Always Angel (The List #4) Read online

  Always Angel

  The List Series

  Book 4

  ___________________

  by N K Love

  Novel Kind of Love

  After reading Lost Angel, Dirty Angel and Fallen Angel, you’re all set to finish Beth’s journey in style with the final instalment of The List Series; Always Angel.

  Tissues at the ready. Brace yourself and turn the page, because you’re not going to want to miss this rollercoaster finale.

  All you need are fingers for crossing, some breath for gasping and a pair of lovely lips for biting.

  Always Angel, book four of The List Series, All Rights Reserved.

  Published by Novel Kind of Love – N K Love

  © 2016 Novel Kind of Love

  Cover design by Lauren Austin www.laustin.co

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews and teasers, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or part by any means existing without written permission from author.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  All rights reserved worldwide. This book is licensed for your personal use only. No part of this work may be sold, manipulated, or reproduced in any format without express written permission for the author, except for brief quotations embodied in or reviews.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  What’s Next?

  The Author

  Acknowledgements

  The List

  Chapter One

  Saturday 9th May 2015

  8:36am

  Beth

  “Jax, no more. I can’t. I just can’t—”

  “Yes, you can, Angel.”

  Jax silences himself by wrapping his lips back around my pussy. The feeling is so familiar yet, somehow, always unique. I claw at the grass beneath me, digging my fingernails into the soil. I don’t know if it’s an attempt to stop me from pushing his head away, or from gripping onto it so I can ride his sweet mouth harder.

  He presses my inner thigh down with his warm, strong hand, spreading me wider, until my knee feels the fresh grass brushing against it. Resting my other leg over his shoulder, he leans back slightly and growls something incoherent before diving back in to devour me some more.

  I don’t need to know what he said, or even what he is thinking, because the look in his eyes is always enough. I love that he loves every inch of my body. Plus, his mouth and my pussy have long since had their own relationship. One that cannot be explained or fucked with.

  When his teeth graze perfectly over my clit, my orgasm builds and I know Jax senses it. Easing my leg off his shoulder, he begins to climb up my body. His mouth extending its conversation to the rest of me; licking and sucking. My arms are still spread out wide, either side of me. I feel as though I’m having to help gravity keep me from floating away.

  “Did you wanna come for me, Angel?” He whispers, brushing his lips over my ear.

  “No.” My voice is barely audible so I clear my throat and try again. “No. I didn’t.”

  Jax nips at my jawline, whilst curiously studying my face, with his dominant smirk etched across those beautiful lips of his. All the time, he intentionally brings his erection close enough for me to feel it, but far enough away for me to know who’s in control.

  “So, was it your decision?”

  “No. Yours.”

  Jax gently kisses my mouth with his soft, thick lips as he slowly nods in agreement.

  “But you’d rather save your come for my cock. Is that right?” Our eyes lock and his devilish sparkle has me licking the tip of my tongue across his lips, enticing him. “Answer me.”

  “Yes.”

  I roll my hips forward and moan at the feeling of his cock pressing into me. I reach down with my hand, wanting to guide him in. Instead, Jax grips my wrist, stretching my arm back out.

  “Don’t move your arms again.”

  “But I need to touch you.”

  “No, you don’t need to touch. You just need to feel.”

  He angles his erection between my legs, but doesn’t enter me. Returning his hand to mine, he rocks the full length of his cock through my pussy, lubricating it with ease. God, he is so hard, I can feel the ridges of his veins sliding against me.

  Bringing the head of his cock to my entrance, making sure he doesn’t spring himself back against his torso, he edges his thick crown inside. I lick my lips in anticipation. With my arms still outstretched, he continues holding one hand and I splay my other fingers through the cool blades of grass.

  Slowly edging in deeper, Jax lets my body adjust to him, an inch at a time. I roll my head to the side, wanting to savour every second.

  Jax makes love to me in such a sensual way with long, slow strokes. Everything is laced with a spine-tingling intensity. The passion blazing in his eyes is almost overwhelming. I want to touch him, but I will follow his word and keep my arms spread.

  Looking down the length of my arm, I focus on our picturesque surroundings, marrying them to this delicious feeling. The vibrant green grass, the incredibly blue sky, the bright sun shining down on us, and the colourful meadows in the distance.

  Looking back into the infinitely more captivating green eyes of the man I love, I inhale deeply and mentally capture this moment forever.

  My orgasm builds quickly, but I concentrate on my breathing to allow me a few more precious seconds to appreciate this—it feels important to do that for some reason.

  I pant and moan aloud, drawing out those final few seconds.

  “Beth, you are everything to me.” His words are as controlled and fulfilling as each thrust. “I would do anything for you, Angel. Anything.”

  Upon hearing his words, I let go and come long and hard, whimpering out his name into the still atmosphere. My hyper-sensitive body writhes, craving more sensations. I press my heels into the ground and brush my fingers across the grass again, disturbing the addictive scent of freshly cut grass.

  That’s when I notice the blue skies starting to darken. Jax, quickens his pace, becoming ruthless in his own pursuit to orgasm.

  With a swift gust of wind, the remnants of my explosive orgasm are blown away. The warm air turns cold and a gloomy, dark shadow casts over the ground. Suddenly, the mood has drastically changed and our perfect moment becomes unnerving.

  Jax closes his eyes as he reaches his climax and fills me. When he opens his eyes again, they’re black. He opens his mouth to speak, but all that escapes is a haunting, strangled moan.

  His sweat drips onto my breasts and as I look down, I see it’s not sweat at al
l; it’s blood—dark red blood. Frantically, I push up onto my elbows and he leans back slightly. Looking back at his face, I see blood trickling from his nostrils. Drops form on either side of his mouth, then cascade down his chin, dripping onto my naked flesh.

  Jax squeezes my hand tighter in desperation, still trying, but failing to say anything. My focus becomes blurred, but not before I see one perfect, blood red tear stream down his face in slow motion. The look in his eyes is pure heartache and sorrow.

  I never get to see what happens next. Sanity seems to drag me from the pits of misery of which I’m quickly becoming accustomed to. This recurrent dream transforms into a nightmare at the flick of the switch. I struggle to escape before it twists because I give in to the temptation of riding out that orgasm night after night. Every. Time.

  It’s been four nights since I walked away from him. We haven’t spoken. I miss his voice. He has sent me random text messages, which I’ve read dozens of times. I’ve replied dozens of times too. But the temptation of hitting the ‘send’ button hasn’t won over yet.

  I’m finding all of this difficult. I mean really fucking difficult. The days are made easier with work, and the nights, well, they’re made easier with alcohol. As independent and free-spirited as I’m trying to be, it turns out the only spirit that I’m capable of tapping into comes in a bottle.

  But, no matter how much I drink, I’m yet to find solace at the bottom of any bottle. Nor do I find the answers on the ceiling, where I stare every night. Instead, I find more misery, until I fall to sleep and then misery finds me.

  Twice I’ve dreamed of him surrounding me, making me feel whole again and protecting me. But this reoccurring nightmare is the one that really freaks me out. I can only assume that drinking before sleeping is making them so vivid. Each time, before I wake up, a strange fear grips me. It scares me within an inch of my existence until I’m forced to open my eyes and breathe again. I don’t know what I’m scared of; losing him or him dragging me into his darkness. Either way, it has me waking with my heart pounding out of my chest.

  No matter what twisted visuals my subconscious decides to play out, though I always wake to another nightmare. Except this one is so much worse because I can’t wake up from reality. I can’t open my eyes and let the relief wash over me when I realise it’s not real. He is forever the subject of my daydreams, the object of my wet dreams and, unfortunately, my nightmares too.

  Waking up in the aftermath of another wet dream gone wrong causes a dull emptiness between my legs. What’s worse is the emptiness I feel in my heart, even though it’s still so utterly full of him. Perhaps that’s why I’m struggling to find my way.

  I pull back the covers, resting my feet on the ground, telling myself that today will be a better day. It’s a pointless mantra, considering I don’t believe a word of it.

  My mom once quoted, ‘If the seas were always still and calm, we would never build a better boat.’ She went on to suggest that Jax was my better boat and I believed it. I still believe it. The trouble is, that storm of fuckery that descended upon us from his mouth has dropped the biggest anchor. It powered straight towards the seabed and settled down for the long haul. It’s not budging without a change, so we can’t move forward.

  My head is banging from last night’s vodka onslaught. Then I remember I’m going to meet up with Mike tonight.

  Mike leaves for Australia tomorrow and I couldn’t let him go without talking face to face. We need to tackle the whole ‘gaygate’ head on. Maybe it isn’t even true. Maybe it’s bullshit. I must admit that, in a way, I’m hoping it is true. It sure as hell would explain a lot.

  Okay, time to attack the day… Although, my version of attacking is basically stumbling my way past each hour apologetically, with minimal tears and maximum distractions.

  I hear a subtle knock at my bedroom door.

  “Darling, are you awake?”

  I don't move. I don't answer. I just want a few more minutes to myself before I have to look at my mother's sympathetic smile again.

  The handle slowly turns and the door creeps open slightly. She peers straight over at me, perched on the edge of the bed—aaand there it is! The look that tells me she feels my pain. The pain I’m trying to ignore. I must work out a way to shut it off so that my head can think straight without playing second fiddle to my impossible heart.

  I attempt a smile.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  I see her mentally reprimand herself for not masking her pity. She opens the door wider, stepping inside and returns my pathetic smile with a slightly more believable one. She’s wearing a lovely, chunky, cream cardigan with oversized pockets either side. It’s the kind that makes me want to snuggle into her so she can wrap herself around me.

  “So you are awake. Did you sleep any better?” She carries a coffee to my nightstand and comes to stand in front of me, assessing me. I look down at the carpet and shrug. “Well, you’ll feel the benefit of a nice refreshing shower whilst I fix your breakfast. How about that?”

  I nod slowly, too caught up by the lump in my throat to speak and she knows it. She softly takes hold of my chin, angling my face to meet hers.

  “Bethany, this will get easier—whatever 'this' is.”

  “I hope so, Mom.”

  I take strength from her touch and manage to curb my quivering lip. Mom takes a seat next to me, caging my hands within hers.

  “I don’t need to know what’s going on, unless you change your mind and want to tell me. But, whatever it is that you’re going through with Jaxson, you must know that you’re strong enough to handle it, sweetheart. Sometimes your walls need to crumble around you for you to realise what you’re left with… When you think you’ve reached rock bottom, you can lay there and suffer… Or you can fight back, because what you’re actually left with are strong foundations for you to rebuild on.” Mom squeezes my hands and stands to leave, letting her words sink in. “Remember to feel more and think less.”

  “Isn’t that the approach that got me into this mess in the first place?”

  “Bethany,” she warns. “I mean it. Try not to force yourself into finding the answers. Let them find you… Now, come on. Get up and go shower.”

  Mom leaves the room and I stand to stretch, repeating my mantra. As I turn to make my bed, I notice the now familiar parcel sitting on top of my pillow. Mom must’ve had it in her pocket. I take a deep breath and place the small couriered box on top of the other four identical deliveries, sitting on my nightstand. My eyes divert to my much needed coffee and I repeat my mantra again, with a little more determination this time.

  6:45pm

  Work went well. Eddie has continued to be a little star. I’ve been bouncing business ideas off him this week, including selling up. He was understandably shocked at the prospect, but reassured me that he is in the financial position to want first refusal if it ever comes to it. I highly doubt it will, but I want to cover all angles.

  Mike called me at lunchtime and I arranged to visit him. I was surprised to learn that he is still in our marital home. After the bombshell that Jax had bought the property, I would’ve thought that he’d turfed Mike out long ago and sold it on already. Apparently, Mike was happy to arrange temporary accommodation, but the new buyer was flexible.

  The drive over here was like taking a step back in time. After everything I’ve been through since separating from Mike, these circumstances are just bizarre. But, Fuck It, it’s got to be done, and it somehow seems more appealing than going home to drown myself in yet more alcohol. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t itching for a drink to take the edge off this apprehension.

  I park on the driveway and walk up to the door, which opens before I get chance to knock. Mike must have been looking out for me. He looks as anxious as I feel. He doesn’t reach out to hug me, just simply steps aside and gestures for me to come in.

  “Hello.”

  My head is stupidly screaming, repeatedly, ‘Are you gay?’ But I bite my lip and offer a smil
e instead. Once inside, he takes me to the bare lounge and leaves to fix us a drink. I’m immediately praying that he doesn’t return with a cup of tea.

  There’s a few moving boxes stacked with a docking station sitting on top of them. Other than that, there’s a sofa and an armchair. That’s it.

  Mike comes back in holding two glasses with ice and a bottle of whiskey clenched under his arm. Miss Fierce immediately fist pumps the air in celebration.

  “Is it too early for alcohol, Bethany?”

  “Considering our circumstances—I don’t think so.”

  “I think it’ll help calm my nerves.”

  “You nervous, Mike? That is a turn up for the books. But, yeah, this is all… weird.”

  After our first glass, the conversation starts to flow surprisingly easy. Although, I must admit that there’s an enormous gay elephant in the room, just waiting for us to acknowledge it. When he poured our second glass, I said ‘Fuck it’ and resigned myself to calling a cab later. If I’d had a bit more foresight, I wouldn’t have driven here in the first place because now my car will be stuck here and I’ll have to come back to collect it.