Page 18 of Dead Bled Ringer
“And this time, don’t fuck it up.”
The next day I was outside a froyo place wearing Henry’s black suit.
I could see Angel through the front window, sitting at a little ruffled table with her Kindle and a big bowl of froyo in front of her.
As I watched, her little pink tongue darted out and swirled around the strawberry pink yogurt, closing her eyes with pleasure.
Her golden blonde hair fell down her back in a perfect riot of waves. I had never, ever seen a woman to compare to her. Every single movement was unbelievably sexy.
The memory of her tits shaking as I pounded into her made my cock twitch.
Precum beaded my dick in Henry’s suit as she plucked a maraschino cherry from the top of her bowl, sucking its juice dry as her cheeks hollowed out around the fruit.
How was I supposed to fix my face to be a brute to the world’s sweetest woman?
She shifted in her chair and my mouth went dry as I saw the outline of her two exquisite cheeks through the thin fabric of her skirt.
I wanted nothing more than to get in there and lie on the ground and beg her to forgive me for my deception.
But I had to do this, for her own good.
Taking a deep breath, I straightened my tie and kicked the door of the froyo place open.
The bored-looking college guy behind the counter screamed shrilly, while Angel gave me a frown, those adorable pillowy lips pursed in disapproval.
She fucking hates you too, I had to remind myself.
And she’d hate me more if she found out I was fooling her again.
“Hello, darling,” I said, stalking over and looming above her with my 6’5 frame.
It looked like she was trying very hard to act cool, but I could see a pulse of fear in her throat.
If she was afraid enough of me to stay married, that would be the best thing. Otherwise I had no doubt Henry would follow through with his threats to distribute those videos.
Or worse.
“You need to leave,” she said, tightening her lips at me. “I don’t want to see you.”
“Should I call the p-police?” the froyo worker quavered, the pink-and-yellow hat trembling on his head.
“Here, take a break, kid,” I ordered, throwing a couple hundred dollars of Henry’s onto the counter. “Get lost.”
The guy didn’t even think about it, just grabbed the money, threw his hat on the counter, and left.
“Fucking pussy,” I yelled after him as I slammed the door shut and locked it.
When I turned back to Angel, her blue eyes were as wide as dinner plates, her pink lips opened slightly so I could see just the tip of her pink tongue.
“Now, enough of this shit about getting divorced. You are not leaving me.”
She acted like she was getting up, but I stalked over and pulled on the front of her shirt, forcing her to sit back down.
“Sit down.”
Looming over her, I rested big knuckles over the hard wood so she could hear the heavy clunk of the thick gold wedding band that completed my deception.
“Go away,” she squeaked, her chair scraping across the floor as she tried to escape.
