Unexpected Angel Page 12

  “I told him not to say anything,” she sighs. The interesting thing is she doesn’t pull away from me. Instead, she buries her face deep in my chest and stands there. My hand ghosts up and down her back, trying to show her I don’t think any less of her.

  “Precious, you can’t expect him to keep something like that from me. It would be nice if you trusted me enough to say something.”

  “I. Don’t. Know. You.” It feels like she is punching me with each word. I wish more than just about anything that we had gotten off to a different start so ours wasn’t this backwards relationship where we lived together before we know the most basic things about one another.

  She pulls away from me, storming into the kitchen. It’s funny how she’s pissed off that I dared to call this her home, and yet she’s standing in the kitchen rearranging my pantry.

  “I’m not sure what I need to do to get it through your head, Dylan. While I appreciate what you’ve done for me, this isn’t my home, I’m not your ‘Precious’ and I never will be.” When she blows her bangs away from her face, it’s all I can do to keep from laughing.

  “Get changed, we’re going to dinner,” I call out over my shoulder as I retreat to the bedroom before she can throw something heavy at me.

  “You could ask me to dinner! You do know that, right?” She bellows. All I do is chuckle as I close the door.

  (Tasha)

  Dylan Caprese is officially the most stubborn man I know! Oh, and I now know his last name only because a package was delivered for him and that’s who it was addressed to. So yeah, Mister Caprese thinks he can tell me to get dressed for dinner without bothering to ask if I have other plans. I don’t, but it would still be nice to hear the man ask rather than tell. Just once.

  I start to rifle through my small suitcase, wondering what I’m supposed to wear to dinner. My office is fairly casual, so most of what I brought with me is jeans and polo shirts. If that was suitable for this evening, I highly doubt he would have told me to change.

  “Look in the hall closet,” I hear Dylan shout from behind his bedroom door. His neighbors must love us hollering back and forth through the unit.

  I open the door to the hall closet and find a beautiful emerald green sweater dress. A bag hanging next to the dress contains undergarments, accessories and a pair of conservative nude heels. Apparently, it’s okay for me to have a heel as long as he picks them out.

  “I’m really starting to worry about you and your fascination for buying women’s clothing,” I say playfully as I head into the hall bathroom to get ready. “Where are we going, anyway?”

  “You’ll see. You might want to tie your hair back.”

  “You do realize I don’t like surprises, right?”

  “Nope, didn’t know that. See, we’re already learning about one another!”

  “You’re impossible, Dylan.”

  “So I’ve heard. Hurry up, you were late getting home, and our reservation is in thirty minutes.”

  When we step into the elevator, I notice that Dylan pushes the button for the ground floor rather than the parking garage. “Where are we going?”

  Dylan leans over, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose. “I said you’ll see,” he laughs.

  I’m not sure why he’s in such a good mood today, but I’ll take it. I feel bad for being a bitch to him when I first walked in the door. What he’ll never know is I feel too comfortable in his space. I don’t like that feeling because that’s what will ultimately lead to me being dependent on him and being crushed when he gets sick of my life.

  “Come on, Precious.” He holds the door open for me, reaching for my fingers as I pass by him. As we walk up a slight hill, his arm slides behind my back, steadying me against the uneven ground. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way.”

  I can’t help but laugh. It’s easy to look good when your man is the one dressing you.

  Crap, there I go again.

  “Thanks, some guy I know left this in a closet for me.” I twirl playfully as we wait for the light to turn.

  “Some guy, huh? Is it serious between you and the shopper?”

  “He seems to think so,” I giggle, evading the question.

  “What about you? Do you like him as much as he must like you to dress you up like that?”

  “Eh, he’s okay.” That earns me a swat on the backside from Dylan as we begin to cross the street.

  The late October breeze coming off the lake is cold, making me realize he isn’t such a perfect shopper after all. “You know, if you were going to make me walk to wherever we’re going, you could have gotten me a wrap or something to help me keep warm.” I smile at him as soon as the words leave my mouth so he knows I’m not being an ungrateful snot.

  “Do you want my jacket?” He begins to remove the black blazer he’s wearing over a cream-colored cashmere sweater. While I have no doubt he’ll be warm enough without the jacket, I’m not going to take it from him.

  “I’ll be fine as long as we’re not going too far,” I assure him. His hand on the small of my back guides me to the left to cross the street again. At the end of the block, he ushers me into a tall, dark building. I’m no longer nervous when Dylan takes me somewhere unexpected. When we walk through the doors into a quaint Italian restaurant, I wonder how I never knew this place exists.

  The maître d’ leads us through the restaurant before seating us at a table overlooking Lake Monona. The view from here is gorgeous. Dylan orders two of the nightly specials and a bottle of Merlot. Nick used to order for me and I hated it. The way Dylan describes the dish we’re about to eat with such appreciation, I find myself grateful that he ordered. If left to my own devices, I likely would have ordered something simple and uninspired.

  Without the excitement of a chance meeting in a club, a football game, or home break-ins, an awkward silence fills the room. I pick the tomatoes out of my pasta dish, piling them on the side of my plate, more for something to do than because of any food aversion.

  “Not a fan?” Dylan asks, pointing with his fork at the side of my plate.

  “Have to be in the right mood for cooked tomatoes. Unless they’re on pizza, in which case I’ll never turn them down.” I look up at the sound of Dylan’s fork hitting the side of his own plate. His fingers are steepled in front of his mouth.

  “So, you prefer pizza to fine dining?” This type of idle chatter is something that I have only heard about from friends. Their stories of first dates where you don’t know what topics are safe and which are off limits. The upside of marrying the first man I dated is that I managed to avoid moments like these for many years.

  “I wouldn’t know,” I admit. “I’ve never really had a chance to get used to going out for nice meals.” We’re quickly wading into territory I would prefer to avoid.

  Dylan shakes his head in disbelief. “You mean to tell me you and your husband didn’t go out to eat?” The tick of his jaw is a tell that he’s not happy with this information. I can’t understand why it matters to him.

  “Ex-husband,” I correct him. “We did, but nothing fancy. I think Famous Dave’s was about as high end as we got.”

  “You deserve so much more than that, Precious.” I hear the softness in his voice again. There are times where his tone is comforting, but now that the rush of the weekend has passed, I feel like I’m under a microscope when I’m around him. I fear that everything he learns about me will drive him one small step further away from me because I’ve seen a glimpse of his world and it’s far from anything I have seen before.

  “And how would you know?” I ask sardonically. “Do I need to remind you, again, that we’re practically strangers?”

  “Must I remind you that I consider myself a good judge of character, so the rest is just details?” He sounds so sure of himself. Part of me wants to reach across the table and wipe that cocky smirk off his face. With my tongue.

  Dang, there’s something about Dylan that is turning me into a sex-crazed freak.

 
“Okay, so maybe it’s time we get to the details.” Dylan pushes his plate to the side and I do the same. We have more important things to worry about than finishing every last noodle. He slides his chair closer to mine so we’re both enjoying the same view of the lake. I wish it were warmer so we could sit out on the gorgeous patio, enjoying our wine and talking.

  When his hand comes to rest on my thigh, I feel my body tighten. I glance over my shoulder to see if anyone can see the way he’s pushing under the hem of my skirt. “Relax, Precious,” he whispers in my ear. “If it gets to be too much, tell me.”

  I nod, too stunned to say anything else. I can’t tell him to stop because that’s the last thing I want him to do. I don’t want to tell him to continue because it feels wrong for him to be touching me this way in public. Instead, I bite my lip and stare into the distance, concentrating on remaining silent.

  “Tell me, Precious, where’s the most public place you’ve had sex?” His fingers trail higher, his pinky brushing the edge of my black lace panties. If he keeps this up, I’ll be coming in his hand right in front of everyone. Luckily, it’s getting late and there are only a few tables still occupied.

  I don’t answer him, afraid that if I open my mouth, I will either moan or beg him for more. “Precious, you know how I feel about you not answering my questions.” His free hand cups my cheek, turning me so I’m looking at him. “Now, would you like to answer or should I show you what happens to naughty girls who don’t do as they’re told?”

  (Dylan)

  Throughout dinner, I try to keep my hands to myself. Tasha’s biggest objection to seeing where things could lead between us is that we don’t know one another and I want to change that for her. At the same time, part of me getting to know Tasha is finding out how far I can push her before she tells me to stop. If she’s the type of girl who believes sex should only happen in the bedroom and missionary is the only position, things will never work between us. I highly doubt that’s the case seeing as she begged me to bury my cock inside of her while my head was pressed between her thighs, but it’s possible. She was under a lot of stress over the weekend and stress makes people do things they wouldn’t do normally.

  Tasha swallows hard when I threaten to punish her for not answering my question. Looking into her light eyes, I don’t see fear. If I’m not mistaken, her sweet mind is racing with all the lewd things I could do to her. Her thighs clench around my hand and I can feel how turned on she is. My precious angel might be inexperienced, but I have a feeling that’s a good thing. Given my limited knowledge regarding her ex, no way in hell did he have any place trying to dominate her sexually.

  “Do you like to defy me, Precious?” She stares at the table silently. I see her head cock to the side and I know she’s doing this on purpose.

  Her legs part slightly, inviting me to see how turned on she is by my teasing. My hand slides higher, one finger dipping into the side of her panties. The black lace is wet. I allow my pinky to graze over her tight nub and she bites her lip.

  “Are you ready to answer me?” I ask forcefully. She purses her lips and shakes her head. I fucking love that she’s relaxed enough to see how far I’ll go. Little does she know that I will give her an orgasm right here in the restaurant if she pushes me. It’s late, there aren’t many people here, and I know most of the staff. I glance behind me and see most of them are sitting at the bar, waiting for closing time, oblivious to anything going on around them.

  I turn my hand, giving me better access to her hot pussy. My index finger dips inside her body and she’s unable to hold back a low moan. My finger pushes deeper into her, reaching for that magic spot inside and she reaches beneath the table, clasping my wrist.

  “Does this count?” She asks breathlessly. “This, right now, is the only time I’ve had anything close to sex in public.”

  I pull my hand back, satisfied with her answer and she lets out a weak cry. Leaning in, I kiss her cheek as a reward for obeying me. “I love that I’m able to give you this experience,” I sigh, nuzzling my face against her neck. “Next question…were you turned on watching people get spanked last weekend? Is that something you want to try?”

  She squirms in her seat, avoiding the question. I don’t expect her to answer this question easily. Most people have issues admitting that the idea of physical pain can be a turn-on. But I saw her reaction, the way her eyes dilated and stayed glued to the scenes in the playroom and I want to show her how amazing it can be when someone who knows what they’re doing administers a good spanking and cares about the other person.

  She stares out the window defiantly. I drape one arm over the back of the chair, reaching the other across my body to feel her heat again. My hand curls, allowing my finger nails to scrape along the sensitive skin of her thighs. “Precious? Are you going to answer me?”

  This time, I pull the black lace to the side, plunging into her with two fingers. When she still doesn’t answer, I thrust them hard into her pussy and I feel the muscles clench around my digits. My hand is coated with her juices as I continue relentlessly, waiting for her answer. Using my thumb, I press against her clit as I continue fucking her with my hand. Her breathing is shallow; she’s so close.

  “Yes,” she whispers, turning to look at me. I capture her mouth with mine, proud of her for being honest with me. I need to get her out of here, back into the privacy of my home because when she comes, I want her free to scream my name.

  “Let’s go. You’re overdressed for what I plan to do to you.”

  The moment we’re outside, I weave my fingers with hers and pull her between the buildings. I might not be able to fuck her senseless right here but she needs to know that it’s not for lack of interest. My arms wrap around her waist, my hands cupping her ass. “I hope you slept last night because I don’t think either of us will be doing much of that tonight.”

  I slide her short dress over her hips, pushing her against the wall so the darkness conceals her bare lower half. My hand moves around to the front, plunging inside her panties. “You have no clue what you do to me,” I moan, forcing my hand between her thighs. “I want to rip these off your body and bury myself so deep inside of you that we both scream.”

  “Oh, Dylan,” she moans, arching her hips forward, grinding against my hand. “Do it, please!” I cover her mouth with my own, silencing her cries. I can’t hear them because I know how weak I am right now. If she continues to beg, I’m going to do something she’s not ready for me to do yet.

  “Not yet,” I warn her. I work her throbbing clit harder, pumping my fingers inside her body again. She leans forward as she comes, biting my shoulder hard to keep from screaming. I still want to hear her crying out her release, but I love that I’ve given her a very public orgasm.

  (Tasha)

  By the time we reach the condo, I’m tempted to ask Dylan to carry me. It turned out the scene in the alley was only a preview of what he had in store. If the elevator in his building has cameras, the security guards got quite a show! In the span of ten minutes, he has given me two of the best orgasms of my life and my legs are turning to jello. We walk inside and he drops his keys on the counter. When he turns back to me, his eyes are smoldering with desire.

  “Do you trust me?” Dylan asks in the sultry tone that makes my panties melt. I nod, unable to form words. “Strip,” he demands.

  Without hesitation, I reach for the hem of my dress, pulling it over my head. While body image issues are not one of my problems, undressing in front of others with the lights on always makes me uncomfortable. Now, I’m standing before Dylan wearing a black lace bra and panties, stocking and high heels. And I feel sexy as sin.

  “Precious,” he says sternly, moving closer to me. “When I tell you to strip, I want you naked.” He reaches behind me, unhooking the clasp of my bra and I watch it fall to the floor. His fingers trace the edge of my panties, not breaching the hem to feel my need. “These can stay. For now.”

  I have no idea what he has planned, but the
dangerous glint in his eyes makes me want to beg him to claim me, again. He lifts my hand tenderly and we walk to the bedroom.

  “On the bed,” he commands, reaching for the dim light on the nightstand. “I’m going to push you, Precious. If it gets to be too much, you have to tell me. The second you tell me to stop, we’re done.”

  “No safeword?” I ask, remembering the tales of bondage and domination that helped me through many lonely nights.

  “Not tonight,” he assures me. “Tonight is about pleasure and trust. I want you to enjoy the experience fully without worrying about remembering a word I hope you’ll never have to use. I find it’s much more enjoyable when both people are so in tune with one another that there’s no need for things like safe words.”

  He rolls me onto my stomach, massaging my back. “Do you want me to push you?”

  I want you to push into me; that’s what I want you to do.

  “Please,” I beg him. I feel constricted by the panties and stockings still on my lower half. For the first time in my life, I’m dying to be laid bare in front of someone and it doesn’t matter how well I do or don’t know him.

  His hands are slick as he begins covering my skin with massage oil. The scent of jasmine fills the air as he kneads the tension out of my back. I moan when I feel him removing one stocking and then the other before tenderly inching my panties down my thighs.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he moans, rubbing circles across my backside. “But you like to challenge me. I don’t like to be challenged.” His voice is ominous, yet seductive. When he lands a sharp smack on my right butt cheek, I gasp. It stings, but his hand immediately begins massaging away the pain.

  “Do you like that, Precious?”

  “Yes,” I respond eagerly.

  “Stand up,” he orders. If he stops now, I’m going to go insane. I present myself to him as he stands next to me. “So gorgeous,” he mutters, reaching for my shoulders.