Wicked Angel Read online

  When she finishes my makeup, fluffs my hair once more, and pronounces me sufficiently beautiful, we leave the master suite to find Walsh waiting in the living room.

  Offering his arm to me, he says in an over-exaggerated British accent, “Let me escort you downstairs, milady.”

  Rolling my eyes, I laugh, but loop my arm through his all the same. Jorie links arms with me on the other side, and we make our way down the private elevator, through the lobby, and out the doors to the Vegas strip.

  Walsh keeps walking, though, and heads straight toward a black limo parked in front.

  I stop dead in my tracks as I stare at the limo driver who opens the door.

  “What is this?” I ask.

  “I’m giving you my limo for the evening,” Walsh says. “So get in the damn chariot.”

  “But it’s only a few blocks down to The Presario,” I say, trying to protest his generosity.

  Jorie steps in front of me, then gives me a hard hug. “Get in the damn limo. Walsh is feeling overly generous because he’s so happy to become a daddy.”

  I pull away from Jorie and turn to Walsh, going on to my tiptoes to give him a kiss on his cheek. “You’re a prince. Thank you.”

  “Don’t I know it,” he replies with a wink before helping me into the car.

  It only takes a few moments to drive the two blocks down the strip to The Presario, one of the newer casinos, where the gala is being held. I see Benjamin waiting for me in front. He looks amazing in a tuxedo, his cane planted dead center and making him appear even more regal and sophisticated as he scans the block for me. I had told him I would be getting ready at The Royale, and he expects me to be on foot for the short walk.

  His eyes sweep out to the limo, then back down the block before returning to the limo as the door opens and I alight. His eyes flare with surprise, then he’s moving toward me, the cane tapping on the sidewalk. It’s an incredibly warm June evening, yet he looks dashingly cool and collected.

  “Elena,” he says in greeting as he offers me his arm. “That dress is stunning.”

  I flush with pleasure from the compliment. “It’s Jorie’s,” I admit. “I can’t afford the type of attire needed to attend these things. Luckily, we’re the same size.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think it would look as good on her,” he says, paying me another gentlemanly compliment.

  Again, it feels nice to have his acknowledgment. Still, I’d much rather have his grunts and groans, which speak more than his words. I fear I might have misplaced my priorities, but it’s the truth.

  Benjamin leads me into the casino, and we head toward the bank of elevators that will lead up to the event ballroom.

  “So what is this event?” I ask.

  “It’s a fundraiser for the children’s hospital,” he replies.

  “Do you come to a lot of these?”

  We reach the elevators and he stabs at the button with his finger. “Not lately. Don’t seem to have the patience for them anymore.”

  “So why are you attending this one?”

  He grimaces. “Let’s just say I owe a favor to my partner. And thank you for being my date.”

  I give him a wink and a lopsided smile. “Let’s be honest… it was the prospect of going to The Wicked Horse with you afterward that made me agree.”

  His eyes round in surprise, his lips curving upward. “Really?”

  “Really,” I say with a firm nod of my head. “Why does that surprise you?”

  He shrugs just as the elevator doors open. He ushers me in, and we move to the back as a handful of other people enter. He sidles in closer as the doors close and we start to ascend.

  Leaning down, Benjamin murmurs, “Most single women just aren’t into sex like that.”

  There’s truth in his words. Most of the women at The Wicked Horse are in committed relationships. There is a lot of swinging that goes on with their partners. I have seen very few single women go there just for sex. On top of that, it’s sad to say very few women can afford the fee.

  I tilt my head up. He leans a little bit closer to me so I can whisper, “Let’s just say I have found being involved in a committed relationship to be… un-empowering.”

  We reach our floor, and the elevator doors open. Benjamin moves me through the crowd, and we exit. I put my arm through his, and we head down the hallway to the ballroom where we can see people mingling.

  “And yet,” he says as we stroll along. “You give up all control to me. That doesn’t seem empowering.”

  My laugh is husky, delighted. “On the contrary, giving up control is the height of empowerment for me. Knowing I’ve got the courage to do that, I mean.”

  Benjamin halts, and so do I. He turns, eyes quizzical. “You continually surprise me.”

  “Is that a good thing?” I ask.

  He inclines his head. “It’s an incredibly good thing. It’s what I need.”

  Benjamin takes my hand in his, and we head into the ballroom. The soft strains of a waltz hit my ears and the smells of delicious food assault my nose, making my belly rumble. Benjamin nods toward a group of people and says, “Come on. I see Dr. Metzer there. He’s the one putting on this gala. I need to say hello.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  We maneuver our way over to the group. The surprised expressions on people’s faces when they see Benjamin proves him showing up is unexpected. I guess it truly is unusual for him to attend these types of events.

  I’m introduced to a portly older man—Dr. Metzer—who gives me a polite nod. Benjamin next introduces me to a very handsome man and his wife, Brandon and Colleen Aimes.

  “Brandon is my medical partner,” Benjamin explains as we shake hands.

  Brandon and Colleen look stunned to see me, and I wonder why. Does Benjamin not date at all? Is he gay? What if he has a wife… and I’m just a side piece he’s brazenly parading around?

  Those questions are all answered when Colleen seems to come to her senses and gushes, “It is so nice to meet you, Elena. It’s nice to see Benjamin getting out for a change.”

  That puts me at ease, and I’m thankful it seems like I’ll have someone else to talk to tonight.

  “So, Elena,” Brandon says. “What do you do?”

  “I’m a hair stylist,” I say, expecting a little bit of disdain over my lower-class status.

  Instead, Colleen pipes up, “Here in Vegas? Because I’m looking for a change.”

  She pats her perfectly styled bob, tilting her head expectantly.

  “In Henderson,” I reply. “I actually own my own place there, but if you don’t mind making the drive, I’d love to work with you.”

  “I can totally come to you,” she chirps with excitement. “So how did you and Benjamin meet?”

  I wasn’t expecting this question. In hindsight, it was stupid not to expect it. I freeze, shooting a questioning look at Benjamin, who just stares back impassively, willing to accept whatever answer I give.

  “An online dating service,” I say as I turn back to Colleen.

  She nods exuberantly. “That’s all the rage these days, right? Swipe right. Or is it left? Regardless, I’m just thrilled Benjamin’s out and about tonight. Oh, we should go get a table so we can sit together for when the auction starts.”

  “Why don’t you grab us some seats?” Benjamin suggests to Colleen as he takes my elbow, making his intent to lead me away clear. “We’re going to peruse the art pieces up for auction and grab a drink. Want anything?”

  “We’re good,” Brandon says.

  Benjamin takes it as an exit cue to lead me away. “Sorry about that,” he murmurs as we meander through the crowd. “Didn’t think to come up with a story about how we’d met.”

  “Well, what I said was sort of true.”

  He stops, turning to face me with a serious expression. “Look… I had thought I’d get you a room here tonight, so you don’t have to drive all the way back to Henderson.”

  I look up at him, startled, the change of
subject unexpected. “That’s sweet, but unnecessary. I can stay at Jorie and Walsh’s.”

  Benjamin looks slightly abashed as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key card. “Well, I sort of already got the room.”

  “Oh,” I say, flushing deeply at the realization there is a room and a bed within close proximity to us. “What about The Wicked Horse?”

  “I thought perhaps we’d just stay here. For convenience.”

  While The Wicked Horse provides all kinds of temptation and takes debauchery to the next level, the thought of perhaps spending an entire night with Benjamin is intriguing.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask.

  His eyes flash. “What exactly are you thinking?”

  “We go to the room right now. Unless, of course, you’d rather stay here and socialize.”

  Benjamin’s lips curve in a sexy grin full of promise. “Let’s go.”

  For someone who uses a cane to walk, Benjamin moves with surprising grace and efficiency as he leads me from the ballroom. A few people nod in greeting as he passes by, but he’s moving with such purpose there’s no doubt he doesn’t intend to stop and engage.

  I let him lead all the way to the seventeenth floor.

  CHAPTER 9

  Benjamin

  I knew I’d hate coming here tonight, but I had to do it for Brandon. I hate the pitying looks I get from half and the glares of reproach I get from the others who think I’ve been too much of a dick the last year.

  It used to be only pitying looks after the accident, but I wiped a lot of that away with my actions. I won’t apologize, though. A single car crash with a drunk driver killed my wife and daughter. I’m beyond caring about apology.

  I spent over a month in the hospital with a crush injury to my left leg, a collapsed lung, a ruptured spleen, and a hairline fracture to my left wrist. Another two weeks in a rehab facility for my leg. And yet another two weeks of outpatient therapy before I could return to work.

  Miraculously, the fracture to my left wrist was clean and easily healed. I came out of the accident with my brain unscrambled and my hands still able to perform complex microsurgery. I should have been grateful for that, but I wasn’t.

  I was pissed at the world. At the drunk who ruined my life, at God for letting it happen, and at my friends and family who still had the gall to make me care about them, thus putting me at risk for bigger pain.

  And venturing into this place tonight—with a beautiful woman on my arm and money to burn on a charity auction—trying to pretend like my life is normal and these things should bring me joy… well, it’s all bullshit. It’s not me anymore.

  It’s not like Elena was going to mind the hasty escape I just pulled. She’d told me she was all about the sex anyway. It’s not like she wanted to hang out with me, Brandon, and Colleen, making cute small talk and nibbling on overpriced hors d’oeuvres.

  Yeah… made sense to leave, and even better planning I’d thought to get a room for Elena. It truly was so she didn’t have to make the drive back to Henderson tonight, but it will come in super handy right now.

  Because the one thing I have just realized with utter clarity is Elena provides me an escape from the pain of my regular life. That was never more evident than just a few moments ago when I got annoyed by Metzer’s smug smile and Colleen’s hopeless romanticism I will find love again, and all I wanted to do was pull Elena out of there and lose myself in her. Probably would have fucked her right there in the elevator had we been alone.

  As it is, the hallway leading us to our room isn’t so short I can’t enjoy the bit of anticipation. I hold onto her hand tightly, lest she think to bolt for some reason, and punch my cane down deeper into the plush carpeting with every step I take.

  When I reach our room, I can’t contain my need any longer. Whirling her around, I push her back into the door. Rather than open it, I press into her and slam my mouth onto hers.

  Elena gasps, and I pull back briefly. Her eyes are wide with surprise, but there’s also something deep within those chocolate depths that speaks to me.

  Absolute fucking delight in my assault just now.

  I groan, palming her face, and kiss her again. Elena’s hands grip into the lapels of my tux, and she holds me tight. Her mouth is so fucking soft, lips full, and her tongue demanding.

  Without thought, I put my hand on the neckline of her dress and pull it down on one side, exposing a plump breast with an eager nipple. I lift her tit, pushing it up as my head dips.

  Elena’s head falls back, knocking against the door as I pull her sweet nipple into my mouth to torture. Her hips rock into mine and her fingers dive into my hair, holding me tight.

  She shifts, her hands tightening on my head. “Benjamin.”

  I ignore her.

  “Someone’s coming,” she whispers. I ignore that, too. Don’t fucking care.

  Elena grips onto my hair, and she gives it a hard jerk to get my attention. When I lift my head, she’s grinning with a slight tone of censure. She gestures, and I follow her gaze as she nods to the hall. An older couple, probably in their sixties, are walking our way, their own eyes pinned to the carpet. It’s clear they got an eyeful already.

  I’m not ashamed in the slightest, and I doubt Elena is either. We’ve both fucked in front of other people at The Wicked Horse, and exhibitionism is part of what gets us off. But I also don’t want to get thrown out of this hotel.

  Not bothering to fix her dress, I pull the card out of my pocket and punch it into the slot. When the lock releases, I’m pushing the door open and Elena through it. When I give one last glance to the older couple, I see the woman still has her gaze averted but the older man gives me a sly grin.

  I slam the door in their faces.

  Taking Elena by the arm, I escort her into the room. She gasps when I whirl her around a little roughly, my need for her all too apparent. Her eyes spark with lust and willingness.

  Fuck, that’s exactly what I need right now.

  After I drop my cane on the bed, I move my hand to the back of her neck. I pull her to me for another rough kiss, then my fingers glide to her shoulder.

  Putting the slightest pressure on her, I say, “Get on your knees.”

  Christ, my heart almost slams out of my chest when she smiles in a way that says, “It would be my pleasure.”

  Before her knees hit the ground, I’m working at my fly. My cock is already hard and needy. I have to push my pants to my hips to free it, and my gaze moves past its thickness to Elena’s face just beyond as she stares up with patience from her kneeling position.

  I stroke myself once, then rub the head of my cock over her lower lip. Her mouth parts, and her tongue comes out to touch me softly. It almost makes my legs buckle, having nothing to do with the weakness in my left leg. That’s all her power and the way she wields it right now.

  Elena’s hands come up. One goes to my ass, then the other bats my hand away so she can take my length in her grip. She fists me tight, opening her mouth to receive me.

  Fucking heat, wetness… so goddamn tight when she sucks me in. My jaw locks tight as my eyes close to savor the feeling for just a moment.

  Only a moment.

  I need to watch this.

  I open my eyes, dipping my head to look down at her angelic face as I slide in and out of her mouth. Her cheeks hollow and her tongue flattens hard on the underside as she jacks me at the base with her hand while she sucks.

  Fuck, she’s a pro at this. It’s something April never enjoyed doing—

  I snap my eyes closed again, offering up a quick apology I’d even think of April right now. When I’m with another woman. That I’d dare to compare them.

  My stomach turns, and I involuntarily try to pull away.

  Elena doesn’t let me, though. Her hand grips my base harder as she sucks me in deeper, giving a tiny growl of defiance I’d try to take this away from her.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, torn between the exquisite pleasure she’s givi
ng me and the notion I don’t deserve this. This shouldn’t be part of my life. I don’t deserve to have anything that makes me feel this good.

  Elena shifts, raising just a bit on her knees, and I let out a bark of surprise when she takes my cock in so deeply I’m pretty sure the narrow confines gripping me is her throat. I’m in so fucking deep her nose presses into my groin. She swallows, the muscles rippling across the head of my dick, and my balls start to ache with need.

  She pulls back, a slow withdrawal of my cock coming out of her mouth, and I’m entranced again as I watch. Her hands move to my hips, glide around to my ass, then she presses her fingers to my muscles.

  I’m unsuspecting when she pulls me hard against her, her mouth and throat opening for me as I disappear all the fucking way in again.

  I go dizzy with how good it feels, and it will only take a few more pumps before I come. I could get on board with that.

  Her fingers flex, digging into my muscles before sliding into the material of my boxers. She pushes downward, making room and freeing me. My cock comes out of her mouth, then she’s nuzzling my balls with her lips.

  Christ.

  She licks them, pulls them into her mouth, and sucks gently and I’m having a crisis of faith in this moment. I’m not sure I’ve ever had a blow job this good.

  She makes a deep sound of frustration, perhaps needing more. Her hands go back to tugging at my pants, then she’s back on my dick. She grips my hips and, once again, she’s using leverage to pull me into her throat. When she swallows, her muscles ripple around me.

  Her hands move gently on my legs, sliding down, moving to the front and taking my clothing with her. She’s expertly stripping me, and it’s almost like a choreographed dance—she’s that fucking good at it.

  My heart stammers a moment when her fingertips encounter the top part of the scar on my thigh. She doesn’t falter, only continues to explore my body at her leisure while she fucks me with her mouth.

  I ignore her curious fingers running along the internal width of the scar. Ever so gently, she traces the bumps and ridges, but she never misses a beat while my cock moves in and out of her mouth, breaching her throat with every thrust.