Rapture

Chapter Twenty-nine

As things went all Barry White and shit in the hotel room, Adrian backed out of there quietly, passing through the closed door and emerging into the hallway.

Jim had turfed the babysitting to him and taken off as soon as the reporter was at the Marriott, and that was all fine and dandy—but he wasn’t into live porn unless he was personally involved, thank you very much. He was, however, completely into giving that pair plenty of Devina-free time. Shutting his eyes, he placed his palm on the wood of the exit he’d used and put a seal on the room, not just at its entrance, but all around the inside and into the bathroom.

Then he settled against the tone-on-tone wallpaper and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Now he knew why Jim smoked. Helped pass time when the dead zones came.

Man, that poor bastard Matthias, he thought. Then again, there were worse things than having a limp dick. Plus, that was what happened when you stepped on land mines or bombs or whatever the hell it had been: You blow your shit up, you can’t expect to be able to bone your female—

Down at the other end of the hall, the elevator doors opened and a woman stepped out, along with a daughter who was probably five or six. The former looked like she’d been through a war—or at least a lineup of bouncers: her hair was a mess, her sloping shoulders were strung with bags, and a lone suitcase was trailing after her on wheels like a sulking dog. The kid, on the other hand, was all firecracker, bouncing up and down, running up and back, her voice shrill enough to shatter glass.

Or, in the alternative, make you want to break it with your own head.

Adrian sat back while the parade went by him, keeping himself invisi. But that didn’t last—the little girl picked up on his presence, slowing to a stop and staring at where he was standing.

“Come on, Liza,” the mom said. “We’re down this way.”

“Mommy, there’s a angel here—”

“No, there isn’t.”

“But mommy, there so is! There’s a angel right here!”

“There is no one there. Will you come on?”

As the child just looked at him with big hazel eyes the size of car tires, Exhausto-mom came over and did a drag-away.

But mommy dearest had nailed it, he thought.

He didn’t feel like an angel. Never had, really—and Eddie’s death had taken away any small sense of responsibility to live up to the name. That dead SOB had been the standard to measure himself against. The one who was good and true. The compass…

Unable to stay still, Ad pushed himself out of his lean and headed for the elevator. Jabbing a finger into the down button, the doors opened immediately, the car that the mother/daughter pair had used still in place. On the ride down, he made himself visi, fixed his hair in the bronze mirrored panels, and straightened his leather jacket.

The prep work did nothing to improve his image. Then again, the problem was his expression. He looked like he was ready to bite someone’s head off.

Ding!

As the doors opened, he stepped out and long-legged it to the bar. Unfortunately, the place wasn’t seedy enough to attract the kind of woman he was after: no half-dressed Goths in the mix, with Prozac smiles and knees that liked to fall open—but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find a volunteer.

Taking a seat in a darkened corner, he let his need for sex waft out from his body.

And whaddaya know, every woman who came in, walked by, or even registered for a room all the way across the lobby looked in his direction.

The waitress who’d served him and Jim the night before came right over. “Hi.”

Her smile was half-lidded and really not professional. Especially as her eyes drifted down everything he had to display.

Which happened to include an unapologetic hard-on.

“What can I get you?” she drawled.

She was good-looking in a way that was tied primarily to her youth. Skin was glowing, hair was lush and healthy, body was banging. A closer gander at her features suggested that if you added twenty years and twenty pounds she’d be anonymous in middle age, but he was all about the here and now anyway.

“They give you any breaks at this place?” he said in a low voice.

“Yeah.” Smile got even bigger. “They do.”

“When.”

“Ten minutes.”

“Where can I have you.”

Her lips parted like she needed more oxygen. “Where do you want me…?”

“Here. Now.” He glanced around the bar. “But that would give people a helluva show.”

As his eyes swung back, he looked her up and down, and pictured fucking her from the front, her legs wide around his hips, his cock going in and out as he watched the sex….

Okay, the theory didn’t really excite him as much—but that was the difference between porn and true penetration. The actual? That was what he was after.

The conversation with his waitress around The Plan was hushed and quick, but it wasn’t a business transaction. She was not a whore being bought; she was a red-blooded woman who wanted a good fuck just like he did.

With things set, Adrian left the bar, his body humming, his heart cold as a meat locker. As they’d discussed, he hung a louie and took the ornate stairwell down to the spa. On the descent, the sound of his heavy boots echoed up into the marble ceiling, and the scent of sea salts and minerals and perfumed oils made him want to breathe through his mouth, not his nose.

He sneezed when he got to the bottom, but at least he didn’t have to go through the glass doors of the spa. If the shit smelled this strong on the outside, the interior would probably melt his sinuses.

Taking another left, he went down a whitewashed hall that was marked with black-and-white photographs of half-naked chicks in geometric poses. The door at the end was marked with a discreet Staff Only sign, and he waited at it with no patience whatsoever, breathing that thick air that clogged his lungs.

Shit. He couldn’t breathe—

His waitress opened up and grabbed his hand. “This way.”

It was a different world on the far side. No pictures, no smooth walls, just old, exposed brick and flooring that had a worn groove down the center. But it wasn’t like he’d come here to enjoy the scenery—at least, not the hotel’s.

Looking over her shoulder, the female smiled in a manic way, like this was more fun than she’d had on her shift for, like, ever. “If anyone sees us, you’re my cousin from out of town, okay?”

“Sure, whatever.” Provided no one caught them in the act. Kissing wasn’t going to be the half of it.

He followed her into a staff room that was in shambles, all kinds of bags and clothes strewn around mismatched furniture, the combustion of multiple perfumes creating a stale smell that made the place seem hotter. On the other side, there was yet another door, and this one opened up into an even dingier hallway that was clearly the colon of the original hotel structure.

And currently used, at least partially, as a storage area: Lined up against the rough walls, banquet chairs were stacked six to eight feet tall, the brass of all those legs and the bloodred velvet seats providing some kind of cover.

“We have fifteen minutes,” she said, putting her arms around his neck.

Adrian took the woman’s mouth like he was going to take the rest of her, hard and deep, his tongue extending and finding hers. In response, she clawed at his back, her nails digging into the leather of his jacket as one of her legs lifted from the floor and curled around his thigh. With rough hands, he popped her skirt up. She was wearing stockings that had looked professional enough in the bar; in reality, she had them pinned to a garter belt, and was sporting a thong.

The cheeks he grabbed onto were firm and high, and he spun her around in front of him, her hair swinging in a circle as she faced the sweaty brick wall. Getting down on his knees, he bit one side of her ass, sinking his teeth into her flesh as he took that thong south.

The sexual urge he rode had nothing to do with her. She was just the living, breathing equivalent of a StairMaster, something to work his edge off with, a vessel to pour the overspill of his anger and frustration and grief into.

And given the ease with which she met him here, and kissed him here, and was letting him do her here…he had the feeling this was not the first time she’d let herself get used like this.

Maybe she was using him for the same reason.

With the thong around her ankles and her skirt up over his head, he went down on her from behind, taking her with his mouth, penetrating her with his tongue. She tasted good, her electrolyzed sex supersmooth and ultrawet against his lips, everything fragrant and clean, as if she had standards for herself.

After she’d come a couple of times—he had no idea of the count, because the truth was, he didn’t really care—he got up and initiated a trade of places so he had his back to the wall. As the woman made like she was going to try to suck him off, her knees bending as her painted nails did the deed on his zipper, he stopped that bright idea by picking her up by the thighs and splitting her legs around his hips.

He didn’t want her mouth on him.

Too personal, as weird as that sounded.

Just as Ad was about to push inside her, he froze.

Jim Heron was standing opposite them, the angel’s arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed and pissed off.

Nice timing. Fucking great.

But he wasn’t stopping now. His balls were tight as fists, and the top of his cock was about to blow off.

Ad shrugged at the guy and entered the woman. If Jim wanted to watch, that was fine. Hell, if he wanted to join in, that was okay, too.

Although the latter seemed unlikely, given that I’m-going-to-kick-your-ass expression.

Whatever.

Closing his eyes, Ad gave himself over to the slick compression he’d taken solace in so many times in the past.

God, he missed Eddie so much it hurt.

Six floors up, in his room, Matthias was unleashed. Unhinged. Unraveled.

As he kissed Mels, he went to the buttons on her silk blouse and freed them one by one, the fine fabric parting to reveal even softer skin…and a pair of cotton-covered breasts that knocked him the hell out. God, it was all too much already, the noises of their lips together, their panting breath, their clothes shifting around—the sight of her. And then there was the way she moved against him, her body undulating in waves that brought those breasts up to his chest and then her hips into his.

He wanted his mouth all over her, and that was going to happen now—starting with her throat. Nipping his way down the smooth column to her collarbone, he brought his hand to just beneath her breast, brushing his thumb against the cup of her bra.

He meant to tease a little—didn’t last.

“Oh, God, yes…” she said as he felt her up.

At the sound of her groaning voice, he had to pause and collect himself, his head ducking into her hair as he struggled for control: The need to consume her was so great, he was a little shaken by it, because he didn’t know himself enough to trust that he wouldn’t hurt her.

There was no going back, though.

That bra was gone a heartbeat later: Springing the front clasp, he stared down at her pink nipples and her pale curves.

He growled at that point. At least, he assumed that noise came from him.

Either that or a puma had somehow slipped into the room.

Matthias dipped his head and sucked one tip into his mouth, his tongue swirling around, flicking, licking. He didn’t leave the other side alone, couldn’t—his fingers pinched, then tweaked her tight little nipple, telling it to hang on; he’d be there in a second—

A sudden sting at the nape of his neck told him she had dug in, and abruptly, her thighs went wide as if her sex were dictating her movements, not her mind—and that vital core that defined her as a woman wanted what he could give her.

Or rather…wanted what he might have given her, if he could have.

Shit.

Even with her bumping and grinding against his pelvis, and in spite of the heat that was raging in his blood, his body couldn’t respond as a male’s should. There was no hard arousal to sink into her, no erection she could grab onto, no thick cock she might wrap her lips around in payback for what was going to be done to her in another minute or two.

As a crushing sadness came over him, threatening to derail the session, a single moan from her was enough to get him back online: None of that mattered. All he wanted was to make her feel good, so when push came to shove—or rather, when she was going to want something to be pushable or shovable—he was just going to have to get creative.

Lifting his head, he stared into her flushed face and her wild eyes. That hair of hers was loose around the pillow, all wavy and spread out, and her cheeks were the color of Christmas.

Man, she was incredible.

Keeping their eyes locked, he rose up off her so that he was kneeling between her split legs. And in that pause, before things got really serious, he imagined himself as he had been, strong, powerful, his body as dominant as his will was.

As it stood now, he was glad he had the undershirt on. And he felt…really lucky.

She had everything to offer; he had nothing. And yet she wanted him anyway.

It was at that moment that he fell in love with her.

The shift in his heart and soul made no sense, and yet the emotional logic was so persuasive, the center of his chest resonated with a warmth that had never been there before: He knew without the specifics that he had spent a lifetime engaged in complicated cruelty, and yet here he was, naked before her though he was clothed, accepted for who he was on the inside, not for what he didn’t look like and couldn’t do.

The revelation changed him internally, putting him into a gear that was slower than the mad rush that he’d all but tackled her with.

Now he moved deliberately, his hands going to the button and zipper of her slacks, and undoing things at an unhurried pace. Opening the fly wide, he curled down and pressed a kiss to her lower abdomen, halfway between her belly button and the top of her sensible, mind-blowingly erotic bikini panties.

Who needed that fussy lace and satin crap? Simple cotton did it for him, as long as she was the one wearing it.

Man, he wanted to suck on her through the damn things.

“I’m gonna get you naked,” he said in a voice warped with sex.

With another one of those holy-shit moans of hers, Mels cranked her head to the side and watched him pull off what covered her lower body, one hand drifting to her mouth and touching it.

Matthias reached up and edged her fingers between her lips. “Suck on them for me—oh, fuck, yeah…”

She did exactly what she was told, her cheeks drawing in as she complied, then her tongue parting through her fore- and middle fingers before the knuckles disappeared from sight again.

“Like this?” she said after pulling them free.

He had to close his eyes. It was either that or pass the fuck out…because all he could imagine was his cock in that wet, warm hold, her down at his hips, her head going forward and back as that suction was all around him.

“You’re beautiful,” he growled as he tossed her pants over his shoulder.

Time to get to work.

His lips lingered along the top edge of the panties, tracing the way to one hip while his fingers trailed his mouth, touching lightly, caressing. When he got to the side, he took the cotton off her body, slipping it down her long legs.

He made love to her with his mouth.

It was the best sexual experience of his life. Everything was about her: how she felt, what she liked, how far he could push her before he had to let her climax…and it was amazing. He also had no intention of stopping anytime soon. Cupping her with his palms, he lifted up her hips and tilted them as he stretched out, ready to stay forever.

And it wasn’t like he couldn’t get inside her.

Straightening his tongue, he penetrated her core rhythmically, alternating the surges with great laps that tickled the top of her sex. Quicker. Deeper. Harder. He wanted her to fall apart on him over and over again, to keep coming against his lips, to burst free and twinkle back down to earth for the rest of their natural lives.

“Give me what I want,” he said. “Give me what I need….”

Putting his fingers in his mouth, he slicked them up and sank them in, and oh, man, it was good. Especially as she orgasmed, the pulsing clenches something that seemed to flood through him as if he were releasing along with her.

When it was over, he paused to catch his breath, and she lay there in glorious abandon, her breasts heaving, her body loose all over, her skin flushed.

It took her a while to recover. She even tried to speak a couple of times, but couldn’t follow through.

Kinda made a guy feel like a man.

“That was…unbelievable.”

Her words were more purr than voice, and wasn’t that just fucking great.

As Matthias smiled, he felt just a little evil—not in a bad way, but in the masculine way—like when you had the woman you wanted naked, on her back, on your bed, and you had every intention of showing her some more attention.

“Would you like me to keep going?” he said on a dark drawl.