A Slave to Broken Hearts (A Slave to Love Sequel)

Chapter 78: The Wedding

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I grunted, hopping in place. My zipper absolutely refused to cooperate and I was stuck with my dress completely open in the back. It wouldn't come down enough so I could try to fix it or even escape the dress, but it wouldn't come up the rest of the way either and I couldn't get a good enough to grip in order to wrench it free.

I had already done my limited makeup and hair with my mom, put on some jewelry that Katie had let me borrow for the weekend (some dangly earrings that looked like leaves), and all that was left was the dress and shoes. And seeing as people would be arriving in about twenty minutes for the service, I really needed to hustle.

"Kiana?" came Blade's voice from outside my door, accompanied by a gentle knock.

"Yeah?" I asked, huffing as I twisted in front of the mirror to see what the problem was, but I couldn't quite tell from my angle, nor could I reach to get a good enough grip to feel it out by touch.

"Your mom needs some help with something, she wants you to go see her."

"Just. A. Minute." I grunted, "Ow! Shit." My hand slipped off the zipper I'd been yanking on and I punched myself in the back, fingernails nicking my skin. I better not start bleeding, though my skin was stinging as badly as if I was.

"Is everything okay in there?"

"No," I groaned. "I'm stuck."

"Stuck?"

"My zipper is being a bitch and I'm stuck in this stupid dress."

"Oh. Do you need a hand...?"

As much as the thought of him helping me get dressed did not thrill me, he had enough experience getting me in, and out, of my clothes that he would be decent enough help. And it wasn't like he hadn't seen me undressed as recently as a week ago.

"Yes," I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that at least this week was almost over and we could be apart again soon and I'd have space to breathe.

A moment passed and then he came in, eyes averted, no quip about me being half dressed or anything. Not that I expected him to do anything like that, but it still was weird for him to treat me with the same politeness as he would a stranger, instead of trying to tease and flirt in a situation like this. Hell, even when we were strangers, he still had had a near constant inappropriate running commentary going. 

"It caught the fabric," he explained, nimble fingers brushing my back as he tugged on my dress and zipper. "Huh."

"What?"

"Did you scratch yourself?"

"Yes, why?" Oh no. "I'm bleeding, aren't I?"

"Just a bit."

I cursed. My dress was black so it would be hard to see a bloodstain, but that didn't mean I wanted blood on it anyway, or a band-aid sticking out to ruin the look. 

"Do you want me to...?" he trailed off and I tried not to curse more. 

"Yes. Please." Not like this situation could get any more uncomfortable, could it?

In my mirror, he nodded. He bent forward, lips finding the burning spot on my back, tongue darting out along my skin in one smooth broad stroke. I focused on my breathing, trying to keep it steady and normal, instead of to the level of nearly hyperventilating. 

"All good?" My voice was much higher than it should have been, but at least my skin was instantly soothed, even if the rest of me was now burning.  

He straightened, lips pressed together as he appeared over my shoulder once more. "Yes. Just the zipper now?"