by Box Set
When my muscles feel loose and relaxed, I stop by a flowering rosebush. The petals are so red, like blood, each one more perfect than the next, sheathed in thorns.
I step out of my trainers, wiggling my toes in the soggy grass, and then I train with meditating Tai Chi, punching and kicking in slow motion, soaking up the way the earth feels right now. My feet become sodden and muddy but I don't mind. I love this feeling of being free.
The memory of Charlie taking me flows in and out of my thoughts, as does his apology and the way my body desires him when he touches and kisses me. It's like my subconscious is sorting the conflict for me, rather than me having to sit down and seriously mull over how he makes me feel.
This is why I delight in meditating. It's so peaceful.
With my hair tied back in a slack bun, the rain falls freely over my pale, freckly face, drenching through my clothes. It's refreshing.
I can sense eyes watching me from the house. I suspect it's Charlie. I don't stop my meditation. I go at it for two hours, lashing out lengthy, focused kicks and breathing steadily but softly.
When the rain dies down, I pick up my trainers and jog back across the garden, and inside the house. I'm dripping water everywhere but the kitchen has stone flooring, so I don't worry too much.
Dropping my trainers by the dining table, I go into the kitchen area. The coffee machine is steaming. I pour myself a cup, lift it to my nose, and breathe in with contentment. The smell of coffee in the morning is like home to me, the bitterness of real Columbian beans.
Roaming back across the kitchen, I stand by the back doors and hold the cup to my chest, taking in the last of the gray morning.
“Morning, Señorita.”
I flinch at the sound of Charlie's raspy voice. My stomach whirls with anxiety. It's a new kind of anxiety now. Worry yes, but also because I know I fancy him. It's so strange but I can feel it in the way my body responds to his presence. Since he turned me on, I seem to notice everything he makes me feel with extra effect.
He wanders over and stops behind me, his large body warming my back. He smells like he's fresh out of the shower, a mixture of male musk and clean body wash. My eyes flicker up his reflection in the French doors. He's wearing jeans and a gray round-neck t-shirt with his hair pulled back.
“Do you do that every day?” he asks softly, as we make eye contact.
So, he was watching me, probably like he is now, staring over my head at my reflection like he's hypnotized on something, and he's smiling at me. It's his unholy, alluring smile.
Wordless, I nod to answer his question and take a sip of my coffee, breaking eye contact. My heart is going crazy. Every time I see him it's like the first.
“You look beautiful when training.” He leans closer and whispers in my ear, “So focused.”
Little hairs on the back of my neck prick. There's something in his voice. Something fervent.
Reaching around my waist from behind, he presses a large hand onto my stomach and forces me back against his front, forcing me to emit a rough breath. He's hard in his jeans, pushing into my spine.
My toes curl against the cold stone floors.
“Are you going to fuck me in the ass again, Charlie?” I ask blankly, peering up at his reflection. I have to ask. I need to know so I can mentally prepare to lose my mind.
He stiffens behind me, with his hand like a rock on my stomach. He's not breathing, either.
Somehow, I've gotten to him. He's not the type of man to stop in his pursuits, but he has today.
How have I gotten to him?
I wish I knew so I could use it to my advantage.
Charlie takes my coffee cup and puts it down on a nearby side table. Then he grips my hips and makes me turn into him, my eyes level with his chest. I don't know what to say or do, so I just stare at his chest, filtering these vibes coming off him in electric waves.
Lifting my chin with a single finger, he orders me to look up at him, then he grips my hip again. “I want you,” he says sensitively, glancing all over my features, promise and restraint in his expression. “You know I do.”
I drop my eyes to the floor between us, everything in my body tightening with anxiety. I reluctantly want him too when he's touching me. It's so fucked up, and it makes me sick. I should hate him. Just because he's handsome it doesn't make what he's doing to me okay.
We're silent for a while. He's watching me. I can feel it. I can feel every-fucking-thing now.
“Stop making me feel guilty, Blaire,” he says, his voice now void of emotion. “You're my plaything, nothing more.”
“I'm not making you feel—”
A hand fists the back of my hair, causing me to yelp, and Charlie pushes me down to my knees. “Suck my cock, and I won't fuck you.”
My heart leaps into my throat.
It's an ultimatum, and one that I'm going to take if it prevents him from having my ass. But I can't admit I'm happy. He started to show kindness yesterday. We found our mutual ground. He apologized.
Maybe he's regretting his apology.
I don't know why, but that hurts, and I feel like such a fool for trying to make myself believe him.
Shutting off, I don't even think. I let my thoughts escape me.
———
I fumble to unzip Charlie's jeans, careful not to make a sound when opening his belt. The sound of a belt reminds me of Maksim, and I can't think of him right now.
I pull down his black boxer briefs in time with lifting up his shirt. His length juts free, long, thick, and hard, swollen with veins. A mixture of sensations trickle through me. He's so robust and hairy all over. His pubic hair meets with a thin line of black dusty hair below his navel. His stomach is a work of art, not like those athletic men who have ironing board stomachs. Charlie is buff, made of raw chiseled abs.
Something in me clenches and warm liquid surges through me, gathering between my legs. I recognize it as arousal now, but I don't know what the fuck it's all about. He isn't even teasing me down there.
I glance up at him, at the taut look of desire on his face. He's waiting.
Not using my hands—my master taught me to suck his cock with no hands—I shut my eyes and run my tongue down the length of Charlie's shaft, swallowing a few inches of him in my mouth. He tastes like body wash, but he smells all manly and musky, his skin soft yet broad with solid veins. I find it all so bizarrely appealing that my sex throbs, making me conscious of how tight my trousers are.
I try to ignore the desire thriving inside me, focusing on satisfying Charlie, but it's so hard. I've never felt this power of desire for a man before.
I pull back, then I take another few inches of Charlie, wrapping my lips completely around him, causing my cheeks to ache because he's so thick. He moans with zeal, his grip in my hair tightening. It makes my scalp tear, though I try not to tense up too much so I don't end up biting him or something. I draw back once more, and then I gulp him right down this time, his crown hitting the back of my throat.
“Fuck,” he emits a curse, gasping out, and the sensations in me are no longer trickling. They're erupting, burning all over my body. I'm not completely sure, but I think I like this, having Charlie under my spell for once.
I fold my hands behind my back, curl my lips against my teeth, and suck back and forth, settling in to a leveled, satisfying rhythm, his cock smoothly gliding against my lips because it's inundated in my saliva.
Charlie mutters another violent curse under his breath. I can't resist peering up at him. Our eyes meet. His are heavy, a dark shade of blue because his pupils are expanding. He's so fucking gorgeous when intoxicated, lips slightly parted to accommodate faster breaths.
He cups my cheek with his free hand and strokes under my eye, his other hand still in my hair. He's back to being soft with me. I bask in his tenderness, sighing as I mouth-fuck him.
Another deep suck, then his cock throbs and pre-cum melts in my mouth. He's salty, on the verge of reaching his summit. I swallow before pu
shing him to the apex of my throat, blocking my air passage, but then he slips down my throat opening, causing me to gag. My lips now against his pubic hair, Charlie's entire body trembles with lust fueled anger and want. I choke with watery eyes and pull back, saliva coating my chin, but he doesn't seem to like that. Holding my cheek in one hand and my hair in his other, he starts fucking my throat, rippling his hips back and forth, making me retch over and over. He's losing control. I can feel it in him.
Using my hands, I press against his hips because I cannot breathe. I gasp for air in a dizzy state, then he's right inside my throat again, swelling in my air passage.
“You're so...” he groans with his face tight, teeth clenched. “I'm not sure I'll ever be able to give you back to—Fuck!” He spasms, his cock pulsing warm, thick liquid down my throat.
My eyes are watering like crazy, tears streaming down my face. My throat is on fire, but I swallow every inch of his orgasm, heaving at times. He's overflowing.
When he's done, panting through his nose, I fall back on my ass and try to catch a breath but he doesn't give me a chance to sort myself out. Making me yelp again, he yanks me up by my arms and pushes me down on the dining table, face up. I grab onto the edges, looking up at him, anxious.
I don't know where he is in his mind, but he looks like he's losing it.
He hooks his fingers into the waist of my trousers and pulls them down my legs, tugging in places because they're damp and sticking to my skin. I'm not wearing any underwear. I feel exposed in the daylight.
“Charlie”—I lick my lips, squeezing my legs together—“what-what are you doing?”
“I'm gonna make you cum so fucking hard. That's what I'm doing.” He tugs off my trousers, then runs his large, rough hands up my legs, up the insides of my thighs to wrench me open.
I quiver under him, a sharp pain shooting through my thighs because I'm open so wide.
“Don't worry. I'm not gonna fuck you, and I'm not gonna hurt you.” Now, he sounds like he's here, but I'm still panicking, digging my nails into the table, unsure of what to do.
He presses delicate yet hungry kisses up the insides of my legs after his hands. I moan against each peck, my body on fire, and my head is flooding with this overwhelming dizzy feeling.
I know he's going to kiss me down there again, and I'm not sure I want to stop him.
I let my head drop back on the table and grab my face.
He nibbles up each side of my groin with his teeth, and I writhe, squirming, unable to deal.
I can't do this. I'm too anxious.
“Charlie, please, don't do this to me,” I beg him. For the first time, I actually ask him to stop. I can't help it. I'm not sure I like feeling at his mercy.
He freezes, a bit out of breath.
“You want me to stop?” he rasps out.
This is so embarrassing. Of course I don't want him to stop. I want him to make me feel good again, but I don't at the same time.
I cover my eyes with one arm and nod. This is my control. Since his apology, he seems to be giving me a semblance of control. Or, I thought he was before he made me suck his cock and gave a warning for making him feel guilty.
Oh, I don't fucking know. I'm so confused.
“Blaire, look at me,” he demands, though his voice is soft. Long fingers close around my wrist, and Charlie gently moves my arm off of my face.
I peer down at him, finding his blue eyes are dilated. He looks so hot. Why can't I just let go and be with him like this? Why can't I shut off mentally?
“Do you want me to stop?” He raises his eyebrows at me, stroking the inside of my wrist with his thumb.
I nod again, trying to close my legs but I can't because he's between them.
Our gaze united, he's not sure what to do. I imagine his instincts are telling him to just do whatever the fuck he likes, but I think he's working on this whole mutual respect thing. He did tell me that if I want him to stop, all I should do is say so.
This is his chance to prove I can trust him.
I hope he doesn't fail.
When he steps back, scoops my trousers up from the floor and puts my feet into the legs, I am a little gutted. I like the way he turns me on and makes me cum, but at the same time, I just don't want him doing that to me again. I'm the architect of my own confusion, I know, but I'm not sure what this is between us.
I pull up my trousers and stand on jelly-like legs, drawing into my shoulders. My hair is a static mess, flowing around my shoulders and waist. Must be an endorphin reaction.
Charlie is frowning down at me. He doesn't know what to make of this either.
“Do you have a gym where I can work out?” I ask, hugging myself.
His frown deepens. “You want to work out again?”
I nod. I feel so vulnerable knowing I just sucked his cock, and he's just seen me splayed out in front of him here on the dining table. He said I was pretty down there. That makes me blush, and I never blush.
“Are you all right?” he whispers.
I nod again, though I'm not all right. He's fucking with my head.
After a while of staring me down, Charlie nods left and heads out of the kitchen, his masculine back flexing under his t-shirt.
Though my feet are dirty, I slip into my trainers and go after him.
In silence, we walk down a long hallway just off the entrance hall. At the end, there is a set of steel double doors. Charlie pushes them open and pale blue, double height walls fill my gaze. It's not just a gym. It's a sports arena fully loaded with a boxing ring in the center, surrounded by blue exercise mats. A collection of treadmills and other exercise equipment stretch across the left wall, with chin up bars and boxing bags. The right wall boasts rock climbing.
“Wow,” I whisper under my breath, in my element.
“Wait here,” Charlie says, pointing down. “I'll be five minutes.” He exits the way we came, so I do as I'm told.
Still hugging myself, I glance up at the ceiling. Monkey climbing bars. How the hell can anyone get up there? I scan the space and find in each corner of the gym there are ladders.
No wonder Charlie is so fit.
“Here,” he says softly from behind.
Turning around, I find he's passing me a bottle of water. He's changed out of his jeans into gray joggers and trainers.
I take the bottle of water from him, twist off the cap, and drink a mouthful. It's so cold that my brain aches for a moment.
“I'll make you a deal,” Charlie says, nodding like it's already set in stone. “You and me”—he gestures between us with a large, steady hand—“we'll have a friendly fight, and if you can put me on my ass in less than fifteen minutes, I won't touch you ever again. Not unless you ask me to, or want me to.”
I stare vacantly at him. That's why he's changed.
“But, if I win,” he continues, his voice full of promise, “you'll let me make you cum right here and whenever I want to, and you'll enjoy it.”
Oh, I fucking like this.
Putting the cap back on the bottle, I shrug and nod at once. This could be fun. I've wanted to kick his ass for weeks now.
“You promise not to touch me ever again once I put you on your ass?” I raise my eyebrows. “You swear?” I don't know why I'm trusting his word but something inside me is convinced Charlie wouldn't make a misleading deal. He's too cool for that.
Charlie leans down and presses his lips to mine like it's the last time. I lose my breath, my blood warming with fire.
“If...” he elongates, whispering against my mouth, “if you put me on my ass.”
I have no idea what comes over me but I arch into Charlie and kiss him back. I grip his t-shirt with my nails and let out a girlish, moany sigh, thrilling in this humid rush of sensations that always come over me when we kiss.
“Don't do that,” he warns, his tone taking a dark edge.
I step back, breaking away from the kiss, my head a little faint. “Do what?”
“Kiss me like tha
t and whine as if you're enjoying it when we have this deal on the table.”
Crossing my arms, I flick up my eyebrows. “You're worried I'm going to win?”
He takes in a long, steely breath, his blue gaze flickering all over my face. “A little, but this is why I like you.” He steps closer to me and I step back, again and again. “You're different from any girl I've met before. Stronger, smarter, ominously alluring, and I like your nasty attitude.” Raising a hand, he strokes down a length of my dark red hair. “Girls like you don't come around often.” He keeps playing with my hair as if fixated, still walking into me. “I have to admit, I'm having a hard time even thinking about giving you back to Maksim.”
My brain switches from hot and lusty to robotic, and my expression goes flat.
“I don't want to talk about Maksim.” I blink down, searching for the words, then back up at Charlie. “I know you said you plan on knowing me inside out, but talking about Maksim, it bothers me.”
“All right,” he says much to my utter surprise, lifting his hands in defense. “No hay problema.” No problem.
He's doing it. He's working on our mutual respect. Why is that making me like him a little more?
He tugs out his hair tie and combs his hair back with one hand, the strands sleek and shiny under the down-lighters. “Here,” he says, “tie your hair back.”
Putting down the bottle of water, I take the tie from him gratefully. I've needed a hair tie all morning.
I walk past him, putting up my hair in a bun, then I slip under the ropes and into the ring. This is going to be epic. I'll put him on his ass in five minutes, let alone fifteen, and it's that much sweeter knowing I'm going to win the rights to my body.
“What are the rules?” I say softly.
In one swift motion, he grabs the back of his t-shirt and whips it off, dropping it to the floor. My eyes are having a hard time adjusting because I just don't know which part of his body I should focus on. He's so fit it's actually stupid.