Obsessive Compulsion

by C. E. Kilgore

  Thirteen hits me deep. He’s pushing up now to meet my thrusts while I sink further into the soul staring at me. Fourteen leaves me breathless, fifteen grips my heart and sixteen brings all the sensations crashing in.

  I call out his name within a hard, pulsing moan as I come, and he continues the count for us as I lose all sense of time. At twenty I come back for him, each number passing my lips becoming a wish for him to join me. “Twenty-one… twenty two…”

  His count disappears behind clenched teeth, the leather belt straining against the iron rails. Twenty-three, our eyes lock, unblinking. I want to see it – the very moment he comes inside me. “Twenty-four.”

  My thrust down is met hard by his hips jutting up. We stop as his jaw twitches and the expression of sweet release passes over him. It’s so beautiful. Everything about this moment is perfect.

  His throbbing orgasm pushing against my clenching pussy drives me into a second shiver of bliss. As the sparks settle and his hips lower back to the mattress, we finally begin blinking again. We share a gentle smile with an uncounted breath. Both exhausted from the fight, I raise off him then lay along his side with my palm pressed against his heart. I hope the touch is okay, because I’m not ready to let go of the moment we just created.

  That was love, my heart whispers while my mind is still in a daze. You love him, Charlotte, don’t you…

  “Charlotte,” his voice cracks. “May I let go of the belt now?”

  “Yes,” I leave childish thoughts of falling in love behind then let out a surprised gasp as he surrounds me with quivering arms to hold me tightly against his body.

  “Charlotte,” his whispers my name again, filling my spirit with the one emotion I fear the most. Silent seconds pass, but when he speaks again, I can hear that same feared emotion reflected back at me. “I can’t express… I don’t know the right words to say.”

  “No words are needed, sweetie,” I respond the only way I can to save us from going too soon down a road we’re not ready to try. “Just hold me.”

  “I think I can manage that,” he replies, but I catch the uncertainty.

  I know he’ll hold me for as long as he can. Four minutes or six hours, whatever his body allows. It’ll be enough for me, because it’ll be everything he’s able to give.

  Ian

  My mind and body are still trying to reconnect after my heart cut the cord between their never ending argument. The thoughts in my brain are fuzzy, which is a damn good thing because it’s allowing me to hold Charlotte in my arms far longer than I’ve ever been able to hold on to… anything.

  A deep inhale, and my brain clicks back on.

  Holy shit. I just had sex. I’m no longer a virgin.

  I’m holding Charlotte in my arms without twitching after we just… We made love. I won’t debase it by calling it anything else. That was love in her eyes, I know it. They stared into mine just as deeply as I lost myself into her ocean blues.

  Sure, it was incredible sex and more fucking hot that anything I’ve seen in my five years at this club. Yes, I’m biased because Charlotte owns my heart, and that’s why I know it was so much more than sex or her helping me to lose my virginity. I also know it never would have happened, I never would have been able to do this, if it hadn’t been with Charlotte.

  Charlotte. I can’t stop repeating that name, especially now that she’s letting me say it out loud. Her original reaction still bothers me, and I’d like to know why she ever began hating her name, but I’m willing to let it go for now. I can let it go, because now I have something else to latch onto.

  Charlotte loves me.

  I don’t know exactly in what sense, but I want to believe she’s in love with me the same way I am with her. It’s dangerous to assume that, though. She’s even said she’s had friends with benefits before, and the thought of falling into that category scares me. I don’t want to be friend-zoned. I want to be her friend, but I also want to be her lover. Her only lover, from now on.

  I want only Charlotte. Only Charlotte. Charlotte. My Charlotte. Mine.

  “Ian?”

  Charlotte’s soft voice is edged with concern and snaps my obsessive thoughts back to reality. Unclenching my jaw takes a full four inhales before I can respond. “Sorry. My mind was just… Excuse me a moment?”

  “Of course,” she moves away from me with a smile masking a frown.

  I hate that I can’t just lay here with her forever, but my brain is back to full speed. The condom is becoming an irritation and I need to distance myself from Charlotte for a few minutes before I do something stupid. Like tell her I love her. Or ask her to marry me.

  Holy fuck. I almost jump out of the bed to walk briskly into the bathroom. Marriage? You’ve lost your fucking mind, Rider.

  Well, no fucking shit. Thanks for the God dammed memo about that!

  My hand swats at the light switch, eliciting a hissed curse as I realize my mistake. My hand swats it again. Then again. Again. On. Off. On. Off. On! Off! Fuck! –on – I – off – hate – on – this – off – this – on – shit!

  Off.

  Exhaling, I leave the light off and stand in the darkness. Moonlight streams into the bathroom from a window above the toilet, but it does little to fight off the shadows edging in around me. My chest heaves up and down, knowing that Charlotte can see me through the half-open door. Uncurling clenched fists, I dispose of the condom, shut the door the rest of the way and drown myself with splashes of cold water.

  Hands posted on the counter, I lean in to stare at the crazed reflection staring back. My virginity is gone. I just had a beautiful woman riding me into ecstasy and then held within my arms. The man staring back at me should be smiling. Instead, he’s three steps from rage and knee deep in self-loathing.

  Marriage? Yeah, right. You’re not Brandon. You don’t have the balls to marry the girl you love just because you know it feels right. You don’t even have the courage to tell Charlotte you love her, and you never will. So, suck up your pitiful bleeding heart, Rider. Get back into that bedroom, and if Charlotte ‘friend-zones’ you, you’re going to appreciate it.

  Oh, and don’t touch the damn light switch on your way out, dumbass.

  Another splash of cold water and I leave myself behind in the mirror. He’s right. I don’t have the courage. I don’t have the balls. What I do have is Charlotte.

  She’s spread out on the bed, her long bare legs glowing under moonlight and the red stands of her hair forming lines of fire across the white sheets. Her eyes watch me as I approach and they’re filled with a cautious concern. “Everything okay?” she asks.

  “No,” I can’t lie to her. I promised.

  “Did I push too quickly?”

  “No, Charlotte,” saying the name out loud fills me with the cascading relief I usually only get from upping the dose on my medication. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I attempt running a hand through her hair. “I don’t think I’ve felt this good in a long time, if ever, but everything being okay is probably an impossibility for me.”

  “Ah, I get it,” she smiles and the concern leaves her eyes. “You promised not to lie. Not really a promise most keep. Guess I should be more specific with my questions from now on.”

  My fingers continue passing through her hair. “And you? Are you okay?”

  She actually seems to give the question some consideration before answering, leaving me wondering what’s really going through her mind. “I think I’m better than okay, Ian.” She shifts against mattress to nuzzle against my leg. “It’s been a long time since I could say that and really mean it.”

  I reposition us so she can set her head in my lap. The move makes her smile, and that smile warms my heart. I love how the simplest things seem to make her the happiest.

  I love you, Charlotte, my lips silently mouth the words while my fingers resume playing with her hair.

  A soft knock at the door makes us both frown. I start to get up, but she refuses to budge and instead pulls a blanket from the foot of
the bed to cover her naked lower body. She smiles up at me and I smile back.

  The knock repeats, a bit more urgently. “Come in,” I respond.

  Brandon’s face appears in the opening doorway, his deeply troubled expression softening momentarily as he takes in the sight of me and Charlotte. “Sorry, but I need you downstairs.”

  “No problem, boss,” and I mean it. Sure, I’d prefer to sit in this room all night with Charlotte, but if Brandon’s eyes are any indication, something big just went down. “Anything I should know?”

  Brandon’s eyes dart to Charlotte for a moment then back to me. I can see the decision in his eyes – his choice to trust her, to bring her in further to our family. “Saul’s in jail.”

  “What?” Charlotte sits up, her worry matching mine. She cares about us, our family, just as much as we do. “Is he okay?”

  Brandon runs a hand down his tired face. I haven’t seen the man looking so beat up since he almost lost Emma. “Damn fool,” he sighs. “After Saul left here, he got drunk and headed to Sarah’s.”

  “And Kyle was at Sarah’s,” I finish, already seeing where this conversation is headed.

  Brandon’s mouth closes around his unfinished explaination, then I see a flash of anger tremor along his jawline. “You knew he was there tonight?”

  Perhaps I should’ve said something earlier, but Brandon knows as well as I do that it wouldn’t have made a difference. Kyle’s been paying visits to Sarah in secret since they were teenagers. No one, not Saul, Brandon or even the man Sarah’s married to is going to stop it. Like the rest of us, it’s complicated.

  “I guessed,” I reply to Brandon’s growing temper. “Kyle said he wasn’t going to be here tonight and Austin said Annabelle was babysitting Sarah’s kids so Sarah could work a double. You and I both know she never works doubles unless Rob’s gone.” I try to keep my voice calm, but I can see Charlotte’s mouth hanging open. “How bad is it?”

  Brandon lets out a breath, his eyes cooling. “Could be worse. Sarah called James directly instead of dispatch. Saul kicked Kyle’s ass pretty damn good and even threatened him with a hunting rifle. Kyle didn’t defend himself, according to Sarah. No one’s pressing charges, but James put Saul in a cell to sober up for the night. Victoria exploded when I told her, then she yelled at Austin and stormed out. Emma’s trying to calm down Austin while he paces the kitchen, ranting in Spanish.”

  Brandon stops. There’s anguish on his face now, mixed in with the anger. His family is coming apart at the seams and he doesn’t know how to fix it. Standing, I try to reassure him that none of us are going anywhere.

  “It’ll work itself out. This had to happen eventually. We all know that.” My words remove some of the anxiety from his eyes and he nods. “What can Charlotte and I do to help?”

  “I gotta get to the hospital and pick up Kyle,” he replies. “Sarah’s staying at Annabelle’s until we can get the mess at her house cleaned up. Can you two take care of the club and help Emma ‘till I get back?”

  “Of course,” Charlotte replies first, starting to stand. She gets one leg on the floor then freezes. “Soon as I find my undies.”

  I snort, Charlotte blushes and Brandon finally cracks a smile. “Thanks, Charlie.” He turns that smile to me with a questioning raise of the brow. I give a subtle nod and his half smile evolves into his signature grin before he leaves us alone again.

  Charlotte snickers behind me. “I think he suspects something.”

  “Well,” I give her body a long look over. “It’s been… never… since I’ve had a beautiful woman in my room. Especially one not wearing underwear, so he’s bound to draw some conclusions.”

  “Speaking of drawing conclusions, Kyle and Saul’s sister?” Charlotte asks as she gets out of bed and pulls on her panties.

  I watch her slide the lace up her thighs with deep appreciation. “It’s a long, complicated story. Saul had to find out eventually, but we were all sworn to secrecy.” I sigh, leaning back against the closed door. “Certainly not the way we wanted him to find out, either.”

  Saul sitting in a jail cell and Kyle in a hospital was one of the nightmare scenarios we all thought was possible, but it’s better than the scenario where Saul doesn’t just threaten Kyle with a hunting rifle. Sarah is Saul’s baby sister, his angel, and there was an unspoken rule that she’s always been off-limits. It was a rule Kyle broke the moment he saw her, at least that’s how Victoria tells it.

  It’s no wonder Brandon’s worried our family is imploding. Victoria, Saul and Austin can’t figure their shit out. Saul just fell off the wagon after six years and tried to kill Kyle. Kyle is still chasing Sarah after a fifteen years of flip-flopping. James is suspiciously choosing now to finally grow a heart and Forester is threatening the club.

  Damn, what a mess. “I guess this means the Christmas party is cancelled,” I think out loud.

  Charlotte pauses her efforts zip up her skirt. We share a quiet stare then burst out laughing. Really, with our messed up family, what else can we do?

  As she sits on the edge of the bed next to her boots, I walk over and kneel down before her. “Let me,” I request and she relinquishes her boot to me. I try not to linger too long with them, but I love these damn boots.

  “What are you doing for Christmas?” she breaks the silence unexpectedly just as I finish counting the grommets for the second time. “Visiting family?”

  The second part of the question sticks in my brain and reminds me how ridiculous the idea of proposing to her is. During our time together, especially while Emma was in the hospital, we kept our conversations centered on the present. We didn’t venture into territories like our past, our families or our vices.

  I like to believe that our present, this unlabeled relationship we’re building, is all that matters. Expecting the past not to interfere with your future is a fool’s hope, and I’ve played that fool many times. No matter how far down you burry it, the past always finds its way to the surface eventually.

  “Ian?” Her hand brushes against my cheek.

  “No,” I finally answer as I finish putting on her left boot. I pick up the right boot, knowing my short answer won’t satisfy her. It doesn’t satisfy me, either. I want her to know everything so I run out of excuses keeping me from kneeling down for a purpose other than her boots.

  “My family and I don’t really talk,” I continue while gently slipping her foot into the leather. “My Dad’s a football coach out near Odessa. He didn’t know what to do with a son who freaked out every time he got tackled or who couldn’t throw a football because he was more interested in counting the laces. Mom didn’t know what to do but drink after he left.”

  I stop to swallow the bitterness, my eyes focusing on the zipper as I click through each tooth along its long, metal line. “He remarried. Really pretty lady – on the outside. She didn’t like the weird kid so much, so my visits became shorter and the time between them longer. Haven’t visited him since I was fourteen. Haven’t spoken to him in seven years.”

  I finish zipping up the boot and lean away, glancing up. Charlotte is watching me closely, waiting to see if I’ll give her more of me. I wonder if she’s realized yet that I want to give her everything.

  “Mom got sober when I hit high school, but it was never quite the same between us. She moved down to Florida with my grandparents. I try to keep in touch, but I don’t do long road trips so well and flying is definitely not an option. After the fifth decline, I stopped inviting her here. I think Texas holds too many memories for her.”

  Instead of offering me pity I don’t want, Charlotte reinforces my love for her. “Maybe you just need a driving partner. Road trips are more fun with two people.”

  “Maybe,” I smile and let the possibility exist for a while as I stand. Mom would say that it isn’t proper to propose to a girl you haven’t introduced to your mother yet. I sigh inwardly, realizing how hung up on the whole proposal idea I’ve become. Yet another thing to obsess over. Beats counting
floor tiles, I guess.

  Charlotte

  We walk down into the clubroom to find it almost empty. It’s late, so most of the members have moved on to the private rooms. One of the Leads, like Ian or Brandon, is always on call to ensure nothing needs attention. Brandon said they’ve never had any problems at the club that required intervention, but there’s a first time for everything, no matter how well you screen your members.

  Emma and Austin are sitting at the bar. He’s leaning over it with his head in his hands and Emma is gently patting the man’s back. Emma glances up as we enter to smile at our approach. “Brandon just left,” she informs us with a blushing glance to me that is full of questions.

  Austin raises his head up from an untouched cup of coffee sitting between his elbows. “Hey,” his voice is as rough as his eyes are red. I think the man’s been crying. “Kyle needed twelve stitches in one arm. He fell into Sarah’s glass coffee table after Saul decked him.”

  “Ouch,” I wince.

  “Why don’t you go get some sleep,” Ian says to Austin. I guess he can see how beaten up the guy is over the whole thing. “You’ve been up since seven.”

  “Five,” Austin sighs, giving in with a yawn. “Saul messed up the order again, so I had to run out early to Jake’s to fix it.”

  Ian curses. “Third week in a row. Maybe I should start handling the grocery order.”

  “No,” Austin shakes his head as he stands on wobbly legs. “You take that away from him now, after all this shit, and it’ll just get worse. It’s my fault everything is so messed up right now, but I’m going to fix it.”

  Austin stumbles a little, obviously exhausted. I give him a shoulder to lean on, along with a smile. “I think you need sleep before you do anything, sweetie. C’mon, I’ll tuck you in.”

  Austin laughs softly with a glance to Ian. “Mind if I borrow Miss Scarlet for a minute so I don’t pass out in the hallway?”

  I hold my breath, hoping Ian doesn’t take my offer the wrong way. It’s clear by Ian’s calm expression that he gets the same vibes from Austin that I do. Wow. Saul really isn’t too bright, is he?