Title: Sin A Darkness Within Fic
Rating: R/N-17 – WARNING: Forced sex in part 1
Category: Suspense with a lot of angst and touches of fluff
Content: A/C & A/C/W/G friendship
Summary: This is the result of Marie’s request for a ‘Menacing’ Angel fic. Hopefully we will accomplish suspense & drama, sprinkled with comedic moments, doused with sexual tension, and for the big finale…romantic smut.
Spoilers: S1 ‘Eternity’ with a twist and set in early S2.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: Please ask first
Notes: *Collaborating Team: CydneStorm, Vampi, Stormy, Cali
The basement door slammed hard, echoing the weaker, but equally furious clap of the front entrance; and a coveted afternoon of peaceful research came to an abrupt end.
Arms crossed, they faced off. One with the strength to tear apart even the most fierce contender. The other, a tongue known to bring grown men to their knees.
“I told you to park the car in the back.” Angel spoke first, his tone soft but firm, barely drawing attention to the slight clench in his jaw.
“Sorry, must have forgot.” With just a hint of defiance, Cordelia goaded. Not enough to get into trouble, but enough to let the overbearing vampire know she wasn’t going to back down.
“Damn it Cordelia. Can you just do one thing I tell you to do?”
Angel’s tone was suddenly gruffer, Wesley noticed; and debated leaving the safety of his office. Stepping into the lobby, he halted. Unless timed with a moment of silence, his entrance would have little effect; and it appeared he had missed the moment.
“Well duh. I thought we covered that already.” Cordelia tossed the keys, unblinking when a quick hand snatched them from the air. “You want your car in the back, you put it there.” She finished, grinning at the bright ray of sunshine canvassing the courtyard.
Whatever had happened, Cordelia was deeply upset. Otherwise, Wesley reasoned, she would never taunt Angel with his intolerance to sunlight. Their squabble was certainly unexpected, especially from Angel. Normally, Angel would simply walk away and Cordelia would let him; both knowing that distance was the best course of action when tempers flared. However, that particular method wasn’t working this time; and sucking up his courage, Wesley jumped into the fray.
“Don’t Cordelia me. It’s not my fault.” Hands fisted on her hips, Cordelia stood her ground. She wasn’t taking the blame. This time she was right, and more important, Angel was wrong.
Wesley pondered his place in the hierarchy of Angel Investigations. Like Cordelia, he was an employee, but unlike Cordelia, he understood his place as subordinate. This new role of referee had arrived without warning, and was accepted most reluctantly. He looked to Angel, hardly expecting an explanation. Not one accustomed to explaining his actions, Angel stood rigid; and Wesley noticed the clench in the vampire’s jaw tighten just a little more. Wesley turned, prepared to take a less direct approach.
“Cordelia, what happened?”
“Where do you want me to start? Where the big oaf attacked the director or where Mr. We-Don’t-Need-Money turned down a case?”
“Cordelia, I’m not telling you again. I did not attack that man.”
Gruff had morphed to harsh. A tone that meant this discussion was over. Wesley could only hope that were true…but hope could be fleeting at times.
“That commercial would have gotten me national exposure. And you got me fired!”
Wesley’s head whipped toward Cordelia, but before his mouth could open in response, he whipped back to Angel.
“The only thing exposed in that commercial was flesh.”
“Oh please. I was wearing a bathing suit.”
Dark eyes narrowed, warning that nothing less than total honesty would be tolerated; and with no other recourse, Cordelia threw up her hands in exasperation. “Fine. It was a bikini-but nothing you wouldn’t see on any beach. Well if you ever went to the beach that is.”
The girl would have the last word if it meant her very life. Thank God, Wesley mused, that wouldn’t be the case. Well, hopefully. Like a tennis ball lobbing back and forth across the net, his head whipped to Cordelia then back to Angel.
“It was a shells, Cordelia. And little shells glued in the right places are still little shells.”
A brief lull granted opportunity and Wesley snatched it before thinking. “Shells?” He asked, feeling a warm flush at the inappropriate portrait forming.
“See? Wes gets the picture. Glancing at his other employee, the one that understood who was in charge; Angel caught the reddish hue and nervous waggle of his Adam’s apple. He moved toward the man, his casual stroll concealing inner turmoil. “Maybe too good a picture.” Angel whispered as dark eyes delivered a different warning.
Taking a deep breath, Wesley stepped back, putting a little breathing room between him and his unhappy employer. “Cordelia, if Angel turned down a case, I’m sure he had good reason. And as for attacking a human, well…” Suddenly, he felt dizzy. Perhaps it was from all the head volleying, or perhaps it was the warm flush that refused to dissipate. “I’m sure Angel had good reason-just as I’m certain,” Wesley inserted for good measure, “that Angel would never act on mere assumption.”
“Oh my God! The Case. I almost forgot about Rebecca Lowell.”
“Who is Rebecca Lowell?”
Damn it, Angel silently groused, unaware that the heavy grunt came out loud and hard. If he had to discuss that woman one more time, heads would roll. A little pretty one in particular.
The small distance he had procured was of little value. A low growl reverberated, and Wesley was certain it was directed at him. He just wasn’t sure why.
“She’s Raven of On Your Own, that’s who.” Angel’s lack of in-the-know, Cordelia could understand; but Wesley should at least know the woman was a famous actress. “It was only a hit television show for like nine and half years, people.” Nothing. Wesley was blank and Angel was, well just being Angel. “Did you two live in a cave before you met me?”
“I rarely watch American television.” Wesley offered as an excuse.
“OK, forget television, forget famous. That’s not the point. The point is, this woman helped me get a national commercial, and she’s an innocent in trouble; and for some reason, Angel refuses to help her.”
God, Cordelia was grating his last nerve. Angel had never met anyone that could crawl under his skin the way she could. One minute he would walk through fire or swim through holy water to protect her. The next minute fantasies of slow bloody torture filled his thoughts. “For the last time, Cordelia. That woman is not an innocent.”
“And just how do you know that? You don’t even know her.”
“I know her kind.” Angel defended. The unfamiliar need to justify his decision making him angrier by the second.
“Pffttt. Know her kind. What do you know?” Angel had to be the most stubborn vampire that ever lived. Although, Cordelia conceded, she didn’t really know any other vampires; at least not beyond the run or die stage. “You know what, Angel?” Cordelia jabbed her finger in the air, the pointy weapon expertly aimed at the source of her resentment. “You’re just pissed off about the commercial. So what if the director wanted me to show a little skin? Not all of us are eunuchs!”
His fists clenched tight, pale skin blanching to a ghostly white. Gold flecks rimmed brown irises, creating a dark, amber swirl. And just when Cordelia didn’t think it could get any worst, “Maybe it just doesn’t stand at attention for you, sweetheart,” rasped with more abrasion than she had ever heard.
Hazel eyes widened in surprise then flickered with hurt, forcing back colorful images of retribution that had clouded better judgment. It was too late though. He couldn’t take it back; and the truth was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. “I said no, and I mean no.” The timbre of his voice pealed finality; and turning, Angel took the steps two at a time, abruptly ending their argument.
Control firmly in place, Angel was ready to rejoin his staff. Cordelia would accuse him of running off to brood. Maybe he did sometimes; but he’d made his point. Whether to brood or take a case, the decision would always be his. He stopped just above the lobby floor, gazing out at the wide, empty space. His casual saunter down the steps had hardly been worthwhile with no one there to see it.
Making his way across the room, Angel scented the air. Wesley was in his office, Cordelia was gone, and so was Gunn. Assuming the young man had business with him, Angel half-expected a knock on his door; but the intrusion never came.
“Where’s Cordelia?” he asked, surprised that even Cordelia would take lunch after taking the morning off.
“She went to the center with Charles.” Wesley answered without looking up. His tone insinuating he assumed Angel knew his employee’s agenda.
Obviously that wasn’t the case, because questions continued. “The East Hills Center.” Wesley offered, despaired by the lack of comprehension on Angel’s face. He had weeks of translations ahead of him before unlocking secrets hidden inside the scroll, and so far had barely managed a full hour without interruption. “The one operated by Charles’ friend, Anne.” For all intents and purposes, Angel was an intelligent man, and Wesley was certain the light would click any minute. “It’s at 1032 Crenshaw Street.”
“Yea, right. I remember now.” Honestly, Angel didn’t, but that didn’t matter. Because he now knew Cordelia was with Gunn at The East Hills Center on Crenshaw, without permission to take the afternoon off. “Okay, I’ve got to go.”
“Go? Go where?” Wesley asked, looking up for the first time. “Ah Angel, it’s a rather sunny afternoon.”
“Sewer.” Came the single-word explanation before Angel turned again to leave.
“Ah, Angel?” Wesley debated the prudence of his undertaking, but admittedly, curiosity was getting the best of him. “Did you actually attack that man?”
Slumping down into the chair, Angel leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. “Kind of.”
“Would it be overstepping my bounds to ask why?”
“He treated her like a piece of meat.” Actually wanting to talk was a rare occasion for Angel; so he threw one leg onto the desk, ignoring Wesley’s perturbed look. “Have you ever known Cordelia to take crap off anybody?”
“Actually…no.” Eyeing the large boot resting on his papers, Wesley removed his glasses. Giving the lenses a thorough cleaning would allow him to adequately ponder Angel’s question. “But many young women come to LA with dreams of stardom. Perhaps Cordelia isn’t quite ready to give up that dream.” Wesley concluded, beaming a satisfied smile at his assessment.
Scrubbing his hands over his face, Angel let the implications of Wesley’s theory sink in. He had thought his mission had become their mission. Somewhere in the last few weeks, he had assumed Cordelia was content living in his world. Obviously, Cordelia had other ideas. Angel took a deep breath, feeling his lungs swell with the various aromas. He liked the way the old hotel smelled. Unchanged by modernization, it withstood the test of time; but things unable to adapt were often left behind and forgotten.
“I’m late.” Already out of the office, Angel turned back, a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I’m meeting with our new client.”
“You’re taking the case? But you told Cor-”
“Cordelia needs to learn that I’m the boss.”
Good thing holding your breath isn’t a health issue. Wesley silently responded to the empty space before returning to an evening of peaceful translation.
“You’re not fond of sunshine?” Oliver Simon asked, closing the blind over his only window.
“I’m a night person.”
“Me too.” Rebecca offered too anxiously before taking on a more demure look. “It’s just that… it makes it easier to hide.”
“Seems like you’re in the wrong business if you want to hide.”
“If you two will excuse me, I have a dinner appointment.” Oliver eyed the man still standing in the doorway, and unaware of keen ears, leaned over his fading money-maker and whispered, “Call me later and let me know how it went,” then exited the office, leaving Rebecca to give her performance of a lifetime.
“You’ve honestly never seen a single episode of my show?”
Still leaning against the doorframe, Angel simply nodded in agreement.
“Then you should stop by my house tonight. I’ll give you a private screening.”
“Thanks for the invitation, but maybe you should explain why you need my help.”
He wasn’t enamored with her feminine wiles, at least not yet. Blowing a discontented sigh, Rebecca pulled a letter from her purse and reached it up to Angel. “I have more at home. All the same, written in blood. The creep also has my private telephone number, so I’m getting calls in the middle of the night. Most of my devoted fans are harmless but this…this is really scaring me.”
The actress was good, but the question was; was she good enough. Finally stepping inside the office, Angel took the paper; expressionless as he scanned the contents. I will make you love me. You will see me but I won’t speak to you unless you SEE ME. There is no OTHER WAY!! We will be together. It will be SOON. I will be…
Having read enough, he tossed the letter onto the desk. “This isn’t blood.” Angel deadpanned, suddenly disappointed with his discovery. A little blood play might provide a nice diversion from self-imposed restrictions.
“Are you sure?”
“It doesn’t take an expert to identify blood. Why haven’t you taken this to the police?”
“Oliver has been after me to, but then, I’d just be hand-feeding the story to the Enquirer. So no, thanks.”
They were up to something. Angel just needed to figure out what; and what it had to do with him. Stalkers weren’t uncommon to celebrities, and he doubted one over obsessed fan would incite this level of fear. “How do you know I won’t do the same?”
“Because you didn’t even know who I was; and it’s obvious you’re not after earning a quick buck.”
“I get by.”
“Are you worried that Cordelia might sell me out?” She may have hit a nerve, but with stoic features chiseled in stone it was hard to be sure. Until…
“Cordelia’s not like that. She’s…” His air of detachment forgotten, impassioned eyes narrowed on the woman. “Good.”
Rebecca barely felt the sting. She had been in the business too long for such a meager slur of her moral character to penetrate hardened layers. “You’re still upset about the commercial; aren’t you?”
“Cordelia decided not to do that commercial. Creative differences with the director.”
“She decided, or you decided for her?” Rebecca challenged. This guy wanted all her cards on the table. Time to see if Angel played by the same rules he enforced.
“We’re friends. Which means we make important decisions together.” It wasn’t a lie entirely. Besides, Cordelia wouldn’t find out about his distortion of the truth. He had made his feelings about the commercial clear, and Cordelia knew when he meant business.
“Does this morality include you too?”
“I have my moments.”
“Then you’ll take my case?” Chiseled stoic returned, but Rebecca refused to be discouraged from her goal. “I think you’ll find we’re a lot more alike than you think.”
Leaning against the desk, his eyes scanned up her body until reaching her face; red lips and dark brown eyes staring back. He had disliked her instantly, but not for the reasons given. Rebecca Lowell reminded Cordelia of choices no longer available to her, but choices youthful dreams would encourage her to hold onto. And I’ll be with you until you do. Choices that wouldn’t include him and his mission.
“I’ll take your case.” Angel stood, folding his arms across his chest. “Not because I don’t think this is a matter for the police, but because…” Rebecca was getting what she wanted, his reason didn’t matter. “I’ll put out a few feelers and get back to you.” He would help her because this stranger was important to Cordelia; and Cordelia was important to him.
Brow furled in confusion, Cordelia stared, certain she had heard wrong. “Is this like a sleepover?”
“A sleepo-no.” For someone unaccustomed to defending his actions, Angel was doing it a lot lately. “Vampires don’t do sleepovers, Cordelia.”
“Well you said you were staying at Rebecca Lowell’s house, and you have your little overnight bag.” Cordelia pointed at the leather satchel then aimed her accusing finger at Angel. “What do you call it?”
“Since I took her case against better judgment, I call it giving you what you want.” Angel spun on his heels, his attention fixed on the contents of his bag. With any luck the stalker would make his move tonight and this case would be over.
Eyes narrowing on Angel’s back, Cordelia absently chewed her bottom lip. Both had said things they didn’t mean, but like always, she thought all was forgiven. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Angel was still angry and doing this to get back at her. “Angel?”
“Cordelia, don’t.” Raking tense fingers through his hair, Angel debated telling Cordelia the truth but quickly dismissed the idea. Whatever the reason she was upset over him spending the night with a client, she’d get over it. Knowing that he was attending a premiere with a famous actress and not taking her would put him in the doghouse for weeks. “I’ll be back in the morning. Until then…Wes is in charge.”
Fuck! Ignoring the indignant huff, Angel snatched up his bag and walked out without looking back. Why don’t I just save Cordelia the trouble and stake myself?
Fearful of being caught in the middle again, Wesley had kept his opinion to himself; and now wished he could follow Angel’s lead and vacate the premises. “Cordelia, I think-”
“Shut up Wesley! Just because you’re not a vampire doesn’t mean I won’t stake your ass.” The bathroom door slammed hard, echoing the trenchant force of her threat.
Wesley was foolish to think he could reason with Cordelia, but he wasn’t alone in his imprudence. Angel believed he was giving Cordelia exactly what she wanted. Knowing what a woman wanted then delivering it to her satisfaction was an age-old secret that had eluded the male beast since the dawn of time. Evidently, Wesley acknowledged with a good bit of satisfaction, vampires had equally failed in the quest.
Rebecca safely inside her house, his job was done; and Angel figured any cleanup belonged to the police. Turning his attention to his injuries, he removed his jacket only to discover there weren’t any. Mulling over the torn fabric and lack of blood, he absently threaded a finger through one of the holes in his jacket. Even vampires bleed from bullet wounds. Getting shot might not kill him, but it hurt; and Angel had felt worse pain from a hard punch to the jaw. “Want to explain why your stalker uses blanks?”
Rebecca Lowell wasn’t a very good actress. Her unconvincing attempt to look surprised was proof of that. “You can drop the damsel in distress act. It isn’t working.”
“I did have a stalker. But he disappeared, and so did the publicity.” Calm, just stay calm, became her silent chant. She could still pull this off as long as she kept control of her fear. “Oliver arranged for one of his unknowns to pretend he was my stalker.” Eyes cold and expression blank, it was impossible for Rebecca to tell if Angel believed her. “But I swear, I didn’t know he was a fake when I hired you.” She easily lied, hoping to appease his suspicions.
“Okay, we were both lied to.”
“I didn’t want to lie, but I couldn’t risk Oliver dropping me.”
If this woman was the victim of an unscrupulous agent, Angel didn’t want to add to her distress; but he wasn’t interested in comforting hurt feelings either. Plus, explaining to Cordelia why he hadn’t been paid was a big a concern. Questions would be asked, answers would be avoided; a conversation that was bound to lead to another argument. “Pay me and our business is over.”
“Please stay. I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Rebecca pleaded, her desperation more real than Angel could possibly imagine. If her plan was going to work, it had to happen tonight. Once the vampire left, she wouldn’t have a legitimate reason to be alone with him again.
“Rebecca,” Angel hesitated, his reason not readily clear. She was an attractive woman, but not one that would put his soul at risk. “What you need, I can’t…”
“I just want company. Stay and have a drink with me. Give me a chance to prove I’m not a bad person.”
“One drink,” Angel relented. “Then you pay me and I leave.” He scrubbed his palm over the back of his head, certain his decision would bite him on the ass.
“Whatever you say. Why don’t you change back into your clothes while I get the wine. I’m sure you’re dieing to get out of that suit.”
Hurrying into the kitchen, Rebecca quickly snatched two bottles from the refrigerator and filled the glasses already set out on a tray. The red contents almost identical, she placed Angel’s check next to his glass. Then at the last minute, reconsidered the dose a vampire might require.
Oliver’s source had warned him the vampire wouldn’t be swayed easily. He was close to his friends, especially the girl, Oliver had told her. “I’m just going to borrow him, Miss Chase, you’ll get him back.” Taking a deep breath, Rebecca added Angel’s special bottle of wine to the tray, and mentally prepared for the final stage of her plan.
Setting the tray on the coffee table, Rebecca casually announced, “Your fee, and I hope, a peace offering,” as she reached Angel his check and a full glass of wine.
Tucking the check into his pocket, Angel sipped the dark red liquid, nodding in approval. “Not bad. I like wine. Not many people know that.”
“I know a lot more about you than you think.” She tilted her head, her lips spreading into a sly smile.
“No one knows me.” He absently informed as her took a larger sip, enjoying how the full-bodied flavor of the wine coated his tongue.
“I’ve lied to you once, but I promise to never lie to you again.” Rebecca whispered as she lifted the bottle to refill Angel’s glass. “I know you’re a vampire, and I’m not afraid.” It was a lie. Probably the biggest lie Rebecca had ever told, but she wasn’t foolish enough to lie to herself. She was afraid. The decision she’d made would change her life forever. And the unknown possibilities of that decision both excited and scared her beyond comprehension.
He should be angry at her admission, but the usual aversion to humans lay dormant, unheeding of the quiet warning echoing inside his head. Except for a brow arched in surprise, his face remained almost unreadable; but the slight waver of his stance indicated Angel was on his way to being a more agreeable accomplice.
“Why don’t we sit down. Relax a little.” Rebecca pressed her hand against his chest, smiling contentedly when Angel allowed her to coax him onto the couch. She cuddled next to him, her thigh sliding next to his, her head tilting just enough to graze his shoulder.
“This is nice.” Angel whispered. His head falling back against the sofa as his eyes drifted shut.
“This. I miss this.”
“You don’t have to.” Rebecca cooed, easing herself over Angel’s lap. “You can have whatever you want.”
“What are doing? We shouldn-”
“Ssshhhh. Let me help you relax.” Rebecca lifted up the glass of drug-spiked wine, pressing it against Angel’s lips.
His objection forgotten, he drank it greedily, enjoying the strange euphoria washing over him. Rebecca smelled of perfume and female arousal, but it lacked the softer redolence he’d grown accustomed to over the past year. The sweet ambrosia, he resentfully cautioned unguarded yearnings, that could only be tasted in fantasies.
“Hmmmm… warm. Cordelia’s warm. Sooo warm.”
Rebecca paused at the mumbled confession. Oliver had assured her the two shared a deep friendship, but nothing more. Thinking back to the audition, she looked for subtle signs that might have been missed. He had been protective; then taking a closer look, jealous. Maybe Angel wanted more, but admitting it would risk the relationship they have now. It would seem, Rebecca reasoned, the vampire had a secret he kept hidden even from himself.
“You like her; don’t you?” She asked, refilling Angel’s glass.
“She smells like peaches. Ripe and juicy, so sweet.” Angel continued, seemingly unaware of his companion.
Under different circumstances, she’d be insulted. But for this, Rebecca was willing to fill whatever fantasy the vampire wanted. “Tell me about Cordelia.” She gently prodded, grinding into Angel’s groin as her mouth nipped at his throat.
“Can’t.” Angel rolled his head from side to side. “It’s a secret. Can’t ever tell.”
“You can tell me. No, show me.” She purred against his throat. “Show me how you feel about Cordelia. I’ll keep your secret.”
Angel started to protest; and still holding the wine glass between them, Rebecca dipped her finger inside, rubbing the red liquid across his lips. “You know you want this.” Rebecca ground her hips again, and this time Angel latched his hands onto her hips pushing her harder against him.
He captured her lips, pulling her closer as his tongue invaded the warmth inside her mouth. His hands roamed over her back, seeking out the soft, round curves that invaded his dreams.
Innate senses floating in a wave of unfamiliar contentment, Angel struggled to clear his mind. He pushed Rebecca away, cursing himself for being so easily manipulated by the woman.
“Angel don’t resist this. We both have something the other wants.”
“I do want this, but not with you.” His head swimming, Angel squeezed his eyes tight, willing dangerous desires into the background as the line between reality and dreams continued to blur. “What the hell did you do to me?” He demanded, no longer in the mood to play out forbidden fantasies.
“Just a little doximol to help you relax. The effect will be gone by morning.”
“You went to all this trouble for what? To fuck a vampire?”
“No, that part’s for you.” Rebecca anxiously explained as she tried to climb back onto Angel’s lap. “What I want comes after.”
Angel shook his head with a violent jerk; but thoughts of reclaiming control drifted further and further into the background. “This is where I ask, what do you really want.”
“I want to be like you.” Tilting her head back, Rebecca scraped a manicured nail across her throat, hissing at the burn as skin peeled back letting blood seep from the small wound.
His nostrils flared as the rich infusion of human life wafted into the air. Unique and forbidden, it filled his senses. The quiet warning called out again, but Angel didn’t want to listen. Maybe he wouldn’t, just this one time.
The blissful serenity of only minutes before gone, his expression turned cold, almost callous. Clutching her hand inside his, Angel raised the glass to his lips. Throwing his head back, he filled his mouth, allowing the overflow to streak down his chin. He swallowed hard, his chest heaving as the heady elixir streamed down his throat.
It had been so long since he had felt this freedom. Fear, hate, lust, need, unbridled passions running rampant; and as lingering remnants of control faded into oblivion, not even a flicker of guilt. Tightening his grip, he pulled her against him until the glass shattered from the pressure. The jagged shards cut into her flesh; and uncaring of Rebecca’s struggle to break free or the painful cries contorting her face, Angel rediscovered abandoned pleasures.
Dark eyes roaming over her face, he smiled at her agony. He missed that. The pain and fear. Pressing his hand against her lower back, he forced her into a strained arch. Breasts pushed forward, his tongue licked at the warmth seeping from her skin. “There’s a price for being like me.” Angel growled, recapturing her mouth in a brutal kiss.
His tongue forcing its ways past her lips, Rebecca gagged on the bitter, metallic taste of her own blood. She felt sick, the vile taste trapped in her throat, her stomach churning. Desperate for eternal youth, Rebecca had been willing to barter life. Now she was desperate to save it. “Angel, please listen to me. You don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this.”
Angel shoved her off his lap, sending Rebecca onto the floor in a hard thud. Dark brown irises fading inside a circle of gold flecks, he straddled her crumpled form. “This isn’t what you wanted?” Bone and muscle shifted, deforming handsome features as jagged teeth over-filled his mouth. “To die so you could live forever?”
The scream caught in her throat, strained vocal cords barely managing a dry husk. “No-I mean yes. I did, but I don’t want it now.”
His mouth stretched into a cruel smirk as his hand effortlessly worked his belt buckle; the rasp of his zipper sounding out against her quiet sobs. “Then be careful what you ask for.” Flipping her over with a rough jolt, Angel gripped the hem of her dress, ripping it up the side. Then looped the narrow band over his finger and tore it away. He ignored the muffled groan as his hands tightened around her hips; and pulling Rebecca to her knees, shoved inside her, burying himself to the hilt.
Lost in the sensation, the image came without warning, too quick for him to stop it. Full, round breasts heaving with desire. A narrow strip of lace barely concealing the dark patch between her legs before disappearing into the lush curves of her bottom. His body shivered at the enticing picture. His soul howled at the disgust she would feel seeing him now. Angel shook his head, forcing the vision from her mind’s eye. Tomorrow everything would be as it was. Tomorrow he would pretend he didn’t fantasize about his friend.
Rebecca whimpered against the unrelenting assault, but her instincts to survive found and latched onto a thread of hope. “Cordelia will hate you if she finds out.” She hissed, certain her feeble threat had been drowned out by the heavy grunts blowing against her neck until…
“Say her name again and I’ll bite your tongue off.” His hand fisted in her hair, Rebecca cried out when Angel yanked her head back. “Go near her and I’ll kill you.” The growl resonating from his chest chilled her to the bone; and surrendering to her fate, Rebecca fell limp as Angel continued to mercilessly pummel her body.
Angered by the climax by eluded him, and spurred on by Rebecca’s pleading sobs, he forced his thrusts deeper and harder until her body reacted, jerking away from the brutal invasion. Pressing his fingers hard against her flesh, Angel growled a warning that promised retribution, and quickened his pace, ignoring the sobbing woman trapped beneath him. But despite his body’s need for completion, release refused to come. The frantic propulsion of his hips slowed, until finally exhausted, he slumped over Rebecca’s trembling form.
Cordelia. She was embedded in his soul. Not even his demon could cast her out.