by Anita Gray
He stiffens behind me, his hand like a rock on my stomach. He's not breathing, either.
Somehow, I've gotten to him. He's not the type of man to stop in his pursuits, but he has today.
How have I got to him?
I wish I knew so I could use it to my advantage.
Charlie takes my coffee cup and puts it down on a nearby side table, then he grips my hips and makes me turn into him, my eyes level with his chest.
I don't know what to say or do, so I just stare at his chest, wondering... filtering these vibes coming off him in electric waves.
Lifting my chin with a single finger, he orders me to look up at him, then he grips my hip again.
“I want you,” he says sensitively, glancing all over my face, promise and restrain in his expression. “You know I do.”
I drop my eyes to the floor between us, everything in my body tightening with anxiety. I reluctantly want him too when he's touching me—it's so fucked up—and it makes me sick. I should hate him. Just because he's handsome it doesn't make what he's doing to me okay.
We're silent for a while. He's watching me—I can feel it. I can feel every-fucking-thing now.
“Stop making me feel guilty, Blaire,” he says, his voice now void of emotion. “You're my plaything, nothing more.”
“I'm not making you feel-”
A hand fists the back of my hair, causing me to yelp, and Charlie pushes me down to my knees. “Suck my cock and I won't fuck you.”
My heart leaps into my throat.
It's an ultimatum, and one that I'm going to take if it prevents him from having my ass, but I can't admit I'm happy. He started to show kindness yesterday... we found our mutual ground... he apologized...
Maybe he's regretting his apology.
I don't know why, but that hurts, and I feel like such a fool for trying to make myself believe him.
Shutting off, I don't even think. I let my thoughts escape me.
———
I fumble to unzip Charlie's jeans, careful not to make a sound when opening his belt. The sound of a belt reminds me of Maksim and I can't think of him right now.
I pull down his black boxer briefs in time with lifting up his Tee. His length juts free, long, thick, and hard, swollen with veins. A mixture of sensations trickle through me. He's so robust and hairy all over, his pubic hair meeting with a thin line of black dusty hair below his navel. His stomach is a work of art, not like those athletic men who have ironing board stomachs. Charlie is buff, made of raw chiseled abs.
Something in me clenches and warm liquid surges through me, gathering between my legs. I recognize it as arousal now, but I don't know what the fuck it's all about. He isn't even... you know... teasing me down there.
I glance up at him, at the taut look of desire on his face. He's waiting.
Not using my hands—my master taught me to suck his cock with no hands—I shut my eyes and run my tongue down the length of Charlie's cock, swallowing a few inches of him in my mouth. He tastes like body wash where he hasn't long showered, but he smells all manly and musky, his skin soft yet broad with solid veins. I find it all so bizarrely appealing that my sex throbs, making me conscious of how tight my trousers are.
I try to ignore the desire thriving inside me, focusing on satisfying Charlie, but it's so hard. I've never felt this power of desire for a man before him.
I pull back, then I take another few inches of Charlie, wrapping my lips completely around him, causing my cheeks to ache because he's so thick. He moans with zeal, his grip in my hair tightening. It makes my scalp tear, though I try not to tense up too much so I don't end up biting him or something.
Back, and then I gulp him right down this time, his crown hitting the back of my throat.
“Fuck,” he emits a curse, gasping out, and the sensations in me are no longer trickling. They're erupting, burning all over my body. I'm not completely sure, but I think I like this, having Charlie under my spell for once.
I fold my hands behind my back, curl my lips against my teeth, and suck back and forth, settling in to a leveled, satisfying rhythm, his cock smoothly gliding against my lips because it's inundated in my saliva.
Charlie mutters another violent curse under his breath. I can't resist peering up at him. Our eyes meet. His are heavy, a dark shade of blue because his pupils are expanding. He's so fucking gorgeous when intoxicated, lips slightly parted to accommodate faster breaths.
He cups my cheek with his free hand and strokes under my eye, his other hand still in my hair. He's back to being soft with me. I bask in his tenderness, sighing however I can as I mouth-fuck him.
Another deep suck, then his cock throbs and pre-cum melts in my mouth. He's salty, on the verge of reaching his summit. I swallow before pushing him to the apex of my throat, blocking my air passage, but then he slips down my throat opening, causing me to gag. My lips now against his pubic hair, Charlie's entire body trembles with lust fueled anger and want.
I choke with watery eyes and pull back, saliva coating my chin, but he doesn't seem to like that. Holding my cheek in one hand, my hair in his other, he starts fucking my throat, rippling his hips back and forth, making me retch over and over. He's losing control. I can feel it in him.
Using my hands, I press against his hips because I cannot breathe for long periods of time. I gasp for air in a dizzy state, then he's right inside my throat again, swelling in my air passage.
“You're so...” he groans out, his face tight, teeth clenched. “I'm not sure I'll ever be able to give you back to—Fuck!” he spasms, his cock pulsing warm, thick liquid down my throat.
My eyes are watering like crazy, tears streaming down my face, and my throat is on fire, but I swallow every inch of his orgasm, heaving at times. He's overflowing.
When he's done, panting through his nose, I fall back on my ass and try to catch a breath but he doesn't give me a chance to sort myself out. Making me yelp again, he yanks me up by my arms and pushes me down on the dining table, face up. I grab onto the edges, looking up at him, a bit anxious.
I don't know where he is in his mind but he looks like he's losing it.
He hooks his fingers into the waist of my trousers and pulls them down my legs, tugging in places because they're damp and sticking to my skin. I'm not wearing any pants. I feel exposed in the daylight.
“Charlie,” I lick my lips, squeezing my legs together, “what-what are you doing?”
“I'm gonna make you cum so fucking hard. That's what I'm doing.” He tugs off my trousers, then runs his large hands up my legs, up the insides of my thighs to wrench me open. His palms are rough on my skin.
I quiver under him, a sharp pain shooting through my thighs because I'm open so wide.
“Don't worry. I'm not gonna fuck you, and I'm not gonna hurt you.” Now, he sounds like he's here, but I'm still panicking, digging my nails into the table, unsure of what to do.
He presses delicate yet hungry kisses up the insides of my legs after his hands. I moan against each peck, my body on fire, my head flooding with this overwhelming dizzy feeling.
I know he's going to kiss me down there again and I'm not sure I want to stop him.
I let my head drop back on the table and grab my face.
He nibbles up each side of my groin with his teeth, and I writhe, squirming, unable to deal.
I can't do this. I'm too anxious.
“Charlie, please, don't do this to me,” I beg him. For the first time, I actually ask him to stop. I can't help it. I'm not sure I like feeling so at his mercy.
He freezes, a bit out of breath.
“You want me to stop?” he rasps out.
This is so embarrassing.
Of course I don't want him to stop. I want him to make me feel good again but I don't at the same time.
I cover my eyes with one arm and nod. This is my control. Since his apology, he seems to be giving me a semblance of control—or, I thought he was before he made me suck his cock; before he gave a warnin
g for making him feel guilty.
Oh, I don't fucking know. I'm so confused.
“Blaire, look at me,” he demands, though his voice is soft. Fingers close around my wrist and Charlie gently moves my arm off of my face.
I peer down at him, finding his dilated blue eyes. He looks so hot. Why can't I just let go and be with him like this? Why can't I shut off mentally?
“Do you want me to stop?” He raises his eyebrows at me, stroking the inside of my wrist with his thumb.
I nod again, trying to close my legs but I can't because he's between them.
Our gaze united, he's not sure what to do. I imagine his instincts are telling him to just do whatever the fuck he likes but I think he's working on this whole mutual respect thing, and he did tell me that if I want him to stop, all I have to do is say.
This is his chance to prove I can trust him.
I hope he doesn't fail.
When he steps back, scoops my trousers up from the floor and puts my feet into the legs, I feel a little gutted. I like the way he turns me on and makes me cum, but at the same time, I just don't want him doing that to me again. I'm the architect of my own confusion, I know, but I'm just not sure what this is between us.
I'm torn.
I pull up my trousers and stand on jelly-like legs, drawing into my shoulders. My hair is a static mess, flowing around my shoulders and waist. Must be an endorphin reaction.
Charlie is frowning down on me. He doesn't know what to make of this either.
“Do you have a gym where I can work out?” I ask, hugging myself.
His frown deepens. “Youwant to work out again?”
I nod. I feel so vulnerable knowing I just sucked his cock and he's just seen me splayed out in front of him there on the dining table. He said I was pretty down there. That makes me blush and I never blush.
“Are you all right?” he whispers.
I nod again, though I'm not all right. He's fucking with my head.
After a while of staring me down, Charlie nods left and heads out of the kitchen, his masculine back flexing under his Tee.
Though my feet are dirty, I slip into my trainers and go after him.
In silence, we walk down a long hallway just off the entrance hall. At the end, there are a set of steel double doors. Charlie pushes them open and pale blue double height walls fill my gaze.
Wow. It's not just a gym. It's a bloody sports arena fully loaded with a boxing ring in the center, surrounded by blue exercise mats, and a collection of treadmills and other exercise equipment stretching across the left wall; chin up bars and boxing bags...
The right wall boasts rock climbing.
“Wow,” I whisper under my breath, in my element.
“Wait here,” Charlie says, pointing down. “I'll be five minutes.” He exits the way we came, so I do as I'm told.
Still hugging myself, I glance up at the ceiling. Monkey climbing bars. How the hell can anyone get up there? I scan the space and find in each corner of the gym there are ladders.
No wonder Charlie is so fit.
“Here,” he says softly from behind.
Turning around, I find he's passing me a bottle of water, and he's changed out of his jeans, into gray joggers and trainers—why?
I take the bottle of water from him, twist off the cap and have a mouthful. It's so cold that my brain aches for a moment.
“I'll make you a deal,” Charlie says, nodding like it's already set in stone. “You and me,” he gestures between us with a large, steady hand, “we'll have a friendly fight, and if you can put me on my ass in fifteen minutes, I won't touch you ever again—not unless you ask me to or want me to.”
I stare vacantly at him. That's why he's changed...
“But, if I win,” he continues, his voice full of promise, “you'll let me make you cum right here and whenever I want to—and you'll enjoy it.”
Oh, I fucking like this.
Putting the cap back on the bottle, I shrug and nod at once. This could be fun. I've wanted to kick his ass for weeks now.
“And you promise not to touch me ever again once I put you on your ass?” I raise my eyebrows. “You swear?” I don't know why I'm trusting his word but something inside me is convinced Charlie wouldn't make a misleading deal. He's too cool for that.
Charlie leans down and presses his lips to mine like it's the last time. I lose my breath, my blood warming with fire.
“If...” he elongates, whispering against my mouth, “if you put me on my ass.”
I have no idea what comes over me but I arch into Charlie and kiss him back. I grip his t-shirt with my nails and let out a girlish, moany sigh, delighting in this humid rush of sensations that always come over me when we kiss.
“Don't do that...” he warns, his tone taking a dark edge.
I step back, breaking away from the kiss, my head a little faint. “Do what?”
“Kiss me like that and whine as if you're enjoying it when we have this deal on the table.”
Crossing my arms, I flick up my eyebrows. “You're worried I'm going to win?”
He takes in a long, steely breath, his blue gaze flickering all over my face. “A little... but this is why I like you.” He steps closer to me and I step back. Again and again. “You're different to any girl I've met before. Stronger, smarter, ominously alluring, and I like your nasty attitude.” Raising a hand, he strokes down a length of my dark red hair. “Girls like you don't come around often.”
He keeps playing with my hair as if fixated, still walking into me.
“I have to admit,” he says, “I'm having a hard time even thinking about giving you back to Maksim.”
My brain switches from hot and lusty to robotic, and my expression goes flat.
“I don't want to talk about Maksim.” I blink down, searching for the words, then back up at Charlie. “I know you said you plan on knowing me inside out, but talking about Maksim, it... it bothers me.”
He doesn't argue about my request. He simply says, “All right,” lifting his hands in defense, “All right.”
He's doing it. He's working on our mutual respect. Why is that making me like him a little more?
He tugs out his hair tie and combs his hair back with one hand, the strands sleek and shiny under the down-lighters. “Here,” he says, “tie your hair back.”
Putting down the bottle of water, I take the tie from him, grateful—I've needed a hair tie all morning.
I walk past him, putting up my hair in a bun, then I slip under the ropes and into the ring.
This is going to be epic. I'll put him on his ass in five minutes, let alone fifteen, and it's that much sweeter knowing I'm going to win the rights to my body.
“What are the rules?” I say softly.
In one swift motion, he grabs the back of his t-shirt and whips it off; drops it on the floor. My eyes are having a hard time adjusting because I just don't know which part of his body I should focus on. He's so fit it's actually stupid.
Thank god he doesn't have stubble.
“I won't punch you,” he says. He bows under the ropes and steps into the ring, every muscle in his body contracting. “Anything else, I can't be held responsible for.” He winks at me.
I feel my cheeks warm up, and I hope to god he doesn't notice.
“Okay.” I step back, rolling my shoulders. “Let's do this.”
“Fifteen minutes,” he warns, pointing at me. “After that, I'll have you cumming in my mouth.”
Charlie tries to slap my face but I catch his wrist and boot him in the stomach with a loud, “Aargh!” making him groan.
“Fucking hell!” He folds over, winded.
I don't even think about my next move. I grab behind his left knee and Karate chop him in the throat with my other hand, slamming him back on his ass. He's so heavy that it takes all my lower body strength to put him down, but I do. He lands with a profound thud. I bolt forward to escape him, kneading out my hand because it hurts—it's like he's made from bricks rather
than muscle.
Safely in the corner of the ring, I face him, my chest heavy with adrenaline. He's lying on his back with his knees pulled up, and he looks a little stunned, blinking up at the ceiling.
Well that's a sight for sore eyes, Charlie bested.
“I reckon that's thirty seconds,” I say, the smuggest smirk plastered across my face.
He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “You're fucking quick.”
I wander across the ring and crouch down to him, leaning on my knees with my elbows. He lets his head roll to the side, catching us in a moment, making my chest squeeze with anxiety. Our eyes flicker between each other’s, and I'm surprised to find he doesn't look bested anymore. He looks... glad? smiling at me.
“I hope your ego isn't too bruised,” I say, my goal being to rile him—I want to go again, though longer this time if he can handle it. “I hear it hurts getting beaten by a girl.”
He isn't bothered by my arrogance. He says in a low, raspy voice, “Didn't youwant to stretch that out to show me how good you are?”
“You already know how good I am.” I don't look away from him. “My objective in a fight is to win, not to pussy foot around.”
He hums in agreement, glancing down at my mouth, then back up at my eyes. “Where'd you learn to fight?”
“Somewhere you didn't.” I stare down the length of his tall, muscular frame, at the defined muscles in his stomach. “Do you want to go again? Whoa!” I squeal as Charlie grabs my legs and yanks them out from under me, dropping me to the bouncy surface.
He's on top of me, seizing my wild, combatant hands in both of his.
“You're like a feral little cat,” he says through laughing, struggling to get me under control.
Growling and straining, I kick the ring surface, giving myself the strength I need to turn us over, the veins in my eyes almost popping. He's under me now, so I jump to my feet, my thigh muscles burning from the abrupt movement.
Charlie catches me—I didn't even notice him getting up. He wraps his big arms around me from behind, squeezing me against his powerful chest.
I tighten my fists, readying to elbow back, but he whispers in my ear, “You win,” making me shiver because his breath is so warm. “Stop, Blaire. You win.”