Page 65 of Caging Liberty

“Last night wasn’t Ivy’s fault,” Angel goes on. “I brought her here. I had her call Gaumond. It was my doing.”

Sawyer shakes his head. “It’s not just that.”

“I know. She’s a pain in the ass, I agree with you. But she’s asking you for another chance. Surely, there’s something she can do to make this right?”

When both men look at me at the same time, I drop my gaze to the table and trace the swirling pattern in the wood with my eyes. The iron clump grows.

“She’s a manor whore,” Sawyer says, the steel back in his voice. He speaks to Angel, but I can feel his gaze on me. “I want to see her act like it.”

Act like it.

My heartbeat quickens, and my ears heat.

“Ivy, come here,” Angel commands.

I jump at his tone, and my chair scrapes the kitchen tile. I take a deep breath and slowly stand, keeping my eyes down. My instincts tell me to run, but my instincts have already gotten me into a hell of a lot of trouble.

I walk to Angel but don’t look up at him, too afraid to see eyes that match that commanding tone. I don’t know what it is about it that can make me crumble so easily. I’m not necessarily afraid of him. Or, maybe I am. I don’t know, it’s hard to tell sometimes by the way my emotions jumble when he’s near.

“Get on your knees.”

I bite my lip and inhale a sharp breath through my nose, staring straight ahead and consequently giving myself a great view of Angel’s chest. He’s in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, and if he hadn’t immediately terrified me by telling me Sawyer was here when he opened the guest room door this morning, I probably would’ve had a better chance to admire the carved muscle. This is the most of his skin I’ve seen, and if this were the end of a date, I’d jump him.

But this isn’t the end of a date. This is something totally different.

“Ivy?” Angel prompts.

I lift my eyes to his face, expecting kindness or compassion or something in his expression to match the softness in his voice, but it isn’t there. His face is blank, but his eyes are blazing.

“Sawyer would like you to act like a manor whore. Considering how long you’ve been here and the headache you’ve caused him, that doesn’t seem like such an unreasonable request, does it?”

“No,” I say in a small voice.

He searches my eyes for something, and I try not to look away.

“I don’t think so either… Nobody has any intention of holding you down, so you do have options.” Angel gestures to Sawyer. “Him, me, or no one. Make a choice.”

My eyes dart to Sawyer, and his brows jump toward his hairline like he’s surprised I’d consider him an option. I don’t. I’m just buying time. Most of the time, I think Angel is by far the better of the two, but other times, I wonder if he has any idea how cruel he can be. He thinks he gives people options, but the only options they have is to do what he wants or suffer. He did it to Sawyer last night, and now he’s doing it to me.

I turn back to Angel and lower to my knees before he can say anything else. His gray sweats hang low enough to show off his V, and I come face to face with it. I won’t lie, I’ve done worse than this. My husband’s affection always came at a price, and that price often involved my humiliation. Even now he’s managing to do it.

At least Angel is handsome. Hell, at least he pretends to be a decent human being.

I lick my bottom lip, more out of habit than anything else, before I wrap my fingers around his waistband, brushing hot flesh.

One hand reaches inside his sweats to grip his shaft while I use the other to drag the material down over his hips.

I rake my eyes over his massive erection and am not even remotely surprised that he’s already hard.

My tongue slides over my bottom lip again, and I lean toward him, my mouth opening. I close my eyes as I connect with the head of his dick, kissing it before sliding my tongue over the slit.

Angel tenses, and I peek up as he uncrosses his arms. His eyes are wide with surprise, but he quickly schools his expression. I wonder who he’s trying to fool, Sawyer or me.

It’s sick, I know, but I get a weird satisfaction at watching his hard composure crack, and I’m now glad he chose this. He could’ve fucked me, but I like this better. I want to make that stupid fucking composure break.

I close my eyes and take more of him into my mouth. My tongue runs along the underside of his shaft, searching until I find a sensitive piece of flesh that has his hips twitching.

I squeeze the base of his dick and lift my other hand to cup his balls, massaging them gently while I continue to stroke him with my tongue.