Page 45 of The Beat of My Heart
Why the fuck did I just go there with her? I know what this is, what it can only ever be. I proved the day they killed my mom that I can’t be trusted.
I hear Angel turn her shower on, so I shove out of bed. I’ve got to get out of my head. Walking to my own shower, I turn it on as hot as it can go. Standing under the stream of near scalding water, I pray for it to burn the monsters away. I can’t let this go too far, the last thing I want to do is break my beautiful Angel.
Fifteen minutes later, I walk through Angel's door with my shirt hanging open to find her standing in a black lace thong with thigh highs and nothing else.
“Fuck. Me,” I say, almost dropping the tumbler of amber liquid I had just poured. I stand in the doorway, my mouth hanging open. Angel turns to me and scowls.
“Don’t just stand there,” she gripes, “You promised to help me into this death trap, remember?”
“Uh-huh,” I say.
“Charlie?” she screeches, stomping her foot, which makes her tits bounce. I swallow and try to find my voice, but I’m like a teenager seeing boobs for the first time. The vision in front of me will be spank bank material for the rest of my fucking life.
“I’m serious,” she says, sounding slightly hysterical, snapping me out of my reverie. I can’t help but laugh, and I know that’s the wrong reaction. I’ve never seen Angel mad, but her face is turning red, and she could shoot daggers from those sexy green eyes.
Holding my hands up in surrender, I say, “Okay, okay, sweetheart, what do you need me to do?”
Walking to her, I set my tumbler down on the nightstand and press my front to her back. Resting my chin on her head, I watch her in the mirror.
“I don’t know, but last time that thing seriously almost killed me,” she huffs. “Look, I have the picture to prove it,” she shoves her phone into my face.
Taking it from her hands, I stifle a laugh. I don’t know how the fuck she got tangled up in it as she did, but studying the picture, my cock stands at attention. She looks fantastic. The dress binds her hands behind her, forcing her tits up and out. Her head slightly bowed from the angle of her arms.
“Jesus, Angel. You are so goddamn sexy.” Leaning in to nip her earlobe, I whisper, “Will you let me tie you up like this tonight?”
I watch in the mirror as her neck works to swallow and her cheeks flush.
“Will you trust me to tie you up like this and have my way with you, Angel?” I repeat.
Turning to face me, she asks, “Will you trust me to tell me what was wrong earlier?”
We stand, facing each other for a few moments—too long to be comfortable—before I answer.
“I’ll tell you what I can, how’s that?” I ask.
Placing her hands on her hips, she nods. “Fine, that’ll work. Now help me into this nightmare.”
“Sweetheart, the only nightmare will be me trying to make my dick behave watching you prance around in that dress,” I tell her.
“Ugh, I do not prance,” she tells me but has her eyes on my shaft.
Cupping it, I say, “You keep looking at him like that, sweetheart, and we will never get out of here.”
“Ah-uh,” she says, backing away. “I have to go tonight; I take my job very seriously.”
“I see that, Angel. And it has me so curious about what it is you do. You seem to be in very high demand,” I tell her.
“I’m very good at what I do,” she says noncommittally.
“You are very good at everything you do, I’m sure,” I tell her, still watching her tits. Shaking my head I say, “We need to get you dressed or I won’t be able to walk. Let me see that dress.”
Examining it, I am beginning to understand how she got stuck in the first place. All these silky strands that are supposed to crisscross her back look like a torture device. “Maybe I can slip it over your head?” I offer.
“Maybe,” she says, staring at it as if it’ll bite her.
“How did you get into it last time? Let's do the opposite tonight,” I tell her, only half-joking.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I tried to step into it at the store,” she tells me.
