Angel hadn't reacted that way. She'd been sure he would. After all, if she got free, he had a lot to lose. But instead he'd tried to reassure her.
The piano music upstairs turned darker and more fast-paced, almost as if he were playing his frustration and impatience. Astrid quickly changed into the lingerie and put the robe on, tied the belt around her waist, and went upstairs hoping she was right that this was a different thing from Joey and somehow it would be okay to want this.
Angel looked up when she came into the room and switched to a slower, more soothing song. He paused and motioned her closer, then went back to playing. Astrid crossed the room to him feeling all fluttery and nervous.
The horrible truth was that hedidexcite her. Even after everything she'd been through with Joey. Part of her couldn't help seeing Angel, not as the Angel of death, but as an avenging angel rescuing her from the pain and terror she'd been trapped in with no way out. She felt ridiculously grateful to him for getting rid of Joey, even for kidnapping her in a weird way.
If Angel hadn't brought her home, it would have been Little Tony next, and he was as bad as Joey, but in a much more repulsive package. Just the idea of Little Tony touching her was enough to make her want to vomit.
She kept saying she wanted Angel to let her go, but the truth was, she knew she was safe from Joey's people here. They would never find her.
She'd had more than one illicit thought since the previous night about Angel throwing her down and fucking her into oblivion. Each time these thoughts attempted to intrude upon her mind, she'd tried to shove them away and think of something else. She didn't want to think about him that way, but it was impossible not to. He had a powerful energy that pulled her in.
He was right, though. He could have just done what he wanted already. She'd known what he wanted the moment their eyes had locked when she'd walked in on her husband's murder. There had been a raw, naked lust in his eyes. And the truth was, she wasn't sure if she'd run from him because of the murder, or because of that look. That absolute look of possession.
Had she been afraid he would kill her... or fuck her? And that she might like it?
Angel stopped playing the piano and poured a glass of whiskey. He must have gotten it from the bar.
He offered the tumbler to her. “Drink?”
Astrid shook her head.
“You sure? It might loosen you up.”
She probably needed it, but she wanted to maintain the smallest pretext of control. Alcohol would erase the one thing she still had control over.
He took a sip of the whiskey and set the glass back down on the piano. “Come here.”
Astrid felt her pulse pounding in her head as she moved closer to him. The last time she'd been this scared was the last time Joey had chained her up and beaten her. Was that what she was afraid of this time?
No. It was hard to pinpoint what she was afraid of exactly. Maybe she was afraid that there was just something profoundly wrong with her. She should fight him. She should make him be a monster if he wanted to fuck her or do anything else with her. Because it was wrong to want him. It madeherwrong.
With Joey she'd been dumb and naïve. She could perhaps be given one free pass for a youthful indiscretion. But she knew what Angel was. And yet all she wanted was for him to put his hands on her—like the night before in his bed.
As soon as the memory arose in her mind, an intense throbbing arousal started between her legs.
Angel continued to play soft, soothing strains. It wasn't until she began to relax that he stopped and pulled her toward him. He stroked her ass over the satin robe and kissed the side of her throat. She couldn't help the moan that escaped her. Nor could she help rubbing against him like a cat begging for attention.
“Are you going to be a good girl for me today?” he whispered in her ear.
She knew there was only one correct reply to that. “Yes, Master.” Even as she said it, she wanted it to be true. If he'd decided to shove aside the robe, rip off her panties, and fuck her over the piano, she wouldn't have protested.
But instead of doing that, he pulled away and went back to playing the piano. “Go over to the pole and strip for me. Slowly.”
“I-”
“The appropriate reply to that is, yes, Master.”
“Y-es, Master.” What was wrong with her that even saying that turned her on? Everything about this man turned her on. No doubt there had been a sense in which she had been Joey's slave. She hadn't been truly free to leave him without consequences... and the things he'd done to her most people wouldn't even do to a dog. But Joey had never made her call him master or any other title.
The raw honesty behind what Angel demanded made her want to trust him a little more. If he were being so honest about this, could it also be true that he was being honest about not hurting her? He'd said it so many times. Joey had never uttered the phrase 'I'm not going to hurt you.'
Astrid wasn't a stranger to the art of the striptease. It had been a reasonably good way to appease Joey when he was in one of his moods. It resulted in a near fifty percent rate of avoiding an angry flip-out.
Of course Angel wasn't angry. It had only been one day, but even when he'd gotten into the argument with the guy on the phone the night before, he'd been pretty calm about everything. Of course, calm wasn't necessarily a great sign in a killer.
Killing someone calmly or killing them hysterically, they were still dead. Perhaps it should worry her more that he could take a life so calmly.