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Angels Fall by JA Huss & Johnathan McClain is LIVE!
Title: Angels Fall
Series: Original Sin #2
Authors: JA Huss & Johnathan McClain
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: March 27, 2018
Blurb
Sometimes angels fall.
Maddie doesn’t really owe drug lord, Carlos Castillo, money. So she hadn’t taken his threats seriously. Until now. He wants it, whether she owes it or not. And if she doesn’t have it in six weeks he’s gonna take her as payment instead.
Tyler would save the world if he could. That’s a fight that lasts forever. And if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s fighting. So if Maddie thinks she’s gonna deal with an insane drug lord on her own, she’s crazier than he is.
She’s got a debt she can’t pay. He’s got more money than he needs.
She’s not gonna fall for his charm. He’s gonna make sure that happens.
They’re destined to be together. Even if Maddie doesn’t know it yet.
Sometimes your soul mate isn’t who you’d choose, it’s who you need.
Good thing you don’t get to choose.
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Excerpts
TYLER
Shit. I have so much I want to say and to ask her. I want to know what the hell is going on with this Carlos asshole exactly. I want to explain that I have been trying to stay away and that I’m only here now because I want to make sure she’s okay. Because I owe her. Because I love her. Because I loved her back when she was just a kid and Scotty’s little sister and now I’ve fallen in love with the woman she is.
But her bare ass in my hands, tongue in my mouth, and thighs wrapped around my waist convince me that I can table that shit for a later date.
I walk her back to the trunk of the car and slam her down on it. She throws her legs open and that’s when I notice two things:
One: Her devil costume has a little red devil tail hanging off the back of the panties and it’s dangling down on the trunk of the car between her open thighs. Which is adorable and hot as shit at the same time. And…
Two: The panties themselves have a zipper on the crotch.
And I’m done.
And then I’m undone.
Two zippers go down in quick succession.
I slide her to the edge of the trunk where my cock is waiting to receive her. The morning sunshine creates an incredibly different atmosphere than we had the last time we were back here together. It’s strange. The night we fucked back here we were secret, hidden, protected, glancing furtively to make sure no one saw us.
Now, today, we couldn’t be more exposed, but neither one of us seems to notice or care. And I realize suddenly that the last time we fucked in this very alley, it was also after some drama created by Unlucky Logan. The difference is last time, I kind of stepped in and saved Scarlett, and this time Maddie sure as shit saved herself. And thinking about that again pushes hot, boiling blood into my dick and I thrust myself inside her with the same kind of reckless force that she defended herself with.
“More,” she grunts out, tightening the grip of her calves around my hips and dragging me into her further.
The teeth of the zippers on both her panties and my jeans rub against the skin on my shaft as I pound in and out, and the scraping, lacerating feeling makes me harder, which causes me to want to fuck her just that much more fiercely. Because I deserve to be punished. I owe her that. I can take it.
I’ve taken worse.
And then I pull out without warning.
“The fuck are you going?” she asks.
I bend down and when I stand back up, I’m holding the pitchfork. I hand it to her.
“Here,” I say, pulling my t-shirt over my head. The look on her face lets me know that it’s one thing to see the scars in the darkened seclusion of a strip club, or the black of an alley at night, or even my place or hers after the sun has taken its rest. It’s an entirely other matter confronting them in the bright light of day.
I force the pitchfork into her hand as I slip my dick back inside her again.
“Use it,” I say.
“Fuck are you talking about?” she says.
“Press it into me. My chest. While I’m inside you,” I say as I begin pumping in and out again.
“I don’t—” she starts. But I know what’s right. What I want. What she needs.
“Just do it,” I wheeze, as I fuck her sweet pussy. I just want to pleasure her. I want to make her feel good.
And I want her to punish me.
Now.
“Do it,” I urge again.
Her eyes narrow and she gets (appropriately) a devilish grin. And then without another word, she rocks her hips back and forth with the thrusting of mine, while at the same time pressing the sharp prongs of the tool into the scarred flesh on my chest. I can feel it ripping and tearing, but I don’t feel pain. Not in a conventional sense. Not even when she drags the edges down to my waist. I just know that she needs to hurt me, and this seems like a good start.
I watch her forearm tense. I can see her trying to stop herself from just fucking impaling me right here, which is what she wants to do. And if she does, she does. But as long as she doesn’t, I’m going to keep sliding this big cock in and out of her until she comes.
MADDIE
“Who the fuck invited you?” I snarl at Tyler. “And how the hell did you even find out where I live?”
“I stopped by Pete’s. Met Pete. Sweet guy, by the way. I would’ve imagined a strip club owner as being kinda—”
“Pete told you where I live?” Jesus. Thanks, Pete. Fuck.
“No, no, not exactly.” Tyler’s standing way too close to me now. The girls are pretending not to be able to hear him, but it’s clear they’re eavesdropping. I hope they’re better at fucking guys for money than they are at spying.
Tyler leans in closer still, and I really, really wish he would not do that. Because I hate him and don’t want him anywhere near me. Or maybe because I can feel the heat of his body and he kinda smells delicious. Which just pisses me off more because I hate him.
He lowers his voice and continues explaining how he found me. “Don’t be mad at Pete. He didn’t want to tell me where you live. Seems like a really ethical guy.”
“Except he did tell you where I live.”
“Well, yeah, but it cost me five grand.” My eyes go wide. “I mean, he’s ethical for, y’know, a guy who runs a strip joint.”
Nope. This is not going down like this. “Get. Out.” I’m pointing at the door now.
“No!” Diane whines. “No, no, no. We’re just getting to know him, Maddie! Oh, my God. This guy. Where the hell have you been hiding him all these months?”
“Where have I been hiding him?” I see red as I go to him, hands out, and slam them into his chest. The force of my push makes him step back… half a step. Maybe. “I wasn’t hiding him anywhere, you traitors! This asshole ducked out on me years ago. And when I needed him, when I was begging him to—” I shake my head to clear my mind. “And then he shows back up and thinks everything’s gonna be fine just because we fucked a couple of times when I didn’t know it was him!”
There’s a beat before Annie says, “You fucked him?” with, like, way more excitement in her voice than she should.
“Not the point!” I shout as I slam my hands into his chest again.
But this time, he grabs my wrist and stops me, saying, “Can we please talk?”
I struggle in his grip, but he holds tight. I clench my teeth and spit, “Let go of me.”
He does. Immediately. Both hands up as if in surrender.
I decide to change my strategy. Because clearly Tyler Morgan is being Tyler Morgan. He attracts people to him like a siren song calling sailors to the rocks. He knows how to play up the act he perfected long ago. Seemingly genuine, charismatic, and fascinating as he leads the rest of us to our destruction.
So I pull the friend card out and whirl around to face Annie, Diane, and Caroline. Taking a deep breath, I say, “He’s not what you think,” in the calmest tone I can muster. My voice is shaky. My hands are trembling with anger. But I hold it together. “He ruined me,” I say. “He broke me into tiny pieces, dropped me to the ground, and walked all over me.”
Annie just stares at me, confused.
“What do you mean?” Diane asks.
“He left me, Diane. After Scotty died. He left me alone. He never came back. He never even showed up for his funeral. I begged him,” I say, starting to cry. “I begged him and he told me to stop. He just went on with his life like nothing happened. Like my brother didn’t just die the most horrific death possible. Like what we all meant to each other was meaningless. So I hope one of those stories he told you about our childhood included that little fact. And then…” I continue, drawing in a deep breath, willing the strength it takes to get this last part in so I can twist that knife in his chest the way he did mine. “And then he went off and made millions of dollars. Been living it up in a goddamned penthouse, no cares at all. No worries at all. While I’ve been back here…”
But I lose it there. I can’t say the words selling myself. Because I’ll die right now if I have to say that. I’ll die.
There’s a filled beat while everyone stares at Tyler, who never breaks eye contact with me. And I really wish he would. Because his eyes are sad and hurt-looking and no fucking way will I fall for that shit. No. Fucking. Way.
Caroline mutters, “He’s a millionaire?”
Jesus Christ.
TYLER
“How’s that feel?” I mutter out, my mouth just above a whisper. Just loud enough for her to hear the question over the hum of the vibrator and the sound of her own moans.
“Good,” she whines back.
“Just good?” I ask.
But before I let her answer the question, I slide the vibrator back to the opening I’m currently pouring myself into and work the very tip of the second dick inside of her as well, stretching her just that much more open and continuing to thrust back and forth while the vibrator massages the inside of her walls. She begins panting.
“How ‘bout now?” I ask.
“Fuck yeah,” she groans back.
Her hands splay out in front of her, gripping at the sheets, her arms stiffening and her lower back arching more as she continues pressing into me. I pull the vibrator away and lay it on the bed.
“What are you doing?” she pleads. “That was amazing.”
“No,” I whisper as I bend over to kiss her shoulder blades and bury my face in her hair. “That wasn’t amazing. This is amazing.”
And before she can ask ‘what?’ I’m up on the bed, my knees under me, her pulled back onto my dick, ass pressed into my thighs like she’s sitting on my lap, her legs sticking out behind me, and I tell her, “Put your arms out in front of you. Like Supergirl. I’m gonna make you fly.”
“What?” she says.
I take both of her arms, throw them out in front of her, grab her hips as tightly as I can, and pound in and out of her ferociously, bouncing her on my cock.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” she huffs with each thrust.
She keeps her arms suspended in the air that way like the sexiest goddamn super-hero ever, flying through the sky, propelled forward by the force of our fucking. I support her weight with my hands on her hips and the hard, fast motion of my thighs driving into her creamy skin, over and over again. I can feel her muscles tighten as she strains to hold herself aloft and it just makes me fuck her harder.
I keep my right hand in place and with my left, I take up a fistful of silky red. I yank her hair back, exposing her neck to the ceiling and her hands now fly up to grab at my fist, making sure to keep it locked there on her head.
Or so I think.
Because suddenly, she’s pulling my hand away from her hair and bringing it around to rest on her throat.
“Here,” she pants. “Squeeze.”
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About the Authors
Two accomplished writers come together to create unforgettable sexy romance. JA Huss is the New York Times bestselling author of 321 and has been on the USA Today bestsellers list eighteen times. Johnathan McClain is a veteran actor and writer whose work, either performed or written, is probably airing on at least one of the channels on your television right now. Find us at www.hussmcclain.com
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JA Huss
Johnathan McClain
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