Fallen Angel, Part 1: Fallen Angel Series - A Mafia Romance Read online

  At exactly seven o’clock I heard a buzz on the intercom. I walked down to the main door and opened it to find a man, not Stone, in a grey suit. The black Range Rover was at the curb. It was the same man I’d seen him spar with earlier. He was as muscular, but with blond, short hair and blue eyes—the total opposite of Stone.

  “Miss Stiles, would you like me to take your coat?” he said, as he escorted me to the car.

  “Thank you, but I can carry it,” I replied.

  I felt agitated, more at myself for accepting the dinner invitation. As much as I wanted to go, I also didn’t. It was so confusing.

  I couldn’t place his accent. Although it was American, I thought there was a slight Irish twang to it. He opened the rear door and not another word was spoken until we pulled outside a brick building with just a gloss black door and a gold handle. It didn’t look like a restaurant and I hoped to God it wasn’t his house. I sat until the car door was opened for me and before I took the last step up to the gloss door, it was also opened.

  “Miss Stiles, please follow me,” said yet another suited, rather formal looking guy.

  Inside, the building was obviously some kind of exclusive restaurant. Rich, brown coloured walls, matching leather chairs around tables with crisp white linen and silver cutlery adorned the vast room. I was led to an alcove, an area slightly away from the main seating and screened off by planting.

  It was a truly wonderful place and obviously very expensive. As I approached, he stood. Those black eyes stared straight at me. He nodded to the concierge and pulled the chair out. Using his hand on my back, he guided me to my seat. I wanted to recoil at his touch, not that it was horrible but I could feel a searing heat where his hand had been and a tingling all over my flesh. It unsettled me. He gestured to a glass, already filled with red wine. I took a large sip to steady my nerves.

  “I’m glad you came, Brooke,” he said.

  “I’m not sure you gave me much choice, Mr. Stone,” I replied.

  He laughed a little, “Please, call me Robert.”

  “Well then, Robert, thank you for the invitation. This is an amazing place,” I said, looking around. He simply smiled.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering for you, I trust you don’t mind,” he told me.

  To be honest, yes I did mind, but I didn’t want to offend any more than I had to so I smiled my thanks.

  “You seem nervous,” he said.

  I tried to hold his gaze, “Well, I, um,” I stumbled.

  I couldn’t find the words to explain I’d never done that before, met someone for a couple of minutes and then agreed to dinner.

  “Tell me about yourself,” he said, cutting short my answer.

  I was a little unsure what to say. How much does one divulge to a complete stranger, one that not only intrigued, but also unsettled me.

  “Well, I live in the UK, obviously, in Kent. I’m here on holiday, and like Sam, I work in marketing but for an agency in London. Sam and I have been friends since we were little and I haven’t seen him for a while so thought I would come and visit.”

  I didn’t want to go into too much detail about why I was there; I tried to keep the conversation light.

  “So where are you really from? Your black hair, blue eyes and fair skin, that’s not typically British,” he asked, leaning slightly towards me.

  “I don’t know.” I answered, uncomfortable with his scrutinising of me.

  “Perhaps there’s a little Irish on my father’s side. I must admit, I look nothing like my parents,” I added with a nervous chuckle.

  The whole time I’d spoken he’d looked at me. Even when our starter was laid in front of us, he picked up his fork and ate without taking his eyes from mine. I found at first it was too hard to look back at him, to hold his stare, but the more I spoke, the more I found I couldn’t look anywhere else.

  It was as if there was nothing else, just the table and Robert Stone. I don’t believe I could even hear anything around me. I didn’t notice the waiter remove my plate, replace it with another, or replenish my glass. It was as if time did not exist, just the moment.

  Before I’d realised, we had finished our meal. I can’t tell you what I ate but I know that I’d not stopped talking and he had hardly said a word. How had he managed to get me to do that? Being a reserved person, I didn’t share what was in my head, yet I’d told a stranger my life story. It was as if his stillness, his quietness, drew the words from me.

  I seemed to run out of things to say and the air stilled around me. It was suffocating and I had an urge to leave. Perhaps he saw my discomfort because he folded his napkin and placed it on the table.

  “Would you like to leave?” he asked, I nodded.

  He held out his hand and led me from the restaurant. It hadn’t dawned on me that there had been no bill, we’d simply walked straight out to the waiting car. For the second time, I slid across the black leather seats and Robert spoke quietly to the driver.

  “I would like to show you something, if you’re not in a rush to return home,” he said as he joined me.

  We drove the short distance to the office where Sam worked, the building Robert owned. We exited the car and walked into the foyer, past the security guards who seemed to stand to attention. With his hand on my back, Robert guided me into the lift. Again, I felt that heat where his hand touched and a tingle across my skin. I noticed a small keypad and watched as his fingers keyed in a code and the lift ascended, beyond the floors that were numbered.

  The doors slid open into a reception so very different to the rest of the building. The floor was a dark oak, a glass, abstract sculpture stood in the middle of the area and beyond was a single, large door. Taking a key, he opened it and we entered a penthouse apartment. I was not ready for that. I had no idea I would be taken back to the place I assumed he lived in, but I was totally blown away; the apartment was stunning.

  The walls were a stark white, a large black leather sofa dominated the lounge area, and a sound system hung on the wall. Walking to it, he pressed a button and music flowed through the whole apartment.

  One wall was completely glass, slightly tinted and I walked across and looked out. The view was breathtaking. Washington was spread out below me. The lights of the buildings, the traffic, the White House in the distance, all shone in the night. I could see for miles.

  Robert moved behind me, again so silently it took me by surprise to see his reflection in the glass. I felt like his prey and my nerves were on alert. My heart hammered in my chest and my breath caught in my throat. He stood directly behind me; I felt an immense heat radiating from him and a strange, magnetic pull towards him. It was as if my muscles took on a will of their own and my body needed to be close to his.

  “Thank you for spending your evening with me,” he whispered, his breath caressed the side of my neck.

  “Do you like the view? This is what I wanted to show you,” he added.

  He described some of the landmarks, leaning so close with his arm pointing over my shoulder. All the time I looked at his reflection, at his mouth. I wanted to taste him, to feel his lips on mine and it troubled me to feel, to think that way.

  “It’s wonderful, do you live here?” I asked, forcing my eyes away from his and back to the view.

  “Not permanently. I have a house outside the city in Great Falls. Perhaps you would like to visit.”

  “Can I ask you something?” I asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Why did you invite me to dinner? I mean, you only met me for a couple of minutes really. It’s a bit odd, don’t you think?”

  “Not odd enough for you to refuse,” he replied unsmiling. “I met you, I wanted to know more about you.”

  We fell silent looking at the view below. He lifted his hand and moved some hair from my shoulder exposing my neck. He lowered his head and placed a small kiss on the side, his eyes met mine in the reflection of the glass; there was a question in them.

  I should have been outraged b
ut I wasn’t, I just felt an immediate attraction to him. A fire raged in the pit of my stomach, my heart missed a beat, fluttering in my chest and I felt my legs start to shake. I wanted to lean back into him, to feel his body against mine. All the time I faced the glass wall with him behind me, watching his reflection.

  “I want you, Brooke,” he softly said.

  I couldn’t answer; I felt entranced and all rational thought left my brain leaving nothing but an overwhelming desire for him. I gently nodded my head.

  He unzipped my dress and it fell, crumpled around my feet leaving me standing in just my underwear and shoes. I stepped out of the dress, I wanted to turn and face him, but he held my hips, keeping me still. With one hand he ran his fingers up my spine sending shivers through my body. His hands travelled over my shoulders and down my arms, holding them to my waist while his lips trailed a path from my neck to my ear. I wanted to reach up, to run my hand through his hair, to touch him, but all the time he held me still.

  A small moan escaped my lips and I felt him smile at my response. A burn started between my legs, my body was aching with desire for him. One arm circled my waist and with the other he ran his fingers down my throat, over the top of my breasts and down my stomach.

  “Do you know what I want to do, Brooke? I want to watch you come and then I want to fuck you.”

  Although the words were harsh they were said with a strange softness. His hand moved to mine, covering it and he ran both to the top of my panties. He slid our fingers under the material. All the time, his head was just above my shoulder, looking at me in the glass.

  I held his gaze and swallowed hard. I licked my lips in anticipation of what was to come. Our fingers brushed across my clitoris, gently teasing, his fingers circling and squeezing as they guided mine. I gasped, the throbbing escalated with every movement he made. My legs shook and I leaned back into him for support. His other hand cupped my breast, rubbing across the nipple.

  He pushed my hand further down, using his finger to push mine inside me. I was so hot, so wet. It was erotic, both of us inside me at the same time and I cried out. Our fingers were slickly entwined. He took my hand, trailing our fingers over my body and raised them to my mouth. He ran my finger over my lips.

  “Suck,” he whispered.

  I opened my lips slightly allowing him to push my finger into my mouth and I tasted that sweet, metallic taste of me. His eyes never left mine and no matter whether I wanted to or not, I could not look away, I could not close mine. I was totally devoured by him.

  Robert grabbed my shoulders and turned me so quickly I nearly lost my balance. His lips were hard on mine; his tongue forced its way into my mouth. His hands gripped the sides of my face and he held me to him. I raised my hands to his head, running my fingers through his hair.

  I could feel his erection pushing into my stomach and I wanted him as much as he clearly wanted me. As he stepped back his teeth pulled on my lower lip sending a delectable pain shooting through me.

  He looked down at me and smiled. He took my hand and led me to his bedroom. I reached down to remove a shoe.

  “Leave them on,” he said.

  We walked across the lounge and he opened a door into his bedroom. The only furniture was a bed that occupied the center of the room with two small tables either side. There was a glass wall on one side of the room and two doors on the other. I turned to face him and reaching up to undo the buttons, I slowly slid his shirt from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I ran my hands over his chest; he was so well defined, sculpted even, with a faint scar running down his side.

  My fingers ran down his stomach to the top of his jeans. I undid his belt, pulling it from the loops, then the button, and the zip. Allowing them to slide down, he kicked off his shoes. Stepping back I was able to look at him.

  As much as he intimidated me, I wanted to take him all in, every curve of his body, every hair and commit it to memory. Yet as I did, I realised, I already knew it. I kissed his chest, gently bit his nipples, and let my tongue travel over his stomach. His hands wrapped in my hair, guiding me.

  My fingers, either side of his very tight shorts, hooked under and I pulled them down. His erection sprang free and my hand caressed him, feeling the silkiness of his skin as my nails scraped gently against him.

  I listened to his breathing change, become rapid, raspier, and it pleased me to hear the effect I had on him. He pulled my face towards him, his mouth found mine and he kissed me hard. He undid my bra, letting it fall from my shoulders and his mouth travelled over my breasts to the nipples. He sucked and bit one then the other, marking my skin.

  My hands were in his short hair, my fingers dug into his skull as the most intense feelings of desire flooded through me. Feelings far stronger than any I’d felt before. Just his hands on my body were enough to make my legs shake and my stomach flip.

  He walked me backwards towards the bed and then picked me up. Putting me gently down with my head resting on the pillows, he moved to the end and climbed on. Removing one shoe, he brought my foot to his lips kissing the arch, my ankle, and all the way up the inside of my leg, stopping at the top of my thigh. His mouth travelled down my other leg, removing the shoe and his teeth nipped my toes.

  Moving up and over me, he hooked his fingers in my panties and pulled them down. His mouth was on my stomach; his tongue probed my navel, sliding down until it circled my clitoris. My hands gripped the bedding as his tongue flicked in and out of me while he gripped my hips, holding me still.

  I wanted to arch my back, to force his tongue further inside me. He brought me to the brink of an orgasm and then he bit me. While I was coming, the most exquisite pain shot through me, intensifying the feeling; every nerve ending burned and I screamed out.

  He moved above me, his legs forced mine further apart and he reached over to the table. He ripped open a foil packet with his teeth and without taking his eyes from mine he placed a condom on himself. Supporting himself on his arms, his hands held mine above my head. The tip of his cock just brushed against me. I wanted him in me so I raised my hips. Every time I did, he moved just out of reach. All the time his dark eyes bore into me, straight to my soul.

  “Do you want me to fuck you, Brooke?” he whispered.

  Oh God, did I! “Yes,” I said as he gently rubbed against me, tormenting me.

  “Look at me,” he demanded as he slammed into me.

  He completely filled me and I cried out. He stilled before moving again, so slowly yet so deeply inside me. He was totally in control of my body, and my mind. He decided when to bring me to the brink of an orgasm and then stop. It was terrible and wonderful at the same time. I wanted to just let go but he wouldn’t let me. I was totally at his mercy and I loved it.

  He moved in and out of me, picking up the pace until neither of us could hold on anymore. His mouth crashed onto mine and our teeth clashed, his tongue forced its way in as we came. For the first time in the whole evening I watched him lose control, unravel a little. It was only for a spit second but I’d seen it. He released my hands and rested his forehead on mine as he tried to slow his breathing with his eyes closed. I felt his heartbeat race and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him to me. It was a moment of vulnerability that I got the immediate impression he did not show often.

  He rolled off me, pulled me onto my side and facing each other, we lay for a while. He removed the condom and then wrapping one arm around me, he stroked the side of my face. It was a tender moment and when I looked into his eyes I got a fleeting glimpse of a lost soul.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. “Will you stay the night?”

  I closed my eyes for a moment and then reality hit. What on earth had I just done? Having sex with someone on a first date, staying the night was not something I did, normally. There was a slight wretched tone to his voice when he’d asked and I knew for some reason, at that moment, he needed me.

  He was intense, closed, and somehow I knew, trouble. But I wanted to comfort him, to hav
e him fall asleep in my arms. It just felt the right thing to do.

  “I need to text Sam,” I told him as I moved out of the bed.

  I felt no awkwardness walking naked to where I’d left my bag. I felt no embarrassment in him watching me as I sent a text, telling Sam I was fine and that I would see him in the morning. Turning the phone off, I returned to the bedroom, climbed back in the bed and snuggled into his arms.

  “Robert, I’ve just had great sex with you,” I smiled. “I don’t know anything about you though. I don’t do this normally; I don’t sleep around. I have no idea what just happened there, I want you to know that,” I said.

  “I know. So what do you want to know?” he replied.

  “Well, tell me something about yourself.”

  “I was born in London, my parents died when I was six or seven and I was sent to America to live with an old, mad, religious aunt I’d never met before,” he said.

  “I spent time running away, living rough, getting in with the wrong people and doing very bad things, but I made a great deal of money along the way,” he continued.

  I was stunned, but more importantly, he seemed shocked that he’d just told me that. I didn’t want to hear about the bad things but I felt terribly sorry for him. It must have been awful to have lost his parents, move countries, and live with someone he didn’t know. Despite knowing he might be trouble, I wanted to know more. Something pulled at my heart, especially when I watched him drift into sleep. Peacefulness settled over his face and I truly believed the person I was looking at then was not the person many people got to see.

  Despite never having done that before, I was glad for that night, glad that I was there when he needed me. I was glad that he’d shared a piece of himself that I guessed was normally hidden, and with a smile on my face, I acknowledged, the sex was the best I’d ever had.