by L. B. Dunbar
Before me stands Mayor McSteamy in his black boxer briefs and full package filling those snug shorts. He lifts a knee for the edge of the bed and then climbs up and over me, straddling my legs. His hands cup my cheeks and his head lowers, delicately taking my mouth with his. The kiss is sweet and lingering as he moves from one corner of my lips to the other, sipping at the sensitive skin and sucking at the lower curve.
“Charlie,” I whisper. “Don’t be gentle with me.” I can’t take it if he makes love to me. I can’t be held responsible for how I’ll react. The emotional hold will be too strong, and I need it rough. I need to forget about my dad and Richard and sleeping in a twin bed in my parents’ house for just a little while.
“You still okay with the fact we haven’t been using condoms?” he questions, acting responsibly for the first time. “I’ll follow your lead, but I want to continue being bare inside you.”
“I’m okay with that,” I say, dismissing the fact I’ve already had an accidental pregnancy.
“I want to take care of you,” Charlie says, his voice as tender as the kisses he’s giving me.
“Then take care of me, Charlie, but make it burn.”
“You have no idea what you’re asking me.”
“Show me.” I pause. “Sir.”
Suddenly, his mouth crashes against mine, opening to engulf my lips and surge for my tongue. The muscle tangles, twirling and sparring against mine until I almost can’t breathe. With one hand, Charlie forcefully tugs at the sheet, exposing my naked breasts. He sits back only briefly and then dives for one achy globe, but cupping and massaging the other. His tongue swirls around the nipple while the fingers on his other hand pucker the nipple to a peak. Then he simultaneously nips me while pinching the other stiff nub.
I cry out, and Charlie pulls back, taking both my hands and lifting them over my head.
“Don’t move.” His mouth comes to mine again for one powerful kiss before drawing back, and asking, “Ever been tied up?”
I shake my head, and Charlie hops off me, reaching for the tie he tossed on the floor. Climbing back over my thighs, he wraps an arm around my middle and tugs me down the bed so I’m flat on my back. Then he wraps my wrists together and hooks a part of the tie behind the headboard of his sleigh bed.
“Charlie,” I hiss.
“You take what I give,” he says, and those eyes flame. I’m not certain how I feel being tied up and unable to touch him, but the second his mouth returns to a breast and two fingers plunge into my depths, I forgot all about my wrists over my head. My eyes close, and I let Charlie play my body like an instrument. His tongue on my nipple. His fingers up my channel. My hips rock, and Charlie presses kisses down my belly. I open my eyes to watch him as he watches his fingers slipping in and out of me.
“You respond to me,” he mutters as if surprised at my body’s reaction. What body wouldn’t respond to that intense stare, those penetrating fingers, and then that tongue of his?
Good God. He’s wicked as he licks and laps, and I struggle against the binding at my wrists.
“Charlie, oh God. Charlie, I want to touch you.”
“You said to make it burn, sweetheart, and I plan to set you on fire.” His mouth latches only onto my clit, sucking it so hard I see stars, but he isn’t finished, and I’m only on edge. His tongue slips inside me, teasing me with its thickness before moving back to the sensitive hood and then delving two fingers inside me again.
I cry out his name. It’s too much and not enough, and then I break apart. My knees clamp together around his head. His mouth is relentless as my hips buck, and then my legs fall open, and I feel it building again.
“Charlie,” I hiss, both a question and a concern. He’s going to make me immediately come a second time. Last time this happened, he stopped and slipped himself inside me, but he makes no effort to move. His tongue tangos, pressing forward to swipe at already drenched folds, and I explode once more, nearly as forcefully as the first. My head lifts off the pillows, but with my constricted hands, I can’t touch him. I can’t comb my fingers into his hair and hold his head to me. Instead, I rock my hips against his face, and he lets me. He takes me with that tongue of his until I’m weightless.
Pulling back, he rolls up to his knees and stretches his arms, stroking his hands up and down my front, then over my breasts but not stopping to pleasure them. As my heart rate lowers, he straddles my body and crawls over me until the apex of his legs nears my face. Shoving down his briefs, he reveals the solid length I’m all too familiar with. One hand wraps over his headboard while his other guides his stiff shaft to my lips.
“Take me,” he demands. I open, closing my lips around him, and he works himself, dragging back and forth between my cheeks, then pressing a little farther with each rock forward. My eyes glance up at him, watching the beautiful man straining over me. His eyes close as he dances. His hips come forward. His dick slips farther.
“Your mouth,” he chokes while he groans, then breaks off as though he can’t tell me all he wants to say. My mouth performs like his tongue maneuvered over me—swiping and stroking—and I want to give this to him. I want to feel him at the back of my throat and down my esophagus, all the way to my belly as he’s already filled another organ, the one that keeps the blood pumping in my body. And right now, I’m pumping. My cheeks hollow, and my tongues circles him. Then he pulls out abruptly.
Moving back down my body, he easily enters me. I didn’t need a warning because I knew where he was going, but I feel unprepared for the surge. The way he fills me takes my breath away. He moves back and forth, dragging out the pleasure, and my hips reply with thrusts of their own, holding him inside me.
“I love your body,” he says, coasting around the swell of my breast and lowering over my belly. He sits back, lifting my thighs so my backside rests on his knees as he continues to slide in and out of me. His hand skims lower until his thumb hooks on my clit, and he flicks the hood.
“Charlie,” I hiss.
“You’ll give me one more,” he demands, and I don’t want to disappoint him, but three? It’s been a miracle I’ve had two back to back.
Charlie works at me, and I take the pleasing strokes and teasing rubs. I don’t believe I’ll get where he wants, and then he shifts. He taps me in a place I’m unfamiliar with, and I gasp. Charlie slowly smiles down at me.
“One more,” he commands. My hands curl around the tie holding my wrists together as my body begins to hum. How is he doing that? I don’t have time to ask before everything rushes to my center. Up my legs and down my belly, the prickles and tingles heighten until they crash at my core, holding Charlie deep within me.
I scream his name, lifting my head once again to watch him pummel into me. His mischievous smile and a twinkle to those eyes tell me there’s more to come, and too quickly, he pulls out of me. My backside falls to the bed, and I jolt at the sudden drop.
“Flip.” It isn’t a command but a direction. His hands come to my hips, and he rotates me. I’m surprised by how easily I twist with the tie at my wrists. Awkwardly, I lie stretched out.
“Knees up,” Charlie says, holding a hand on my backside. “Move higher. Kneel.”
Holy…Sitting upright, I scoot on my knees until my kneecaps nearly touch the solid wood headboard as my fingers curl over the edge, still tied together.
“Up,” he demands, and I lift higher, pressing my knees into the bed until Charlie’s knees are under me, spreading my thighs. He guides me back down—reverse cowgirl—and slips inside me. He stills.
“Jesus,” he hisses, resting his head on my shoulder a second as I’m sitting on his lap with his front pressed to my back. His hands circle my belly, and then he slides them up to my breasts, cupping each in a hand and giving them a sharp tug. I yelp, and Charlie jolts upward. I cry out again as he bucks under me, forcing me to ride his lap. One of his hands comes forward, curling over mine on the headboard. He rocks forward, his hips press upward, moving mine to dance over him.
<
br /> “I’m going to lose it,” he strains, bucking harder, increasing the ride of me over him. A hand comes to my hip. He lifts me as if moving me off him. Then a sharp smack fills the room, and I feel the sting on my ass. I cry out his name, and he drops me over him, plunging upward into me and stills.
“Holy fuck,” he mutters as he jets off inside me, pulsing within me. We hold this position for a minute, both our breaths coming swiftly. With shaky fingers, Charlie unties my wrists, tugs my hands to my chest, and pulls us down to the bed. We lie on our side, sideways across the mattress.
“Are you okay?” he whispers into my hair, his breathing coming in heavy rasps.
“I’ve never been better,” I say, admitting a truth to him. I’d never felt anything like what I feel when I’m with him. He pulls one of my arms up and back so his lips can kiss my wrist.
“I didn’t hurt you.” There’s a question of concern, and I shake my head. I liked it more than I should admit. Moving back, he slips out of me and then presses me to my back. Something trickles between my thighs, but I ignore it as he looks down at me. “You’ll stay, right?”
There’s more in that question, asking me for a promise, but here’s where the truth can’t be shared.
“For a few hours,” I say, and he lowers to kiss my mouth, slow and sweet once again.
17
Caught
[Janessa]
“Dad?” The young female cry sends us both shooting upright in bed as we hear the call from the lower level. I don’t need to check a clock. The bright light streaming into Charlie’s room is enough to tell me it’s morning, and I shouldn’t be here.
“Where are your clothes?” Charlie whispers, looking off the side of the bed.
“Bathroom,” I mutter, recalling how I took off my things in there and hung them on a hook on the back of the door.
“Go,” he hushes, and I scramble from the sheets, racing for the bathroom. I softly close the door and then lean my back against it, my heart racing as I stand naked inside his bathroom with his daughter running up the stairs.
“Dad,” Lucy says, barging into his room. My eyes close. Please tell me he was able to dress before she entered.
I don’t hear the next few things as I take a moment to calm my breathing. I turn for the door, reaching for my dress when it opens. Charlie shuts it behind him and locks it.
“Shower,” he whispers.
“What?” I hiss.
“I told her to give me fifteen minutes. I need to shower. I can’t go downstairs without it.”
“What about me?” I question.
“Shower.” His lips curl, but my mouth gapes.
“Charlie, I’m serious. How am I going to get out of here? I’m too old to climb down a trellis or something.”
His head tilts with his back to the door. “Have you done that kind of thing before?”
“I’ll never tell,” I tease.
“How about last night?” His voice lowers.
I shake my head. “I’ve never done anything like that before.” My voice rings with surprise. It was quite a trip, and one I’d like to take again, but for now, I need to get out of here. Charlie steps forward, gives me a quick kiss, and then holds my eyes.
“Good morning,” he whispers, his lips slowly curling.
“Good morning, sir,” I mock.
With a hand at my hip, I’m walked backward until I’m inside the two-person shower with a partial opening. His hand doesn’t leave my hip as his other reaches for the faucet. His lips crash mine as the cold water hits us, and I scream, which he catches with his mouth. Slowly, the water heats, and Charlie’s kisses slow. He pulls back and reaches for the shampoo, squirting some in his hand and then holding up mine for more. We each shampoo our own hair, and I find the moment surreal. I vigorously scrub, my hands obviously on my head, but Charlie’s eyes lower for my breasts, the sudsy bubbles flowing down to cover them.
“I want you again.” It’s a natural phenomenon that men are hard in the morning, and I’ve already felt the evidence of Charlie, but he speaks as if he’s surprised with himself.
“Charlie, we have like thirteen minutes. We don’t have time, plus I need to get out of here.”
“It’s either I slip into you or you watch me whack off in here because I need to get rid of this.” He gestures to himself, and I cover my mouth to stifle the laugh. Then I move my hand forward, circling into a fist around his thick shaft. He’s so hard, so solid, and instantly, I have lady boner needs as well.
“Charlie,” I hiss, my voice hitching, letting him know what he’s doing to me to be touching him, coating him with the water and a touch of his dripping shampoo.
“Turn around,” he says, only I shake my head.
“You turn around.”
His brows pinch, but he spins for the tile. I rub both hands down his back and then wrap one over his hip, slipping lower until I fist him again. His breath catches. I reach for his other hand and bring it behind him, leading his fingers between my thighs.
“Dammit,” he moans, reaching for me, and hooking his fingers into me. I roll forward, riding his fingers and pressing my breasts into his back while my hand works its magic over him. “This is insane.” He chuckles, but I’m too lost in his touch to laugh. The things this man does to me. The desire I have for him. It’s not ending even though I say it will be the last each time. Last night, I needed him on my terms. I wanted to decide when it would our last time together, and so I came here to stake my claim.
And then he took it all from me again.
And I so willingly gave it to him.
Naked and willing in my bed.
I’d been there.
“Janessa,” he warns, and I tug faster. He moves into my fist, guiding himself to the place he needs. Then he stills, slapping a hand on the tile. His fingers fumble at me, but I pull back. I don’t need this so much for me but to bring him to his knees. He spins to face me, cupping the back of my neck and tugging my mouth to him.
“I never want to disappoint you,” he growls.
“I’m more than satisfied,” I tell him, hoping to appease him, but his fingers return, working at me until my body gives in. As I claw at his shoulders and bite his nipple to lessen the moan, he mutters over my head, “That’s better.”
Removing his fingers, he reaches for his soap—the mountainy, manly one—and he washes off his body. Slipping around me, I follow his back, wondering what he’s thinking.
“I can buy you five minutes. I’ll keep Lucy in the kitchen, and you can go out the front door.”
The front seems even more obvious than sneaking out the back door, but either way, I need to get out of this house. I should have returned to the hospital during the night. Instead, I’d fallen asleep against Charlie, who woke me in the middle of the night for another round of riveting sex.
He’s relentless, and we’re reckless, and I love every minute of it.
Once Charlie leaves, I dress quickly, tucking my hair into a tight bun to disguise the wetness. I’m dressed and fussing with my hair as I step out of Charlie’s room into the upper hallway and listen for Lucy and Charlie’s voices when a familiar tone questions my name.
“Nessa?”
“Mami?” My head shoots up, and I freeze, hand on my wet hair, wearing the same clothes as yesterday as I stare at my mother.
“Nessa,” her voice strains as she steps closer to me, her eyes shifting to the lower level.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, instantly thinking of Papi, but her eyes narrow.
“What are you doing?” she hisses, her voice changing to Spanish, curses following about hell and damnation.
“Mami, let’s talk about this later,” I suggest, reaching for her arm and turning us both so my back is to the staircase. I need to get out of here. Shutting out her words, I spin for the stairs and race down them. Reaching for the front door, I open it and step out. I’d like to slam the door in my agitation at my mother, but I close it as softly as I can, and
then break into a barefoot sprint around Charlie’s house for the path leading to the coach house.
+ + +
Once at the coach house, I find Vega alone.
“How are you doing, baby?” I ask her as she sits on her twin bed while I undress and pray she doesn’t recognize my clothing is the same from yesterday. Then again, she didn’t just catch me coming out of Charlie’s bedroom and has no reason to question my appearance.
“Is Papi going to be okay?” she asks, hugging a pillow to her chest, and I drop to my knees before her.
“He’s going to be just fine,” I try to assure her although I have no idea if he will. One minute, my father was telling me how happy he was I’d moved to Blue Ridge, and the next, he was on the floor of the diner.
“Is he going to die?” she questions, her lower lip trembling, and I tug her to me, not wanting to think such thoughts myself. Since we’ve moved here, my father has taken an immediate liking to Vega, spending more time with her than he ever did with me when I was a child. He wasn’t present during those formative years. He missed out on this age with me. He’s been stealing back time by investing his in Vega, and the two have grown close quickly. I’d hoped my father could replace Richard in Vega’s heart. If she couldn’t have her father, her grandfather was the next best substitute, and I refused to believe we’d lose him so quickly after gaining him for Vega.
“He’s getting the best care, baby. Hopefully, we’ll know more today. His heart just hurts, baby.” I weakly smile. I can relate. Mine aches for Charlie and all that I want to have with him, and all that I can’t.
“Change, baby,” I tell her, patting her leg as we both need to change our clothes. Vega will go to art camp for the day, and I’m hoping it distracts her thoughts.
I find Mami in her kitchen and learn she came home to change because my brother, Zander, showed up during the night. I don’t know why she was at Charlie’s as he understands she needs to take care of my father. Still, Mami scowls at me, and I ignore her glare.