Chapter Twenty- One
Standing on the balcony of her bedroom suite, Charlotte stared out into the ocean. Unblinking, she counted the waves as they came to shore, fascinated by their intensity. One after another they slammed against the coastline, each one more powerful than the last. It was mesmerizing, and thus she was captivated. It amazed her how something so beautiful− could, too, be so deadly, so devastating, given the right circumstances. Resting her forearms against the thick bronze banister, Charlotte closed her eyes as the soft Florida breeze caressed her skin. She was in paradise, enchanted by the gorgeous atmosphere that was Cocoa Beach. Having heard about the scenic landscaping that the Sunshine State had to offer, she had an inkling on what to expect when she and Nicholas had arrived, still, she never imagined how aesthetically pleasing the environment would be to her senses. The air was sweet, warm . . . calming, the breeze, soft and welcoming. It was the perfect ambiance for such an occasion, and she could not have been more thrilled. Leaning back onto the balls of her feet, she opened her eyes once more, her dark gaze scanning the land. Clear Waters Resort was truly a sight to behold. Palm trees spanned the length of the property, several strategically planted around man crafted crystalline waterfalls. Wild peacocks strutted across acreage, the males charismatically showing off their vivid tail feathers while the females picked at the ground, uninterested. Looking on at the scene below, Charlotte wondered if the old saying was true− that male peacocks searched endlessly for their soulmates. The thought brought a wide smile to her thin lips, her mind instantly consumed with thoughts of Nicholas. Inhaling deeply, she stared down at the bright yellow diamond on her ring finger. “Nicholas,” she exhaled, overjoyed. “Lucky girl, Charlotte,” she whispered to the breeze. “You get to marry your best friend . . . the only person in this world who will never hurt you.” The words were spoken softly, a hum to her own ears. Nevertheless, they were spoken, and as each syllable moved past her lips, so was the promise that she had declared in her heart months before− the promise to be his peace and comfort, just as he had always been to her. “I will never hurt you either, Nicholas,” she said, “And tonight, I will make that vow to you, before God.”
Chapter Twenty- Two
“We’re married,” Charlotte gasped, unable to contain her excitement. “I’m your wife! I’m actually your wife,” she giggled.
Nicholas smiled down at her as he withdrew the hotel key card from his slacks back pocket. “That you are,” he said, taking her right hand into his, and bringing her palm to his full lips. “And I couldn’t be happier.”
“Our parents are going to be so pissed,” she laughed. “I kinda’ feel a little guilty about not telling them.”
“I know,” he shrugged, unbothered by the inevitable. “If we involved others in our affairs, we would have had to wait, and waiting another week, let alone another second was not an option for me.” Inserting the key card into the security slot, Nicholas awaited the familiar clicking sound before pushing down the lever.
“After you,” he winked, moving aside to allow Charlotte entrance into his hotel suite.
“Your room is smaller than mine, and less . . . extravagant,” she acknowledged.
“I’m a simple man,” he laughed softly. “I don’t need much.”
Charlotte turned around to face him. “I’m simple, too,” she frowned. “You didn’t have to put me in such an expensive−”
“You deserve the best of everything,” he interrupted her. “In this life time, and in the next, you deserve the best of everything.” Nicholas’ silver gaze traveled the length of Charlotte’s thin frame. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his words a spoken confession, an affirmation, if she ever needed one.
“So are you,” she breathed.
Nicholas’ smirk was boyish, youthful. “Men aren’t beautiful.”
“Then I guess that makes you the exception.”
“The exception,” he grinned, his silvers bright with mischief. “I like the sound of that,” he said, his voice, low, seductive. Taking a step toward her, Nicholas loosened his tie, his eyes on hers as he closed the distance between them. “Are you nervous?” he asked, once in front of her.
“No,” Charlotte breathed, leaning into him, needing the feel of his body against hers. “Are you?”
“Yes,” he said, gentle laughter attached to his divulgence.
Charlotte smiled up at him, amused. “Really,” she giggled.
“Yes.”
“Don’t be. I’ll be gentle,” she teased.
“That’s all I ask,” Nicholas laughed, lifting Charlotte into his arms and carrying her over to the queen- sized bed that sat invitingly in the middle of the room. Gently placing her on the mattress, Nicholas stood above her, his eyes on hers as he removed his tie, his hands quickly undoing the buttons of his Paul Fredrick’s designer button-up. Without pause, he carelessly threw the fabric to the floor while simultaneously stepping out of his black Mezlan Monk Straps, his hands skillfully undoing his belt buckle.
Charlotte moved then. “Let me,” she said, leaning forward, her small hands immediately moving to his pants. Unhurriedly, she pulled the leather buckle from his pants, unbuttoning his trousers with the same slow movements. Looking up at him, she swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as she contemplated her next action. With shaking hands, Charlotte unzipped his slacks, her eyes wide with fascination as she pulled the cotton material from his hips, exposing a thick bulge just beneath his black Zimmerli briefs. Exhaling, she swallowed hard, all at once insecure by her lack of sexual experience. Dropping her hands to her sides, Charlotte looked up at Nicholas, timid and unsure.
“What’s wrong?” Nicholas asked, his silvers regarding her intently.
Charlotte blinked up at him, “I don’t know what to do.”
Her innocence nearly brought him to his knees. Smiling down at her, he said, “Give me your hands.”
Charlotte did as she was told, placing her hands in his. Slowly, he guided her hands to his underwear, placing her right palm over his erection. “This is what you do to me,” he said to her. “My body is yours to explore, take your time, Dimple. I’m not going anywhere.”
Charlotte nodded her head at his words, her browns never leaving his greys. Taking her hands from under his, Charlotte pulled the hindering material from Nicholas’ hips, exposing his thick tan shaft. Inching away from him, she stared at her husband’s sex. It was just as she had remembered, impressive . . . gorgeous. Pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, Charlotte leaned forward, her mouth a breath away from his thick tip. Nervously, she bent her head, taking as much of him into her mouth as she could. Closing her lips around his pulsing shaft, Charlotte timidly gripped the base of his penis, stroking the part of him that her mouth couldn’t reach. Nicholas moaned aloud, the sound, ripped from deep inside him. Unable to stop himself, he reached out to her, tangling his fingers into the nape of her thick hair. Pulling Charlotte closer, he forced her to take more of him into the warmth of her mouth. Charlotte was taken aback by his lack of restraint, his loss of control. In every situation, Nicholas radiated self-control, he was the epitome of calmness. . . until now. Now, he was overcome with passion, thrusting into her mouth with an eagerness that caused her sex to pulsate . . . caused her clitoris to swell against her panties. Squeezing her thighs together, Charlotte fought to keep a moan from tearing past her now swollen lips. She was wet and growing needy with every pulse of Nicholas’ hips.
“Mhm,” Nicholas groaned, pulling away from her. “Dimple, wait,” he said hoarsely, inhaling deeply in an attempt to catch his breath.
Charlotte frowned. “You don’t want me to finish?” she asked, feeling slighted. “It didn’t feel good.”
“It felt too good,” he said, pulling her to him. “That’s the problem,” he whispered. “If you kept going I wouldn’t have lasted much longer,” he admitted. “Put your arms up.”
Charlotte did as she was told, lifting her arms to the ceiling so that he could remove her dress.
Reaching behind her, Nicholas unhooked her bra, allowing her full breasts to spill out in front of him. At the sight of her caramel mounds, Nicholas grunted aloud, so many sounds that Charlotte wasn’t used to hearing from him, intoxicating sounds that electrified her nerve endings. Bending his head, Nicholas took her left breast into his mouth, licking and suckling on her taut brown nipple, as his large hand caressed the other. Charlotte cried out from the sheer ecstasy of having his mouth on her skin, of having his hands take ownership of her flesh.
“Wait,” she said, pulling the thin white laced dress down the length of her body, and letting it fall carelessly to the floor. “Better?” she asked, smiling up at him.
“Much better,” Nicholas answered, inclining his face toward hers. Skillfully, he took possession of her mouth, his full lips gently parting hers, allowing him entrance to what had become his safe- haven. Their kiss was a well- rehearsed dance that left them both feeling a sense of helplessness when their lips parted. Slowly, he entwined his tongue with hers, caressing her nerve endings until her body began to burn beneath him. Lifting her thin frame off the mattress, Charlotte moved into him, wanting him closer still. There he was, on top of her, feeding into her desires . . . her wants, yet, she needed more.
“Nicholas,” she whined against his lips. “I can’t take anymore.”
Nicholas leaned away from her, enough to stare down at her flushed cheeks and swollen mouth. “Am I not satisfying you?” he asked teasingly.
“I want you inside me,” Charlotte answered, her expression serious. “I feel like I’m going to explode,” she admitted.
Nicholas regarded her intently, his silvers alive with mischief. “Good,” he smirked. “That’s what I want.”
“Nicholas! Please!” It was an exclamation made from begging lips.
Nicholas ignored her plea. Taking his time, he lightly grazed his fingertips down her rib cage, leisurely making his way down her abdomen . . . his touch soft, velvet, against the fine hairs that covered her flesh. Stopping just above her panties, Nicholas paused for a moment as if in deep thought, his expression suddenly a hard mask.
“What’s wrong?” Charlotte frowned. When he didn’t respond, Charlotte reached up to touch his face, her small fingers softly stroking his cheek bone. “Nicholas,” she breathed, drawing his attention back to her.
Nicholas met her gaze, and then quickly looked away. Without warning regret and guilt took control of his thoughts, leaving him withdrawn and bereft.
“Nicholas, what’s wrong?” Charlotte repeated, placing a hand on either of his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. “Where did your mind go, just then?” she asked, concerned.
Shaking his head, he bent to kiss her slightly parted lips once more. “I want to make love to you,” he said after a while.
“Then make love to me,” she whispered.
Nicholas blinked rapidly, fighting to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill past his haunted eyes. Burying his face into the solace of her neck, he blindly removed her black laced panties with ease. Charlotte gasped at the feel of his bare sex pressed against hers, it was an odd feeling, though one she would no doubt get used to. Resting the bulk of his weight on his right forearm, he placed his left palm around his sex and vigorously stroked his manhood until it swelled in his hand, his length stretching past loose fingers. “I love you,” he murmured into Charlotte’s ear as he rested his weight on hers, his body rising slightly as he positioned his cock at her entrance. Seconds felt like an eternity to him as he fought to clear his mind before entering her. Memories of former transgressions were the last thoughts he wanted to fixate on while making love to his wife for the first time. God, I need a peace of mind, he prayed silently, feeling torn and sick inside.
“Nicholas,” Charlotte moaned his name. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard, innocent, addictive.
Nicholas moved then. With one hand at the base of his erection he stroked his tip against her clitoris, caressing the inside of her lips with a passion that was sure to be her undoing. Charlotte lifted her torso off the bed, loving the friction that their bodies were creating. “You’re so wet,” he acknowledged, placing the head of his cock at her entrance. “Are you ready for me?”
“Yes,” she answered, her voice raspy, needy.
Nicholas placed his mouth on hers, kissing her passionately as his sex pushed through her strong folds, the length of his penis easily breaking past her hymen with one stroke. Charlotte gasped as a pleasure pain sensation overcame her. “Are you okay,” Nicholas whispered against her lips.
“Yes,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck.
His movements were slow, his thrusts gentle as he got to know his wife intimately. With every stroke he grew closer to an orgasm, an eruption that he was sure would leave them both feeling fragmented, but with seasoned control he harnessed his release in hopes that they would climax together, fall apart together. “You’re so tight,” he moaned, closing his eyes in deep concentration. Her heat was sheer ecstasy and he became lost in the pleasure he found there, a warm pool of moisture, too small for his size. Perfection. “So, tight,” he repeated as he pushed deeper into her, burying himself further into her center until she cried out, her arms instantly moving to his chest to create space between them.
“Too much?” he asked, his breathing labored.
“Yes.”
Nodding his head, Nicholas said, “I’m sorry,” as he withdrew all but a few inches of his length from her. “A little at a time,” he smiled, before biting down on her bottom lip. “Kiss me.”
Parting her lips for him, Charlotte let out a sigh of euphoria the moment his tongue found hers, the sound was Nicholas’ undoing. Grabbing hold of her hips, he fought the urge to slam into her, the need to fill her with the length of his sex was strong. “I’m coming,” he choked, thrusting faster, with a velocity that caused her vagina to swell. Fire spread through her body, a fervor pitch that caused her legs to tremble, caused her insides to come alive around him. Instinctively, Charlotte wrapped her legs around Nicholas’ back, her hands going to his hair, his neck, his shoulders, everywhere, touching everywhere . . . but simply touching him was not enough. The explosive feeling ricocheting through her inexperienced body was too much. She was at her peak, and all she could do was shatter around the man who had brought her to the highest point of pleasure she had ever felt. Letting out a cry of satisfaction, Charlotte bit down on her husband’s shoulder, muffling the sound of pure felicity. Nicholas exhaled deeply as he pulled out of her, remnants of their love making carelessly dripping on her mound. Resting his forehead against hers, he said, “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
Charlotte smiled at him shyly. “It’s okay.”
“Was it anything like you expected?”
“Do you really want to discuss it?” Charlotte laughed, the act causing her breast to rub against his chest.
“Mm,” Nicholas teased. “Careful, or you’ll get me started all over again.
Charlotte rose her hips in anticipation. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Depends on how sore you want to be in the morning,” he said, his silvers taunting her.
“Maybe once is enough for tonight,” she uttered, suddenly uncertain if she could handle a second round.
“Are you sure?” he asked, grinding his sex against hers. “Don’t be scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“I’ll take my time,” he promised, brushing his lips against hers once more, his voice was velvet, temptation. “Feel free to stop me at any time.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Blinking up at him, she awaited his next move, not knowing what else to do in that moment. Her womanhood ached, ached from their lovemaking, ached from the desire to have him inside of her yet again.
“I came inside of you,” he said, studying her closely. “Did you feel it?”
Licking her lips, Charlotte nodded her head. “Yes,” she answered. His words were her undoing
.
“Open your legs, so that I can do it again.” It was an enticement, an invitation to sexual nirvana. How could she resist . . . she couldn’t.
***
Nicholas woke to the sound of lively vibrations as his Blackberry knocked against the stained grove nightstand. Lazily, he stretched his arms to the ceiling before turning over to blindly search for the gadget that disturbed his peaceful slumber. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so serenely. Instinctively, his thumb glided to the answer key. “Hello,” he muttered, sleepily.
“Nicholas.”
The voice on the other end of the line captured his full attention, awakening him completely. Quickly sitting up, he threw the thick comforter away from his naked body as he stole a quick glance at the bedside alarm clock. 5:43a.m. “Catherine. Did you find anything,” he asked, his voice low.
“I did. Dean Proctor was an orphan until he was eleven years old, and then he was adopted by the Connelly’s, Nancy and Benjamin Connelly of New Haven, Connecticut. Dean lived in New Haven with them until he was thirteen and then he was put back into the system.”
“They put him back into the system?” Nicholas questioned, confused. “I’ve never heard of a family returning a child once they’ve adopted them.”
“In this case, there must have been extenuating circumstances, although, those reasons are lost on me. There is nothing in his files about his time spent with the Connelly’s, they simply stated that, ‘he was not a good fit for their family.’”
“Where was he placed when he left the Connelly’s?”
“He was moved around quite a bit after he left the Connelly’s residence. He lived with a total of nine foster parents over the span of six months before he was admitted into Rollands Oak Hospital, a psychiatric facility for adolescents. My hired help did some heavy digging, again, the reasoning behind why he was admitted could not be found. What I do have, however, is a time line. He was admitted once at fourteen and stayed for four months, and then re-admitted at fifteen, and was kept for eight months.”
A Winter's Vow (A Winter's Tale Series Book 3) Page 11