Page 39 of The Beat of My Heart
My spine is tingling, and I clench my ass cheeks.You will not come before she does, you little fucker. Her pussy vibrates, and I know she's about to go off.
Through clenched teeth, I say, “Let me hear you, Angel. Let me fucking hear you.”
I’m already gone. Unable to hold back any further, I unleash, pounding into her tight little body like I’ll never have this feeling again. I see stars. I’m grunting like a wild animal, and I’m covered in a sheen of sweat when I finally come to.
Looking down into Angel’s face, my breath gets caught in my lungs.I think I could love this girl. Twenty-four fucking hours and I think I’m in love.
We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. Neither of us speaking. Neither of us blinking, just staring into the other’s eyes, seeing what forever could look like.
Angel is the first to break, “Holy shit. That was…” she can’t finish.
“That was devastatingly amazing, Angel, that’s what that was.” I kiss her tenderly, then pull back and watch as my dick slides out of her pussy. Watching my come flow from her entrance, I want to pound my chest like a motherfucking caveman. Then I meet her eyes, and the color drains from my face.
“FUCK!”
Angel sits up quickly, banging her head against mine. “What the hell?” she shrieks, holding her forehead.
“Sweetheart, if you’re going to head butt me every time we have sex, I will need to invest in a helmet. But, seriously, we have a problem.”
“Wh-what’s the matter?” she asks, and I hate the uncertainty in her voice. If anything in my life were different, I’d vow right now to make sure she never sounded like that again.
“God, I’m so fucking sorry. I got carried away. I…” I’m so ashamed of myself. Guilt has settled deep in my gut, and I feel sick, but not for the reasons I should. I feel guilty because the thought of her pregnant with my child flashed before my eyes and I didn’t panic, I didn't fight it, I reveled in it. In a split second, I envisioned her pregnant with my baby, and I felt a happiness I didn’t know existed. A happiness I don’t deserve. A happiness I can’t have. “Fuck, I forgot the condom, Angel. I’m so sorry. Tell me what to do, I’m out of my element here. I have never, not even once, had sex without wrapping that fucker up tight.”
Unable to look at Angel, I lower my head. I’m afraid she’ll tell me to get the hell out and I’ll never see her again. That’s when I know Friday will not be long enough. I’m fucked seven ways to Sunday, and there is not a goddamn thing I can do about it.
I startle when I feel a gentle hand rest on my shoulder. Angel is beside me, on her knees, so she is eye level with me. Completely fucking naked and so gorgeous it hurts.
“Charlie?” she asks quietly.
Turning to face her, I’m gutted. “I’m so sorry, Angel.”
Putting her hands gently on each side of my face, she pulls me to her chest. She just holds me. Comforting me when it should be the other way around, or at the very least, mutual. Wrapping my arms around her, I hug her back; the gesture so innocent, yet so powerful, my eyes sting. I don’t fucking cry, and yet here I am. Not because I could have just got Angel pregnant, but because instead of freaking the fuck out, she is holding me.
“I’m on the pill, Charlie, and while no condom is not ideal, I think we will be okay. I can call my doctor and have her call in Plan-B though to be safe.”
“I’m such a fucking idiot, Angel. I promise you, I’ve never done that before,” I swear to her.
“So, what you’re saying is, I’m your first?” she says, smiling.
Just like that, she has pulled me from the dark. I laugh when, moments ago, all I felt was despair. “You are my guiding light, aren’t you?” I ask. “And to answer your question,” I say, pulling her into my lap so I can hold her close, “Yes, you are most certainly my first.”My first unprotected sex, my first love, my first broken heart, screams the voice inside my head.
“I like being your first,” she whispers.
“Me too, Angel. More than you could know,” I tell her.
“I’m going to go call my doctor, you okay?” she asks.
Why the fuck is she worrying about me?
“I will go take a quick shower so I can go with you wherever we have to go,” I tell her.
“I think it’ll just be a pharmacy,” she says like I’m crazy.
“Angel, let me be very clear about something. I fucked up, I’m not a fuck-up. I’ll be going with you,” I command.
“D-do you think I wouldn’t do it? Don’t you trust me?” she asks, looking down at the floor and biting her lip. She seems so insecure, and I hate that I’m the cause.
Lifting her so she is straddling me and we are face to face, I say, “Angel, that has nothing to do with it. For reasons I can’t explain, I feel like I can trust you more than anyone I’ve ever known. This is about me being there for you.” I want to tell her that if circumstances were different, I’d tie her to the bed and hope and pray she was pregnant with my child—something I have never once wanted before. But I don’t. Because I can’t. She cannot be part of my fucked-up life.
