Chapter Nineteen

Richie carried Ang back to his car. She kept her face buried in his chest the whole way, and was trembling. When they were in the shadow of the house, Ang cried out, sobbing in anguish and pain.

He hurriedly climbed into the front seat of his truck, pulling Ang to sit across him, and fumbled for the key. When the engine roared to life, Richie threw the transmission into gear and tore out of the driveway, a rooster’s tail of gravel kicking up in his haste. Speeding down the lane toward the main road, Ang gradually released her death grip on Richie’s neck until she finally felt secure enough to slide across to the passenger’s seat. She curled up into a ball on the seat and closed her eyes.

Richie kept one eye on Ang and one on the road until he saw Ang slump against the door. He pulled over and stopped the truck, leaning over to make sure she was still breathing. Relieved that she seemed to be okay, he straightened and dropped his head back on the headrest. What the hell had just happened? Ang was living Kirstin’s life – well, her death anyway. He had never seen anything like that before. If he was scared, Ang must be terrified. But, he thought, at least now that she’d gone through that nightmare, they had something to work with – they had a name.

He started the truck again and headed toward Ang’s house. When he pulled into the driveway several minutes later, Ang still hadn’t stirred. He turned off the truck and circled around the front of the vehicle to open Ang’s door, and she spilled out into his arms. He held back a sigh as he carried her up the steps to her door. He tried the knob, it was locked. “Of course it’s locked, you idiot,” Richie muttered to himself. He sat with Ang on the porch swing and gently set it swaying. The soothing motion, combined with the emotional turmoil of the afternoon’s activities had Richie snoozing within minutes.

A rolling rumble of thunder startled Richie awake. A zig-zag crack of lightning flashed in the distance, and dark, menacing clouds were rolling in. Ang was unaffected by the noise and the light. Richie gently shook her shoulder and talked in her ear. “Angel Rose, the skies are gonna open soon, and I can’t get into your house.” Nothing. “Angel!” he called louder. She stirred, but didn’t wake. When the first fat raindrops started splattering against the pavement, Richie looked at the house, then at the woman in question.

He followed the porch around to the backyard, and descended the three steps into the lush green grass. The rain was cool and felt cleansing, and Richie tipped his head back to feel the drops hit his face, Ang frowned in his arms as the rain began to fall harder, plastering her hair to her scalp and soaking into her clothes. Richie sat on the lawn, water soaking into his own clothing, holding Ang close to his heart, and waited.

Ang came to with a gasp, startling Richie.

“Shhh, Angel Rose, it’s alright,” Richie said.

“Where, how, what happened?” Ang was disoriented. It looked like she was home, but why were they sitting out in the rain?

“You don’t remember anything about being at my house and Kirstin?”

Ang’s face went ashen and her limbs began to shake. “Oh, God, that wasn’t a horrible dream?”

Richie just shook his head and gathered Ang to him, trying to soothe her trembling. “I’m so sorry, Angel Rose,” he said. “Please don’t cry.”

“How can I not?” she said simply. “God, you must think I’m insane,” Ang said, shaking her head. She braced her shaky hands on Richie’s shoulders and pushed like she was going to stand up, but Richie held fast. At her questioning look, Richie’s eyes hardened, and Ang’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands slipped down his shoulders, skimming his biceps before coming to rest on his forearms.

“I do not think you’re insane,” Richie said slowly. “I think you’re going through something awful and scary and just plain fucking SICK, and it’s a wonder you’re NOT insane.” He gave her a little shake when she looked away from him, clearly embarrassed. “I don’t know how you were linked with her, I mean it was like you WERE her, and you were DYING for Christ’s sake; that was just about one of the scariest – ”

His words were cut off abruptly when Angel Rose tightened her grip on his arms and pressed her mouth firmly to his. When their lips met, the tenuous hold Ang had on her control shattered. She sobbed and raised her arms to wrap them around Richie’s neck, and shifted so her legs were around his hips. She held him close, feeling his heart beating against her chest, trying to get his warmth to seep into her body, and she kissed him as if her very life depended on it.

Richie gently broke the kiss and tilted his head to one side, confused. “Angel Rose, not that I’m complaining about kissing a pretty girl,” he smiled and smoothed her hair away from her face, “but what’s going on?”

Suddenly, Ang was a frantic ball of energy, tearing at his shirt and hers until they were skin-on-skin. “Darlin’, what are you doing?” Richie asked in between kisses.

“Please,” Ang answered. “Please, I need to know I’m still alive,” she said, nipping at his neck. “I need to know I’m still ME, and not HER,” she said, scratching her nails down his chest. “Please, help me.”

Richie grabbed her hands. “Angel Rose, you don’t want to do this. This isn’t like you.”

Angel Rose pulled her hands from Richie’s grasp. “You don’t know anything about me,” she said as her face turned red. This time she stood without his interference and headed to her house.

“Son of a bitch,” Richie muttered, and followed her. He caught up with her on the porch as she was pulling a spare key from under a flowerpot on the railing. Richie stifled a chuckle. He’d never thought to look there – didn’t think she’d be so obvious. “Angel Rose. Please, listen to me.” He put his hand on her shoulder to stop her but she shook him off.

“If you don’t want me, just say so,” she said. “I’m a big girl.” She got the door unlocked and flung it open. When she tried to slam it in Richie’s face, he slammed at the door with the flat of his hand.

“I asked you to listen to me,” he said. He was still dripping with rain, the water beading up into drops on his face and chest. His jeans were glued to his legs; outlining his thighs, and cupping his obviously hard cock. “I never said I didn’t want you, Angel Rose.”

Ang just gulped as she stared at the man in her doorway. His eyes were burning holes into her, seeming to see all the way through to her soul. She took an involuntary step backwards as he crossed the threshold into her house.

“I-I-It’s just that – ” Angel Rose started to explain but Richie shook his head.

“I know what you were trying to do,” he said, stepping further into the kitchen. “You wanted to use me to ground yourself.”

Angel Rose wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I never meant to – “

This time her words were interrupted as Richie closed the distance between them and hauled her into his arms. “Did I say ‘no’?” He drilled his tongue into her mouth and kissed her until she was breathless. He palmed then roughly squeezed her breasts, and smoothed his hands down her sides and to her ass, pulling her fully against him so there’d be no mistaking his desire for her.

“Be sure,” he rasped, as he pulled away from her to suck on the side of her neck.

“I’m sure,” she answered, grabbing fistfuls of his hair into her hands.

Mouths fused once more, they stumbled through the kitchen, dropping their shirts with a wet plop onto the linoleum. They passed through the living room and into her bedroom.

Richie leaned Angel Rose against the wall and unfastened her jeans. Though they were wet and tight, his need was growing to be as great as hers and his strength doubled as he wrestled with the wet fabric. He buried his face in Ang’s curls, inhaling the scent of her mixed with that of the rain. Tentatively, he stretched out his tongue for a taste. In response, Ang widened her stance and threaded her hands in Richie’s hair.

Smiling, Richie licked and lapped at Ang until she was gripping his scalp almost painfully hard. He backed away long enough to blow cool air on her over-heated flesh, and she screamed and bucked. Richie pushed her hips roughly against the wall, holding her fast, and drove his tongue into her, curling it so he could stroke her from within. When Ang’s cries became more fervent, he swirled a calloused fingertip around her clit. He could feel her tensing, and he eased back.

Angel Rose gasped, “NO!”

Richie looked up at her face. There was something raw and primal and scared in her eyes and he was so very afraid of doing what she asked because he didn’t want her to regret her rashness later.

“I’m sure,” she said again, sinking to the floor with him. She unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them as far as she could while he was on his knees. She kissed him as she wormed a hand into his pants and over his coarse hair but there wasn’t enough play in the fabric to allow her to explore the way she wanted. She stood, urging him up with her before sinking to her knees again to haul down Richie’s wet denim. She pulled on his pants until they had joined hers in a wet heap on the floor, and rose to lead him to the bed. Richie stopped for just a moment to pull a condom from his wallet while she pulled back the covers, then he followed her.

She crawled up on the mattress, and lay on the pillows, opening her arms to him. “I want this,” she said. “I want you.”

He crawled up to kneel between her legs, rolled the condom on and slid into her, pushing slowly past her constricting walls until he was fully seated in her. He waited a moment for her to accept his size, then started stroking her; his abdomen muscles bunching and flexing as his hips began their dance.

When Richie was satisfied that he wouldn’t hurt her, he knelt up and grabbed Ang’s calves. Pushing at them so her knees were spread wide, Richie started pumping faster. Ang made a little nose in her throat and Richie stilled. “Am I hurting you, darlin’,” he gritted through his teeth.

“No,” she whispered in response. “Don’t stop,” she begged.

Richie started his motions again, slowly, and watched as his sweet Angel Rose, for she most certainly was his now, blushed pink from her chest to her forehead. He watched as her hands flailed about, trying to decide where to go, and finally fisted into the sheets on either side of her hips. He watched as the veins on her neck stood out and her head tilted back, and her back arched ever so slightly, and he watched as a slow smile crept across her face a second before she screamed with release.

The vice tightening around Richie made his head drop back in pleasure, and he let go of Ang’s legs. He dropped so his hands were braced on either side of her head, and he pounded into her until the top of his head flew off, and “Sweet mother of God” escaped from his lips. He stayed seated fully in her until his arms grew weak, and he rolled them to the side, keeping them intimately joined.

He kissed her gently as her pulse calmed, and after a few moments, slipped from her and her bed to take care of the condom in the bathroom. When he came back to the bed, he saw she was lying on her side, and had pulled the covers up over her. Her eyes were almost closed, and she smiled and got into bed on the other side of her, and gathered her close.

“Thank you,” she said sleepily, gripping his hand in hers.