14. Angel

Chapter fourteen

Angel

Boxing Day

T he lack of warmth in this place makes most mornings quite chilly when I wake up. However, not today. As I open my eyes, I feel as if I'm trapped in a snug cocoon. Instead of a chill, there's only warmth in the air. I shift my position and sense the constriction that encloses me. I awaken, blinking my eyes and frowning as the bright light penetrates my window. I pivot inside the tight cocoon, coming face-to-face with a solid, hairy chest.

I tilt my head up, meeting his lazy gaze as he looks down at me. A small grin forms on his face. “Morning, beautiful.” His raspy morning voice wakes the butterflies and they swarm my stomach.

“Good morning, Mr Hayes,” I whisper, lowering my head to hide my morning breath. Because come on, it's just a thing that we can't deny.

“Tell me, how are you feeling this morning?” he asks, squeezing his arms tighter around me. I can't help but smile silly as I bury myself in his chest, surrounded by his masculine scent.

“Content, warm and happy,” I muffle into his chest. I notice him pulling back a little, which causes me to furrow my brow. With a downward glance, his eyes flicker between mine and his lips tighten, showing a momentary hesitation on his face.

“Are you sore?" I give a shoulder shrug, feeling a slight ache, though I haven't moved enough to know for sure. I sense his nod as he places his chin on top of my head.

“I don’t even remember falling asleep last night.” I extract my arms from under the covers, revealing the faint marks that surround them. Confusion washes over me as I glance up at Mr Hayes. “Did you untie me?” His hands caress my arms in a gentle up and down motion.

“Yes, and I also did my best to clean you up with a wet flannel from your bathroom.

“What?” I manage to squeak. “What are you trying to say? You cleaned me?” My cheeks flush with heat as I hide my face deeper in his chest, anticipating his response.

In an effort to make me look up, he leans back and says, “Hey.” I refuse, bringing the covers up and burying my head underneath them.

“Angel,” he softly whispers. He lifts the covers and then lifts my face by placing his fingers under my chin. “Angel, what happened last night was the sexiest thing I've ever seen or heard.” When his hooded eyes lock onto mine, things quickly become too hot to handle. I could never grow tired of this man.

“Do you know how fucking sexy it was to watch you squirt all over me? It's a moment I never want to forget.” I quickly sit up and immediately regret my decision. My pussy feels bruised, even my upper thighs are sore.

“Ouch, ouch, damn.” As I lie down again, the pain transforms into a dull ache.

“How?” I ask, looking at him as a feeling of horror consumes my body. I could feel myself soaking his dick, but I was too entangled in the amazing feeling it left me to question it. Until now.

Laughing softly, he gently untangles the knots in my hair with his fingers.

“I assure you, it's nothing to be embarrassed about. That's the sensation when you thought you were about to piss yourself. It was hot as fuck, Angel. I promise you.” I nod, nuzzling myself into his chest, wincing as I rub my legs together, trying to make the ache go away.

“I assumed you might be feeling sore. I was a bit rough, I’m sorry, Angel.”

My head shakes rapidly. “Don’t you dare say sorry; I had one of the best nights of my life.” I wince internally as I sit up and lean over to grab my phone. I light it up and see multiple missed calls from Mace and 38 WhatsApp messages.

“Fucking hell,” I exhale as I open the chat.

Mace

Sounds like you weren't really sick, you lying hoe.

You sound like a demented cat.

Actually, your voice resembles a fox in a compromising situation.

Those screams are both tragic and dramatic; no man is that good, but A for effort.

What is mystery man actually doing to you in there? I have some concerns.

Wait, is this your V card that is being stolen away as we speak!?

I believe it is. Oh my God. Congrats, my baby.

Hey, where did my Christmas lights go?

I rub my eyes, then move on to rubbing my temples. I have no intention of reading the rest of the messages; they no doubt will get worse. Yeah, I know the walls are paper-thin upstairs, but did she have to listen in? Perhaps she could have turned on some music or something.

I raise myself to sit, taking deep breaths, as between my legs has an intense burning feeling. Right now, I feel like I'm sitting on burning coals.

“I have to go talk to Mace,” I sigh.

“I think I should start heading out. I will probably have twenty-one questions from my family wondering where I disappeared off to,” he says while stretching. I study his face, trying to find a sign that this will be our last encounter. He extends his hand and asks, “May I use your phone?" I give it to him, witnessing his fingers glide over the screen before a ringtone sounds from his trousers on the floor. “I have your number. I’ll call you later?” he says, casually buttoning up his shirt. I give him a tight-lipped smile and stand.

“Fuck,” I curse, my eyes welling up with tears.

“Grab ice and then take a relaxing hot bath,” he suggests, putting on his top and picking up his trousers.

I nod abruptly, hoping he'll leave before witnessing my tears. Approaching me, he holds my face and tenderly plants a kiss on my lips. “Angel O'Sullivan, you’re unforgettable,” he murmurs against my mouth before his hands disappear from my cheeks. He cautiously looks out of my open bedroom door to make sure no one is about. Then he glances at me for a final time giving me a wink before disappearing. I find myself unable to look away from the door.

I quietly whisper to myself, “Goodbye, Mr Hayes.” I really hope I get to see him again.

As I approach Mace's room, a headache starts to develop. I mentally prepare myself and open her bedroom door. “Here we go,”

She wears a sinister smile, like she can’t wait to shred every single detail of last night out of me. Holding a coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other—not that she is meant to be smoking up here, but rules are made to be broken, according to Mace—she motions with her head to a space beside her.

“There's a spot for you right here. Those are for you as well.” She nods at the bedside table where painkillers and Sudocrem are waiting.

I frown, not understanding the reasons for the cream. “Sudocrem?”

“Well, by the sounds of you getting ragged out last night, I’m guessing the kitty is burning this morning.” She rolls her eyes.

Ah, yes. With a sigh, I approach the bed, taking the coffee from her hand and gulping it down, acknowledging, “You're sick, but correct.”

“You're so damn loud! What the hell was that last night and who was that guy?” she yells. “Furthermore, thanks for leaving me and the rest of the guys to run the place on our own. I think I have blisters from all the extra running around I did,” she moans, wiggling her toes and frowning down at her feet.

In an attempt to evade her questions, I throw my head back against the headboard and release a groan. “Look, I’m exhausted. I feel like my fucking pussy lips are burning off as we speak. Help me.” I stretch my arms in front of me and she grabs them, instantly examining the marks.

“What the fuck are these, Angel?” Her gaze swings to meet mine. “You kinky bitch, what did he use?” Her brows furrow as she tries to work it out.

“Well.” I hesitate. “You know you were wondering where the Christmas tree lights—” Before I could even finish, a gasp leaves her mouth.

“I wondered why my tree looks like it has been ransacked.” She gives me a disgusted look and curls her lip. “Keep them, you filthy bitch.”

“Mace, you’re a top hoe. Fucking help me. You must know what to do to stop this burn.

“Oh, you fucking wimp. Lay down on the floor.”

Pointing at her, I firmly state, “My fanny is off-limits to you.” She looks at me with disgust.

“I have no interest in getting close to your battered fanny, thank you.” Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, she climbs out of bed and exits the room.

“Take this,” she declares when she comes back a few minutes later, passing me something covered in a tea towel. “It’s frozen peas. Lay on the floor and hold them to your fanny. It will soothe it.”

“Frozen peas?” I question.

“Yes, you fox, frozen peas. Trust me.” As soon as I lie down and place them on the outside of my shorts, I immediately experience relief. I’m also experiencing discomfort internally, which is probably normal, but I can't stop thinking about the candy cane.

“Mace,” I hesitantly utter, contemplating how to phrase this without triggering a barrage of questions.

With a roll to the side of her bed, she looks down at me and says, “Yo.”

“Have you, um, ever, you know?” I pause for a second. How do I say this? “Used food?” I suddenly blurt out.

“In English, please?” she sarcastically replies. I cover my face with my arm.

“In the bedroom,” I mumble. “Like using it while having sex?”

“Ew, no. What do you think I’m about to go down to the chippy and order a saveloy and make a night of it? What fucking kind of… Angel O'Sullivan? You didn't actually go there with a sausage, did you? Oh my God, was there even anyone in the room with you, you fucking freak,” she shouts. My hand falls and hits the floor with a slap.

“Shut the fuck up, Mace, no ew, fuck no!” I shout.

Her hand dramatically falls to her chest. “Thank God. Then why that question?”

Reluctantly, I side-eye her, knowing her reaction might differ when she hears how hot it was.

“He used a candy cane on me, or in me, should I say.”

Her eyebrows shoot up and she gives a slow nod. “Okay, yeah, that’s hot, but girl…” She props herself up, resting on her elbows. “That has UTI written all over it. Have fun.” She smiles. A fucking UTI. However, I think having a UTI would be worth the candy cane fun with Mr Hayes.