Charged

by Jay Crownover

  “I’m a mess.” Her voice was broken, and in her gaze I could see that her heart was, too. When I was younger, I never had anything, so losing it never even occurred to me. As an adult, I had everything and I told myself I would do whatever it took to hold on to all of it, but seeing this vibrant and vital woman destroyed and broken over things that could burn, lost over items that were only belongings, I started to wonder if my effort to acquire possessions of value and prestige had been misguided and focused on the wrong priorities all along.

  “I know you are. That’s kind of my favorite thing about you.”

  Her arm around my neck tightened and her chilly fingers found their way into the hair on the back of my head.

  “Shut up.” She said it without heat, and despite the sorrow in her gaze, a rough grin pulled at her mouth.

  I tugged on the slippery strands of her hair and watched as it coiled around the length of my fingers. “It’s true. I find the chaos that surrounds you fascinating and intriguing. It seems to be as much of who you are as this pink hair. You’re never boring or predictable.”

  Her dark eyebrows furrowed a little and she shifted on my lap so that instead of sitting across my legs, she was straddling me, with both her arms around my neck and her very bare center hovering right over the damp cloth that covered my dick. Her breasts pressed into my chest and I bit back a groan as she reached for the knot in my tie, not to loosen it, but to pull me closer.

  “I don’t want to be chaos. I want to be something and someone that doesn’t destroy everything that it cares about without even trying.” She tugged me until our lips were lined up, and when I stuck the tip of my tongue out to trace the curve of her bottom lip, I could taste the salt from her tears and the tang of her longing.

  “Some of us are born into the storm and some of us are born to chase after it, I guess.” I breathed the words into her as she wiggled her ass and set herself more fully onto my erect cock. There was no missing the way that it throbbed between us or that the only thing separating me from her entrance was the cage of my metal zipper. I was going to have a permanent indentation from the fastener on the underside of my dick if she didn’t stop moving around. I dug my fingers into the curve of her hip and lifted one hand to the side of her face.

  She blinked at me and then leaned forward just enough so that her forehead rested against mine. “What happens when the person born to chase the storm finally catches it?”

  I chuckled and rolled to the side so that she was trapped between me and the mattress. “They ride it out. That’s the only thing you can do when you’re caught in a downpour.”

  Slowly, the sadness in her eyes started to break and a soft smile that was filled with all of that sweet she was so stingy with started to hover over her mouth and that was worth more than any single item I had fastidiously picked out for this loft.

  She used her grip on my tie to pull me down into a kiss that was much softer and sweeter than the one up against the door. She also started pulling on the knot that stubbornly refused to loosen, now that it was wet. While she wrestled with the noose around my neck, I started pulling my clammy shirt off and went to work on devouring her mouth. I wanted to leave no part of her untouched or untasted. I wanted to take away the burn of the fire and loss and replace it with scorching passion and the blaze of desire. I wanted her to forget what she was mourning, for a little bit, so we could revel in what we had. Because whatever this thing was that we had when the two of us were together, it was something that absolutely deserved a fucking celebration.

  When I had my shirt off and the stupid tie wrenched over my head since it wasn’t coming undone, I leaned over her with one hand braced over her head and used the other to cup one of her breasts. Her skin was warming back up and the delicate, pink tip wasted no time in stabbing into the center of my palm as I gently fondled her. I kissed her lips, the corner of each eye that was still red and a little puffy. I kissed her flushed cheeks and the tip of her wrinkled nose as she made a face at me. I kissed her below her ear and nuzzled her jawline as I moved my hand down her torso.

  Goose bumps followed my fingertip as it traced over her ribs, down across her belly, and into the little indent of her belly button. Her legs shifted restlessly on either side of my hips and her hands slid over my heated flesh in a sweeping caress.

  Her voice was breathless and a little stunned when she turned her head and muttered in my ear, “I can’t believe you have a big-ass tattoo like that.”

  I was nipping at the pulse point on the side of her neck hard enough to leave a mark. That wasn’t my typical style in the bedroom. I liked things orderly and discrete. With her, though, I wanted to be remembered. I wanted her to look in the mirror and see what we had done. I wanted her to feel me when she moved, and I wanted her to remember what my voice in her ear sounded like as I made her come. I wanted her to be as consumed by this thing that raged between us, unchecked and untamed, as I was. So I sucked on the little bite I left and lifted my head as my wandering hand reached the apex of her thighs.

  Her belly quivered when she realized where my touch was going but her swirling gaze was locked steadily on the giant image of the eagle I had tattooed across the entire center of my chest. In one talon, the massive bird of prey held a shotgun, in the other, the scales of justice. I’d gotten it on a whim as soon as I passed the bar. The thing took forever to complete since it was so big, and after every single session, Lottie had berated me for ruining my body forever. She hated it and had often asked me to leave my shirt on when we were in bed together.

  From the look on Avett’s face, she anything but hated the bold artwork that decorated my body. She also didn’t hate it when I slid my fingers over her slick folds and found the warm and welcoming entrance to her body. Her hips canted up towards me and her hands fell to the tense muscles across my shoulders.

  I kissed the crest of each breast and muttered against her soft skin, “I’m full of surprises.”

  She laughed a little, but it turned into a quiet moan as I engulfed the tip of one of her breasts in the heat of my mouth. They were so firm and full. So proud and pretty, the way they sat up high on her chest. I wanted to drag my cock between them. I wanted her to let me glide between the soft valley they would create, while she opened her pouty mouth and sucked me off at the other end. I wanted to imprint myself and all the greedy and needy ways I wanted her on every single part of her body. I rolled the pert and pointed nipple around the tip of my tongue as my fingers plowed through her moisture and rubbed against her begging clit.

  Her hands fell from my back and worked their way around to my front, where she started to claw at the clasp of my belt. She was panting hard and wiggling underneath me in a way that made my entire body tight. My dick was demanding to be let in on the action but this wasn’t about combusting. It was about a slow burn that would warm her up and stay with her.

  I let go of the nipple I was torturing with a little pop and moved my mouth to her ear. I traced the delicate shell with the tip of my tongue and told her, “Hold off on that for a minute.”

  Her legs tried to clamp down around my questing fingers as I used them to pump in and out of her grasping channel, but my hips were in the way. “I want to see what other surprises you have, Quaid.”

  The little whine in her tone made me laugh. I’d had a lot of women anxious to get at the goods, but usually that was only because they thought the goods could get them something else. I couldn’t remember ever being in bed with a woman that pouted because I didn’t pull my dick out fast enough to satisfy her. I’d never been with anyone eager to simply be with me because I was me. She was as full of surprises as I was.

  I licked across her collarbone, caught her little center of arousal between my fingers, and gave the nub a gentle squeeze before letting go of that secret and pulsing flesh. The motion had her jerking up on the bed, which worked as I stood up between her legs and looked down at her.

  “What are you doing?” She seemed bewildered and I li
ked that, for once, I was the one causing confusion and chaos between the two of us.

  I grinned at her and felt it widen as she sighed a little and put a hand to where I knew her heart was racing in her chest.

  “Surprising you.”

  She gasped my name in a shocked cry as I fell to my knees at the edge of the bed so that my face was directly in line with her core. She moved to close her legs but my shoulders were in the way, so she tried to scoot back on the bed but I was faster than she was, and grabbed hold of her hips so that I could pull her to my waiting mouth. I loved that when I put my hands and my mouth on her, there was something there to hold on to. Avett Walker might be as unpredictable and as untamable as the Colorado weather, but everything about her felt substantial and real in my hands.

  I kissed the skin of her inner thigh and used my tongue to follow the curve of her leg where it dipped into her shiny and aroused center. I liked the pink on the top of her head an awful lot, but I had to say the luscious and welcoming pink that was begging to be licked and sucked between her legs was, hands down, my favorite and I told her so.

  She gave a halfhearted protest when I hefted her up just enough that she had to put her legs on my shoulders to keep her balance as I set about consuming every single part of her.

  I feasted on the juices that my mouth brought forth. I inhaled the moisture that my grinding and pumping fingers slicked through. I tasted every quiver, every shake, every flutter that her inner walls made as I fucked her with my fingers and my tongue. I nibbled on that coiled bundle of nerves like it was the finest dessert I’d ever had, and when her hands were suddenly tangled in my hair and pulling me closer as she mumbled my name over and over again, I went back for seconds.

  I ate at her, sucked on her, licked her from top to bottom until she was a thrashing and incoherent mess, and when she came across my tongue and her rush of desire flooded my mouth, she did it like she did everything else, wild and sweet. Her chaos enveloped me and I was pretty damn sure that there would be no getting free from it.

  I surged to my feet between her now-lax legs and put a hand to my belt buckle. She was lying there limp and quieter than she had ever been in my presence. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, but there was the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She looked destroyed again, but this time it was beautiful and sexy. I wanted to pound on my chest and give myself a really douchey high five for being the one to put that look on her face.

  My pants hit the floor with a damp plop and her eyes never left me as I peeled my black boxer briefs down my legs. My excited cock bounced at finally being set free and had no trouble aiming itself right at the heart of her. My dick was like some kind of sex- and heat-seeking missile and knew exactly where the sweet spot was.

  Her eyes widened a little bit and she sat up so that my cock was level with those glorious tits I was now having X-rated fantasies about fucking. She reached out her index finger and slowly spread the moisture that was gathered at the tip of my aching erection around the tip. I caught her wrist and gave her a pained look.

  “I need to get a condom and get inside of you. If you put your hands on me I’m not going to last long enough to do either of those things.”

  Her eyes widened a little and she let her hand drop. She bit the curve of her bottom lip and I growled. I couldn’t stop myself from leaning forward and putting my teeth where hers had been. When I lifted my head, she looked a little dazed and a whole lot turned on. I kissed her again and told her I would be back in a second.

  The entire walk to the bathroom I scolded myself for not having a nightstand to keep my rubbers in. Having protection on hand when I needed it most suddenly seemed far more important than the view. I swore under my breath the entire time I walked away, and I swore loudly and desperately the entire time I walked back to her.

  While I was gone, she had moved up on the bed so that her head was where it was supposed to be on the pillows and she was lying with her legs splayed, one small hand working between her thighs and the other clutching at her full breast. Her eyes were locked on me as I prowled towards her and there wasn’t an ounce of embarrassment or shame in them as she smirked up at me while licking her lips like she was starving and only I could sustain her.

  “You took all the fun stuff with you when you left so I had to occupy myself somehow.” Wild was fun. Sweet was addicting, and I wondered if I could live inside chaos forever if this was what it looked like.

  My hard-on wouldn’t allow for any more playtime. My dick demanded satisfaction and my balls felt like they were so tight that they might explode at the first touch of her against my needy flesh.

  I crawled up over her and marveled at how much might was packed into such a tiny body. I braced myself over her with one arm, and put my other hand on top of hers, where it was leisurely stroking through the dampness left over from her earlier release. I kept my eyes locked on hers as I slowly started to work my way inside her body. Every inch that gave, every millimeter that accepted me and squeezed around me, felt like the greatest accomplishment I’d ever achieved.

  She was pliable from my previous attentions and the dual manipulation of our fingers, but she was still small and I was not. It took more patience and more willpower than I ever used with anything to get my raging erection seated all the way inside of her. Once I was there and I could feel her body start to loosen and liquefy around me, I began to move.

  I had every intention of taking my time, of enjoying the buildup and the slow burn I was still trying to stoke. Those intentions went to hell the second she curled her leg around my hip and dug her heel sharply into my ass. She tossed her head back on the pillow and started to pull and twist her nipple between her fingers with more force than I would have ever used on the velvety tip myself, and she abandoned our joint stimulation of her clit to dig her short nails into my side as she told me, “More. I want more.” And I wanted to give her everything she had lost and then some.

  I’d never been the type to deny a woman anything she wanted in bed, and there was no way I was going to start with this one.

  So we rode out the storm. Together.

  I bucked into her. I pounded her into the mattress and I rode her hard and long. I kissed her until we both ran out of breath and thrust into her like I was using my cock to tattoo my name inside of her. She fluttered around me and clamped down to pull me deeper and deeper inside of her. It wasn’t exactly a perfect fit but it felt real and it felt raw. We had to work together to find pleasure. We had to give and take, to make sure we moved against each other, and on each other, so that we both got what we needed. It was sex that took some work to make it amazing. That meant it was sex that was unforgettable and ultimately rewarding, like no sex before it had ever been.

  We writhed together. We pulled and pushed at one another. We left marks. We took each other’s air and screamed and growled each other’s names. We sweated against each other and we burned everywhere we touched. We ruined each other and we repaired each other. It felt like the beginning and ending of everything I had ever known.

  I lost my grip on her slippery center but that was okay, because her clever little fingers were back and every time she brushed across that quivering point between her legs, the back of her knuckles also rubbed along my engorged cock. It was the best caress ever and only better when she started to purposely put as much friction as she could at the base of my cock as I hammered in and out of her.

  I felt my balls draw up tightly against my body and a sharp coil of pleasure suddenly tense, hard at the base of my spine. I wasn’t going to last much longer, and from the red in her face and the way she was moving under me, neither was she. I wanted her to come with me inside of her, with me riding her rough and hard, more than I wanted any of the useless shit I was so consumed with day in and day out. I wanted to have that unguarded, unfiltered pleasure wash all over me and then I wanted to make her give it to me again and again.

  “Avett.” I said her name because there weren�
��t any other words that mattered as much in that moment. I felt my cock twitch and my heart start to thunder.

  Her eyes locked on mine and she moved her other leg up around my waist and pulled her arm out from between the two of us and curled it around my shoulders so that she was wrapped entirely around me. “Quaid.”

  My name on her lips as she broke apart underneath me whispered across me at the same time an inferno of pleasure ripped through my insides. I came in a rush that followed hers. I came in a blaze that burned away any memory of any girl that was before. I erupted in a stream of satisfaction and completion that left me empty and drained as I collapsed on top of her.

  That hadn’t been an orgasm. That had been a reckoning.

  I felt the barely there brush of her lips against the side of my face as she breathed into my ear. “I guess at the end of the day it’s better to have nothing with the right person than to have everything with the wrong person, isn’t it?”

  She was absolutely right about that.

  CHAPTER 11

  Avett

  I still can’t believe you have such a giant tattoo.” A tattoo that was currently flanked on either side of his flexing and rippling chest by his unbuttoned shirt. He was pulling up a pair of light gray pants, and I wanted to sigh in disappointment when they covered up what was one world-class ass. The man looked phenomenal in a suit and I really appreciated how he looked rough and ready in jeans and leather, but where he really shined was when he had nothing on at all.

  Without clothes to conceal him or to define him, the real Quaid Jackson couldn’t hide. The tattoo that covered up most of his torso stood out bold and defiant on his lightly tanned skin. I grew up around inked men and had always appreciated a well-done piece. His was something special, maybe because it was so unexpected. I think I liked that he had something so outrageously and undeniably traditional marked on him. It made me feel like maybe there was hope for him not to sink even farther into the designer labels and shiny baubles that consumed his life and his space. I also liked that he had a wicked-looking scar that sat right above his hip and another one that ran lengthwise down his ribs and across his hip. The big one on his side was about twelve inches long, raggedly healed, and made his otherwise perfect body look more normal. He had a flaw, which made me like him even more than I already did. I asked if he got it when he was overseas and all I got was a grunt and a muttered, “I’ve had it since I was a kid.” With the scar and the massive amount of ink, Quaid could easily pass for one of those Instagram guys that had a million followers and had a zillion likes on every image they posted. That much perfection was intimidating, so I was glad that when he was naked every single thing that made him both beautiful and imperfect was on display. And those abs and that ass didn’t hurt anything either.