Crap—this is it—the moment Charlotte McKendrick, A.K.A. “Pollyanna” turns into a dirty whore! No, no! You are not dirty! Stop it, Charley! And one John certainly doesn’t make you a whore. Christ—did I just call him “a John”? I’ve been watching way too much Law & Order: SVU!
“Very rude, Charlotte,” Mitch sighs as he kisses down my neck.
“What?” I refocus.
“Exactly. This is your one and only warning. I’m paying you way too much for you to get lost in your thoughts.” His eyes find mine and wait for my nod of understanding.
“Sorry.” I frown slightly as I reach up to the top button of his dress shirt. I start to unbutton it and continue down to the next. Mitch watches my every move like unbuttoning his shirt is the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
“Stop.” I finally say.
“Stop?” He chucks my chin so I’m looking back up at him. “Charlotte ... is this part of your “act”—the innocence ... the reluctance?” He almost seems unsure. I’m almost certain I already suck at my new “job” and not the kind of sucking that involved in my “job”.
“Do you want me to stop?” I play into his idea.
“No ... actually, I’m finding it to be quite the turn on.” His grin is laced with a bit of surprise. Aha! I don’t suck at my job! Well, metaphorically speaking. “I almost feel as if I’m about to take away your virginity.” He chuckles a little.
“Oh ...” I laugh. “Well, I can assure you that you won’t be doing that.” I don’t know why but I feel even calmer with him than before. There’s just something about him. Maybe it’s the whole “knight in shining armor” thing. I’m relieved and beyond grateful. He and his little contract will be saving me from God knows what kind of trauma I may have ensued. I slip my hands inside of his unbuttoned shirt and slide them up to his shoulders slowly pushing it off of them. I step out of my dress and toe it to the side. Mitch reaches his left hand around the back of my neck bringing my hair to sit on my right shoulder. He leans down. His lips trail kisses down and into the curve of my neck.
“Set the scene for me, baby; I want to play along,” his voice is soft and sexy. It sends my little gymnasts back into action.
“It’s a simple scene really.” I pull at the hem of his undershirt. He takes a step back letting me pull it up and over his head. I toss it on top of my dress. He’s fit. I can tell he works out—when he can. There are no ridiculous muscles to outline with my tongue like I’ve read in so many of my favorite romance novels. Nope ... he’s just a regular guy. I like that—makes him even more appealing to me for some reason. I place my hands on his strong shoulders. “I’m your girlfriend and this is the first time I’m letting you have all of me.” I continue. “I’m nervous. While this is not my first time; it’s my first time with you. I want to be perfect for you. I want to do everything right. I want to be more than you imagined.” I bring my eyes up to find his.
His kind eyes. I begged for kind eyes before I met him but I’m not so sure I knew exactly what I was asking for or if it really existed. Now I know and it does exist. They are laced with warmth, generosity and concern, held in place by small lines in the corners showing off many years of laughter and playfulness. At the moment, I am most certain, that I can trust this man. The irony, of course, is not lost on me—I’m trusting in a man who pays for sex—not the usual sort I put my trust into.
“Jesus, Charlotte,” his hand palms my left cheek. “I feel like you’re staring into my soul.”
“I am.” I almost whisper. Leaning up a bit on my toes, I brush my lips against his and note the slight change in the tempo of his breathing. His left hand wraps around the small of my back pulling me close to him as he properly attacks my lips. I play at the belt of suit pants and whip it off of him. Mitch unhooks my bra. Cool air hits my lips. I open my eyes; watching him watching me. I quickly glance to my right shoulder. Mitch guides the straps of my bra off my shoulders and down my arms; his eyes focused on mine. Sad to say, but—I think this is the most erotic moment of my life. My bra falls to the floor.
“You ok, baby?” His left index finger traces the slight prominence of my right clavicle bone. I almost think he’s asking for real but then I remember ... he’s “playing along”.
“Hmm mm ... yes.”
“I’ll stop if you need me to,” he offers before leaning down near my ear, “not really,” he whispers and I can’t help but laugh a little. He straightens up with smiling eyes. I reach up with my right hand and lightly touch the laugh lines at the corner of his eye with my fingertips.
“What are you doing?”
“Admiring the evidence of joy in your life; no matter how great or small—it’s all right here.” I strum my fingers over the tiny lines. “I find that very attractive.” I smile shyly.
“I find your thoughts overwhelming,” he says grabbing my hand. He kisses the tip of each finger. I give him a quizzical look. He shakes his head dismissively. “Enough stalling, baby,” he begins to back me up towards the bed.
“You started it.” I arch a brow and pop the button on his pants.
“Yeah, well—I’m gonna finish it, too.” And with that he turns me around swiftly so that I’m facing the bed. Holy hell! His breath hits my neck hot and full of promise. His hands fall onto my sides. Slowly they push forward to my stomach and travel up.
“Ah!” I gasp from the bolt of electricity surging to my groin. Mitch rolls and tugs my nipples with skill and precision. I lean my head back against his chest. Hooking my arm around his neck, I bring his mouth down to mine. After a beat, his hands quickly slide down to my panties. His fingers hook under the elastic. He pulls away from mouth and whips my panties down to the floor. Good God! He nips affectionately at my bum. He holds my hips and slowly turns me back around as he comes back up to a standing position. He pulls the duvet back.
“Lie down.” He nods towards the bed. I hear the unzipping of his pants while I sit and gracefully (I hope!) crawl back onto the bed.
Laying my head back, I take to Yoga breathing once again only I don’t exhale with lion’s breath. Shit ... I’m not exhaling at all! Breathe, Charley. Breathe. My lungs finally give into the pressure and the feeling of Mitch’s teeth lightly biting at the inside of my leg during the travels of his mouth. He pulls my legs apart—wide. I feel so overwhelmed—the exposure—the vulnerability. I gasp again as he tenderly bites and licks at the apex of my groin. My hips rise encouraging him. Mitch’s finger traces ever so slowly over my cleft. I think I hear him whispering something but I’m not certain; the pounding of my heart is deafening. Just when I think I can’t handle any more of the tantalizing torture of his hesitation, his tongue glides over—tasting me. A slight moan escapes from my throat.
“Damn it, Charlotte!” he snaps just above a whisper—over the pounding in my ears. Damn it, Charlotte? What’s that about? Did I do something oh ... Oh. My. God.
“Ugh ... Mitch ... please,” I beg. The fingers of his left hand hold me open; his mouth violently attacking my vulnerability. The swirling, the biting, the plunging—it’s more than I can bear. I’m in sensory overload and his right hand holds my pelvis down, forcing me to endure it all with no relief in sight. “Please ... oh please, Mitch.” I practically cry. I feel—I know—I’m on the verge of some sort of break through here. Mitch brings his hunger to a savoring pace. I feel a finger circling my entrance; plotting its plan of attack. He slips two fingers in at the pace of a Sunday drive. Meticulously, they massage the upper front wall of my vagina. My body goes on a leisurely hike to Heaven—I think. A delicious tightening occurs deep inside, traveling up to the pit of my stomach. I close my eyes tightly as my body celebrates the joyous occasion of my first orgasm not supplied by a battery operated object. A rocket shoots off a burst of purple. Another burst of white ... blue ... green ...
“Ugh ... oh ... Mitch ... Mitch ...” I don’t even recognize my voice; the rockets are coming so quick—one explosion after another.
“That’s it,
baby ... let me hear you,” he encourages and works me through the last of my quakes. My body stills—having just given him the last of my whimpering cries. I stare at the ceiling, trying to steady my breathing. I feel tears rolling out of the corners of my eyes. I quickly wipe them away while Mitch begins his climb up my body. My breast rise up to greet his mouth. My hands dive into his hair for encouragement. I grasp his chin with my right hand. Lifting my neck, I pull his mouth away from my nipple and attack his lips. He finishes his climb allowing me to rest my head back down; his tongue exploring my mouth. He rips his lips from mine and gazes into my eyes; his thumb strumming my bottom lip purposefully. Mitch shifts ever so slightly never losing eye contact. I raise my hips for him and I realize at this moment—I have never wanted someone this bad in my life. My neck involuntarily bends back as I feel myself stretching around him.
“Charlotte,” he gasps. A small sob flies out of my mouth and hangs over us like a secret that never meant to be discovered. “Charlotte ... baby, look at me,” he whispers. My neck relaxes and my eyes find his confused ones. “Charlotte?”
“Shh.” I lean up and kiss him. Our kiss turns from soft and reluctant to urgent ... desperate even. Mitch rolls his hips again, skillfully, if I may add. Within moments, we are in perfect rhythm. I relish in the feeling of my body finally accommodating his with ease. I turn my head swiftly away from him. My eyes go wide in disbelief as the newly familiar feeling creeps up on me once again.
“Look at me,” he commands. It’s meant to be assertive sounding but it translates almost like a plea. I comply—eyes still wide, ready to be transported someplace incredible. “You’re mine,” his right hand palms my face and I feel as if I’m hanging by a thread. “Say it!” he demands.
“I’m yours ... I’m ... oh ...” I’m gone—wild underneath him.
“That’s it, baby ... tell me ... show me you’re mine,” he eggs me on. I comply in every way. Sound. Touch. I’m his ... contract or no contract. I tighten myself around him; my final proclamation. The sound that escapes his throat brings me to my knees (metaphorically). “Char—goddamn.” His nose scrunches up and his lips form an “O” shape. The tip of his tongue slides over the top of his teeth and pushes against them as if it’s life depended on it. “Ugh!” He grunts one last time and falls to my chest, panting. Mitch lifts his head.
“I’m sorry.” I say quickly.
“About?”
“I called you Mitch.” I wince.
“Christ, Charlotte, that’s the furthest from my mind right now,” he says with a hint of irritation. I don’t know what to say so ... I say nothing. He shakes his head slightly and takes in a deep breath. “Right now I just want to bask in our post-coital glow.”
“But?” I ask shakily, showcasing my nervousness.
“But ... we are going to have a very in depth conversation tomorrow morning.” He grabs my chin and rocks my head side to side gently for emphasis. I reply by swallowing hard—it’s all I’ve got. He dips down and sweeps my lips lightly before pulling out. I wince from the sudden emptiness I feel. Mitch rolls onto his back and pulls me with him. His fingers glide up and down my back, into my hair and back down again. The strumming of his fingers, the effects of two amazing orgasms, the stress and worry about what was to come of tonight and the fact that I was up at four in the morning with a feverish Brooklynn—I find myself in a soporific state that I can’t fight anymore.
BARELY SURVIVING
By: Courtney Cross
PROLOGUE
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS - USA
I longed for death with every painful thud of my uncontrollably raging heart. Death would bring solace to a body and soul that knew only pain, violence and cruelty. Death would be relief to an existence that no longer wanted any part of this fucking hell on earth. Right there, right then, if death decided to descend upon me I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I would embrace it.
Summoning all the remaining inner strength I could muster, I dragged my beaten body from the pool of blood I’d been laid in, which stained and covered my bed linen, across the room to my dressing table chair. Sitting down tentatively, I winced at the stab of pain that came from my behind, pain that reminded me of the unwarranted violation that had taken place inside there. Slowly placing my bruised elbows on the table, my hands cradled my throbbing head.
I had no comprehension of what just happened. One minute I was enjoying the only birthday party I’d ever had thrown, the next minute Alexander Matthews was viciously dragging me into the privacy and confines of my bedroom. Lifting my head from out of my hands, my gaze fell upon the antique white mirror that adorned my equally antique and expensive dressing table. I gasped loudly with horror at the battered and bruised face staring back at me. Hot tears welled profusely in my eyes whilst surveying the damage. Removed was the sparkle from my usually vivid emerald green eyes. Swollen slits remained that stung as the tears fell. My naturally high cheek bones wore dark bruising and brutal scratches, visual remnants of Alex’s fierce onslaught. Usually full, pink lips were swollen, bleeding and painful as I skimmed two fingertips across them. The feel of his mouth on mine, biting and nipping brutally at my lips and tongue made me gag. The vile stench of strong whiskey and tobacco enveloped my senses making my stomach roll. A shaking hand ran over my long, straight auburn hair that was now wild and clumped and hurt like hell at the scalp. He had pulled and tore at my hair as he pinned me down, holding me in place. I struggled for survival, desperate to stop him from taking me. God, I had fought like a caged animal fighting for its freedom but all to no avail. Alex was larger and stronger and had felt unbearably heavy when laid over my small, slender frame. Moving or stopping him had been in vain but I’d tried my damn hardest anyway.
Alexander Matthews was my adoptive step father, a heartless bastard and the sole reason my spineless, weak mother had taken her pathetic waste of a life and ended it. For ten solitary years I’d survived the humiliation, loneliness and the brunt of his unwavering and volatile temper. Her act of selfishness and maternal negligence left me at his mercy, tonight’s attack proved that.
For years I’d handled everything he threw at me by remaining detached and unemotional to life. A tireless string of young nannies and hired staff raised me. Void of attachments to any one of them made it all the easier to deal with when Alex screwed them then moved them on. I lived alone in the world, always had been and functioned happiest that way…….until now. Tonight, a lonely vulnerability set in. There was no-one to take me away from the bastard who had just taken the last shred of life and dignity I possessed. There was no-one. Nobody would come to help me. Nobody out there gave a shit about me or my life and that was a hard, bitter truth to swallow.
Alex was a seriously successful, self-made exec with international connections. If confided in, none would ever believe what he had subjected me to tonight. All they saw was the tortured man who bravely grieved the loss of his beloved young, beautiful wife to suicide and then selflessly continued to raise her emotionally detached daughter. That lie of a notion made Alexander Matthews seem a man to be admired and revered by anyone acquainted with him. He was a man that men aspired to replicate and emulate. Women sought to snare the wealth and lifestyle by fucking the man whatever the cost. Not a single soul would choose to believe that Alexander Steven Matthews was a brutal wife beater who drove his glamorous wife to her grave and had mercilessly terrorised his eight year old stepdaughter in her absence ever since. I would never be believed. Nobody would give a shit. And that thought alone ripped my damaged soul and beaten spirit to shreds, finally finishing me off.
Yelping in pain, I pushed up off the dressing table into a standing position. Gritting my teeth I inhaled and exhaled deeply, my chest expanding and deflating in agony around possible cracked ribs as I headed for my en-suite. Sudden clarity and the way to exit off the never ending carousel of barely surviving hit me full on. This had to stop. It just wasn’t within me to carry on. Reaching up to my mirrored wall cabinet I caught one l
ast glimpse of myself before opening the cabinet door. My looks had always haunted me and Alex. I was without question the image of my dead mother. There was no mistaking I was Gina Dawson-Matthews daughter. My auburn waves and memorable green eyes were exactly like Gina’s, eyes which now adopted that same haunted glaze my mother’s had always worn. Eyes made to bare that look by the man who had systematically destroyed both of our lives.
My vision slid over the various items and cosmetics adorning the four shelves of the cabinet and settled upon the answer I was looking for, a bottle of pain killers. They were exactly what I needed. Grasping the bottle of pills that sat on the bottom shelf of the cabinet I was surprised by the overwhelming feeling of calmness that washed over me in waves for the first time in my life. As I stood there, bottle in hand I wondered if Gina had experienced the same inviting sense of peace when she decided to end things by killing herself, leaving me behind. For the first time since she committed suicide, I felt a faint tinge of empathy with Gina. It was fleeting and for no more than a second but I most definitely felt it all the same. I hated myself for feeling any kind of sympathetic feelings or maternal connection to the woman who bore and then abandoned me. A connection that now seemed to share a pre-determined destiny.
Gripping the bottle tightly I became aware that my hands were rock steady as I removed the lid. Not a single shake to be seen. Maybe fate was informing me it was my time to leave, convincing me to end the suffering just as my mother had. Nobody would care if I did it. I had no-one to mourn for my eighteen years of wasted life so I decided; it would be better this way.
The first few pills were really hard to swallow down. My throat was sore and dry from the constant screaming and pleading with Alex to stop. But my piercing screams remained unheard and nobody had come rushing to my aid. That thought made the rest of the pills in the bottle slide through the dryness to my stomach so much easier. The cool refreshing water that washed them down was soothing to my throat. I drank it thirstily; savoring the quenching sensation in my mouth until reaching the very final drop I knew would be my last. After consuming all the tablets in the bottle, the now empty container fell into the sink. Inhaling a deep breath, I closed my eyes and turned towards my bed. Taking the somber last steps towards the bed seemed to take me an age; there was no turning back now. Sinking slowly onto the bed, my limbs heavy and weary, I found myself making peace with the big guy in the sky. Why I began silently praying to him for forgiveness I had no explanation for. I’d never had religious inclinations or a belief in any kind of God, but saying the words, begging for his redemption and urging him take me to a better place filled my mind, body and soul with calmness. So this is what death felt like? I warmed to the feelings death was offering me, welcoming it with two very open arms.
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