by Emelia Blair
“That’s not true,” I try to lie, ineffectively, feeling the guilt mount up.
“Whatever, bro. I know. Don’t screw this up.”
Hearing the phone click as she hangs up on me, I wonder when I became so bad at dating. But Agatha is right; I need to take Charlotte out. I need to show her that I want her at my side.
“When are we leaving?” I hear the familiar voice ask, and when she comes out of my room, she wears a shirt and a pair of pants, making me realize that I haven’t even bothered to buy her a proper wardrobe. The clothes Agatha brought from her apartment are old, and I can tell that money was skimped on them. I pick up my wallet and keys, my mind made up.
“Now. We’re leaving now.”
So, pick up her stuff, and then take her out on a long, romantic date.
That sounds like a plan to me.
Two hours later, however, I watch Charlotte beam at her newly-adjusted kitchen.
“This looks gorgeous! Do you see this, Philip?!”
She is pointing to a huge round thing that is supposed to be an oven, I assume, but it looks weird. I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.
I have to admit, I have never seen her this excited over anything. And right now, as she runs her hands over this equipment, her eyes sparkling, I make up my mind to buy her any and every piece of baking equipment she wants, just to see her smile like this.
I glance at my watch.
“We need to hurry it up. Where are your books? I’ll go bring them down.”
“They’re under the bed. Blue bag.” She doesn’t even look at me. I leave her to her devices, making sure that her two bodyguards are outside, each guarding an entrance.
Making my way up the creaky staircase, I enter her dingy room, and try not to let the shabbiness get to me. My chest throbs at Charlotte’s tiny quarters, and it seems to me she’s spent her entire life in uninhabitable places, barely surviving.
A part of me decides then and there that, should she decide not to give me a chance, there is no way in hell that she will return to such a miserable existence. I am going to have a word with my lawyer about renting a fully-paid new apartment for her in a good neighborhood as a divorce clause.
I lean under the bed and drag out a bag. It’s been sewn up over and over again from the looks of it.
I don’t get it. I know she had no savings, but the bakery is making a steady income.
However, when I take out the books from the bag, I realize where her expenses are going. These belong to a very prestigious institute.
I amblown away by this woman.
Tucking the bag under my arm, I take a cursory glance around the place for anything that Charlotte might want to bring back with her. I am not letting her return here.
My eyes fall on a faded green photo album, sticking out from under a pile of newspapers. Picking it up, I casually skim through it, curious about what photographs are so valuable to her.
Some of them are of her and her mother, some of Agatha and her, a few with my grandmother. But as I turn page after page, I notice the majority of the photographs are of me, and both of us, just causal snaps that Agatha took and printed out for her.
The last page is a picture of me, with her tucked under my arm, where I was grinning at the camera and she was looking mortified, trying to escape my hold.
The picture takes the entirety of the page and looks worn out, as if it has been held a lot.
Urgency building up, I move through the album again, and then close it with a snap, a frown on my face.
I’d assumed that Charlotte moved on after what I did, but the pictures she kept tell a whole other story.
Is Charlotte still in love with me?
Hope blooms in my chest. I tuck the album into the bag and carry it downstairs.
Watching from the door, I notice the way she runs her hands over the new coffee maker, clearly in awe. Turning around, she gives away a gasp when she sees me standing at the door.
“Why are you lurking?” I take a step forward, forcing my heartbeat under control. “Philip?”
There is a new wariness in her tone.
I can’t help it, and when she takes a step back, I corner her in the kitchen, where the bodyguards can’t see her.
“I love you,” I murmur to her, making her eyes widen. Her cheeks turn red.
“Why are you saying that right now?”
I run my thumbs over her cheek and see the way her eyes darken in desire. I drop a kiss on her cheek, then her nose, then her jaw, urgency driving my actions.
“Because I can. Because I want to,” I murmur to her, and feel her arms wrap around me, as I taste and tease her skin. She is getting caught up in my fervor, and I feel the way her nipples tighten under her shirt.
“Come to bed with me,” I murmur in her ear. “Let me show you.” My hands move over her curves, touching, petting, learning. She shivers under my experienced hands, but doesn’t say a word. “Charlotte, let me love you.”
A sigh of acquiescence, and then I hear the whispered ‘yes’ that is filled with heat.
I don’t think. I grab her hand to drag her to the car, but she shakes her head, biting her lower lip.
“No. Here.”
Her desperation seems to match mine at the moment, and I make sure we are in a corner that is not visible.
I capture her mouth in a fervent kiss, as my hands struggle to pull up her shirt. As I ravish her mouth and her neck, planting wet kisses, and biting into her soft skin, leaving my marks on her, she shudders and makes small sounds.
Pushing up her shirt, I don’t take it off, instead leaving it on her arms, above her head, and effectively leaving her helpless and bound.
My hand cups one of her breasts, and squeezes the firm mound, making her cheeks flush. As the color spreads down to her chest, I smirk, enjoying her small gasps. My fingers tease her nipple, making it hard. Her soft lips part in a moan when I pinch the hardened nub.
My own erection grows hard at the way she is wiggling before me, and my mouth waters at the sight of the pink nub.
I want it in my mouth. I want to suck on it until it is red and swollen.
And so, I do.
Leaning my head down, I take her nipple into my mouth and suck, my tongue teasing and lashing out at it, making her move in frustration. I can tell she wants to drag my head even closer.
The moans that slip out of her mouth are turning me on, and I like the way she is helpless under my touch.
I decide to use my teeth on her, wondering what her pain tolerance is. I bite down on the hard flesh, and she cries out, rubbing her legs together.
Apparently, she quite likes it.
My smirk grows.
Well, this is interesting.
My hand teases her other nipple, and with my free hand, I unzip her pants, and coax my hand in.
When my fingers come into direct contact with her dripping pussy, a groan escapes me.
“No panties?”
She bites her lip, her eyes closing as I run a finger over her wet slit.
“I didn’t have any.”
And she never will, if I have anything to say about it.
“I just suck your nipple,” I murmur, “And you’re already this wet.”
Small pants are coming from her mouth, as one of my hands keeps lavishing attention on her breasts, while the other teases her pussy.
I can feel the way her thighs tense and tremble as I keep tracing the slit, gathering moisture on my finger.
I take it out and her eyes lock on mine as I lick her juices off my finger. When her lips part on a moan, I capture her mouth with mine, and shove a finger into her pussy.
She cries out into my mouth, riding my finger for all it is worth, her inner muscles contracting on my digit.
I thrust my tongue in and out of her mouth, in time with the movement of my finger inside her, and the rhythm drives her wild, making her come all over my hand.
I swallow her screams, and then take out my finger from her dr
enched pussy and offer it to her.
Her eyes are dazed at the ferocity with which she just came, and she opens her mouth.
My cock grows hard when I see the way she sucks her own juices off my finger. Were we not in the kitchen, I would offer her something bigger to suck. But this is about her pleasure today, not mine.
I want her wild. I want her begging for my cock before I shove it into her.
I want her riding on it, while her breasts move up and down with the force of her being fucked.
I wanted this woman seven ways from Sunday, and just imagining her in all those positions makes my cock so hard that it begs for relief.
I draw my finger out of her mouth and she makes a small sound of protest which I ignore. Sinking to my knees, I pull down her pants and smirk when I catch her looking down at me, her pretty eyes wide with shock.
Lifting her up, I help her onto the edge of the counter, and then push her knees apart.
My tongue swipes up her center, gathering all her juices, relishing the unique taste of her.
She whimpers.
I saw her shirt flutter to the ground, and when I tease the small nub that instantly grows hard, the muffled sound that she makes tells me that she is covering her mouth with her hands.
I chuckle against her pussy, the vibrations making her release a desperate sound.
I pull away, and tell her, “Not too loud, darling. There are people outside.”
She groans, and I raise a brow when I notice that my words turn her on even more.
Definitely something to explore later on.
I stroke her slit a few times, and then without a warning, thrust my tongue in.
Her whole body arches up in a silent scream, and I hold her down with my hands on her thighs, moving my tongue inside of her, curling and aiming towards her G-spot.
Her screams are muffled, and I have to hold her down as I tongued her, sucking on her pussy juices, flicking my tongue inside her pussy, eating her out. I hear her gasp out my name and I smirk, pressing my tongue against her clit, before flicking it, hard.
She comes apart within one heartbeat and the next, her body tensing.
However, I am not done.
My thumb against her clit, pressing and rolling, moving my tongue in and out of her, liking the way her inner muscles are contracting around it. I swallow her nectar and keep licking her insides, driving her into another orgasm as I eat her out to my heart’s content.
When I finally pull away and stand up, she is half-lying on the counter, her eyes so satisfied and slumbery that I kneel down to kiss her again, unable to help myself.
Then, pulling away, I take out my cock, and slowly guide it to her entrance.
She bites down on her lip, hard, when I enter, and a soft sigh escapes her.
I push in, watching her carefully for any signs of distress. Inch after inch, I enter her, until my balls are pushed up against her.
She murmurs something that I strain to hear.
“Oh, God.”
I pull out a little and push back in, making her cry out.
I enjoy the way she looks right now, so helpless and out of control, completely at my mercy.
I thrust again, my movements shallow and firm, giving her time to adjust to my size.
However, I am not counting on the fact that Charlotte can talk dirty with such innocence.
“I’m so full.”
My control snaps, and I start moving my hips, jackhammering her already-abused pussy, pulling her up until she is plastered against me, her mouth right next to my ear.
“Harder, Philip!” she cries out. And although she is so tight already, I snap my hips and oblige, making sure she feels every inch of my cock as it enters and exits her.
She gasps my name, clinging to me, her legs now wrapped around my waist.
I don’t know when her pants have been tossed off, but right now, as I fuck her relentlessly, driving into her pussy, my jaw is tense with self-restraint as I hold on.
I feel her muscles contract on my cock, and my restraint withers away when I feel her clamp on to my neck with her teeth in an attempt to hold in her screams.
As she comes around my cock, my hands grip her by her thighs. I fuck her even harder, with quick harsh movements, driving her into another orgasm. I am forced to let go, unable to hold on as her pussy clamped on to my cock, determined to milk me for what it was worth.
My head drops on her shoulder as I groan, my breath uneven and harsh. Her arms are around my neck as her own form shudders with the force of her orgasms.
“You okay?” I murmur, and she nods her head.
Getting myself under control, I pull out of her and hear her wince.
“Oh shit, I forgot protection,” I swear, and I feel her hand on my arm, her voice soft when she speaks.
“It’s okay. I can’t—”
Barren. Erik had called her barren.
I look into her downcast gaze and raise her head with a finger to her chin, my eyes steady.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Charlotte. I’d rather you get yourself tested, for your own peace of mind.”
From the look in her eyes, I realize she hadn’t thought of that. And I wonder how controlling Erik had been that he was convinced that she was barren.
“He saw the reports—”
“He could have lied.” She shudders at that, and I grin. “I guess we should worry about protection then.” She wraps her arms around me, burying her face in my chest.
“Thank you.”
I raise a brow.
“What for?”
“I didn’t know sex could be like that.” Her murmured response makes me jolt.
I pull away and study her red face, and I suddenly have a feeling that Erik might have been one selfish lover.
Well, his loss is my gain.
I wrap my hand in her hair, and purr, “Charlotte, you’ve been doing sex all wrong. Let me teach you how it’s really done.”
12
Charlotte
I stare at the price tag and my heart sinks.
Looking at the way Philip was watching me, sitting on the couch, his legs crossed, his eyes raking over my form, I let out a sigh.
There is no way he is letting me get away with just one skirt.
“Try the blue one,” he suggests with a smirk, making me realize I have been staring at him.
“I don’t like the blue one,” I find myself saying. “Isn’t this enough though?” He narrows his eyes.
“You’ve just gotten one skirt and a blouse. How is it possible that you’re friends with Agatha?”
I frown at the blue skirt.
“She’s got better taste than me.” And more money, I add silently.
“I’ve seen her taste,” Philip sneers, “It’s red, black, white.”
He gets up and strides over to me. I watch him in the mirror as he comes to stand beside me. “I prefer your taste.”
“You don’t even know my taste,” I counter, blushing when his hands settle on my waist. The same hands that had just made me scream his name over an hour ago, when we returned to his apartment to change.
He kisses my neck.
“You like light hues. You prefer yellow over blue. Red over pink.” He kisses me again, a slow kiss that has my insides demanding to be filled again, and his lips curve upwards. “I know your taste. Now hurry up, or we’ll be here tomorrow as well.”
The man stuns me with all this knowledge he has of me, things that I was not aware he knew about me. My heart caves a little bit.
When we leave the shop, my stomach is growling, and Philip laughs.
“Now that we’re done with all this, let’s go on our date.”
“Date?” I blink, smoothing out the dark green dress he just bought for me on a whim, and then tells me to wear out of the boutique.
I don’t know how much he spent, but he had been adamant, and I can’t win against him when he has made up his mind. I try not to think of numbers.
He
grins at me.
“Yeah. Our date. But, before that—”
He takes out a long velvet box from the inside pocket of his coat, and holds it out to me. I raise my hands.
“No. Absolutely not. No jewelry.”
He looks at me, and for the first time in my life, I see his face fall.
“But I chose it just for you.”
“I can’t accept it, Philip.” I try to harden my voice, but Philip has discovered a whole new weapon to use against me.
“You’re not even going to look at it?” His voice is low.
Unable to bear the misery in his voice, I find myself relenting. There is no harm in taking a quick look if it will appease him.
It is a beautiful necklace, with small diamonds that shine so bright that if hold in the sun, they could blind a person. Green emeralds are set in it, enough so that they don’t scream, but still give a stunning appearance. It isn’t too gaudy, and it isn’t too plain. As I look at the intricate design, it feels like it was made just for me.
“Just try it on,” he coaxes, and I glare at him.
“No. It’s too much!”
“Just for a few minutes, Charlotte. I got it custom made, just for you. Chose the design and everything. I mean the least you can do is show me how it looks on you.”
I make a face, feeling my will break, “Look, I appreciate—”
“Just for a while. That’s all I’m asking.” His tone is so defeated that even while I know I am being played, I lift the hair off my neck. When his hands brush against my nape, locking the necklace on, I feel my cheeks burn.
“There,” I say, not wanting to admit that I actually like the necklace.
A slow smile blooms on Philip’s face, and he takes my hand and brushes his lips on the back of it, his touch making my skin tingle.
“It suits you.”
I fidget nervously.
“Can I take it off now?”
He shrugs, and starts the car, a sly smile on his lips.