The Bound Angel (Sacrilege Rising: Book 1)

Chapter Three

For a Tuesday afternoon, McLaren’s was busy. Golden light streamed through the windows. Where it touched glass or brass fixtures, it refracted, throwing rays across the open room, lighting the entire pub.

The door swung open and Mike glanced over as a young woman walked in, red hair catching the light. She looked familiar, from class maybe. As the door closed behind her, he noticed the sign above it read, ‘Sixty three days until St. Patrick’s Day!’

The burger was good. Bacon, barbecue sauce, and crispy onion straws. Even though it was an Irish pub, he had no misgivings about ordering The Cowboy, and said so to the waitress when she came back for a third time to pick up their pair of empty glasses. The city was still in a heat wave, and the extra drinks were welcome.

The waitress was cute. Blonde hair tied back in a pony-tail, a tight black V-neck showing cleavage just as welcome as the drinks, and tighter black pants that drew his eye as she walked away. Emma rolled her eyes so hard he could feel it.

“What?” Mike asked innocently.

She pitched her voice mockingly low and repeated, “What?”

He didn’t sound that dumb, did he? “Whatever. Eat your fish and chips.” The two of them had been coming here for years, ever since they met as freshmen. The hostess even joked they had their own table. He eyed Emma. “It should really be called fish and fries, you know, now that I think about it. This is America, after all.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. It was cute when she scrunched up her face like that. In fact, everything she did was cute. She snorted, “Don’t be daft.” He loved her accent and how she pronounced certain words. She said it like ‘dahhft.’ “It’s a proper English meal, and the proper English term for them is chips. Just because you steal something doesn’t mean you get to rename it.”

“She’s right, you know,” Allie said, taking a fry from Emma’s plate and munching on it. “Don’t be an idiot.”

He must have forgotten Allie was there. Annoyance flared. Who was she to intrude on their private spot? And an idiot? She was the one who had asked for his help in Econ. Just as he opened his mouth to fire back, the waitress returned with their drinks.

Three tall glasses filled to the brim with sloshing, icy water. One for each of them. He’d forgotten how hot it was, and the sweat on the outside of the glass distracted him from what he was about to say. After a cold, frosty exhale, he glared at his two companions sitting shoulder to shoulder.

Emma wore a salmon sundress, which he’d been informed was not even close to pink. It matched the band of cloth tied around the hollow of her wide hat, and earrings that were definitely more pink than salmon, which he wisely did not point out. She looked elegant, as always, and carried a twinkle in her eye.

Allie wore a strappy, cropped black tank top. Her caramel skin and dark hair brooded like a seductive patch of shade in the desert heat, showing even more deeply tanned cleavage than the waitress. The knowing smirk on her face when he glanced up and met her eyes was annoying.

“Alright you two, no teaming up.” He turned to Allie. “What did you order anyway?”

Her eyes narrowed. “A salad.” She sounded defensive. Luckily, her ire turned sideways. “That shit,” she continued, eyeing Emma’s basket of fried food, “will go straight to your hips.”

Emma glared and snapped back, “I bet you’re fun at parties.”

Of course she’d gotten a salad. Mike was right there when she’d ordered it. It must have slipped his mind.

“Oh, I am,” Allie answered, her smirk turning wicked. “Just ask him.”

“Enough.” Mike’s voice came out harder than he expected, and Allie noticed. Her eyes widened a fraction, almost not enough to notice, but Mike did. They stared at each other in a contest of wills.

“Jesus, get a room already,” Meredith said from his right, breaking the tension.

Emma asked, “Mere, do you want me to catch the server for a drink?” She was always so polite.

“No, I can wait, thanks.” Meredith’s hair was wet and her shirt damp. Mike couldn’t help but notice how it clung to her body. “The rain is actually kind of nice, you know? I’m not dying for something to drink like you guys.”

Now that she mentioned it, the pitter patter of rain on the roof caught his attention.

“Speak for yourself,” Emma grumbled, looking anxiously out the windows. “I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“Poor baby,” Allie mocked, “your fancy little dress will be ruined. How will you get through the rest of the year?”

The windows were suddenly dark and gloomy. That was weird. He remembered the door handle burning his hand on the way in. How long had they been there?

“Of course you don’t care,” Emma shot back, looking Allie up and down, “you can’t keep your clothes on long enough for it to matter.”

Allie’s eyes narrowed and her face twisted into a sneer. But before she could respond, Mike interrupted. “I said, enough.” His voice snapped like a whip-crack.

Around them, the pub quieted. Conversations and laughter died before his voice finished echoing. Even the music stopped, leaving a jarring silence in its wake. Heads slowly turned his way. Just a few at first, those closest to their table, but as he scanned the crowd he realized everyone in the pub was staring directly at him. More eyes than he could count were watching and waiting. Each face wore an unblinking stare.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Meredith grumbled into the silence.

It broke the spell. Somewhere, he heard familiar laughter, like a laugh track from a sitcom. Meredith said something else then, but he couldn’t hear it over the noise in the room. At the next table over, a man spit out his drink and threw his head back in laughter. Cheering erupted at the bar as someone finished chugging from an enormous glass shaped like a boot. A lightning flash lit up the windows for a brief moment, followed by a boom of thunder. The sound of shattering glass came from somewhere off to the side.

“I said, a good BJ will fix his mood,” Meredith repeated.

Emma nodded, but Mike hardly noticed. There was too much going on. The TV on the wall near their table turned on. It showed a group of friends seated at a restaurant, a classic sitcom setup. Another TV blinked on, showing the same scene. Then another, and another, until every screen in the pub was playing the same thing.

The camera was centered on a good-looking foursome at the table, a man and three women. In the background, a server was mopping up a spill, her blonde ponytail swinging behind her. The group was chatting, though clearly didn’t all get along.

On the TV, the pretty girl in the pink dress tied back her auburn hair, then ducked under the table. She must have dropped something. But instead of searching around on the floor, she approached the guy across from her on hands and knees. He looked oblivious, laughing with the two other women at the table while holding an enormous cheeseburger.

Hands touched Mike’s knees, but he was too busy trying not to make a mess with The Cowboy to notice. They slid up along his legs until they reached his waist and unclasped his belt. Around and behind the burger, delicate fingers were pulling at his zipper.

That wasn’t right, was it? Why would someone be undoing his pants? He looked around to see if anyone noticed, but Allie and Meredith were talking like nothing was out of the ordinary.

His length was suddenly out and free in the cool air. Something was definitely not right. He set the burger down to get a better look under the table. Emma was looking up at him. Soft brown eyes met his, holding his gaze as she leaned forward, her face slowly inching toward his quickly stiffening groin.

Just as her mouth, her delicate, graceful, oh-so-proper mouth, came within a breath of his length, she paused for a beat. The corner of her lip pulled back in a lopsided smile that reached her pretty brown eyes. Then she swallowed his cock. His head lolled back and his mind blanked as soft lips slid up and down his shaft while a tongue swirled.

Mike’s eyes snapped open. What the hell was going on? They were in public. He reached down to pull her off and ask what she was thinking when another pair of hands intercepted his and set them down on the table. Meredith’s hands.

“I said,” she looked annoyed at having to repeat herself for a third time, “a good BJ will fix your mood.”

Emma knew exactly what she was doing, and Mike was having trouble thinking straight. He wisely said, “Um. What?”

“Isn’t this what you want?” Meredith asked.

Of course it was. But it wasn’t that simple. It was never that simple. “I don’t know what’s happening here, but-”

Something bumped Mike’s leg, and another mouth joined the first. Allie’s seat was empty. One pair of lips bobbed along his length while someone else’s tongue was licking his balls. He groaned, and his train of thought ground to a halt. Under the table, Allie’s eyes glittered while her lips made a seal around his cock. Next to her, Emma was smiling up from beneath his balls.

That wasn’t what he meant by teaming up.

“This isn’t…” he began, but was interrupted when the waitress returned. His brain tried to lurch back into gear, to think of some excuse to keep her from calling the police, but nothing came to mind. Panic started setting in.

The waitress asked politely, “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Mike blinked. Was there anything else she could get him? Two women were under the table right now sucking him off, and she wanted to know if he needed a refill? Did she not see them? Did she not care? Was this some sort of weird prank?

But he wasn’t thinking clearly. He was distracted by… everything. The lips stroking his length, the tongue bathing his balls, the waitress’ easy smile. His mind was fuzzy. Instead of responding, his eyes slowly drifted down to her chest, where they lingered.

Somehow, impossibly, a third mouth joined in while he was ogling the waitress. Meredith’s curly hair was now bobbing up and down next to the others. Her lips were pressed against Allie’s in a firm kiss, holding his shaft between them. Together, they slid up and down his length, pausing at the top to take turns licking and swallowing, all while Emma nuzzled from underneath.

Seeing his attention was elsewhere, the waitress leaned forward. Her V-neck loosely fell away, revealing cleavage that made it impossible to look anywhere else. “Sorry, I know it’s loud in here.” She sounded apologetic. She leaned closer until her mouth was right next to his ear. “Is there anything else you need?” When he didn’t respond, she continued softly, “Or, want?”

This was so wrong, but he couldn’t keep himself from thrusting up into a welcoming mouth. He didn’t know whose it was, but it was hot and wet and willing.

It was too much. The sound of a hundred conversations happening all around him, and the feeling of the triple blowjob, and the sight of it broadcasting on the TVs, and the waitress so close her perfume mingled with the smell of fried food and sex in the air. It was stimulation overload. Mike couldn’t handle it. So he closed his eyes and waited for it to end, one way or another.

Around him, the noise of the pub began to fade away. At first, the talking and laughing simply stopped echoing, like every hard surface was replaced with noise dampening softness. Now he could pick out individual conversations if he concentrated. Slowly, those faded too, until he was left with silence. Silence, and the sound of three mouths making love to his cock.

Mike opened his eyes. The pub was gone. In its place was a dimly lit bedroom. No, it was too big for a bedroom. A chamber. He didn’t remember moving, but just a moment ago he was sitting in a booth surrounded by tables and polished wood. Now he was lying on soft sheets. On the walls, fire danced above oil lamps, casting the room in dim, shifting light, barely enough to see by. Now that it was quiet, he could focus on the one sound that remained.

His gaze fell down to his waist, where three beautiful women were sharing his cock. Meredith’s curly ringlets bounced as she moved. Allie’s straight, almost-black hair blended in with the gloom. Emma’s auburn locks caught the dim light from the lamps and made him think of autumn.

“What…” Mike’s throat was dry. He coughed, swallowed, and tried again. “Where are we?”