Page 4 of Where Angels Fall

He watches me, bemused, as I take a huge sip. It’s not just the fact that the bitter taste is replacing the previous taste that was on my tongue, but it’s strangely nice. Who knew dusty, forgotten bottles of wine in a run-down bar could taste so good?

I don’t question it, taking another huge gulp.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a bar like this?” A deep rumble pulls my attention sideways. The man at the bar mutters a whispered curse, shaking his head as he walks away.

I look up…and up. This man is, well, he is enormous. Solid chunks of muscle wrap around him, covered in tattoos, his body looming over me. He looks well over six feet; his raggedy brown hair tied up in a bun adding even more inches to his height.

Golden eyes devour me, a hungry smirk pulling at his mouth as a huge hand falls onto my thigh, inappropriately high.

Nervous, I slide my thigh out of his grip, but he just follows, his big fingers squeezing over my leg.

“I, uh, was just about to leave,” my voice is shaky.

Stupid, I’m so stupid, I realise as my head turns over my shoulder to find a few dozen men’s eyes on me, all rough and huge like the man beside me. Not a single woman.

I should have just gone home and crawled into bed. Why do I have to do things like this.

Fear creeps up my spine as the atmosphere shifts, another hand landing on my other thigh as he pushes my legs apart as far as they can go with my skirt.

He steps in close, in between my legs, the scent of cigarettes, sweat and pure male invading my senses as his hands slide up, catching on my skirt.

“Fancy. You dress real fancy to be drinking in here with us animals,” he chuckles, his voice so deep and gravelly it gives me goosebumps crawling on my skin.

By instinct, my professional smile beams up at the towering man, pushing the odd sensation of fear away.

No one stops the man as he keeps pushing my skirt up, almost baring my panties. He stops just before he gets there, lifting a hand to stroke my bottom lip with his thumb.

“Please,” I whisper, my body shaking slightly, and not just from fear.

It’s been a long while since I felt anything other than…vacant. So the influx of sensations is almost too much. The feel of rough, calloused hands touching me in such a demanding way should not feel as good as it does right now.

By a man dressed in cargo pants and huge boots. A rumpled shirt covered by… a leather vest.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he rumbles, shoving his thumb past my lips and onto my tongue, pushing down. I gasp and try to rip my face away from his hand, but his fingers wrap around my chin, holding me in place. “Let’s see if you taste as expensive as you look.”

My eyes clench shut, and I whimper as his hand on my leg moves suddenly, diving into my panties and cupping my bare pussy.

My face flames at how wet I know he can feel I am. This is messed up. So messed up.

But I can’t deny that my clit is aching. Can’t deny that the fear and adrenaline pumping through my veins isn’t the sweetest feeling.

“Please, I need to go. My boyfriend is waiting for me,” I beg, because it’s the right thing to do. People shouldn’t like this feeling, shouldn’t be aroused by it.

“Such good manners,” he grumbles, nipping at the skin beneath my ear. “I wonder if you’ll say thank you after I’m done with you.”

Rough fingers begin to circle around my clit, and I jolt, my hands coming up to his chest and pushing hard. But being the gigantic man he is, he doesn’t budge. Even my hands look small against his huge pecs, covered by leather.

My glazed eyes lock onto a patch on the front of it. A devil, with horns and a tail that wraps around it. “The Devils” spelt underneath it.

My stomach bottoms out. My eyes flick around the place and see that every other man here wears the same vest, and I hear motorcycles rumbling outside.

The Devils. I mean, you hear stories about the gangs that lurk in the darkness of Havenport Harbour. But I never thought they were factual, or something that I’d ever run into. Turns out I willingly walked into their lair, like the stupid fool I am.

I flinch as the door slams open, more devils entering.

The already tension-filled air thickens drastically, and I begin to tremble.

“Griff,” a stern voice barks, and the man on top of me turns his head to the newcomers, chuckling softly when he sees them.