Page 49 of The Beat of My Heart
“There is so much I want to say, Angel. So many things I wish were different,” his voice cracks and I feel a tear fall down my face. Rushing to me, he wipes my tears with his thumbs. “Angel, what is it, sweetheart? Did something happen tonight? Why are you crying?”
Shaking my head, trying to speak through the pain that’s settled in my throat, I bury my face in his chest. I need a minute to collect my thoughts. I’m not a crier, and I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling. Finally, taking a deep breath, I look into his eyes.
“You’re broken, Charlie. Here,” I say, placing my hand over his heart, “I feel it deep in my soul.”
“Yes,” he says. “I-I…”
Placing a finger over his lips, “Shh, Charlie. Come, let me hold you tonight,” I tell him, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it from his pants, I slide it over his broad shoulders. Before I can think better of it, I place a tender kiss over his heart.
Charlie inhales a breath as if I’d branded him.
Lowering to my knees before him, I hesitate for a moment as I look to him. His head is hanging low, eyes shadowed, haunted but entirely on me. His shoulders are slumped. Gone is the domineering man of the past few days. This is just Charlie, baring his all, and it ruins me.
Undoing his pants, I let them fall to the floor and watch as he steps out of them. Sitting back on my heels, I watch him, wait for his command, but it doesn’t come. He is fighting the darkness, and it’s my job to bring him the light. Raising up on my knees, I lower his boxer briefs and watch in awe as his cock springs free. Even on my knees, I’m too short to do what I want. Raising to my feet, I take his hand and lead him to the bed.
I’m unsure of how to handle the quiet, conflicted Charlie, so I gently set him on the edge of the bed and lower to the floor once more. With my hands on his thighs, I drop my mouth to lick his tip and watch as it bobs in response. Placing one hand around his base, I use the other to stroke him slowly as my tongue circles his crown.
His hands fist into my hair, almost to the point of pain, and I like it. He doesn’t guide me, doesn’t force me, just hangs onto my hair as if his life depends on it. Lowering my mouth to take as much of his length as I can, I gag when it hits the back of my throat, but I hold it there for a second when a broken cry escapes his throat.
“Fuck, Angel,” he screams. His voice ragged, wounded. He pulls at my hair and I release his dick with a pop.
Climbing his body, I find his lips and kiss him with all I have. His hands wrap around me, kneading my ass cheeks. There is something about this kiss, this experience with him right now that feels so much more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced. There’s an emotional urgency we are playing tug of war with.
Unable to breathe, I pull away from his kiss. Turning myself so my back is to his front, I lower my pussy to his lap and hear him groan as his tip finds my entrance. With my hands on his thighs for leverage, I move.
Neither of us speaks except for the occasional moan. This isn’t how it’s been before. This is something else entirely. Using our bodies to express what neither of us can say, I raise and lower my body against his. Over and over again, I move while his hands wind around my body, teasing and pinching my sensitive nipples.
“Charlie,” I pant, leaning back into him as my feet come off the floor and he takes control. Sliding us further up the bed, my back still flush against his front, he slowly slides his hand from my nipple to my mound. Making slow torturous circles around my clit, he rolls us to my side.
Lifting my leg over his hip, he moves within me. There is nothing frantic about what we are doing. He is loving me with his body, that I’m sure of. Again, working my clit, he picks up his pace and I’m a goner. My belly is trembling, and I know I won’t last very long.
Charlie leans in, so we are almost cheek to cheek as he whispers, “Mon Amour, Mon Amour, Mon Amour,” repeatedly, it’s all I hear as the world shatters around me.
I’ve never experienced an emotional orgasm before, never had a connection so deep with someone that every nerve ending in your body explodes—until now. I never understand when people say an orgasm was so intense it brought them to tears, and yet, here I am. Wholly incapable of controlling any part of my body, heart, or mind.
The last thing I am aware of is Charlie cleaning me with a warm cloth, then wrapping his body tightly around me. I don’t know where his body ends or mine begins.
* * *
Trevor
Angel isenveloped by my body; I don’t dare to let her go. She has been asleep for hours, but sleep eludes me. Our evening is playing on repeat. I’m a fucking mess. This is not a connection you walk away from. Loki was right, but I don’t know what to do.
Mon Amour, I’d said. My love.
I love her, or I could? Do I even know what love is? I’m reminded of a letter Dex wrote to me when we were teenagers, and my father had sent me to summer camp in England. He was always the bleeding heart of the group; it kills me that his ex-wife has broken him like this. But, I’ll never forget the letter he sent me when I asked his advice about a girl.
Dude, July 10th, 2002
Why so formal? Are they monitoring your letter writing too? It wouldn’t surprise me. I looked up the camp yesterday. Who has a dress code for summer camp? It must be so stuffy and boring as hell.
I’ve included as many snacks as I could fit in the box. I hope they get to you, and they don’t confiscate this stuff. It cost me a small fortune.
Ok, about the girl. Do you realize you never even told me her name? I need names and descriptions to give you proper advice, but this sappy heart will improvise just this once.
Here are Dexter’s rules for knowing you’re in love:
Are you willing to do anything to keep her safe, like from snakes and big ass spiders?
