Angel Read online

  The Angel

  Book One

  Jean Baker

  Copyright 2013

  Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Books written by Jean Baker can be obtained either through select, online book retailers.

  Storymill Publishing

  All characters and situations in this novel are entirely fictional and any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © Jean Baker 2013

  All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever, including the right to copy, distribute and adapt the work.

  Angel – Book 1

  _______________________

  Diana turned toward the front door, her heart dropping. Jack yelled, “Hey, baby, have I got something in my pants for you. Get your sweet ass to the bedroom.”

  She trudged up the steps regretting what she would go through. If my damn body wouldn’t let me down, I could get out of this mess. Please, please I don’t want to have to go to the hospital again. The emergency room staff knew her first name.

  By the time she reached the bedroom door, her core sent heated messages to her reluctant mind, and her vagina began rhythmic convulsions. He had thrown his uniform aside and sat on the side of the bed jerking off his socks. His genitals hung over the edge of the mattress. She glanced from them to his face and lifted her brows.

  “I’m so God damn horny, my cock will be up in two seconds after you latch onto it. On your knees, baby, suck me until my eyeballs roll back.”

  She grimaced and dropped between his knees. His crudeness made her shiver in disgust. Why didn’t she leave? She ran her tongue around the tip of his cock and began massaging his balls.

  “Yeah, now that’s what I’m talking about.” He grasped her head and plunged it faster and faster, almost choking her, until he became hard as a rock. “Get out of those clothes.”

  She stood and pulled her blouse off. He jerked her skirt down, ripped her panties free, and bit her Venus mound none too gently. Lifting one of her legs over his shoulder, he nipped her inner thighs. Jack looked up and laughed. “You want me to get all up in your cunt, don’t you?”

  Scalding heat burned away the disgust and settled in her lower core. She groaned and pushed her pussy toward his mouth. Her body off-balance, she fought to maintain her position, while cursing herself for responding.

  Strong as a bull, he lifted and threw her on the bed. She held onto his bulging biceps until hitting the bed. Her hands barely went half-way around his arm, so when he crouched above her, she buried her hands in the thick, red hair covering his chest. He rubbed his cock on her lower belly, and she stared down at it. Like its owner, it stood erect, hard, and powerful. Moisture trickled down the crack of her ass, and she bucked against him.

  “You dying for my big cock, aren’t you, baby? Well, you’re getting it. I’m fucking your sweet ass until you scream for me to stop.” Lifting to his knees, his rough hands separated her lips.

  Diana whimpered. “Easy, your hands are rough.”

  Leaning forward, his cock at her entrance, he lunged forward, slamming his full length inside her. His body flat against hers, his hands gripped her shoulders keeping their genitals locked together. Each time he smashed his rod into her pussy, he’d jerk her down the bed against him. In that position, his pubic bone rubbed her clit driving her wild. Unfortunately, his raging cock slipped from her weeping cunt which made him mad.

  He lifted to his knees, jerked her hips up and jack-hammered into her, grunting and sweating. His rough fingers sank into her flesh. From the pressure on her clit before, climaxes were already ripping through her dripping channel, and she passed beyond caring what he did as long as he kept fucking. Her pussy ruled her body and mind now. Screams ripped her throat raw, and he responded with a roar. “Get it, baby. Get it. Tell me it’s good.”

  He froze on his knees, his eyes turned up, and he bellowed, “Oh, shit. God damn.” She felt his cock pulsing and pumping into her cunt.

  After he rolled to her side, struggling to breathe, she pulled the sheet over her body, while also gasping, and turned her back on him. As always, she filled with disgust. How could she respond to a man she’d hated for such a long time? She needed to get honest with herself, stop blaming him for holding her hostage, and admit to an addiction to sex. At least, as long as she stayed with him, her crazed sex drive had no chance of ruining her reputation and embarrassing her family by bedding every man she met. Tears silently rolled down onto the pillow.

  Jack slapped her on the hip. “Baby, that’s the best pussy I’ve had today.”

  Diana swallowed. “What did you say?”

  He repeated it.

  “You’ve fucked someone else today? Ye Gods, that’s disgusting, even for you.”

  “I’m a cop. What do you expect me to do with all the hot stuff prancing around on the street selling pussy? The threat of an arrest will get all you want. Today, I had a bitch on the backseat. She lay like a log and refused to suck my cock. I expect a little action from the whore. I didn’t pay her a cent. Next time I see her, I’ll arrest the bitch. Left me with my balls hurting, so I came home. No woman’s good as you are, baby.”

  She jumped from the bed, screaming, “Get out of my house. I never want to see you again. You like hurting me and get off on it, but telling me this is one hurt too damn many. You’re disgusting.”

  His hand lashed out, grabbed her wrist, and jerked her on top of him. “Oh, now you’ve done it. My wife telling me to get out of my house. All because I hurt her little feelings.” In one movement, he had her on her back, straddled her body, and had his hands around her throat. “Wait until you feel this hurt.”

  And she did.

  Diana sprawled, naked and bleeding on the bed. Her head pounded and her belly clenched against the weight of the man sitting on top of her. She fought. Always had fought, but this time she begged. “Please. Stop, Jack, don’t hit me again.” He slapped her unconscious and darkness descended.

  Part of her, vaguely aware of being viciously raped, welcomed the dark.

  A blazing light awakened her. Although knowing she had been brutally assaulted and viciously raped, the light held substance and healing. Did Jack finally kill me? Am I in heaven? Twisting her jaw side-to-side no longer hurt. Lifting her head, she saw large glowing hands hovering over her body and watched as the horrible bruises and bloody bites on her breast disappeared. What? Who? Her eyes strained to see through the column of shining mist hovering over her. Although her gaze told her nothing, she began to feel enveloped by peace.

  Grateful, she took a deep breath as her ribs snapped together and healed. The mist moved to her feet, and the hands moved rapidly up her legs until reaching the damage to her thighs. Without a physical touch, her legs gently eased apart, and the glare of the light dimmed, the edges rippling with red. The mist transformed into an almost translucent male. His wings swept down and held her suspended in a gentle hug. For in instant, the saddest and most beautiful face she’d ever seen appeared, a silver tear tracking down his face.

  Then he returned to mist. It entered her damaged canal, bringing warmth and healing to the stinging tears. Suddenly, alone and feeling as if she floated on clouds, her body and mind experienced the aftermath of the most satisfying, gentle love. It passe
d beyond her imaginings. Hugging her renewed body, she placed her feet on the floor and sat on the edge of her bed, gazing around her dimly lit room. Suddenly, a bright light surrounded her, and a quiet, gentle voice rippled through her mind. “It is done.”

  She stood under the shower, as long as the hot water lasted, hugging her body and singing. The phone rang twice before she dried off, and she ignored it. Jack always called to apologize after hurting her, and right now, she felt too good to deal with him. As she dressed, it rang repeatedly. Never before had she possessed the courage to ignore his calls. Now, all she wanted to think about concerned what happened—figure out what it meant—what followed. It took no effort to understand her life would never be the same. This would be a story her mother would love and readily accept. She religiously believed in angels, however, how could she share the experience without telling her why it happened?

  As Diana dressed, she reminded herself that she did not believe in any spiritual happenings or embodiments. In her opinion, angels belonged in the same category as ghosts and haunting. Worry creased her brow. Maybe, I’m losing my mind. Perhaps, she imagined it all. She could not find one mark on her body.

  Skipping down the stairs and into the kitchen, she prepared coffee. The phone rang twice more before she managed to pour a cup. Taking the receiver off its hook, she settled into her favorite chair to do some serious thinking. Before taking one sip, a fist banged on the front door. Her heart stood still. Jack! No, he’d barge right in. After placing her cup on the coffee table, she went to the front door and cautiously opened it.

  “Hello, Mrs. Settler. You’re Jack’s wife, are you not?”

  Diana recognized the young policeman from some function or other. She smiled at the fresh recruit. “What brings you here, young man? You guys collecting for a charity again?”

  “No, ma’am.” He dropped his head. “We have lost a brother.”

  “Another officer?” Maybe that’s why Jack kept calling.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m here to advise you of the death of your husband.”

  Her mouth became dry and her voice rasped. “Did someone shoot him?”

  “Can I take you to the hospital, Mrs. Settler? Things will be explained to you by a medical person. They’ve been trying to call you.”

  Diana rubbed her temples. Another damn headache. Maybe a bit of food would help take the edge off. Approaching her favorite sandwich place, she sped up the sidewalk. She resisted visiting her doctor about the persistent attacks of pain; sure she only had psychological problems that would pass with time. Who wouldn’t be a little crazy after what she had gone through? Not because Jack died six months ago, but it drove her nuts because he appeared everywhere she went after the burial.

  She shuddered as she reached her destination. Half a block in front of her a tall man walked away from her. He strode purposefully, impeccably dressed, wide shoulders tense. It was Jack. Her heart thundered until he turned to cross the street. It wasn’t him. He never dressed so formally.

  Her mother assured her such visual tricks were common when someone lost a loved one and to imagine seeing his face in a crowd—a glimpse on television—or dreams. First of all, he wasn’t a loved one, and although loath to say it aloud, his death came as a relief. Maybe the guilt of her callousness made the sightings occur. However, the anger toward him never decreased. For the first time, she hoped an afterlife did exist and he suffered the horrible punishments that came from her fertile imagination.

  She hadn’t dated since Jack died and could barely look at a man. The one good thing, other than being rid of him, that came from his death—she no longer feared she was a sex maniac. That over-powering drive had left her completely.

  Feeling nauseated, she rushed inside and settled into a booth near the back. After her jangling nerves settled and food was served, she picked up the hamburger. The outside door to the café opened, and she glanced that way. She reached for a glass of water. Her head pivoted for another look. Springing to her feet, the glass tipped over, and the silverware clattered against the tile floor. Faces turned her way but she remained focused on the man entering the café. Unable to speak, unable to move, Diana just stood and stared.

  His gaze swept the room until his deep blue eyes pinioned her. After a minute of looking at one another, he strolled toward her. Reaching her side, he said, “What is it? You’re shaking like a leaf. Does something about me frighten you?”

  He gently gripped her upper arms. “Come. Let’s sit before you fall.”

  She dropped into the seat and rubbed her arms. Damn, he touched me. Oh God, he’s real. I’m going crazy. A waitress dropped a towel on the table and mopped the water up. Diana swallowed. “Sorry.”

  “No problem. Want more water? You look as if you could use something stronger, but all we have are pop, coffee, and tea.”

  “Bring her hot coffee, please. I’d swear she’s a bit shocky and needs the warmth.” The man took Diana’s wrist, finger on her pulse. “I could use some too.” As the waitress headed to the back, he massaged Diana’s hands. “They’re cold.”

  Leaning back, he placed her hands on the table and watched as they curled into fists. “My name is Clancy—almost pure Irish—guess you can tell by the red hair. I never thought it would frighten a pretty woman half-to-death.”

  Diana took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. “Where are your glasses?”

  The waitress placed coffee on the table in front of them, and Clancy leisurely poured sugar and cream into his cup. Her trembling hands managed to get her cup to her mouth, her gaze never leaving his face. “I don’t wear glasses. Why? Do you think I should? It’s getting pretty creepy the way you keep staring at me like I just arose from a musty grave.” His dimpled grin didn’t soften the words.

  “Didn’t you?”

  Clancy smoothed his unruly curls back with both hands. What the hell? This woman has a screw loose. He gave a strained laugh. “Sometimes I know I might be half-dead, but nobody has dumped me in a grave yet.” What am I saying?

  She covered her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes opened wide and two fat tears rolled down her cheek. “That’s what you always said.”

  “Did I also say, you’re incredibly beautiful?” Damn, why did I say that? And why are parts of me not feeling half-dead at the moment. He didn’t remember ever saying such a bold thing before; but then again, she’s the most beautiful woman he’d seen on earth. He noticed they stirred the interest of nearby customers. “Please don’t cry. Who do you think I am?”

  “Jack never said such a nice thing to me. He always said, if he died he’d come back to drive me crazy. He died—I witnessed his burial—but here you are.”

  “You think I’m this Jack? Was he your husband?”

  “Yes. You look at me as if you think I’m nuts. I’m not. Either you’re Jack or someone playing a horrible trick on me.” She scooted to the edge of the bench. “I have to go.”

  He reached for her arm, but drew back at the fear on her face. “Please don’t go, Diana. I want to order a sandwich—lunch time you know. You can supervise while I eat and ask me anything you need to know that will convince you I’m not your deceased husband.” He motioned for the waitress.

  The waitress came to the table and looked down at Diana’s plate. “Anything wrong with the hamburger, young lady? Give me the word and I’ll replace it.”

  “No, thank you. I just got distracted.”

  She beamed and glanced at Clancy. “Can’t say I blame you. Fine looking man.” Smiling, she turned to him. “What will you have, handsome?”

  He chuckled. “What a charmer you are. How about a BLT, light on the mayo.”

  The waitress bustled away and his attention turned to Diana, who had moved back to her original position across from him. She no longer trembled, but appeared ready to bolt at any moment. All he could see of her made his breath catch. A rare natural beauty with long brown hair with copper highlights and heavy-lashed, brown eyes seeming to smolder with b
anked fires. He tried to imagine her hips and legs. What is going on with me?

  “Diana, let me tell you who I really am.”

  “Wait a minute. That’s the second time you’ve used my name. How did you get it—I certainly didn’t tell you.”

  He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Sure you did. I’m not a mind reader. Back on subject: I’m a social worker of sorts, here to help people, love to dance, and belong to a bowling league. Adopted as a baby, I am an only child of two fantastic parents. Never been married. Have no children, but would love to have at least a couple.” He smiled, knowing women liked the words he used. Men on the dating webs said such things. The expression on her face became unreadable, so he took it as disbelief.

  His sandwich arrived. Before picking it up, he took a wallet from his pocket, flipped it open and slid it across the table to her. Her head bent over the wallet. He took a bite of the BLT and watched her. She stared at the driver’s license, glanced up and then looked again. After several times looking up and down, she said, “You were born in April, 1983?” He nodded. “Red hair, blue eyes, six feet?” Again, he nodded. “Oh, God.” She leaned her head onto the back of the bench.

  “What is it, baby?”

  She snapped, “Don’t call me baby. Jack called me that and I hate it.” She rubbed her face with both hands. “Jack was born April, l983, had reddish-brown hair, blue eyes and stood exactly six feet. A cop who loved to bowl and play soccer.”

  “I guess those soccer players really dance with the ball, and he worked in the same field as mine, helping people. They say everyone has a double, but this is crazy.”

  “Maybe you’re twins. He was adopted also.” She took another sip of coffee, her gaze never leaving his face. “Here, let me show you a picture of Jack.” It took a minute of rummaging in her large, leather bag before she placed a wallet on the table in front of him. “Open it. Look through the photos.”