by Anthology
I wasn’t going to fuck and run. I’d waited too long for this opportunity, there was no way I was screwing it up now.
I watched as she exchanged words and looks with her best friend, each took turns glancing back at me before Savannah shooed me toward the lobby. It was obvious she wanted me waiting on her and not the other way around.
“Oh, Savannah.” Three years was a long time to pine after a woman, especially one that belonged to a brother. But times have changed, and I’m here now. Tony gave up his right to Savannah the minute he stuck his dick in someone else. Another thanks to absolutely no one for my dumb luck and I headed to retrieve the car.
I tipped the valet and waited next to the open passenger door. Savannah walked out the front door with her sunglasses on her head and shoes in hand. The smile that curved her lips gave me pause, and I watched as she approached with sure steps. She wanted this, too.
“Ready?” I gestured for her to get in and closed the door behind her. Rounding the hood, I slid in beside her and dropped the car into first gear. Easing off the clutch, we turned out of the hotel and back to— “Your place or mine?” I completed my thought out loud.
“Mine. Less likely to be interrupted. It’s just me and Layla at my house.” Her response was absentminded, so I reached over to caress her knee.
“Hey, we don’t have to do anything—”
“Shhh, you’ll ruin it before it begins.” She cut me off. I shifted gears and replaced my hand on her thigh, a little higher, teasing the soft red fabric bunched under my palm.
I turned onto her street. The neighborhood was sleepy and quiet, a perfect backdrop for our private interlude. I felt the heat of desire creep up my neck, the rush of blood and nervous energy pulsing through every limb as we pulled into her driveway.
She was out the door and my grasp before I even had the brake pulled. I sat and watched as she swept up the front steps and through the front door, leaving it open for me to follow.
Keep it together. You can do this. Her terms. Take it or leave it.
Mental pep talk my ass…
I dropped my shoes by the door and unhooked the belt around my waist. The walk to my bedroom was just far enough that Charlie would have to search to find it. I didn’t want to lose this feeling, so I walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water instead. I leaned against the center island, my dress loose and barely hanging on my shoulders. I let a strap fall, adding to the allure of what was or wasn’t underneath.
Geez, I really sucked at this sexy stuff.
I smirked as I slugged back half the bottle and waited.
“Savannah?” Charlie pushed the front door open all the way, his expression pensive if not a little cautious. He hadn’t seen me yet.
“Here.” I called back, drawing his attention to where I stood.
His audible exhale made me bold, so I pushed myself up onto the center island. The dress was long and hung like an invitation between my open thighs. I braced my hands on the edge of the countertop and bit my lip in anticipation. My feet dangled and swayed, but my eyes never wavered from his.
“You’re beautiful, Savannah.” Charlie stalked forward, his confident swagger back as he stepped between my legs and gripped either side of my hips and pulled my ass to the edge of the stone.
“You’re not so bad yourself, Charleston Reed.” I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his. The low growl in the back of this throat was the only warning I got before he flattened my body against his, my thighs spread completely as he dove into my mouth with pent-up lust and desire. He licked the seam of my lips, demanding entry and I granted. His taste was fresh, like springtime with a hint of hops from the beer he drank. Our breath mingled as he tightened his grip on my ass, like he couldn’t get close enough. I wrapped my arms around his neck as we shared the same air, my lips swollen from his feverish attack.
“Take off your shirt.” I nuzzled against his cheek and kissed his earlobe. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
He pushed away just enough to pull his tank over the back of his head, exposing smooth skin and defined muscles. His hair mussed from the movement and my hands itched to unravel him further. In nothing but boardshorts, he returned to his beginning position and kissed me again. “Your turn.”
I pressed my breasts against the heat of his bare chest and inhaled deep through my nose, my hands no longer under my control as they roamed up his back and into his hair. He didn’t back down, instead leaned me back against the cold granite and inched my dress higher. My body was on fire, the anticipation burning me from within.
“Touch me.” I begged as his palms smoothed up under my dress, his fingertips grazed the seam of my panties. My breath caught.
“You sure?” Came a gravelly request.
I nodded, my voice stolen in that moment.
His hand trailed higher still, the gentle sliding of lace and a smooth glide of one, then two fingers inside me.
All thought and doubt disappeared as he slid in and out at a leisurely pace. I was shamelessly wet.
His kisses followed, wet laps of his tongue along my inside thigh; the rustle of my skirt against his shadowed jawline before it grazed my skin. Sounds I’d never made clawed their way out as I reached for his head to pull him where I wanted him most.
I licked a slow, hot trail from her knee to the apex of her thigh, letting the scruff of my cheek heighten the sensation. Her body was unraveling beneath me and I wanted nothing more than bury myself so deep inside of her I couldn’t tell where she ended and I began.
And we’d get there. First, I enjoyed making her squirm.
I moved my hands around her hips and pulled the elastic of her panties, prompting Savannah to lift her hips off the counter. She complied, her body wanton and her breathing shallow.
“Tell me what you want, Savannah. This is all about you.” I whispered against her body as I slid lace toward her ankles.
Her breathless reply was all the encouragement I needed to proceed. This was happening right here, right now.
I pushed her dress the rest of the way up, exposing every intimate part of her. She sighed and reached down, her fingers played across the plane of her flat stomach and into the soft folds of her core. I watched painfully as her breathing picked up, every circle of her finger on that little bundle of nerves driving us both wild.
I kissed her thigh again and again, all the way up to where she worked herself, and licked from bottom to top. Her gasp at the sensation prompted a repeat, this time I pulled her sensitive nub between my lips and hummed.
A shriek of pleasure erupted from her mouth as her hands sunk into my hair, pulling me closer. I continued my assault until I felt every part of her tense up, I knew she was close. I kissed her softly and worked my way up toward her breasts. Her chest heaved, the whimper of denial lingered as I met her lips with mine.
“What? I’m not done.” I licked her neck, her lips, and put my hand between us. “This what you want?”
She nodded as I ground my palm against her clit, and my fingers teased her opening. “Hold on, sweetheart.” I kissed her mouth deep and slow as my hand followed suit on her lower half, setting a punishing rhythm of sensual music only we could hear.
Screams of pure pleasure echoed through the empty house while I continued to play her like keys on a piano. Our ragged breaths faded into hushed sighs as she came down from a high I only hoped to feel. My dick was painfully hard, my restraint diminishing by the second.
I kissed her again, “Want more?”
“Yes.” Breathless and flushed, the smell of fresh rain and sex perfumed the air as her chocolate gaze met mine. “I want you, Charlie.”
I pulled her upright, the languid movements of her body told me more than her words ever could.
I wrapped her arms around my neck, and her legs followed suit. Her bare pussy pressed against the length of me though the rough fabric of my bathing suit.
“Where’s your bed?” I
pressed a kiss to her neck and started toward the stairs.
“Downstairs, to the right. Purple walls.” She breathed.
I carried her down, found her room and placed her gently on the bed. She stretched, her hair fanned out around her head in a halo of russet waves. The red of her dress was a shock to the pale décor in her private space, calling to me like a beacon.
I crawled up toward her face, my knees between hers, my hands on either side of her head.
“Savannah,” I whispered, moving the hair from her brow. I had no words as I took in her delicate features. She was perfect.
“Open your eyes, love.” I waited for her lashes to part, the light from the setting sun cast orange shadows across her profile. I kissed her softly, once again asking entry with my tongue against the seam of her plump lips.
Access granted, along with slender arms wrapped around my neck, she pulled me to lay flush against her body.
Everything happened in fast forward, the material of our clothing discarded as we became a tangle of limbs. My mouth never left hers as we moved in sync, a dance of sin and seduction as we took pleasure in each other’s body. A sheen of sweat glittered her skin, the cast of sunset giving off an ethereal glow, as her chest rose and fell with exertion. Both satiated and spent, we rolled to our sides, her back to my front and I wrapped my arms around her tiny frame.
I felt myself drift to sleep when soft words vibrated against my chest.
“Are you going to tell Tony?”
What the what? I propped my head up and turned Savannah to face me.
“No. Why would I? It’s none of his business.” I gave her a pointed look, confused by the question and pissed off that she would think so little of me.
I turned and grabbed my shorts from the floor.
“Where are you going?” She pulled a blanket over her naked body; her eyes were wide with concern.
“I don’t know what this was to you, Savannah, but if you think for one second I’m just some sort of revenge fuck, you’re mistaken.” I turned away from her shocked expression and left.
Shit.
I dropped my head into my hands, regret still fresh on my tongue. Why did I say that? I should’ve known Charlie wasn’t the kind of guy to boast his conquests.
Is that how I saw myself? A fucking conquest.
That’s what Charlie was. Wasn’t he?
I was so sure he was just looking for a quick roll in the hay with his friend’s ex-girl, a Spring Break fling, I didn’t even consider he had actual feelings.
I jumped up and wrapped the blanket around my body, “Charlie!” I yelled through the house.
Silence.
I tossed the blanket aside, grabbed a tank and my yoga pants and threw them on. I didn’t care about lack of undergarments, I had to fix things.
I dashed across the driveway to the house next door. Charlie’s car was in the driveway, so I knew he was there. I knocked on the door, my knuckles rapping at a swift pace until Charlie appeared on the other side.
“Can we talk, please?” I asked, breathless.
He opened the door enough for me to pass though, his expression unreadable as I crossed the threshold.
Closed off, he crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m listening.”
I walked deeper into the house, thankful we were still alone. I peeked out toward the screened porch and turned back to where Charlie stood.
“You can see my house from here.”
He nodded.
“Did you know I was next door this whole time?”
He shook his head and smiled, the first sign that maybe I hadn’t fucked things up before we even started. “Not the whole time, just since this morning.” He approached where I stood and uncrossed his arms. “I saw you on the porch.” There was no guilt in his confession, just open honesty.
“Can I say something without you getting mad?” he asked.
It was my turn to nod.
“I’ve had a crush on you since freshman year.” He walked past me to face the lake. “When Tony told me about you, I already knew who you were. You were in my Creative Writing class, but I never approached you because he pretty much laid claim.” He shrugged. “Bro-code and shit.”
I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders and kissed him softly. A silent request to keep talking.
“When I saw you this morning, I was determined to talk to you.” He turned in my embrace. “I was also there the day you slapped Tony so hard for being the cheating piece of shit he was.” He smiled at that and wrapped me in a hug.
“I knew I had to take a chance. But if you’re just looking for someone to pass the time, I’m not that guy, Savannah.” He kissed my upturned forehead and let me go. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted you, it’s not a new thing.”
I stood still, my arms were empty and missed the warmth of his.
“Okay.” I replied.
Confusion marred his expression, so I clarified.
“I guess I’ll start with I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything about Tony to you. That was a whore move.” I leaned against the glass of the window and continued, “Layla and I had this plan to bounce back from shitty boys this week. We were going to flirt, maybe hook up with a guy or two, and go back to school on Monday with fresh attitudes about leaving the past in the past.” I sighed.
“Then you happened.” I crossed to where he stood and wrapped my arms around his waist. “When you touched me, I felt it from head to toe.”
His crystal blue eyes darkened, a faint smile played across his lips.
“I knew in that moment, I wanted you. And honestly…” I popped onto my toes and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. “I still want you. Can we start over?”
I peppered his neck with soft caresses, the hope he’d forgive me and try again in every peck.
“We can’t start something that never started, but I’m willing to give this a go if you are.” He fisted a hand into my hair and pulled my mouth to his. “But this is between us. I’m not a fling or revenge against some dude who didn’t deserve you in the first place, got it?”
I exhaled long and slow, my heart and stomach somersaulted in tandem as Charleston Reed laid claim to me once and for all. My eyes shone with excitement over what was to come…
I winked and nodded again, “Should we try out your kitchen island?”
I laughed and kissed her. “Not a chance. We don’t know what’s been on that countertop.” I led her to my room and locked the door behind me.
“Let’s start something, sweetheart. Something I hope never ends.”
THE END
Vanessa Morse is happy wife and busy mom of three teenage boys. With a passion for books, she started writing at a young age but has only recently published. When she’s not buried in the pages of a book, you’ll find her holding her best friend’s hand while watching whatever activity her boys have going on.
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorvanessamorse
Twitter: @CrumbVWWB
Amazon Author Page: http://tiny.cc/authorvanessamorse_amazon
The Attic Steps
A Dark Fairy Tale Novella
Copyright © 2018 by Kimberly Adams
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
“How wonderful to be understood, and never have to explain.”
- V. C. Andrews, “Petals on the Wind”
At times, my little world seemed almost airy. Buoyant.
With the lack of boundaries and rules to squeeze me in a chokehold, I was left to my own devices. I conjured an imagination from the seeds of music, dancing with handsome elves or rugged, foul-mouthed pirates in my upstairs bedroom. I could dance forever, to every kind of music. Whether my moves were right or wrong, it didn’t matter to anyone but me. I was revered in the high court of my attic in our old, Victorian manor, dripping with sweat in the sweltering summers and shivering in the bleak, Ohio winters until my father finally remodeled my hideaway and added air conditioning and heat.
I didn’t like people.
Thanksgiving dinner was unavoidable. My father’s impending wedding loomed before me, and I dreaded finally meeting his fiancée’s children. I dreaded them not any more or less than I dreaded meeting anyone, but I knew that his fiancée had already told them all about me.
Twenty-one years old. Social anxiety. Unable to hold a conversation.
Nuts.
I cringed, gripping my ballet barre and focusing on my pliés. I’d ordered my simple, white dress with the champagne tulle skirt online, thankful that it fit just right. I had no idea what to wear, and my father assured me that it didn’t matter.
“You’re beautiful in everything, Lark,” he’d always told me.
Helpful.
I wasn’t beautiful in everything.
I was a cloud.
When I looked in the mirror that spanned the length of the wall behind my barre, I was consciously aware of long, blonde hair, wide, brown-fawn eyes, and a petite figure. My reflection was blurred, however, by the way my heart would take off, racing and thudding against my chest until I couldn’t look anymore. I saw fog and haze around my reflection.
Ugly things.
Which, I’d convinced myself after fifteen years of strict reclusiveness, was what the common people referred to as crazy.