoided his gaze. She couldn't bring herself to meet those startling blue eyes in the light of day. Everything that had happened since the moment she'd walked in on her husband's murder until she'd woken this morning had felt like some sort of surreal dreamworld. It couldn't be real.
But with the sunlight pouring in through all the windows, it became increasingly difficult to pretend.