Chapter Forty-Three #5
Shifting in place, I clear my throat. “It was just dinner, pajarito.”
I didn’t mean to brush off his feelings, and all those wonderful things he just said to me. But I realize I have when I catch the slightly dejected look on his face.
I clear my throat and shake my head, brow furrowed, because I’m just so fucking lost. “I mean, you don’t have to thank me for any of that stuff.
I just… want you to be happy. And feel good.
” I gulp. “We could’ve done more… I wish we had.
” I’m fumbling, and it’s so unlike me, it’s winding me up.
“Next time, I’ll make it even more special. ”
The soft smile is back as he wraps his arms around my waist. “All I need is this.”
Oh fuck me…
Okay, this isn’t good.
I have to… get… away.
Gulping, I press a kiss in his hair. “We should… get you back.”
I feel him stiffen. “What…?”
“Back downstairs. It’s really late, baby. Or early. I have to get up in a couple of hours.”
“So? You mean… I can’t just sleep here? At least until you have to work?” He looks as confused as he is upset, and I hate it.
I do want him to stay. In fact, I think cuddling up in my bed with him sounds like only the best thing ever right now.
But I just… can’t.
“It’s… not a good idea.” I try to pacify him with my tone, but he’s not having it.
“Why not?” He glares. “What do you really think is going to happen if I’m not locked up??”
“Angel, please…” I rub my eyes. “It’s late. We’re both exhausted, just—”
“Exactly why we should just go to sleep,” he grunts. “You’re the one being a dick and making things complicated.”
“Your bedroom is downstairs, Angel,” I tell him firmly.
“Yea, in a fucking cage.” He shakes his head. “Because you don’t trust me…”
“I didn’t say that…”
“You didn’t have to,” he snaps. “So this was just about sex…” He rubs his eyes. “Wow, I am such a moron.”
“Baby, it’s not—”
“Don’t fucking call me baby, asshole! You’re kicking me out of your bedroom after sex! Sending me back down to my cage like a fucking animal… God, are you serious right now??”
The frustration of this situation, and how much of an asshole I’m being and ridiculous it is that anyone is surprised, is getting to me. Most of all because for the first time, I actually care. And it’s annoying.
“Escuchame, Angelito—”
“No, you escucha-fucking-me. I will not allow you to toss me out like garbage,” he hisses. “Not after what we’ve been through for the last week.”
My heart is racing. “And what have we been through, pajarito??”
His eyes are wide. “Nothing. Never mind. Fuck you.” He storms out, going for the den.
“At least let me walk you back—”
“I’m not going back in that cage!” He snarls. “I’ll just sleep in here, if you don’t want me to—”
“Angel, that’s not going to work.” I step toward him.
“Back up, Ivory, I’m serious…” He’s backing away while I step closer.
“Don’t make me do this,” I growl, reaching.
He smacks my hand away. “Get your fucking hands off me.”
I can’t even fathom why, but there’s a buzz of thrill in me right now, and a warmth pooling in my gut. He’s just so sexy when he’s mad…
All angry, flushed and looking at me like he wants to stab me in the face—and after he just fucked me and came in my ass, no less. It’s mesmerizing.
“Pajarito, stop. You’re being insane,” I murmur calmly. Gaslighting the fuck out of him and hating it, but also loving it? And hating myself for always being such an evil fucking scumbag.
This is Jonathan all over again.
Lunging while he’s distracted, I quickly grab him by the waist and haul him over my shoulder.
“Ugh! Put me down, you fucking prick!”
He struggling like a maniac, wriggling like a worm on a hook while I carry him down the back stairs and through the passageway.
It’s a pretty long way to be carrying him like this, especially while he’s freaking out, hollering like a psychopath.
Everyone is probably wondering what the hell is going on, and it kinda excites me again…
No big deal, guys. Just fighting with my boyfriend.
He hates me and will probably kill me soon, but until then, we’re fucking and fighting like your standard toxic couple.
Eventually, Angel goes limp in my arms and just breathes. Every now and then a tiny whimper will slip out, and it cuts me deep.
But that’s what I deserve, isn’t it?
I can’t have this kid sleeping in my bed with me. It’s too dangerous. Too risky.
For now, he’ll have to stay in the cage.
That’s what fits for The Ivory.
Inside the cage, I drop him onto his bed, turning to leave. But something stops me. It’s the same thing that prompted me to invite him up for a date in the first place… The same thing that let him inside me tonight.
That thing that keeps having these instinctive reactions to him.
Grasping him by the jaw, I lean down, expecting him to fight. To shove me away, or slap me in the face.
But he doesn’t.
He simply gapes up at me while I drop a plush kiss on his perfect lips.
“Sleep tight, pajarito,” I whisper, eyes closed. Feeling it, so heavy, I’m crumbling. I love you… “Thank you for… letting me see you.”
I take only three extra seconds of smelling him and feeling him before I pull away and leave.
And while I hope he doesn’t hate me too badly for this, I know in the rotten socket of my chest that he should.
He is supposed to hate me… Not be thanking me for seeing him, which I do. Of course I fucking do. He’s been haunting my brain for twenty fucking years…
He shouldn’t be falling for me, just like I shouldn’t be falling for him.
And if I can help it, then I’ll try to remember to make him hate me when I can.
Because he’s supposed to.