by Box Set
“I've wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you,” he whispers in my ear from behind. “But I won't ever take you again without your full permission.” He's kissing my neck now, making me tingle all over. “I respect you too much for that.”
My eyes are unfocused and my head is swimming, every nerve ending in my body buzzing.
“I want you,” I say in a foreign voice, and I'm not lying. “I'm sorry for going crazy. I'm sorry I've wasted so much time denying—”
“Hush,” he whispers, stroking over my fingers on my chest with his thumb. “S'all right.”
He slips into the front of my trousers with his free hand, still embracing me in his other arm. My ass tightens with nerves as he fingers his way into my underwear, the elastic of my trousers pressing his dusty arm into my pelvis. It enhances my arousal for him. It makes me throb with zest.
I can't believe I'm letting this happen, and after how hard I fought.
I don't feel like myself anymore.
Charlie scissors my throbbing clit and holds me with callous fingers. His huge hand completely covers my sex. I whine out loud, the feeling of skin against skin sending me into a lust fallen meltdown.
“He doesn't make you feel like this, does he?” Charlie massages me, teasing my swollen clit. Around and around he makes my body tingle. “He doesn't make you feel good.”
He's right. Maksim doesn't make me feel this good.
“No,” I breathe out.
One more kiss to the neck and I cave at the knees, my head rushing with endorphins. Charlie holds me up with his arm still wrapped around my chest.
“I've got you,” he says softly, raining kisses down the beating vein in my neck.
I let my head fall back against his hard chest, my eyes rolling.
He changes motion, rubs me gently in a different rhythm. “I'll always make you feel good, Blaire. I promise.”
“Charlie,” I sob his name, my toes fisting in my trainers as his motions become harder and faster, more demanding.
He slows down when my leg starts to shake. I can't believe how quickly he can make me cum. Is this normal?
Sneaking through my damp folds, he dips the tip of his fingers in my virgin entrance. I try to close my legs to stop him but he whispers, “I'm not gonna break your virginity. Trust me.”
I do trust him. I've trusted him for weeks now.
I open my legs for him, standing on tippy toes again. He relentlessly flicks my clit with his thumb, making me jerk forward in his arm, while he torments me from the inside.
“I do trust you,” I say in a voice so lost to me, closing my eyes.
Carefully pulling his finger out of me, he smothers my clit in my own succulent arousal. It's hedonistic and wet.
“Fuck...” I whimper, digging my nails into his arm over my chest, arching forward.
The more he kneads me, the quicker the build climbs. It's an all new high. My left leg is shaking uncontrollably. I have no idea why my leg does this when I cum, or when I'm about to cum, but it does, and I cannot stop it. It's a tremor in my body.
“Relax,” he says softly, rubbing his smooth cheek against mine so he can speak in my ear. “Just relax, baby.”
“I can't,” I whimper, tightening my face. “I just...” Turning my head to the side, I kiss him with hope that I can focus on something other than what I'm enduring, but I can't.
The kiss turns me inside out.
“Ohhh!” I whine, trembling all over. I'm pulsing so hard, cumming so hard, that it's like every sensation in my body is being sucked into one place, then radiating outward.
He's never made me orgasm like this before. He's never made me feel so mad and wanted and hot all at once.
He wrings me dry, and when he finally stops rub-fucking me, I'm absolutely wasted. My heart is hammering in my chest. I let my head fall forward, trying to catch a breath.
“Charlie,” I pant, holding his arm with my nails. “Charlie, I...we...”
“Shhh.” He takes his hand out of my trousers, and I hear him sucking his fingers. “Kick off your sneakers so I can take your trousers off.”
I do. My legs are wobbly like jelly, but I toe the backs of my trainers and kick them off one by one. I manage to say his name again, and what I'm feeling like inside. “This is so wrong. This shouldn't be—”
“Hush, baby.” He hides his face in the back of my hair, holding me tighter in his arm in an effort to cuddle me or something. “Everything that's wrong in the world always feels right.”
26
Life with Charlie turns into a bit of a lusty blur after my outburst. He's twisting my mind—it's like a battle field—and I'm letting him. I don't even think about Maksim anymore. I just want Charlie, whether it's for a fight or for an orgasm or for company. Most of all his company.
He makes me cum more times than I can count—in the boxing ring, on the kitchen table, on the staircase when he catches me coming down one morning—and I never stop him. I couldn't even if I wanted to. I'm lost to myself. Lost in him.
He kisses me down there like a starving man, sucking my folds and kissing my bud with gentle pecks, turning me on so badly that my leg vibrates, until I fall apart, begging and sobbing with wild desire.
I suck his cock at least three times a day because I want to. I crave the taste of him. Revel in having him under my power for a time. I need to please him as he does me, to show him how much I desire him because I can’t say the words.
He never gets aggressive with me or loses control like he did before. He never forces himself down my throat, or make me gag as he did when I first took him in my mouth. Sometimes, he doesn't even let me finish him off. He's in too much of a hurry to satisfy me, and always with his mouth.
I'm falling deeper and deeper down his rabbit hole with every day that passes. I emotionally spiral out of control when he first cuddles me. We're sitting at the dining table, having just eaten an early breakfast. He’s staring at me for a while—I can sense it—until he tries to pull me onto his lap. I'm so caught off guard because I’m absorbed in doing a crossword that I actually ask, “What are you doing?” And I stop him with an uplifted hand.
Grinning, and ignoring my warning stare, he pinches the pen out of my hand and flings it on the table. He then grabs my hips and effortlessly lifts me up over his lap so we're face to face, my legs dangling on either side of his waist. His hard cock is pressed against my sex, stirring my arousal, and I can't help letting out a heavy moan.
His pupils magnify when I moan like that, and the blueness turns black with ardor.
We look right at each other, as I put my hands on his tough chest to control the rage within me. He reaches over my shoulder to let down my hair, and breathes in the smell as it falls around my body like a dark red cape.
“I want you to always wear your hair down,” he says. Tipping his head, he gazes at me with stark concentration. “Unless we're in the ring sparring.”
Swallowing past the tightness in my throat, I nod. He leans down to kiss my mouth then with a raspy groan, taking me in a dark, ardent kiss. I watch him, hypnotized by the blue-blackness in his eyes.
The sun rises behind us, causing the kitchen to glow with bright orange rays. It makes this moment that much more beautiful. Now, every moment with him is beautiful to me.
Charlie cups my face, covering my cheeks in his large, callous hands. He massages his tongue across mine, slowly, hungrily, and sucks the tip, making my stomach whirl in sensations. He then runs his fingers into my hair to wrap his arms around me and hold me to him, body to body.
I break away from our kiss because I have a sudden need to huddle in his chest and rest my head under his chin, so I do. I shut my eyes and exhale a sigh of contentment. I'm not sure why, but in this moment, I feel whole. Safe and whole. I don't ever want to leave him. Whenever I think about going home, it brings me to the verge of tears.
He strokes up and down my back for a while in silence, and I'm sinking into him like I used to sink into Maksim, l
istening to his heart beating at a steady pace, breathing in his scent.
I've never felt cherished before, if I can even use that word, but I do when Charlie holds me like this. It tells me that this isn't just sexual. He wouldn't waste time cuddling me if it was.
“Blaire,” he whispers after a while, “have you given living in Mexico a second thought?”
He's asked me this a few times now, though in a less obvious manner.
Lifting my eyes to his, I say, “Do you know something I don't?”
“What do you mean?” He stares at me as if I'm the only person in the world, his eyes glued to mine.
“Well”—I tuck a length of hair behind my ear—“you keep asking me about Mexico. Is Maksim moving there or something?” The thought has crossed my mind more than once but I've never said anything up until now. “Did he tell you when you visited him?”
Charlie doesn't answer my question. He doesn't even attempt to. He just gives me this look that's filled with zealous obsession.
I know he wants something from me—I can feel the sexual energy coming off him in waves—so I attempt to give it to him, and with pleasure. Crawling back off his lap, I get down on my knees so I can satisfy him, crouching between his legs. I reach for the waist of his joggers but he stops me.
“No, baby,” he husks out, brushing my hair back out of my face. “I don't want that.”
I gaze up at him from between his legs, pleading with my eyes for him to elaborate because I don't have the courage to ask, what do you want then?
Gripping my forearm, Charlie guides me to my feet and tells me to take off my sneakers. I do, and I also peel off my socks. He tugs down my sports trousers and underwear with one hand, his eyes with mine the entire time.
“You're so pretty,” he whispers. Pulling me forward while still holding my arm, he makes me straddle his lap. He feels so masculine under me, like a fortress of man, and I feel so vulnerable.
“I could stare at you all, day, long.” Inclining forward, he kisses my lips once. “I can't imagine a day without seeing you anymore.”
My stomach knots. I'm still not used to this, his sexual attention or the way he freely confesses what he's thinking.
Shifting me on his lap, he pulls down the waist of his joggers, freeing his hard cock.
“Charlie?” I say, worried. He's never done this before.
“Don't be scared.” He grips the small of my back and pulls me closer, putting us chest to chest, squashing my breasts.
I stare right at him, at the lust burning in his eyes, my lungs rising and falling with harsh intakes of breath.
“I'm not gonna fuck you,” he whispers, then he arches his hips and touches my sex with his cock, causing heat to sprint through my body.
I put my hands on his shoulders, desperately trying to keep it together. I've felt nothing like this before—sex against sex. It's so intimate.
“Rub your pussy against my cock until you cum,” he says, his eyes hooded and dazzling with lust.
I look away from him, my cheeks flushing red. I've heard men say things like that many times before, but never to me. It's so personal.
He knows I'm embarrassed, and I'm glad that he doesn't pressure me with words. He grips my hips in both hands and tells me to kiss him, so I do. I close my eyes and kiss him hungrily, though I find his tongue and mouth are more demanding than mine. He devours me with powerful, leisurely licks, breaking away the barrier that is my anxiety. The maple syrup we just had on our breakfast tastes sweet and delicious on Charlie.
“Do you trust me?” he whispers in my mouth.
I open my heavy eyes, squeezing his hard shoulders with my nails.
“Do you?” he says again, staring right through my soul. “I want to know that you do, Blaire.”
I nod, consumed by that fixated expression on his face. He forces me to grind against him, sliding me up and down his vein swollen cock. My stomach turns with sensations.
“That's it,” he groans, closing his eyes. He curls my hips back and forth with his, harder and faster. My flesh wet, I move up and down him with slick ease, sobbing when my inflamed clit touches him.
I'm too shaky to just hold his shoulders, so I tie my arms around his neck and cling to him, deepening the kiss as I tilt my head. My heart rate hits a dangerous speed. He blinks at me, and we watch each other like this with desperate yearning, Charlie's eyes flickering between mine.
“So beautiful,” he whispers, taking my mouth again. He places one hand on the curve of my back and forces me to arch into him, ensuring my clit is constantly massaged by his cock.
I whimper his name, a familiar pressure brewing low in my stomach.
“Fuck, I want you,” he moans, the sound so loud it vibrates through us.
My leg goes into a wild spasm as his words slay me open. I want him, too.
I can't kiss him anymore, it's too intense, so I press my forehead against his, putting us eye to eye, rub-fucking him with all I have.
“Charlie,” I sob his name. I'm almost there but I just can't.
“Don't think, baby.” He blinks in a haze, grabbing my outer thigh to calm my shaking. “Just don't think. Close your eyes.”
I close my eyes, and I let my thoughts escape me like a river running free. It hits me then, like lightning. The head of Charlie's cock slides through my folds, over my bud, and I cry out so hard that my throat hurts, ecstasy bursting out of me.
Charlie finds his peak with me, groaning as if he's in pain, heat searing off his body. Warm, thick liquid inundates my sex, his cock still stimulating my clit. I cum again—or I think I cum again. I'm not sure I ever stopped. It's a never ending spiral of sensations starting at my center and emitting supernova.
He binds his arms around me, crushing me to his muscular body, and when I can't take anymore, I fall wilted, gasping for my life, my limbs lifeless and aching beyond words.
The smells that consume me are hot, sweaty, and sensual. My head is spinning.
Charlie relaxes with me. He holds me in his arms, putting my head in the crook of his damp neck so he can kiss my forehead.
I come down slowly and in stages, and then what just happened really starts to sink in. This is the part that embarrasses me most, the aftermath of intimacy. I get so lost in the moment that I forget what I've said and how I've looked at him.
Charlie isn't embarrassed one bit. He never is. Careful not to crush me again, he stands and puts me down on his chair, tucking his cock back in his joggers. I pull my knees up to my chest, trying to hide my innocent value. I block out what happens next because it's too personal, how he cleans me up with soft tissue paper and puts me back together by dressing me.
Our initial plan today was to spar in the gym after breakfast, but I'm not in the right zone to play fight with Charlie. I'm stuck in a strange, sensual place. I have been since I let go of myself.
Charlie crouches down in front of me, elbows on his knees, and he just looks at me in utter silence. I can't hold his gaze. He looks like he's ready for round two. I reach for a glass of orange juice on the table to wet my dry throat. Then I ask, “Do you mind if I go up to my room for a while?”
A soft smile, then he rises and pecks me on the mouth, making my body crave him all over again. “No, baby,” he says softly, straightening. “Course I don't mind.”
It's like this all the time now. When we spar in the gym, I can't even begin to explain how erotic it is. Imagine fancying someone on this level who you're almost sure fancies you back, and time is of the essence, so you're both trying to make every moment count.
Charlie and I never talk about how long we have left together. We just do. We spend every second of every day together. Eventually, he even ends up sleeping in my bed with me.
The first night is when I fall asleep at the dining table. He's cleaning up the dishes after dinner, and I rest my head on the table in my crossed arms, having had so many orgasms that my body is exhausted with them. I stir in Charlie's arms as he's carrying me up the
stairs, into my bedroom. In the darkness, he pulls back the blankets to lay me down, and when I'm safely sinking into the mattress, half dazed with sleep, he tugs off my trousers, undressing me for bed.
Smiling at me as though I'm his most prized possession, he stands back, his head slightly tipped to one side. I'll never get enough of when he looks at me like that. I always want him to look at me like that. It makes me feel important to him.
He turns away from me, and I reach out to catch his hand, wanting to thank him for everything he's done for me but I can't find the words. My throat is thick with words. My eyes glittering with thank you for respecting me, caring for me, and most of all, for showing me a moment of happiness.
I know I'll never feel happiness like this again. No matter how much money I have in that offshore bank account, it cannot buy me happiness. And as long as Maksim is looming over me, my life will always exist in the shadows.
Charlie seems to think I'm saying something else in my gaze because he strips down to his black boxer briefs and slips into bed beside me, gathering me in his arms against his chest.
“Do you mind if I stay with you?” he says, and I sense he's staring down at me.
I snuggle into his warmth, breathing in the clean scent of his skin, and while I don't answer him, my actions tell him all he needs to know. I want—no, need to be right here.
He kisses my forehead as he embraces me like he's never going to let go.
Over the days, I convince myself that even when this is over, it's okay, because I'll always have my memories.
27
Today, things change, and not for the good.
Everything starts out very normal. I wake up tangled under Charlie's muscular body, to sensations of kisses being pressed all over my face, mixed with soft strands of hair tickling my cheeks.
“Well, good morning,” I say, smiling sleepily as I stretch out beneath him.
“Morning, baby.” His voice comes out low and raspy—distracted. He's moaning with zeal, and so am I when he sucks the throbbing vein in my neck, and cups my sex over my night shorts. Arching into him, I purr like a cat getting petted, thrusting my fingers into his hair and gripping him tightly.