Page 18 of His Taste Of Christmas

“I assumed you might be feeling sore. I was a bit rough, I’m sorry, Angel.”

My head shakes rapidly. “Don’t you dare say sorry; I had one of the best nights of my life.” I wince internally as I sit up and lean over to grab my phone. I light it up and see multiple missed calls from Mace and 38 WhatsApp messages.

“Fucking hell,” I exhale as I open the chat.

Mace

Sounds like you weren't really sick, you lying hoe.

You sound like a demented cat.

Actually, your voice resembles a fox in a compromising situation.

Those screams are both tragic and dramatic; no man is that good, but A for effort.

What is mystery man actually doing to you in there? I have some concerns.

Wait, is this your V card that is being stolen away as we speak!?

I believe it is. Oh my God. Congrats, my baby.

Hey, where did my Christmas lights go?

I rub my eyes, then move on to rubbing my temples. I have no intention of reading the rest of the messages; they no doubt will get worse. Yeah, I know the walls are paper-thin upstairs, but did she have to listen in? Perhaps she could have turned on some music or something.

I raise myself to sit, taking deep breaths, as between my legs has an intense burning feeling. Right now, I feel like I'm sitting on burning coals.

“I have to go talk to Mace,” I sigh.

“I think I should start heading out. I will probably have twenty-one questions from my family wondering where I disappeared off to,” he says while stretching. I study his face, trying to find a sign that this will be our last encounter. He extends his hand and asks, “May I use your phone?" I give it to him, witnessing his fingers glide over the screen before a ringtone sounds from his trousers on the floor. “I have your number. I’ll call you later?” he says, casually buttoning up his shirt. I give him a tight-lipped smile and stand.

“Fuck,” I curse, my eyes welling up with tears.

“Grab ice and then take a relaxing hot bath,” he suggests, putting on his top and picking up his trousers.

I nod abruptly, hoping he'll leave before witnessing my tears. Approaching me, he holds my face and tenderly plants a kiss on my lips. “Angel O'Sullivan, you’re unforgettable,” he murmurs against my mouth before his hands disappear from my cheeks.He cautiously looks out of my open bedroom door to make sure no one is about. Then he glances at me for a final time giving me a wink before disappearing. I find myself unable to look away from the door.

I quietly whisper to myself, “Goodbye, Mr Hayes.” I really hope I get to see him again.

As I approach Mace's room, a headache starts to develop. I mentally prepare myself and open her bedroom door. “Here we go,”

She wears a sinister smile, like she can’t wait to shred every single detail of last night out of me. Holding a coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other—not that she is meant to be smoking up here, but rules are made to be broken, according to Mace—she motions with her head to a space beside her.

“There's a spot for you right here. Those are for you as well.” She nods at the bedside table where painkillers and Sudocrem are waiting.

I frown, not understanding the reasons for the cream. “Sudocrem?”

“Well, by the sounds of you getting ragged out last night, I’m guessing the kitty is burning this morning.” She rolls her eyes.

Ah, yes. With a sigh, I approach the bed, taking the coffee from her hand and gulping it down, acknowledging, “You're sick, but correct.”

“You're so damn loud! What the hell was that last night and who was that guy?” she yells. “Furthermore, thanks for leaving me and the rest of the guys to run the place on our own. I thinkI have blisters from all the extra running around I did,” she moans, wiggling her toes and frowning down at her feet.

In an attempt to evade her questions, I throw my head back against the headboard and release a groan. “Look, I’m exhausted. I feel like my fucking pussy lips are burning off as we speak. Help me.” I stretch my arms in front of me and she grabs them, instantly examining the marks.

“What the fuck are these, Angel?” Her gaze swings to meet mine. “You kinky bitch, what did he use?” Her brows furrow as she tries to work it out.

“Well.” I hesitate. “You know you were wondering where the Christmas tree lights—” Before I could even finish, a gasp leaves her mouth.

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