Marked Angel

Unknown

Why do meetings always seem so tedious when you have something you are waiting for? The last minute interruptions seemed to be never ending today, the second Friday of the month, which meant his favorite angel was doing a scene at Lux tonight. Barely containing his annoyance as the same pompous man stood from his chair for the fifth time complaining that the merger did not favor his company enough, even though all the other members at the table were willing to concede more than 12% extra in profits towards him, including cheap rates on supplies, transportation and storage fees.

“Enough.” The deep timbre of his voice radiating through the room bringing all conversation to a halt. He stood from his chair, clenching his fists and leaning forward to rest them on the table staring down at the older man, knowing this pissing match was nothing more than posturing. This imbecile had more millions than he knew what to do with, this was wasting everyone’s time, “This has gone on long enough. The offer that was made at the beginning of the meeting is the one that Sayer Corp will be considering. None of the supplemental demands you have insist upon will be entertained until their ink is dried on paper.”

His words were final. Collecting the paperwork of the new offer from the table, he pushed his chair back, turned on his heel and left the room before any more of these fossils could drag him back. There was tonight's performance to get ready for. Every time he promises it will be the last night, that this obsession needs to end; yet there was something about tonight’s gorgeous creature that kept drawing him back in.

Sweeping through the cubicles of the marketing department, towards the elevators and down to the waiting town car on the curb. Once inside the car, he could take a deep breath pulling his tie loose and undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. Allowing images of the last performance to fill his mind.

They called her the Marked Angel, a gorgeous brunette with clear blue eyes; the same color as the waters around he Caribbean; that had been a buzz in the community for years.

5 years ago she appeared with her master, the perfect vision. She always appeared to revel in the exquisite restraint of silk-bound limbs, and the deliberate fall of leather against her skin, each strike painting her in hues of passion—roseate blushes blooming all over her pale skin.

His thoughts persisted as he made his way up to his apartment, spending longer than usual in the shower, letting the steam fill his lungs as he played what it might be like for her to be his.

Steam curled around him, thick and cloying, as scalding water pounded against his skin. His muscles ached—from the tension, from the hunger that had been gnawing at him for weeks. Maybe longer.

He braced one hand against the cool tile, the other already wrapping around his aching length, his breath coming harsh and uneven. He let his eyes close, surrendering to the image that haunted him, that unraveled him from the inside out.

Her.

She was always there, slipping into the darkness of his thoughts, invading his control like a whispered sin. He imagined the way she would move-exactly as he needed, confident and sensual. The way her lips would part on a gasp as he claimed her, the way her body would tremble, pliant yet defiant.

A groan tore from his throat as his grip tightened. He could almost feel her—soft skin, heat, submission laced with fire. The fantasy built, unraveled, consumed. Water cascaded over him, but it did nothing to wash away the hunger. If anything, it only deepened it.