Ancient Boring Guy
The rickety sound of the elevator making its descent from the office level drew Angel’s attention. He glanced at his watch. Closing time. Right on the dot. Cordelia usually headed on a beeline for the door into her own place, but not tonight.
“Angel? Angel! Come look at this. You’ve got to see it!” There was excitement lacing her voice, not fear, so he did not break any limbs getting out of his chair. In ran Cordelia a couple of seconds later waving a check in the air.
Beaming at him, she held it up close. Angel recognized the name of their most recent client. “It’s a check.”
“Our client finally paid up. Look at the zeroes. Nice, right? And we so deserve every penny.”
Angel hated the idea of charging people money for something he considered to be a form of penance. That was why he let Cordelia handle the billing. When she tried to discuss setting up a menu of billing information he wanted to stay as far away from the subject as he could.
“You’ve been asking for a new computer,” Angel thought that might placate her, but the check was just part of the reason she was here.
“We need to celebrate. I’ll call Doyle. He says he has something going on tonight, but I’ve never known him to say no to his favorite pub.” Grabbing his right hand, she took a step back trying to drag him along too.
Angel was not budging. He couldn’t. Not tonight. The pub would be packed with people. He was still a little on edge from last night. Healing from injuries he had received from a brawl he had no business starting. They were nothing more than a few insignificant aches now, but it seemed like enough of an excuse. When he told her that his plans were already set for the night, that he wanted to stay in, Cordelia called him a stick-in-the-mud and dropped her hold on his hand taking the warmth of her touch with her.
“Fine. Doyle is busy. You’re busy. I’ll just have to go find some fun of my own.”
Not that club again. Sooner or later she was going to meet up with a real version of this Jude guy and for some reason he wanted to make sure it was later rather than sooner. “Stay in tonight,” he urged before really thinking the idea through. “We could make you dinner and then do something afterward.”
Still absently fiddling with the check, Cordelia’s almond eyes narrowed marginally, challenging him to come up with a real idea. Jokingly asking, “Something like what— play Monopoly?”
“Board games? I don’t actually have any of those,” Angel pointed out a little glumly not exactly missing the sarcasm. Vampires generally played other kinds of games with their companions, none of which would be appropriate here. With Buffy, their hours together usually involved patrol, slaying, and kissing. That was out. He was suddenly struck with the idea that he had no idea what he could do to convince Cordelia to stick around for the evening.
“We could talk.”
Cordelia’s brow arched sharply. “Talk. You? Right. Like all of the other times when I do all the talking and you try to make sense of everything I say?”
“Um…”
Taking no mercy she stepped closer to say, “Face it Angel. You’ve been alone way too much down here in the dark. You don’t like to talk to people. All you do is read and brood, brood and read. You’re like some boring ancient guy stuck in a century without television or movies.”
Television. He did not have one of those, either.
“How did people exist back then?” Cordelia shuddered. “Maybe we should invest in cable. I’d keep the TV at my place, though. We could have a Movie Night once a week,” she brightened instantly, a smile spreading across her face.
The idea of sitting on the couch watching movies with Cordelia appealed far more than he was willing to admit to himself. It sounded so normal, a word he did not associate with himself.
“Doyle could come! We’d have to stock some of his favorite beer,” she added making Angel feel guilty that it had not even occurred to him to include their friend and co-worker in this Movie Night scenario. He figured she was just being inclusive, inviting friends over for a night of fun, and not avoiding alone time with him.
Angel swallowed down the idea like a bitter pill. Tonight was supposed to be about keeping Cordelia safe. She did not need to go back to that club. Being here allowed him to relax and forget about the fact that wherever she went there would always be men or demons wanting to take advantage. Although Cordelia was not the type to believe every line thrown her way and could probably talk her way out of many situations, he was not ready to admit to himself why he was being so over-protective.
Not even noticing that he had not even agreed to the Movie Night plan, Cordelia animatedly carried on with it. “I’ll make some phone calls tomorrow and get things set up. Doyle should be by sometime in the afternoon, so we can talk to him about it then.”
“Sure.”
“Geez! Get a grip on your enthusiasm.” Finally noticing that he was underwhelmed by the notion, Cordelia rolled her eyes and pushed a hand against his shoulder. “The excitement might cause a stroke or something.”
Vampires don’t suffer strokes. “Cordelia, it’s fine. I like the idea. Really.”
After staring at him for a moment, her face hiding none of the incredulity or irritation she felt, Cordelia walked away heading toward their adjoining apartment door. Angel moved so fast he blocked the door by the time she reached it. “So you’re going out. To that club again?” He asked aloud this time wanting confirmation, but also thinking that he might tag along despite his healing injuries. Not to dance, of course. He would just watch over her from a shadowy corner of the club away from everyone else. In a way that was not at all creepy.
“I thought you wanted me here.” Those words seemed to take on a new meaning even though she meant them innocently enough.
Angel’s thoughts immediately shifted back to the other night when she came home from the club and the extent to which he had let his desires take him. It was fortunate that Cordelia could not remember what happened, but he could not erase the memory of her passionate response. Impaired by the alcohol in her system she did not even recognize him. Although it felt like she had taken a stake to his ego, he could only be relieved by the fact.
Or just yesterday, when he stripped off her clothing in the shower using any excuse his muddled mind could come up with to keep her next to him, and stealing opportunities to touch her beautiful body. Nothing obvious that might earn a well-deserved slap or accusations of copping a feel. He would never treat Cordelia in such a tawdry way, but he ached to explore every inch of her with his hands and his mouth.
Perhaps it was a very good thing that his body had been too drained of blood to function in any sexual capacity. He had been spared making any excuses for getting hard and enticing them both with something they couldn’t have. Angel berated himself for even considering it, but he was selfish enough that he still wanted her company.
When the only words he could think up in response echoed hers, “I want you here,” sounded quite lecherous in his own head, Angel opted for stony silence letting her come to her own conclusions.
“Don’t wimp out on me now. You did offer to have dinner with me. Unless this is another one of those times where I slave over a hot stove only to have you sit there and watch me eat.”
That would be one more thing he had not really thought through, but he did have one thing to say. “You don’t cook.”
Growing up in the Chase household never required the know-how. “True, but I can order takeout with the best of them. And I even learned how to boil water the other day,” she joked managing to bring a smile to his face. “Tell you what, Broody. We can both have something liquidy. Soup for me. Blood for you.”
“Cordelia. . .”
Stopping him before he could remind her that he was not comfortable consuming blood in front of her, she let out a soft pfft. Putting the same emphasis on his name as he had hers, “Angel . . .don’t be a dumbass. I know that you’re a vampire. It’s okay, really.”
Reluctantly, Angel agreed. He could probably tolerate the soup, but that would just be an unnecessary pretense that Cordelia did not seem to need. He felt as if a weight had suddenly been lifted off his shoulders. Self-torment was a daily doctrine and this easy acceptance gave him one less thing to worry about. Before he could think about it, his hands were out of his pockets, fingers sliding through the soft waves of her hair as he cradled her, tilting her face up, staring down at the temptation of her lips.
“You’re blocking the door, Angel,” her mouth formed words that seemed so out of place when he was thinking about rubbing his lips across hers until they opened beneath his. Angel changed his plans as reason set in, softly pressing his cool lips against her forehead.
A tiny sigh escaped Cordelia’s throat as he let her go and they maneuvered around in the doorway to stand on opposite sides. “What was that for?”
Lost for words, Angel shrugged and tried not to look like an idiot as he said, “Being you.”
Cordelia’s beautiful smile made him smile too. Her radiance was irresistible.
Old Friends, Taboo Toys & Books
Curled up on the couch wearing her comfy grey cotton pajama shorts, matching loose top over a white tank, and an oversized pair of white socks, Cordelia was speaking to Aura Albright, one of her friends from Sunnydale. It had been a while since they saw each other. Not since Cordelia left for Los Angeles. Aura had remained behind to go to Sunnydale University, but had already dropped out after landing in a snazzy public relations job.
“Thanks for letting me know about the party this weekend,” Cordelia was glad to hear about her friend’s good fortune, but she could not go back to Sunnydale. Not yet. Maybe after her acting career took off and people no longer looked at her like that poor Chase girl whose father thought he was somebody, and had everything, until the IRS took it all away.
“I’m busy. I’m in a play,” she cheered herself up a little by exaggerating the truth. “Well, it’s really a workshop for a play. In my acting class, but we have big plans.”
Cordelia would have told her more, but the town rumor mill had not stopped working since she was gone. One of the Scoobies must have told someone who told someone else who told Aura that Cordelia was working with Buffy Summer’s former boyfriend at a local detective agency. “Oh! Yes, I’m helping Angel out. He’d be so lost without me.”
Listening to Aura recount her memories of the mysterious hottie who provided them with some occasional eye candy at the Bronze, Cordelia’s nerves were on edge. Fiddling with the hairclip that kept her ponytail flipped into place, she so wanted to avoid talking about Angel. The rumor mill worked in reverse, too, and there was no way she was going to share the fact that she was now living with him. Well, next door to him, but still.
“Yes, definitely,” she agreed when Aura asked her if he was still just as hot. That she could be honest about. “Same salty goodness.” Oh, geez. She had forgotten the way the other Cordettes had talked about Angel’s first appearance at the Bronze. Aura’s reminder brought a flash of heat to her cheeks. “What! No, I am not boning my boss.”
There was barely a pause on the other end of the line. “Why not?”
Oh, only a million reasons.
Finally managing to get off the subject of why she was not taking advantage of the opportunity to seduce her former crush without having to admit that her sex life was pretty much non-existent, she was grateful that Aura didn’t notice that she directed the conversation back to the subject of the party. They chatted over the details for another fifteen minutes before winding it down.
“Have a blast at the party!” Cordelia was sincere about it. “Call me with all of the details. Great. Say hi to the girls, oh, and to your brother Reg, of course. Bye!”
Although it was great to hear Aura’s voice, the whole conversation felt a bit bizarre to Cordelia. She wished that she had something exciting to talk about like getting a spot in a new commercial, or having a hot, rich boyfriend with a cool car and gorgeous mansion. Normally, she would have eagerly spilled everything about meeting up with Angel again. They would have giggled together over the naked Angel rescue when she broke Dr Folger’s lamp. It was certain that Aura would want details described inch by impressive inch. While such a talk might not have been out of place between two girls who had shared secrets about their every male fantasy since they discovered boys were more than just irritating pigtail pullers, Cordelia was not ready to share this one.
Thinking about Angel that way was forbidden fruit. Taboo. Maybe that’s why lately she could not seem to stop thinking about him in all of his pale, naked glory, or the way he became aroused when she kept staring. Maybe he could pretend it was nothing, just a natural reaction, something he had experienced thousands of times over the past two centuries, but Cordelia knew he wasn’t completely unmoved by her. They could not or at the very least should not do anything about it, but it gave her a rush to know she could affect him too.
She had also finished looking through the rest of Darla’s trunk last night. Knowing that Angel was aware of its contents made her wonder just what he was planning to say when they got to that last layer hidden beneath the box of letters. Separated from the delicate silks and satins by a cedar divider were a coiled set of chains, manacles both of metal and fur-lined leather, a number of other bondage toys, including a riding crop, and one very detailed antique dildo.
Cosmo was very educational when it came to things like this. Cordelia was not especially shocked that vampires like Darla and Angelus would get off on bondage. She wondered which one got to wield the whip or if they just took turns. Pain was something she never thought about in connection to sex, and the whole S&M idea usually left her cold. That was before she thought about Angel being more than just a eunuch, which made the thought of just about anything exciting even if it was somewhat kinky.
Cordelia slipped her hand into a mink mitten surprised to find that the ultra-soft fur was on the outside while the inside was made of soft, pliable leather. She picked up the dildo examining it with detached curiosity in much the same way she had looked at all of the other toys. Made of a light-colored wood it was polished smooth and covered by clear lacquer making it gleam in the light against the dark mink. This was no teeny-weenie toy and its impressive size and shape looked more familiar than she wanted to admit to herself.
Following along with a very naughty impulse, Cordelia moved the wooden phallus over to her ungloved hand to test its girth and length with her bare fingers. Wide-eyed and holding her breath, she slid her grasp up and down the shaft and finding it all too easy to picture herself doing that to Angel. The idea shocked her. She covered up the smooth phallus with the mitten intending to block it from view only to realize suddenly there was a reason the fur was on the outside.
Creeped out and turned on by the idea of trailing that soft fur across Angel’s most sensitive skin she dropped the sex toy, flung off the mitten, and sounded out a moan as she slammed the trunk shut. A cold shower did not help. She tried turning on some music and dancing, but for some reason that just made her think about Angel. Finally, she had given up and gone to bed only to toss and turn trying not to give in to the desire to touch herself because it wouldn’t just be random horniness.
It was one thing for a stray thought or two to pass through her head. She did not have control of that most of the time. Stroking herself into an orgasm would not change anything. Angel was still cursed, and still in love with Buffy, even if a part of him was attracted to her. She did it anyway. Slipping both hands under the covers she trailed them across the peaks and valleys of her breasts, sensitive to the soft friction of the cotton tank top she wore in lieu of pajamas. Up and down letting the light touching tease her nipples into a painfully erect state. The edge of the tank top tweaked them as she pulled it down exposing her breasts, pushing the sheet away.
As she cupped them, her breasts overfilled her hands. Just right for Angel’s big hands. Considering the number of times she caught him staring, he definitely liked what he saw. She wanted his mouth there, but not just there. Though she hadn’t actually experienced anyone going down on her Cordelia had a very active imagination, and it was easy to picture Angel’s hands on her body sliding her panties down, his head dipping between her legs, his mouth and tongue and fingers working their flesh magic.
Cordelia’s fingers dipped beneath the lacy edge of her panties trailing through the soft curls to the moist folds below, her hips shifting against the Egyptian cotton sheets she had finally convinced Angel to give to her, the ones they had shared when they were on his bed. Oh! She was so wet and her fingers slipped easily across her heated skin naturally gravitating to the spot that always drove her wild.
Various toys in Angel’s hands flitted through her mind, but they vanished quickly. It was him she wanted. Now. The steady rhythm of her fingers brought his image into sharp focus behind her tightly clenched eyes. She felt sensitive everywhere, hot despite the slow twirl of the ceiling fan over her bed. When Angel’s name repeatedly fell from her lips it was without conscious decision, not because she knew that he was out on patrol.
Her climax came faster and more intensely than ever before, her fingers still sliding across her sensitive sex, hips rocking into them. As awesome as it was it still left her wanting more. There was also that little twinge of guilt threatening to burst the bubble of her little afterglow. Fortunately, she fell asleep before she could think about it too much.
Today was another story. Cordelia had never had to worry about being quiet before. There was never anyone around to hear her. Although she figured that Angel was still out on patrol last night when things got a little steamy that might be different next time. Not that there would be a next time when it was his name on her lips.
God! Cordelia could not believe that she had let herself go there. Using Angel as her sexy male bedtime fantasy was not of the good. Oh, it felt like all kinds of good, but it was not fair to either of them or good for her sanity. Having shot straight up in bed this morning upon waking, she decided to get rid of any lingering evidence of her little hands-on time. Vampire super-senses might not be able to tell who had her hot and bothered last night, but she had no doubts that he would know what happened.
So her loofah got an extra sudsy workout during her steamy morning shower. The bed linen was tossed into the washer, dried, and returned long before Angel woke up. Half a can of lemon zesty air freshener might have been overkill, but after spritzing it around her apartment and the office, Cordelia felt much better about having to face Angel whenever he decided to emerge for the day.
“A little bright in here,” Angel had commented as he moved toward her desk holding his hand up to block the light as it streamed in through the open venetian blinds.
Cordelia noted with satisfaction that Angel was forced to stand ten feet away. Sounding a little snippy, “Not all of us are allergic to sunshine.”
Expectantly, he asked, “Are you going to close the blinds?” Standing at the edge of the shadowed doorway, he couldn’t come any closer.
“No. I have been stuck here all morning making phone calls. I like the light.”
Angel leaned casually against the doorframe garbed in a thin dark grey sweater that hugged his chest and also wearing the jeans that fit him like a glove. Geez, he was hot. It made her want to squirm against her chair to ease the ache between her legs. Trying to ignore the rush of heat that surged inside her, Cordelia flipped through her Rolodex looking for the next number she needed, but Angel wasn’t getting the hint to let her get on with her task.
“Do we have a new case?” he asked.
There wasn’t one. Doyle had not had a vision in the past couple of days and no new clients had come in. “I’m just trying to set up something with my acting class. You never know when fame and fortune will find me and drag me off into the lifestyle I deserve.”
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Don’t sound so gloomy. I’m sure some random demon will start disemboweling the local bowling league any time now. Things will pick up soon. This is Los Angeles.”
She picked up the phone receiver and punched in the numbers, her eyes still on Angel as he faded back into the shadows leading into his office. That’s it, Angel, she silently encouraged his retreat.
My desk: bright and sunny space.
Your desk: dark and somber cave.
Be a good vampire and brood a little.
Just until I can get my head on straight.
The voice on the other end of the line drew her out of her thoughts and she responded with a smile, “Hi! This is Cordelia Chase.”
Between phone calls and errands, Cordelia managed to avoid Angel the rest of the day. He was not around when she closed up the office and went downstairs. Dinner consisted of an apple because she really did not feel like making the effort to heat something up just for herself.
Dressed in her comfy grey shorty pajamas and a pair of oversized socks, her hair twisted up into a ponytail, she curled up on the couch with the latest issue of Cosmo. She had already read it twice, but there was always some new tidbid to discover.
The phone rang. It was Aura.
Although it was great talking to her Cordelia felt crappy about the way she had exaggerated her success as an actress. Lying to a friend was just as bad as avoiding one, she decided. That was not like her. Angel had no idea why she had pushed him away all day, thank goodness for that. He had just given her the space she wanted.
Deciding that things were as back to normal as they could be and that there wouldn’t be a repeat of last night’s foray into fantasyland, Cordelia headed over to Angel’s place to say goodnight. She was not really sleepy, but it had been hours since she had seen him and it seemed wrong to go any longer without making sure he knew that she was not avoiding him. Well, at least not any more.
Sliding open the connecting door, she poked her head through and looked around for any sign of him. “Angel?”
After a moment’s silence, Angel’s voice emanated from the living room. “In here, Cordelia.”
“Hi.”
“Hi,” he said back looking somewhat bemused.
Seated in his favorite black leather chair Angel had a book in his hand. “Oh, you’re reading again. I suppose that’s one step up from sitting here in the dark.”
Angel looked more amused than insulted. Teasing her, “You should try it sometime.”
“Sitting in the dark?” The quick comeback tripped easily off her tongue. Kudos for the effort, big guy, but you’re dealing with Cordelia Chase.
His mouth pressed into a smile. “Reading.” The deep timber of his voice rumbled sensuously making her think of things that had nothing to do with books.
Indignantly huffing, “I read.”
Maybe it was it the book that had him in such a good mood because he had every right to be pissed off at her for avoiding him all day. Stepping closer, Cordelia grabbed the book, not bothering to save his place, checking out the book jacket for details. “Hey, this was written this century! I thought you were all classic novels and demon lore.”
Angel rattled off the names of his favorite authors, a mix of writers both classic and modern. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with a book,” he confessed as if it said something horrible about her character.
Immediately taking offense whether or not he meant it that way, Cordelia felt the need to defend herself against it. “My reading interests are just different from yours.” She waved his book in the air. “This is a detective story. Are you looking for tips?” His bookcase was on the adjacent wall. Pointing at a row on the top shelf, she curled her lip, “Stephen King? Hello, my life is already a horror novel.”
Cordelia told him she preferred, “Real people and places and the good things in life. Things that don’t remind me that I grew up on a Hellmouth.” Hollywood biographies and unauthorized tell-alls were probably her favorites, fashion and design books, too. Cosmo might not be a book, but it was a must-read. Lately, she had been trying to get her life on track with some self-improvement books.
“I do have one guilty pleasure, though,” she admitted even though she wasn’t quite sure why she felt the need to share it with Angel. “Historical romances. Pure escapist stuff. They’re my catnip.”
“We’re not talking historical romance as in Tristan and Isolde,” guessed Angel who looked like he was enjoying the way she squirmed. “Paperbacks. Buxom women on the covers. Hot sex and dubious plots.”
Cordelia’s insides melted a little as the words ‘hot sex’ sounded on Angel’s lips. “Uh, so you’ve read them?”
“No. Just common knowledge.” Angel was just making conversation, which was something of a novelty. “I just prefer books that are historically accurate, especially if I’m familiar with the location or era.”
No subject being off limits she asked point blank, “So what about the sex?”
Angel stared at her for a few seconds before finally blinking. “I prefer that to be accurate, too.”
Snorting in response, Cordelia told him, “Okay, Mr. Kama Sutra. I just thought that with you being practically a eunuch these days that the sexy stuff might be a nice diversion from missing out on the real thing.”
“Tell you what, kitten,” Angel teased her with the pet name, playing off her earlier catnip comment, “bring me one of your trashy romance novels. I’ll pick a book for you. Give it a chance, and I will do the same. Afterward, we compare notes.”
He got out of the chair and walked up to her so that his height gave him an advantage as he issued his challenge. “Fine, but they’re not trashy. What about this book?” She tapped on the cover. “I’ll just read this old thing. My grandmother was a kid when this was published. Geez, maybe I should make some coffee just in case I need a caffeine boost.”
Angel plucked the novel out of her hands. “Trust me, you won’t fall asleep, but this is part of a long series. You should start at the beginning.”
This was not exactly planned as the start of the Angel Investigations Book Club, but Cordelia had no idea how she managed to end up in a Read-Off challenge. She so wanted him to eat his words about romance novels having dubious plots. There was plenty of plot. There just happened to be plenty of sex, too. Let Angel critique it all he wanted. She would even read his boring old detective novel just to prove that her books were not just pulp fiction.
Pulling out one of her unpacked suitcases from the closet, Cordelia opened it up. It was full of dog-eared books, old magazines, and a few newer acquisitions. She rummaged through it leaving books scattered across her floor. Finally, she decided on one that took place long before Angel’s time. He could not get too fussy about historical content and might relax enough to enjoy the good parts.
Judge That, Mr. Kama Sutra
“You’re sure you can handle this?” Cordelia teased still hiding the book behind her back. “As romances go it’s pretty hot stuff.”
A mischievous sparkle hinted that she had selected something extreme. Just like her to twist the knife in a little deeper when she thought she could get away with it. Considering the Kama Sutra comment, Cordelia obviously had formed some idea about his sexual exploits as Angelus though he doubted that touched the surface.
Reading about sex was not likely to shock his sensibilities. “Let me be the judge of that.” Angel promised not to blush and took the thick paperback she offered.
Touching a finger to his chest she said, “Don’t forget to tell me if everything is accurate.” Ignoring the urge to capture her hand, pull her close and show rather than tell, Angel stuck with clarifying their deal. “Only if you tell me the truth, too. All of it.”
“Since when do I cut corners when it comes to the truth? I think it I say it. That’s my way.”
“Don’t I know it,” he muttered and handed over the first book in the ‘Private Dick’ series.
Even though she had already seen the title, Cordelia giggled again and asked him if he was sure it was just a detective story and not a series written for Penthouse or Playboy. “It sounds so skeezy.”
Having expected that she would go back to her own place to read, Angel was surprised when she plopped down on his couch scooting around to make herself comfortable. At first, he was thrown by the notion that she would be a distraction during the time he needed to focus on the critique of the book, but this was hardly heavy stuff. Fine. With Cordelia here he would get to witness each little reaction firsthand. There were so many things her body could tell him that she would not no matter her penchant for speaking her mind.
Angel headed for his favorite leather chair, which was conveniently positioned perpendicularly to the couch. It afforded him the perfect angle to observe Cordelia. He could not imagine that the romance novel was going to hold his interest, but watching her every breath, listening to the pace of her heartbeat tripping in response to the ongoing storyline seemed far more fascinating.
Suddenly, Cordelia’s brown eyes darted up to his, narrowing as she realized that he had not yet opened the book. “Go on.”
He lifted the paperback so that he could check out the cover. Angel noted the title with aplomb. He did not scare easily and he wasn’t about to let ‘The Prince’s Love Slave’ prevent him from going through with this challenge. He would conquer this like any demon he faced, he decided, decisively, and without mercy.
The cover art was quite well done considering the subject matter, he critiqued with an artist’s eye, noting that the heroine was a beautiful buxom brunette wrapped in the arms of a ruggedly handsome dark-haired hero. He wondered if Cordelia chose this book for a reason or at random. The summary indicated it took place in the late 10th century long before his time.
Opening to the prologue he began to read. Unlike the majority of the books he preferred, this one was told primarily from the heroine’s perspective. Caecilia, the daughter of an Irish Chieftain, lived a pampered life protected from the harsh realities of her time. Her caustic tongue often got her in trouble with her parents who planned an arranged marriage for her with the son of their enemy. She was to be the price of peace between their warring clans. It was a daughter’s duty, one she faced willingly, but before their marriage could take place Caecilia’s entire world fell apart.
The perspective on early Irish clans and the social structures piqued Angel’s interest. Having read the summary on the back cover, he knew what was coming next. Betrayal. Her future husband’s greed exceeded his desire for peace. He would not settle for a dowry that included a portion of her father’s lands when he could have it all. Caecilia was ripped away from her sheltered life, sold into slavery, and taken to the Moorish coast of Northern Africa.
The merchant trader who purchased her believed Caecilia to be worth far more than the price he paid. She was examined carefully and determined to be as virginal as was claimed. The merchant was in awe of her beauty, which he thoroughly inspected. Tresses of dark silk fell to her waist. Flawless skin. Bright eyes. Possessed of the sensuous ripe curves a man could enjoy he counted her amongst the most beautiful women he had ever seen.
Distracted by the heroine’s description, Angel’s gaze drifted away from the book toward the couch. Cordelia had scooted down into a supine position holding the hardback novel up to read it. Both legs were bent up, her feet planted on the couch cushion. It was only natural to follow the smooth course of those golden legs, which led him to the edge of her shorts where her thigh met the curve of her bottom, teasing him with a flash of skin. The loose grey top over her snug cotton tank top hid nothing. He knew the curves of her breasts, but the thought of exposing them to the exploration of his hands and mouth made him lick at the seam of his lips.
Caught somewhere between admiration and leering Angel dragged his attention back to the book in his hands. Suddenly, Caecilia was no longer a faceless beauty in his mind’s eye. Every description seemed to fit Cordelia. The dialogue on the page now came to him minus the feminine Irish brogue sounding more familiar even down to the attitude she frequently reserved for him.
The transition was not a conscious one. It happened as he read the story. Caecilia’s independent nature and her forthrightness rankled everyone around her, but nevertheless she was irresistible. The merchant was patient with her always conscious of keeping his prized possession safe for he intended her to be a gift to the Caliph, an act which might secure him more wealth if he was awarded certain trade contracts. Though Angel doubted any man could easily resist having such a woman under his complete control he did not think such a cold bastard would know what to do with her even if he had more immediate and personal plans for her luscious body.
Quite easily, Angel envisioned crushing the bastard’s windpipe, slowly depriving him of air, and finally hearing his neck snap beneath his fingers.
“What’s wrong?” Cordelia sat up making Angel realize that he must have made some kind of audible reaction. He gave her a blank stare declaring that nothing was wrong. “You growled.” He denied it. “I know a growl when I hear one. That was definitely of the growly variety.”
Angel could not really explain it and chose not to try. His stony silence was enough to amuse Cordelia who tried to guess what part he had been reading. Why would he ever imagine reading would be a quiet experience when she was involved? “Shouldn’t you be reading your own book?”
The soft pfft Cordelia released told him his harsh tone did not scare her. Ignoring him after that she set her book down and reached up to remove the hair clip that kept her ponytail twisted into place. It must’ve been digging into her scalp in that supine position, and so the move was meant to make her more comfortable, not tantalize him with the sight of her shaking out her long lustrous hair until it fell loosely across her shoulders.
When Cordelia’s attention drifted back to ‘Private Dick’, he decided to get through the next chapter of his own.
Almost immediately Caecilia was swathed in local clothing, covered head to toe, and taken from the merchant vessel. Before arriving at the grand hall of the palace where she was to be presented to the Caliph the merchant warned her against speaking her mind so freely to the caliph else she find herself parted from her tongue or life. Things worked differently in this part of the world.
Angel understood the warning. Restraint wasn’t an easy thing when it came to Cordelia. The insensitive, often hurtful comments she made were rarely intended to rile him up. Tact was something foreign to her. He struggled to keep his reactions hidden by maintaining a blank expression, curtailing the harsh verbal retorts that sprang to mind, and most of all resisting the urge to make his response physical.
Just today, she had been snippy with him when he came to the office. Standoffish. Buttoned up both in attitude and choice of clothing. Completely businesslike as she went about making her phone calls even if those calls had nothing to do with Angel Investigations.
For whatever reason she had needed some space. He gave it to her even though he was not happy about the fact that she cut him off that way literally blocking him from getting closer with a very effective shield of daylight. It was a harsh reminder that certain barriers would always exist, but it was difficult to look at Cordelia, bathed by a halo of sunshine, and resist the urge to be burned.
Ten minutes in his office was all it took before he slung on his duster and headed down to the tunnels. He was pissed off at Cordelia, but more so himself, for the direction his thoughts had taken him. Blaming the demon in him would be easy, but Angel could not do that when it was the hurt of her remarks clouding his heart that set it off.
A perfectly clear image burst forth in crystal clarity, a large truck pulling up on the street outside blocking the light streaming into the window. Before she could react, Angel used the shade to his advantage pulling Cordelia into his arms and carrying her into his office. Being such a pain in the ass deserved a like punishment; he let his imagination go for it. Papers scattered as he bent her over his desk as she screeched in complaint. Yanking her skirt up and panties down, his bare hand repeatedly connecting with her firm rounded flesh making her skin hot and rosy with a few firm smacks. Just a little pain to make her take notice of the fact that he did not like to be pushed away.
His fantasy of revenge turned him on more than he wanted to admit to himself because he was certain it would not end there. Before the idea could go any further a rush of contrary emotions assaulted Angel. The lust pricking at his skin making his body stir played right along with his little vengeance scenario. He railed against it, but there was a part of him eager to explore the thought of her fighting him tooth and nail to gain the upper hand, until finally she gentled to his touch giving him what he really wanted, her warm, willing kisses.
Angel felt disgusted by this lack of control. Increasingly over the past few weeks, he noted that Cordelia was in his thoughts in ways that had nothing to do with her being a friend or his secretary. Methods of shutting her up were no longer flashes of verbal or physical restraint, but often involved his mouth closing over hers giving her barbed tongue something else to deal with.
The page blurred for a moment until he forced thoughts of kissing Cordelia out of his head. It was wrong. The demon side of him did not care. Far darker fantasies crept in now and then. Needs. Having Cordelia living here made it impossible to suppress them all. Over time, he hoped it might get easier to ignore his inner demon, but it just seemed to be getting worse.
‘The Prince’s Love Slave’ was not helping the situation. Now that he had superimposed Cordelia over Caecilia as the book’s heroine he began to feel far more invested in the character’s outcome. She was about to be gifted to a man three times her age. Angel did not like the situation at all and wondered what Cordelia saw in this book that she kept it around. Examining the cover art again he noted that the hero holding Caecilia in his arms looked nothing like the description of the fat old caliph.
False advertising? A poor representation of the hero? Maybe Cordelia had a secret penchant for older men with love handles. So far, he had found the novel more annoying than sexy.
As expected, Cordelia seemed to be enjoying ‘Private Dick’ despite her prediction that she would find it boring. Little gasps, sighs and harrumphs sounded every now and then suggesting that she was getting caught up in the mystery. Shifting positions again she lay prone with a throw pillow tucked beneath her unwittingly exposing her throat and propping up her breasts. Light and shadows caressed the curvaceous display. His eyes lingered there as he let his senses drink her in. Light arousal clung to her skin proving that she was not unmoved by the subtle scenes describing the detective’s skill in bed.
He knew that scent from the night she returned from the club more than a little drunk. When she convinced him to dance, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. The friction between their writhing bodies was a poor substitute for the real thing, but Cordelia’s delicious arousal stayed with him after he had left her that night. Although Angel felt grateful that she could not remember what happened between them feeling that he had taken advantage of her inebriated state there was no such impediment now— except the curse.
Desire and anger coiled up inside him making him tense up just as his cock stiffened against the jeans. He wore nothing beneath them so the sensation of skin on denim felt good. Resisting the urge to adjust himself knowing that Cordelia might notice, Angel let his attention return to the paperback hoping his lack of interest would cool things off.
For his part in a recent victory against desert brigands, one of the caliph’s sons, Prince Malik, had earned much respect and deserved to name his own reward. Eyeing the bounty of gifts being presented to the caliph that day, the prince seemed to be drawn to her. Though her handler explained what was happening Caecilia did not like her worth being compared to inanimate objects. She was telling him just that when the prince stepped up to take a look at her.
She went quiet upon his approach, as still as a stone statue. Covered by silks the only visible part of her body he could see was her eyes sparkling with defiance looking straight into his rather than being lowered to the floor. When he spoke to her in his native tongue the tone of his voice was almost soothing as if he was trying to gently tame a wild horse. Oddly, she found this prince of a foreign land quite beautiful in form and features. Different than her clansmen, but pleasing to the eye even if he was strangely garbed.
There was no chance of finding her way home again. That much Caecilia understood. Her world was lost to her. All she could do was follow the advice given. Be submissive. Hold her tongue. Learn quickly.
The prince made a comment that amused the crowd. Raucous laughter filled the grand chamber. Angel had the sudden feeling that Malik was going to regret that barb. Sure enough, just as he walked away to examine the next beautiful object in the treasures presented for his selection, an intricately carved ivory box full of gems, the rage that had been bubbling inside Caecilia finally boiled over. It was not that she actually wanted to belong to the prince, but it was humiliating to be overlooked for a few shiny rocks.
Though she had no idea what he said that made the crowd laugh, it was not complimentary. Nor did she stop to think about it. Screaming like a shrew Caecilia ripped the veil covering her head and tossed it at Prince Malik’s feet. The merchant begged for her silence. The crowd gasped in horror and them fell awestruck as they saw what had been hidden from their view.
One look from the prince and Caecilia stopped screaming. He seemed to be amused, but his gaze held a warning that she took to heart. Remembering her lessons on submissive behavior and the warnings not to look those above her station in the eye, she forced her gaze down to the floor where the caliph’s son now stood upon the silken veil.
Angel considered that the prince might order a flogging under such circumstances, but not for Caecilia. There was no question in his mind that Malik would choose her as his reward. The only question was how many pages would it take to get them into bed together. That was the whole point of the book, and yet still there was no sex. He was starting to think he had the wrong idea about these romances.
It did not take long. When Prince Malik claimed his prize just a few pages later, Angel tried to be critical about it. He would have touched her differently. Been more patient. Lasted longer. Despite wanting to find fault with the scene just to prove his point, Cordelia was right about the intensity. Maybe it was just that way because he kept imagining her in the heroine’s place. How was he supposed to answer when she asked if he thought the book was as hot as advertized? The book made him think of her. It gave him an excuse to assume the role of lover. Not that he needed another excuse.
A sudden cry of frustration sounded from Cordelia. “Again with the no goodnight kiss!” Flinging her book onto the couch, she pushed herself into a seated position and then to her feet striding away to stand with her back to him.
The wise thing to do would be to wait it out. Ignore Cordelia’s outburst and get on with the book in his hand. Shutting her out when she had something to say was next to impossible. Besides, he wanted to know what was going on to get her so riled up. “Detective Broderick not living up to your expectations?”
She tossed him a glare over one shoulder, but didn’t turn around. “For a detective he can’t see a good thing even when she’s standing right in front of him.”
Angel knew that she was talking about the novel, but her words seemed to have an echo that called something else to mind. “Maybe he can.” The relationship between Lance Broderick and his secretary Primrose Carson was more of a subplot weaving throughout the entire series than the main theme of the book. He did not want to give away too many details.
“Obviously not. He broods more than you do, always thinking about the case and about that last one that went so wrong. Can’t he take just a minute to notice that she’s not like that blonde bimbo who comes to visit him at the office?”
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” Angel’s mouth twisted wryly. “You’d be calling him something else if he actually kissed Prim while he still had a girlfriend. Besides, the book is written from Broderick’s perspective. What makes you think she wants that kind of attention?”
Wanting to see her reaction up close and no longer willing to let her keep her back to him Angel silently moved behind her. Cordelia startled at his touch as his fingers swept up from her wrist to gently close over her upper arm. As soon as she turned he let his hand drop to his side and waited for her to answer his question.
For a moment, she looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching car. Wide-eyed. Unable to do anything to escape. Cordelia’s face scrunched into an adorable confused expression that gave way to a look of abject horror. “Please tell me this book isn’t just a big tease. They do get together, right?”
“A little cliché chasing the secretary around the desk.” He tried to joke about it only for his laugh to come out sounding awkward. “What about building up a sense of anticipation?”
“Screw anticipation! One little kiss isn’t too much to ask for. It’s not like I thought they were going to go at it right there in the office.”
Angel suppressed a groan at that particular image having let that fantasy play out in his head just today. First on the desk, then up against the filing cabinet, and the door. “Where in the office?” he asked because he needed to know if they were even on the same wavelength.
“That couch he likes so much.” Cordelia’s quick answer proved that she had been thinking about it after all.
Good choice. Detective Broderick spent more time on that couch than he did behind his desk. He often lay there for hours thinking over the details of his case, or slept there overnight when it was too late to head home. Quite convenient for so many things like screwing his beautiful secretary— or letting Cordelia screw him, but keeping it at maddeningly slow pace, with his hands on her hips controlling their rhythm, sliding her up and down the length of his cock, and watching the ecstasy written across her face.
Damn, he was getting hard again, his cock tightening, becoming engorged. The snug jeans did nothing to hide the outline of his erection. If Cordelia needed evidence of Broderick’s attraction to his secretary, he knew she wasn’t going to find anything as obvious as that. Sticking his hands in his pockets was just going to call attention to the bulging denim, but frankly, Angel was feeling too on edge to care if Cordelia got an eyeful. It would not be the first time.
“What made you think he might kiss her?” Cordelia was not far enough into the book for that kind of thing. As far as he recalled, during the first half of the story, the delectable and efficient Miss Carson seemed as prim as her name implied.
“He’s a man. Isn’t that reason enough?” A deep sigh sounded as she moved over to pick up ‘Private Dick’ off the couch where it had landed haphazardly bending a few pages in the process. Cordelia tried to iron them out with her hand and let out a little mewl of frustration when the thick paper stock would not flatten out.
Angel reached over to take her hand stopping her from the futile attempt to make the creases in the first edition classic detective novel go away. His fingers slid across her palm with the thumb brushing across the back of her hand. He started to press tiny circles into her flesh. Cordelia made no move to stop him when he took her other hand in his for the same treatment. At the same time he pressed both thumbs down on her wrists holding there for few seconds.
Eyes half closed she murmured softly, “What are you doing? I’m pretty sure that vampires don’t need to check for pulses.”
“Acupressure. You’re all wound up.” Truthfully, so was he. The rhythmic movements of his fingers against her skin were supposed to induce relaxation, but she was right about one thing. He could feel her pulse racing, a soft staccato tap against his thumbs, which started circling over the pulse points.
A cautionary sigh escaped in the form of his name as his touch changed from soothing to stimulating. Cordelia stepped closer rather than pulling away, breathing irregularly, and looking simultaneously confused and aroused by his caress. Angel felt just as muddled, his nerves on a knife-edge. Torn between desire and the fear of where it might lead. He only had to let go. Nothing had happened yet that he could not take back. No harm, no foul.
Curiosity kindled a craving he could not resist. Leaning down, he grazed his mouth across the pout of her lips thinking maybe one taste would be enough to stop this hunger. He ate the little sound she made when he went back for seconds. With a quick release of her wrists Angel buried his hands in her hair grabbing onto fistfuls at first holding her there until she yielded to his increasingly intense kisses.
Excitement left her trembling hard and the sensation ramped up his own another notch. Thin layers of cotton fabric separated him from her skin as his hands raked down her ribs to curve around her hips. Cordelia clutched at his shoulders for support, and pressed herself up on the balls of her feet to get even closer. Palming her ass he gave the firm globes a teasing squeeze before pulling her hard against him, moaning into her mouth at the contact.
Her tongue, hot and wet, darted in teasingly. Letting her take the lead for a minute did nothing to slow things down. Ravenous, she used all the weapons at her disposal, instinct and passion guiding her actions more than experience. His were not the only cravings that needed sating.
The waist of her tank top rode up just enough to expose a patch of silken skin. Pushing underneath it he cupped her breast, his fingers curving around it, enjoying the weight of it in his palm. He brushed his thumb up to crest across its velvet peak. A wanton little cry emerged from the back of her throat as Cordelia arched into his touch causing a deeper echo from him.
There were too many layers between them. Touching her like this was not enough. He had to have his mouth on her, every gorgeous inch. Reciprocation would not be wise. No, that could get dangerous, but he did not want to think of what he could not have. It did not matter what started this only that he was going to find a way to make it happen, at least for her.
“These clothes,” he growled at the barrier they caused bunching the cotton material up to pull it away from her shoulder exposing tempting curves he needed to explore. Bending his head down he followed the natural path laid out for him making her arch and wriggle into his touch as his hand continued to fondle her breast.
The button popped open on his jeans as Cordelia’s roving hands moved with purpose. Her fingers brushed over the bulge that for the past few minutes had been pressing insistently against her abdomen. Angel’s head dropped low onto her shoulder as he held steady trying not to thrust against the fingertips sliding over the hard outline of flesh pressed up against the denim.
Reluctantly releasing his claim on her breast Angel dragged her hand away from his zipper. “I need this to be about you. Understand?”
Cordelia mewled a protest, but got it. “Undress me,” she challenged boldly. Lifting her arms up above her head she didn’t have to wait long for Angel to peel off the loose grey pajama top she wore over the white tank top. A long pause followed as he stared at the shape of her breasts beneath the thin cotton, their pointed tips and dusky areolas teasing him. Hooking a finger beneath the stretchy strap, he tugged down to expose her to his view and let out a husky moan just before he followed suit with the other letting her top fall to her waist.
With the back of his fingers he traced along the outer curves of her breasts and teased the taut velvet nipples by circling each with a hard knuckle. Before giving into the urge to take her into his mouth he knew that he needed to say something first. Talking was the last thing he wanted right now, but he had started this and allowing it to continue necessitated some ground rules.
Angel did not get any further than moaning her name when the ringing telephone interrupted them. His head jerked toward the shrill sound knowing that it signaled an end to everything that was about to happen between them. A furious curse went off in his head though outwardly he remained silent.
Backing away slowly, Cordelia did not bother hiding her frustration as she pulled up the straps of her tank top. “Noooooo. Not now! Anyone but her.”
The irony of the timing was not lost on him.
The phone rang again. It was an old rotary model rather than a modern push-button phone and had no answering machine attached.
There were only a handful of people with the number to his private line. All but one of them was in Sunnydale, and it seemed that Cordelia had already calculated the odds of who was on the other end of the line. “Aren’t you going to answer it? Buffy’s usually good for coming up with a timely apocalypse or just a excuse to brood for a few days.”
Cordelia’s prodding made him want to forget all about the damn phone and remind her that she wasn’t the only one feeling frustrated by the untimely call.
“Maybe it’s Doyle.” He would kill him later, but it could be something important like a vision. If he were lucky it would just be news of a bar brawl. The phone rang again. Angel moved toward it, but kept an eye on Cordelia who was not going to take that bet.
She had already picked up her grey pajama top and her copy of ‘Private Dick’ before the fourth ring. “Doyle would’ve hung up and called me by now.”
The phone receiver was already in his hand when Angel charged after her. Stretching the cord to its full length, he managed to grasp her wrist before she could dash past him. “Not so fast.” A gentle tug was all it took to reel her closer. He let go waiting a fraction of a second to see if she would fight this or try to run again. Brushing his fingers across her cheek he leaned in to slowly settle his lips onto hers holding them there until he felt Cordelia start to respond.
Angel pulled back only because he had no choice. His voice was rough with want as he said, “Leave the door open,” having every intention of following just as soon as he verified that the world wasn’t about to end.
Proudly defiant to the last, Cordelia paused in the doorway long enough to tell him, “Keep the book. We’ll just call our little challenge a draw. Detective Broody…ah, Broderick…made me hot. Taking it out on you like that, using somebody as a substitute, fictional or real, is just wrong.”
“Cordelia,” he ground out her name.
Just before disappearing into her apartment, she tagged on, “That goes for you too.”
Frustration mixed with anger as he watched her slide the heavy metal door shut and clicking the bolt into place.
Was that supposed to mean she thought he was just using her because he was worked up about ‘The Prince’s Love Slave’? Kissing her had nothing to do with the damn book. Okay, yes it put ideas into his head. Intensely hot, smolderingly sexy ideas that he had no business dreaming up much less daring to make happen.
God, she infuriated him. He wanted to rip that door off its hinges and—
Staring down at the source of the voice and recognizing it instantly, Angel realized he had to be the unluckiest person he knew. Doyle had not had a vision to be dealt with, or a bar brawl, which he could easily dismiss for now. Cordelia had jumped to exactly the right conclusion. It could not be put off any longer.
Lifting the receiver to his ear, he spoke slowly, trying to control the emotions raging through him.
“Buffy, it’s me.”