Page 80 of Caging Liberty
“I’m sorry,” I finally say. My heart rate picks up thinking about the possibility of him changing his mind about me. He could throw me away, just like that. He holds so much power over me, and I never seem to remember it until I give him a reason to exert it. “I shouldn’t have pressed.”
More silence.
“Please don’t tell me to leave,” I say, closing my eyes, barely holding myself together. “I won’t bring it up again.”
Angel sighs and scoots closer to me. He runs the back of his fingers down my arm then back up again, across my spine, down the other arm. He leans in and plants a kiss to the shell of my ear. He pushes the hair off my shoulder, brushes my neck with his lips, lowers himself to my collarbone, each kiss pulling more fear from me than the last.
It’s okay, he tells me without saying the words.It’s going to be okay.
I wish I could believe him.
See you tomorrow night, Ivy.
I shudder at the unwanted voice in my head, trying not to think about everything it means.
I lean in to Angel’s touch, his hands tugging at the collar of my shirt, his lips kissing my chest. I let him lie to me, let him push the unwanted thoughts from my mind.
He coaxes me to lie down on the couch, his mouth never leaving me. He lifts up my shirt and kisses the well of my breasts, his tongue snaking out, wetting my skin.
He works his lips down my chest, over my stomach to my waist. I arch my hips to help him as he removes my shorts, and I close my eyes at the jolt of sensation that rushes through me when his tongue slides up my slit.
He sucks and licks, opening my legs wider while I relax into the couch, giving in. Minutes pass while he works his magic, my longer breaths turning to pants, my hands gripping his hair.
When I come, I moan his name just because I love the sound of it, love the freedom it gives me.
He pulls away from my sex and drags himself up my body to kiss my mouth, making me taste myself. His kisses are slower this time, less desperate. I moan as his tongue, just seconds after bringing me ecstasy, glides over my lower lip.
I open my mouth for him, letting him kiss me, touch me, all without owning me. I listen to him, obey his unsaid commands, live in the moment with him. And the entire time, I forget I’m a whore.
Angel shifts us so we’re lying with his chest pressed to my back on the couch, then he lifts himself up just enough to grab the remote. He turns the movie back on before pulling me closer, both of us pretending we’re concentrating on the screen.
“Do you actually hate your life?” Angel eventually asks, sounding like he’s afraid to hear the answer. As if he did this to me. A month ago, I blamed him. Now I only blame Sawyer.
I don’t need time to consider the question.
“Yes … but it’s better when you’re here.”
He sighs into my hair, and I close my eyes.
“I’ll stay.”
My eyes fly open. Did I hear him wrong?
“Sawyer can go on my behalf. It’s about time he takes a turn anyway.”
He moves his hand from my hip to my stomach, cuddling me close. “That means I’ll be in charge of the manor while he’s gone… If youreallydon’t want to dance, I won’t force you.”
“If I don’t, you’ll just make someone else.”
He doesn’t respond. When his hold on me loosens, I grab his hand and hug it to me before he can pull away.
“I’ll dance… Thank you for staying.”
He nuzzles into my hair and inhales, similar to how the predator did earlier tonight. Forcing Jasper from my mind, I melt into Angel, and a warmth swims from my chest to my belly. Two men. Same action. Two drastically different responses.
As the credits for the movie play, I watch the words move up the screen. Neither of us reach for the remote to shut off the TV, and when I hear Angel’s slow, heavy breaths in my ear, I realize he’s asleep.
I close my eyes, listening to the movie’s insidious soundtrack play, hoping it’s not a sign of what’s to come.