by Quell T Fox
“Charlie?” I turn around to find my mother standing in the kitchen archway. “I have to head to work. You going to be okay?”
I put on a smile as best I can. “Of course, Mom.” She smiles back, grabs her purse and keys, and heads out the door.
I can’t say I’m surprised. Yes, I wanted to spend time with my mother. But really, I’d rather have stayed at school to catch up on work and even could have taken extra classes. The good thing about her still going to work, now that I’m here, is that I can still catch up on summer work at least. Mom has always been a workaholic. If she hadn’t had me when she was young, I know she wouldn’t have had me at all. She is not a kid person. She enjoys her freedom and loves her job. I know she loves me, but this is just how things are, how they’ve always been. I accepted it a long time ago.
When I get upstairs, I pull my laptop from my bag and open it up. I connect to the WiFi, figuring the password is still the same as when I left—it is—and open up my social media page. I scroll through and find one of the girls who was more popular in school, then look through her friends list. I’m rarely on this page and have minimal friends because of it, but maybe it’s time to change that. Looking through the list, I send a request to everyone I remember, but one person sticks out to me more than the others. Jace Winston. Someone I remember very well. I promptly send him a friend request, and he accepts it right away. I click on his page and look at some of his posts. It’s mostly sports stuff, but it doesn’t seem he uses it all that much either. I check his profile picture which was uploaded last week. He’s standing in the middle of a field, shirt off, and holding a football. Something that clearly hasn’t changed.
He looks the same, just a bit older and more in shape. He’s tanner and his hair seems blonder, his muscles are bigger. Everything about him is just… more. I always remembered him being tall, but something about him buffing up makes him look much more like a man than the awkward kid from my past.
My computer dings with a new message and I open it up.
Jace: Charlie, is that you? It’s been a while.
Well, that was fast. I smile at the thought, wondering what went through his head as he saw the request.
Me: Hey! It’s me! I just got back home, what have you been up to?
Jace: A lot of the same. How long are you in town for? We should catch up.
Me: All summer. That sounds like a great idea, when and where?
The three little dots pop up and go away a few times, before he finally sends his message, causing me to get a little impatient, eager to see what he has to say.
Jace: What are you doing right now?
A smile crosses my lips.
Me: Getting ready to see you?
I chew on my bottom lip in anticipation. I’ve never had a problem saying what I’m thinking, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t get nervous over the outcome.
Jace: Pick you up in half an hour!
Jace was always nice. We had a lot of classes together throughout high school, we just hung out in different cliques. He was a football player and I was just a no one. I didn’t fit in with anyone really. I wasn’t preppy, I wasn’t into sports. I wasn’t nerdy. I was just me. Just Charlotte Evans.
I’d consider us friends, not enough to keep in touch but we hung out a few times here and there. I could tell he had a thing for me, but I always ignored it. Not having any interest in him for more reasons than one. Mostly because he was an immature high school boy, just like the rest of them. But as a friend, Jace was cool.
I dig through my clothes and find a cute outfit to wear and change quickly. I then head into the bathroom to fix my hair a bit, just running a brush through it to get out the tangles.
When I get downstairs I notice the door to the den is still closed and I refuse to go in there, in fear of what I will find. Instead, I shout to him. “Going out! Be back later.” I grab my keys and head out the front door.
When Jace’s red Toyota pulls up, I jog to it, open the door, and get in.
I’m not saying I’m going to sleep with Jace. But if it happens, it happens. Anything to get Jonathan off my mind.
Chapter 4
Jonathan
I watch out the window as Charlotte gets into a truck with a guy. A guy I can only hope she knows and hasn’t just met online to prove some kind of point. What that point would be, I don’t know. I clench my fists watching him smile at her, and I get even angrier when she smiles back at him. It enrages me seeing her go off with a boy, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I have no standing in her life, never took that roll of proper stepdad to be able to tell her she needs to stay home… to do chores or something.
So, instead, I’m forced to watch her go, having no idea what she and him will be getting themselves into.
I told myself this would be it. Now that she’s come back, now that she’s old enough, she will be mine. She needs to know how I feel. I’ve waited long enough and I’m done waiting.
I thought her being gone for so long would be good for us, good for me. I thought I would be able to get the dirty thoughts of her from my mind. I tried the entire time she was at school, the whole year, but my life here, everything that’s happened since she’s been gone, only made the thoughts of her sweeter. Better. Dirtier.
There is something about Charlotte Evans that calls to me, always has. For years, I’ve felt like a sick fuck lusting after my fiancée’s daughter… especially when she was only sixteen at the time, but I know better. Charlotte has always been beyond her years. Smarter. More mature, both mentally and physically. But that didn’t matter, because I knew she was only a child. I knew that even at sixteen, when she thought she was an adult, she was not. So I kept it all inside, a constant war inside my head.
There are a lot of things I believe in in this world, and soulmates is one of them. Without even knowing, she pulls something out of me that I’ve always tried to keep deep down and hidden away. This part of me that has always tried to reach the surface but I know it needs to stay a secret. With Charlotte… that beast inside is almost unbearable. Too strong for me to fight back.
I need to own Charlotte in every way possible. My cock has been hard for her for far too long.
I’m done waiting.
Her mouth will be wrapped around my cock before she returns to school, that much I know is a fact.
Chapter 5
Charlotte
Jace drives us to a park where we get out and walk around. We talk about school and life and what we’ve been doing. He, like many of the kids I went to school with, decided not to go to college. In small towns like this, those who don’t escape right after high school get stuck. It’s like the town turns to quicksand and the more you try, the harder it is.
I did not want to be one of them. One who keeps their job at the market, making only enough to pay bills but never truly live. Or maybe it’s just too many roots here, and the thought of leaving is too much to bear. Most of the families around here were raised tight knit. I feel I’m the only one who wasn’t. Though I guess that could be due in part to my mother not belonging here. Sure, we live here, but she’s a city girl at heart and I never understood why she chose to settle in a place like this.
“It’s nice you got away. That you did what you wanted to do. I wish I could have gone to college straight out of school,” he says as we walk by the small pond.
“Why didn’t you?” I ask, looking over at him.
“Mom got sick. I stayed here so I could take care of her, we don’t have any other family.” He shrugs.
“You’re a good person, Jace. Besides, it’s never too late to go to college, or do whatever it is you want to do.” Though I’m not sure how true it is. I can tell Jace will never leave this place. It’s part of who he is.
He smiles over at me. “What are you going to school for, anyway?”
“I want to be a teacher,” I say proudly.
“Yeah? That’s great. Hopefully not high school though. I bet those boys would be al
l over you.” I slap his arm playfully and he rubs it like it actually hurt.
“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes.
“I’m serious. I mean, you were gorgeous in high school, but now?” He whistles and turns away, making me blush. I guess he isn’t the only one who did some growing up over the last year.
“Well, luckily for those boys, I want to teach in an elementary school. Teach them when they’re young. Instill good ideals into them so they don’t grow up to be little jerks.”
He laughs.
We stop at a bench and sit down. We continue talking and chatting about random things. Before I know it, it’s dark out. Talking to Jace is like a breath of fresh air. It’s a relief to be able to talk, and catch up, and not worry about any other problems.
“We should get going,” he says after a long stretch of silence. “I need to get home.” He gets to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. I follow suit and we walk back to his truck.
He drives me home and as I get out of the car, I notice Mom still isn’t here because her parking spot is empty. Jace walks me up to the front door, and we say our goodbyes, giving each other a friendly hug.
As I drop my keys into the bowl beside the door, my phone dings and I pull it from my pocket. I close and lock the door behind me before checking the text.
Mom: Working overnight. See you tomorrow.
I go straight for the stairs, not having any emotion about the text I received whatsoever.
The night was nice, relaxing, and I refuse to let my mother get to me. It’s not worth being mad over, and I truly think she can’t help herself. She’ll never say no to working, even when she begged her daughter to come home, guilting her to do so. I let out a sigh and start up the stairs, not paying attention to my surroundings.
“Did you fuck him?” The words send a shiver through my body and I stop dead in my tracks halfway up the stairs and heart pounding in my chest. The voice came from the den and could only belong to one person. I don’t respond, wondering if he could even be talking to me. What kind of thing is that to ask?
Why does he care?
“I asked you a question. I expect an answer.” The tone is deep and huskier than normal.
Knowing he can’t possibly be talking to me, I continue up the stairs quickly and go straight into my room. My heart is racing as I make my way up, unsure what to think about what I just heard.
He must be on the phone with my mother. Maybe they’re having another fight. Or maybe it was just the TV. Why in the world would Jonathan want to know if I fucked someone? And that tone… I’ve never heard that kind of tone come from him before. It was so unlike his normal carefree tone. Even the times I’ve heard him upset with Mom he doesn’t talk like that, though the argument they had earlier, he sure was close to it.
No, I was mistaken. There is no way Jonathan was talking to me. My mother must have sent him the same text I got, and he’s angry she’s working… but… he wants to know if she fucked someone?
I think of the argument they had, the fact my mother isn’t wearing her engagement ring, and now this… They must be having more problems than I know about.
It can’t be what I want it to be.
Absolutely not.
Jonathan would not be asking me if I fucked someone. It’s what I have to keep telling myself. Keep pushing myself to believe this can’t be because if I allow myself just a sliver of hope over this, I’ll be destroyed when it blows up in my face. It’s easier to live in denial than disappointment.
I grab my clothes, barely paying attention to what I’m doing since my mind is elsewhere, and head into the bathroom, needing to take a shower after spending so much time outside in the warmth. My skin is sticky and covered in a layer of sweat. I don’t miss this heat, and am thankful it doesn’t get too hot at school.
I take a long shower, enjoying the pressure of the water and the fact that I’m alone in a real bathroom compared to the community showers at school. They are fine, but the water pressure sucks and I’ve yet to find a time to shower when I am alone. I don’t care about the other girls seeing me naked, I’m pretty confident with my body, but it would be nice—mentally—to have some alone time in the shower.
I get out, towel dry my hair, and get dressed.
I get back to my room and pick up my phone to text Jace, wanting to let him know I had fun and we should hang out again soon. To my surprise, I find I have a text waiting for me.
Jace: I had fun tonight xo
My belly does a little flip and I realize this is what I should be doing. A normal nineteen-year-old girl should be dating guys her own age, hanging out with them, and seeing where things go. Nice boys like Jace, who don’t go to college because they need to stay home to take care of their sick mother… that’s the kind of boy who would make a good boyfriend, husband, father. And though I’m not even thinking about marriage and kids now, I don’t want to waste time on pointless relationships. I can’t lust over someone I will never have. I can’t spend my life wanting someone who will never see me the way I see him. I just can’t do it anymore. I hate thinking about the fact I’ve done it this long to begin with. It almost makes me sick.
I almost think I’m sick.
After I do my own little happy dance, I try to figure out what I want to say back. Deleting and retyping the text a few times before deciding to be bold in what I say. Hanging out with Jace was fun and I want to do it again.
Me: Me too. What are you doing tomorrow?
I lie down on my bed, my eyes still on my phone when my bare legs brush against the scratchy material of the mattress before I realize my sheets are still in the dryer.
Shit.
How ridiculous is it to be terrified of doing laundry in your own home? And by terrified, I think I mean excited.
I contemplate sleeping on my bed like this, not wanting to chance the filthy memories that have been haunting my mind for years to become a reality once more. But I’m just not sure that will work. I search through my drawers, hoping to find a spare set but I find nothing. Not a single damn sheet or blanket.
“Why?” I groan to myself. I could have sworn there were extra sheets in here but of course when I need them, I can’t find them.
I can’t keep doing this. The thought of him touching himself makes my thighs clench together and I groan again. I won’t look. That’s all. I’ll just go downstairs, grab my laundry, and come right back up. Hell, I’ll keep my eyes closed the entire time. I know this house like the back of my hand. Easy peasey. I can do this. I glance at the clock and note it’s close to 12:00 a.m.. Jonathan is probably sleeping by now. Maybe. Hopefully.
I plug my phone into the charger and head downstairs slowly, trying to be as quiet as I can and walk by the den without looking in, though I note the door is open. I don’t think I’m strong enough to not peek in the window if I know he’s in there. Something about watching him without him knowing… the primal look on his face as he strokes himself. I had hoped and hoped that seeing him would make this obsession go away. That I’d made up the entire thing in my mind. But seeing him has only made it worse. My want… My need… It's stronger now.
There is just something about him that I can’t ignore. It goes beyond his looks and the dirty thoughts I have of him, it’s something about him. Like his being called to mine, like an invisible string keeping us tethered together, as much as I don’t want it.
This is so, so wrong. My mom and him are together, they’re supposed to be getting married.
I grab all of my laundry from the dryer as quickly as possible, stuffing them into the spare basket by the machine and I leave the room, rushing back to the stairs.
“Charlotte?”
I stop dead in my tracks, my foot braced on the bottom step, and my heart thundering in my chest. I take a deep breath before backtracking, stopping in front of the den. I try so hard to act like he isn’t affecting me, but I’m not sure it works. The plastic bends beneath my fingers as I grip the laundry basket so hard I’m sure
the handles will break off.
He just wants to ask you a question. Calm down, this is nothing serious.
When I get enough courage to look up, I find him sitting in his chair, in nothing but a pair of black sweatpants. My eyes rake over his defined chest, down to his firm belly and the small amount of hair that circles it and continues down into his pants. He isn’t overly muscular, but I can tell he’s been working out more than he used to. Everything looks firmer and just a little bit bigger.
The room is dark, other than the light of the TV which casts shadows over him, making him appear a bit menacing. His hair is a mess, just the way I like it. Just long enough to rake my fingers through and grip onto to help guide his tongue around my pussy.
He’s a man in every way possible. A man. Not a silly teenager, but a man.
“Y–yes?” I ask, clearing my throat. My eyes find his, looking much darker than they normally do. I’m used to his bright, crystal blue eyes, but tonight, they look so dark that I’d mistake them for another color if I didn’t know any better.
“Come in here,” he says quietly. His voice is even and slow, lazy almost. I hesitate, but eventually take a step inside of the room, staying as far away from him as I can. “Put that down and come here.” My heart is thundering in my chest, my body slick with sweat, and I know it isn’t because of the heat. The sound of the blood rushing through my veins can be heard in my ears, and for a second, I fear I may pass out.
I look down at the laundry basket, my knuckles white from the grip I have on it.
“When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it,” he says in a much darker tone. One that causes me to snap my head up and narrow my eyes at him. How dare he? He’s glaring at me, and his jaw is clenched. I put the basket down and make my way towards him, stopping directly in front of him while he stays seated in his recliner, a bit of bravery striking me. The all too familiar, manly scent of his invades my nose and I take in every ounce of it that I can. My stomach does a flip. I wait in anticipation, wondering what he could possibly want with me. I look around the room, just making sure no one else is here. When I see it is just me and him in the den, I let out a confused huff.