by Dee Palmer
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? I shouldn’t be getting turned on like this, because I’m sick. Well, I don’t feel ill, but I look horrible, which doesn’t seem to bother him, not in the slightest. Jeez, Dave wouldn’t come near me if I had a slightest sniffle. The way Charge’s bright blue eyes darken and his lids droop makes me melt. It’s shocking the effect he has on me, with his glare, his presence, and, oh, God, his touch. I can feel wetness pooling like a well, and with my legs spread like this, I’m a hundred percent sure he can see it, too.
“Better.” His raspy voice does strange things to my insides.
“For whom?” I arch a brow. He’s not looking at my face. His heated stare is fixed and unwavering between my legs. I squirm with wanton need, and groan when I get the unbearable urge to scratch.
“Problem?” His lips are curved in a wicked smile, but the expression on his face quickly drops to worry when his eyes meet mine.
“Itchy,” I whimper.
“Allow me.” He picks up the lotion bottle and a wad of cotton wool. Very carefully he tips the bottle and soaks the material with the pale pink liquid, then I’m in heaven. I mewl at the first ice cool and delicate touch. The itching vanishes, and all I feel is bliss. Charge looks up with a wry smile.
“It doesn’t last too long, angel, unfortunately, but I can apply more anytime you want.” He continues to dab soothing spots all over my skin until I’m more lotion than not.
“Oh God, that feels good.” My sigh makes him chuckle. I close my eyes and sink into a dream-like state, enjoying the respite from the relentless irritation. I have spots everywhere, and he’s very, very thorough, flipping me over to cover my back and easing my legs up so he can get to those hard to reach areas at the very top of my thighs. I think I should feel embarrassed—my cheeks certainly burn—but I feel cherished. His fingertips brush my folds, and all the air leaves my body in a rush, cool lotion and hot breath against my core. My thighs start to tremble with the stretch and extreme angle of the hold. The building need within me seems to start at my toes and blazes a path through every fiber, nerve ending, and tiny cell; it’s making it hard to think about anything else, other than wanting his touch and more. I bite my lip to stop me from begging. What would he think of me wanting sex, when I look like an extra in a horror movie?
“There. You look pretty in pink.” He screws the lid on the bottle and drags his eyes slowly up the length of my body.
“I look gross, but thank you for saying that and for the magic lotion. I don’t even feel the itching. I think I’d be safe out of the cuffs.” I jangle my arms.
“The lotion doesn’t last, and you’ll find yourself scratching without even realizing it. If you scratch, it makes them worse and prolongs the recovery time.” He lies beside me, blowing puffs of cool air across my skin.
“Are you saying that because you like me all tied up and helpless?” I raise a cheeky brow.
“Oh, angel, I don’t need an excuse to keep you tied up.” He flashes a devilish wink, and I shiver. “So what do you feel up to doing today?”
“I don’t want to leave the bedroom,” I blurt out. “I’d rather the fewer people who see me like this the better.”
“I have postponed the cookout over the weekend because I thought as much, but Finn, the others won’t care. They’ll want to come and see you, take their turn in caring for you—in sickness and in health, I do believe.” His fingertip traces a pattern on my skin, but not playing Join the Dots.
“But we’re not married.” I point out the flaw in his statement, which he’s quick to dismiss with a wave of his hand.
“A formality, angel. So, do you want me to bring in a TV so we can put a movie on or—”
“We could chat?” I offer as a much more interesting alternative.
“Sure, we could chat. Let me go wash my hands. I’ll fix you something cold to drink.” He leans back over the bed and plant a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t leave! What if—”
“Finn, it’s my day, angel. It’s just you and me.” He stands at the door and fixes me with his sexy-as-all-hell stare, stealing the breath from my lungs and all sense from my brain. He’s dressed in a white T-shirt, which fails to hide the strong curve of his toned torso, the material tight against his flexed bicep. Charge has tattoos on both arms I haven’t been close enough to look at, to see what the exact designs are, but one peeks out from the edge of the sleeve. His loose, worn jeans hang from his trim waist, and his large frame blocks the whole damn doorway. Short, dark hair that looks almost black makes my fingers twitch to run through the spikes, because I know they will feel soft to the touch. His eyes seem to change color with the light, and right now, they are deep blue with a flash of emerald green and they pierce right through me. His smile dazzles, all wide with bright, perfect, pearly-white teeth, and his face looks stunning when it lights up with joy. He looks so happy—truly happy—with me. I get a warm feeling in my belly, which radiates and feels good in all my other parts, straight through to my soul.
It feels like he’s gone for days, when I know it’s only minutes, but I’ve never been left like this, tied up and naked and so unbelievably turned-on. The one time I mentioned adding some spice to Dave, he shut me down. The pain of his rebuttal was surpassed only by the monumental humiliation that followed on his birthday. At the time, I thought it might be fun, and the way every nerve in my body is now on high alert, I know I was right. Even more so because it’s Charge.
He walks back into the room looking like an irresistible mix of delicious devil and drop-dead-gorgeous god. I see raw desire when his eyes meet mine, making his jaw clench; the little muscle below his high-cut cheekbone ticks like crazy. My eyes dip to the sizeable bulge in his jeans, and I comfort myself with the thought that I’m not the only one who’s off-the-charts horny.
He pushes the door wide while holding a tray of drinks in one hand and a different bag in the other, and he chuckles at my audible gulp. Jeez, how many toys does he have?
“Relax, angel. I brought some books, a checkerboard, and a pack of cards.” I let out a relieved breath and join his laughter.
“I was a little worried. I mean, how much kinky shit would you need to fill two bags?” I joke.
“Hmm…” His enigmatic smile is utterly devious, and a chill dances across my skin in waves, making my hairs prickle upright. He doesn’t elaborate and it takes me only a moment to understand why.
“You have more than would fit into two bags, don’t you?” His lips twist with a knowing grin before he answers.
“Yes, but I think it’s cute that you think I would have just one bag.”
“Why do you need so much…stuff?” I can’t fathom why he would.
“It’s not a question of need. It’s a question of want.” He states this matter-of-factly and then elaborates. “I like sex, Finn, and this is just a part of me. I don’t see the point of hiding it or being coy about my kink, not when we have a short time frame to really get to know one another.”
“Oh, I’m not complaining. Just curious.” I try to shrug, but my cuffed hands and outstretched arms make it a little awkward.
“That’s very good to know. I can work with curiosity.” He drops the bag and prowls around the bed, his piercing eyes not leaving mine for a second. I get a liquid instant spark in my core, and it spreads like a burning flash flood through my body. “Would you like me to put some more lotion on you?” His voice is so deep and throaty, it makes my toes curl.
“Do you mind? I’m a little tied up.” I jangle the cuffs with my cheeky comeback.
“For your own good,” he admonishes lightly.
“Hmm…the jury’s out on that one, Mister,” I retort, and he grins but doesn’t argue my point. He unbuckles his belt and slips his jeans down his strong, thick thighs, and if I wasn’t hot before, I’m a molten mess now. His black, fitted boxer shorts are like a second skin, and his huge cock is outlined in such detail, I swear I can see the thick ridge running its e
ntire and impressive length. My tongue darts out with excited anticipation, and I wonder what perfection must taste like. He cups himself, blocking my view, and stalks up the bed, a deep furrow set in his brow, but his face is inscrutable.
“What are you thinking?” My mouth works without the filter, because I’m not sure I want know the answer, but my brain is otherwise occupied.
“I’m thinking if you lick your lips one more time, angel, then poison oak or not, I won’t be responsible for my actions,” he growls.
“Oh.” I fail to hold back the whimper.
“I’m trying to be good here, Finn, but damn…”
“I don’t want you to be good.” I’m panting, and if I could put my hands together, I would be pleading. I hope my tone is enough to tip the balance. I’m not above begging. “I’m kind of in agony here. I need…” I blow out some of the heat from my body in a puff of air mixed with my embarrassment at sounding so wanton.
“Tell me what you need.” His voice drops an octave and feels like tantalizingly smooth velvet across my skin.
“I…I…” My face burns as the words stall on the tip of my tongue, but I shake my head. I can’t ask for what I desperately want. What if he says no? I’ll be mortified—humiliated. “Some lotion, please. I’m burning up.” I chicken out and hold my breath, waiting for the recoil. His face softens, and there’s not a hint of anger. If anything, he looks a little disappointed.
“Of course.” He picks up the bottle and starts to meticulously cover every inch of my body. He flips me to do my back first. I drift off at his tender touch and the feel of the blissfully cool liquid on my skin, but I wake when he turns me onto my back. Once he’s finished, I’m again on edge from the intimacy of his ministrations.
“I’m sorry.” I whisper my apology.
“What for?” His brows pinch together, and his expression turns stern.
“For not…I…” I draw in a breath for courage. If I can’t speak now, this is all going to be pointless, and I so want this to work for all of us. “I…I’m not great at asking for what I want.”
“I gathered as much. But why?” His tone is coaxing.
“Oh, you know, the usual.” I start to nibble at the inside of my cheek, his gaze intense and searching.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know. What’s usual? I don’t see what is to be gained from not asking for something you want. Something your body clearly craves. Or am I mistaken, Finn?” He arches a brow, his expression anything but uncertain.
“God, no. Definitely craving…I guess it’s a mix of embarrassment and fear.” I try and explain feelings I have never had to articulate before. No one’s ever cared enough to ask.
“Fear? I won’t hurt you, Finn. I want to make you happy. This is only ever about pleasure for me—for both of us.” His hand rests between my breasts over my heart, which beats a strong, staccato rhythm at his touch.
“Not that type of fear, Charge. More fear of rejection, I guess. You know, of being embarrassed and laughed at.” I close my eyes at the rush of mortification as my flashback hits me right where his hand lies.
“Fuck, Finn. I can’t even get my head around that statement.” He sits upright, a heavy cloud darkens his features, and his jaw is clamped shut. He breathes in heavily through nostrils which flare then relax when he slowly releases the air. He seems to need to gather himself before he speaks. “You have nothing to ever feel embarrassed about, not with me or the others. I want you to feel absolutely free to ask of me for anything you desire, anything you think might give you pleasure. There are no limits, Finn, to pleasure, and for anyone to ever make you feel anything other than like a goddess, well, they are a fucking fool.” The tingle in my nose is instant as is the trickle of tears from the corners of my eyes. “Angel, don’t cry. Talk to me, Finn. Please.” His hand moves from my chest to cupping my cheek, catching the tears with the pad of his thumb.
“I…I have never felt the way you guys make me feel, and I want to let go, I really do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, but it’s easier said than done when…” My voice breaks, and a fresh rush of tears falls unchecked. Dammit.
“When someone’s made you feel worthless for years.” Charge draws his own conclusion on the scraps of information I have given him, and sadly, it really isn’t too far from the truth.
“Not years, but certainly the last year. I don’t want to mess this up, but it’s hard, you know?” I offer a genuine smile even if it sticks on my teeth with the residual sadness I can’t seem to shake.
“I understand, but it isn’t possible to mess up, Finn. I promise.” He holds my gaze, and his eyes tell so much. I don’t know what exactly, but I like it. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
“Good girl.” He leans over the bed and pulls some objects from his bag. He’s careful to lay them beside me in full view: a blindfold, a glass dildo, a small silver gem plug, and a flogger. Dave may have rebuked my attempt to introduce some spice, but I still did the research all the same.
HER BREATH DOES THIS LITTLE hitch, and her tummy muscles clench as she checks each item I place beside her. It breaks my fucking heart that some asshole would temper her passion, her desire, her innate sexuality. Fucking coward.
I pull the blindfold out and carefully tie it over her eyes, securing it at the side so she doesn’t have a knot digging into her head.
“Comfortable?” I whisper. My lips are below her ear, and I take delight as her whole body shivers. She nods, so I ask again. “I need to hear the words, angel.”
“Yes.” She sighs, and I press a kiss against her cheek, the curl of her smile widening under my lips.
“Good girl. If you want me to stop at any time you say so, okay?”
“Yes. Do you want me to call you Sir?” My cock surges with blood at her breathy question.
“Normally, I would like that very much, but for now, I would mostly like to hear you say my name when you come.” She whimpers, and I know I beam. She can’t see it, which is why I can finally pull my shirt off. Time to get dirty.
I lie on my side next to her and trace my finger down her skin, the red marks are already starting to fade, but I still have to be careful not to touch, or irritate them. I follow my finger with my mouth, kissing a path from below her ear, down her neck to her collarbone. She sighs, and her sweet breath washes over me; she’s intoxicating. I shift up and over so I’m hovering above her and trailing kisses down to her breasts. Her nipples are puckered tight, and I flick my tongue out and tease the tip. Her back is arched up from the bed, and she’s now millimeters from touching my skin. I suck in a breath, my eyes flick to the blindfold, and I let out a calming breath.
I refrain from using my whole hand to massage her soft flesh, even though it’s killing me. With my lips and fingertips I can be more precise and easily avoid any sore spots, and still drive her to where I want her to be. I cover her nipple with my mouth, sucking and swirling my tongue, pulling the peak, then releasing it with a slight scrape of my teeth. She writhes and undulates beneath me, and I repeat the process several times, alternating my attention equally, until her breaths are ragged, and her hips fruitlessly grind into the comforter.
“Need something, angel?” I rasp out the question and swallow against the dryness in my throat.
“Mmm mmm.” She shakes her head and bites her lip into a tight, thin line.
“Words, angel. I need to hear the words,” I demand, my tone a soft rumble.
“No, I’m good thank you,” she whispers.
“So, you don’t want me to try and ease this ache right here.” I blow a cool breath of air on her pussy, which glistens from her arousal, causing her to cry out. Damn, her scent is driving me crazy.
“Oh, God! Please.” She sighs, and I smile, but I want more from her—much more.
“Please what, angel?” I ask, my intonation innocent.
“Oh, God, Charge. Don’t make me say it, please.” She scrunches her face up with adorable annoyance.
“Angel, I will give you everything you ask for. But, you have to ask.” I tap her nose lightly, and her face relaxes.
“Ugh. Hmm…” she moans, tipping her head right back like she’s seeking divine intervention. She’ll get it, once she asks.
“Well?” I place my lips at the top of her little strip of hair, which points a clear line to all that heavenly goodness. My nose circles the gold stud piercing, then dips into her belly button, making her giggle, which eases some of the tension.
“I want your tongue,” she mutters.
“I like the sound of that. Go on.” I pepper a line of kisses from her belly button down her landing strip, but not quite to her clit.
“Oh God,” she moans.
“Charge. Oh, Charge,” I correct and grin, because her head snaps up. I can just imagine her narrowed eyes and fiery stare. She flops back with a loud huff of resignation.
“I want your tongue on me—in me. Ahhh, Charge!” She cries out as I drag my tongue slowly with just the right amount of pressure from her clit to the entrance. My lips cover her, and I don’t draw breath, sucking and licking, stroking and devouring every drop she gives me. I’m relentless, and I don’t ease up for a second, not until I feel the first wave of contractions and then everything stops. I pull back, and she sags like her bones have suddenly lost all rigidity. She lies limp on the bed, and once she catches her breath, she snaps at me.
“What? Why did you stop?” Her incredulous tone would be comical if not for the deep frown on her face. I ignore her question and pose one of my own.
“What did you want me to do, angel?” I keep my tone even.
“I thought it was pretty obvious. I want you to make me come.” Her head is raised, and she’s staring right at me. I can almost see her deep, crystal-blue eyes through the silk. Her lips purse between each sentence, and I can feel her frustration, nearly a palpable, quite angry entity.
“How would you like me to do that?” I punctuate each word with more kisses. I can’t stop touching her. I can’t get enough, and as much as this is a lesson for her, it’s also torture for me.