𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

I look at Angelica from under the desk, looking up at me with my dick in her mouth, using her tongue to circle the tip.

Wilson's voice has turned into nothing more than background noise and she has my entire focus. Not able to continue the meeting, I whisper a fuck under my breath and close my laptop, before moving my chair back, so I can pull her up without hurting her.

She sits on my lap, facing me, her legs folded on the big chair at each side of my thighs. "What was that?" I ask her. Her smirk simply widens as she breaks eye contact and looks around the room, "You could call it revenge."

"You thought that was funny, Hela?" She shrugs her shoulders innocently, and finally makes eye contact with me.

Her eyes.

One of my favorite things about her. Those brown orbs hold so much I want to discover, so much I want to know.

I scan her beautiful face, every detail already imprinted in my mind, in a place they can't ever be forgotten.

"Wanted to show you that, although I don't care about who you fuck, they'll never compare to me."

"So, show me." I challenge her - even though I already know her words hold nothing but the truth.

She gets off my lap and moves back in between my legs. Without a second thought, she effortlessly takes me in her mouth, deep, until I hit the back of her throat. She continues moving her mouth up and down my length, as I try to not nut in her mouth right now. Her hands move at the base of my cock, lightly squeezing but then one of her hands moves to my balls and she rolls them in her palm, giving them the occasional squeeze.

Fuck.

"Fuck my mouth, now, Ale." This woman never needs to ask me anything twice to get it. Her wish is my command.

I take her hair into my hands, glad that she doesn't have her wig anymore, and push her all the way down my length until her nose is against my pelvis. A muffled cuss sends vibration down my cock, which only makes me fuck her harder.

I continuously pull her head down my length, barely allowing her to take a breath, to the point that when she looks up at me, tears are streaming down her face. I wipe away some lone ones cascading gently, and bend down to capture her lips into mine when I tilt her head backwards.



We're cuddled in each other's arms as the fourth Harry Potter movie plays on TV. After Angelica proved that no one compares to her, we took a shower filled with heated kisses and lots of touching that led nowhere, she got dressed in one of my dress shirts and rolled the sleeves up to the elbow.

She looks so fuckable.

Her attention fluctuates from the TV to her phone, as she texts Maia back. Although she hasn't mentioned it directly to me, I know something big happened to Maia, because I overheard her talk to her lawyer about needing to leave, because her sister was at the hospital, and then she didn't show up to any other meetings after that.

I hope she's okay.



I break the silence between us, "I want us to go on a date tomorrow." Her head quickly moves to look up at me with questioning eyes. "What?"

"I want to go on a date with you," I repeat.

"Oh, o-okay. Sure. Why not." She breaks eye contact with me, her mind quickly filling with million questions, I'm sure.

Angelica is someone I want in my life for a long time, and I'm realizing recently I want her in ways bigger than what we have now. I don't want to see her pack her bags after we fuck, leaving me alone in the bed we create memories in. I want to wake up and see her beside me, wearing minimal clothing or nothing, her body intertwined to mine.

I want her to tell me all about her mythologies, her past and her aspirations for the future. I want to be able to pinpoint all the ways our futures match and discover the changes I may need to make to my plans to stay in her life.

She's buried deep in every crevice in my body, and I've only just realized.

I would love to confess my unsure feelings to her, but I'm trying to gain her trust again and telling her that I'm developing strong feelings for her, but that I'm not sure about their extent, may not help.

Although she has forgiven me about the article, and she knows that I wasn't at fault, she has only recently started breaking down her walls to let me in.

She has told me time and time again that I should call her Angelica, but sometimes I feel like I don't deserve it. My catholic grandparents taught at a young age that names hold great significance on who we become. That God carefully crafted us and gifted us with a name that will represent the greatness in our lives.

I never thought that names held that much importance until she took hers away from me. Stopped me from calling her by the name her friends and family call her and reduced me to the name she used as a stripper. It didn't initially affect me, but eventually, when I started thinking about it, I started wondering if it was because she didn't see me as more than the men that enter Strip on a nightly basis. That she didn't see me as more than just a man who she's having sex with.

That realization did affect me, because she was already at that time, more than just a fuck buddy.

By the time the movie has ended, Angelica is sleeping in my arms and before I reach for the nightstand to turn off the lamp, I place a kiss on her hairline, before adjusting the bonnet on her head, knowing she'll be stressed if she wakes up without it on.

I inhale the vanilla and coconut scent of her hair products and shortly ponder on how perfect this woman truly is.

My perception of her may be a bit biased, because I haven't known her for too long and because I know little about her. This is one reason why I asked her on a date. I want to get to know her, to solidify all these emotions and sentiments I feel for her.