Degrees of Control

by Eve Dangerfield

  “Uh-uh, sweetheart, palms back on the counter.”

  His voice was low, taunting. Charlie felt her pussy clench as he brought her palms back onto the cool marble. James resumed stroking her nipples slowly through the silk.

  “Good girl.”

  His smug approval sent a volt of arousal through her. “God, you’re so big.”

  The words fell unbidden from her tongue and James chuckled softly. “I know, darlin’. Do you like that?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t want to sound like an awestruck schoolgirl but it was the truth. He was exactly like the man in her fantasies. For now he was the man in her fantasies.

  She shivered and rubbed her thighs together, trying to sate the arousal building between her legs, and with a low growl James clutched her knees and pushed them as wide as they could go. Cool air rushed between her thighs as her damp panties were exposed to evening air. He held her legs apart, looking down at her aching pussy for so long Charlie wanted to scream. Right when she was going to beg for mercy, he pressed himself against her spread thighs. Charlie ground herself against him, adoring the rasp of denim against her swollen clit.

  “That feel good, darlin’?”

  “Yes,” she moaned. “Please…more.”

  Charlie didn’t care how she looked, how she sounded begging James to touch her. Every particle of her body was telling her not to let this electric feeling end. James brought his mouth to her neck, scraping his teeth over her sensitive flesh.

  “Tell me what you want more of.”

  He knew. She knew he knew. But he wanted her to say it out loud and right now bossy was the only game in town. “Treat me rough,” she moaned. “Rough and hard and mean.”

  James froze against her, thumbs freezing over her nipples, teeth half sunk into her collarbone, and Charlie realized what just escaped her mouth. The phrase “treat me rough” was floating in the air, completely independent of her perverted brain. Embarrassment ate through her like acid and she stammered out an apology, determined to throw herself into the nearest body of water.

  James seized her jaw as roughly as she’d ever fantasized. “I can do that, sweetheart.” His mouth crashed down on hers full stop, more of a challenge than a kiss. She’d had eight months of Dale’s slender hands and soft mouth and the contrast between her ex-boyfriend and James nearly blew Charlie away. It felt like he was consuming her. The taste of his mouth, the press of his body, his scent was absorbing her like a black hole swallowing a minor planet. For the first time in years Charlie tasted whiskey on her tongue, the heady flavor enhancing the intensity of the kiss tenfold. A thick thumb left her jaw to work its way down her torso, drawing down to play with the waistline of her panties.

  “You want this, darlin’? You ready—”

  “Yes. Yes, now please.”

  Another chuckle. “I like how polite you are, darlin’. Bodes well for what we’re gonna do later.”

  His fingers brushed down her underwear in a firm sweep. The pressure was enough to make her pussy convulse. “Christ, you are wet. You’re gonna soak through my jeans you’re so fucking wet.”

  Charlie moaned, a little humiliated her body had revealed her intentions so clearly.

  “Get you hot, did it? Taunting me with that tight little body while we were dancin’?”

  His accent sounded twice as thick in the dark, his words pouring over her like syrup.

  “I think you like teasing, baby girl. Seeing how hard you can push a man before you get a reaction.”

  “No,” she moaned.

  Liar.

  “Question is, what kind of reaction were you looking for? Did you want a nice big kiss on the dance floor? Did you want me to go blind wanting to suck your big perfect tits right through this dress?”

  He trailed his finger along her pussy in light infuriating strokes as the other hand trailed over breasts, brushing over her nipples. Charlie realized the high gasping sounds were coming from her. “My money was on you wanting someone to push back, give you what you’re aching for. Am I right?”

  Charlie nodded.

  “Then tell me, sweetheart, unless you want to rub yourself off on my jeans all night?”

  A stab of humiliation, just a little one, set her skin ablaze. This is what I need, she thought, mindlessly pressing against his jeans. A drop of cruelty in a sea of pleasure. “Please make me come, James, I want it so badly.”

  Charlie felt his big hand clench her underwear. For a second the pressure forced the satin hard against her swollen pussy and she yelped. Then the material slackened and pulled away from her heat, rasping gently over her clit before it was thrown aside.

  Dear Lord. People can actually do that?

  A broad fingertip gently pressed itself inside her, the sudden intimacy making her hips buck. He touched her without caution, as though he already owned the sensitive pink folds between her legs. She shivered, involuntarily flexing around him. James’ finger withdrew.

  “I don’t like being rushed, darlin’. You keep that up and this is gonna be over real soon.”

  Charlie forced herself to go still, biting her lower lip to keep the whimpering to a minimum. Slowly, he breached her with fingers that felt far too thick to be real.

  “Oh yeah, that’s nice, sweetheart. Hot and tight as hell.”

  As two of his fingers slid almost completely inside her, Charlie’s breathing grew labored. The air was twice as thick as it should have been, she could hardly draw it in. His fingers stroked in and out of her cunt, excitement prickled her nerve endings.

  I’m dying. I’m dying and I don’t care.

  Outside, people partied on, unaware that a woman was dying of pleasure in Sophia’s bathroom.

  “God, you feel good, honey, been a while?” James hooked his fingers inside her, rubbing over that aching spot she had only felt with strategically placed toys. Her pelvis shuddered, every muscle tender

  “Oh God, too much, too much, James, it’s too much.”

  He chuckled, a low dark sound, void of humor. He wrapped a fist around her hair and pulled it tight. “Feel how deep my fingers are? You wait till I’m inside you.”

  His thumb brushed over her clit and the whole world tipped sideways, a surge of sexual energy exploded at her center pushing against his stroking fingers. “Oh honey, you’re gonna feel so good around my cock.”

  Charlie screamed and James’ other hand clapped to her mouth. She bit down on his palm and he chuckled, working her harder, fucking her through her climax and out the other side. It was like a dream, some fucked-up fairytale orgasm that shook the dust off every sexual encounter she’d ever had.

  Who are you? Where did you come from?

  James patted her thighs, the movement brisk. “On your knees, sweetheart. Now. Leave the dress on.”

  Charlie fell in love with him a little right then, this unapologetically rough guy she could smell and feel but couldn’t see. He was everything she thought didn’t exist made real. More myth than man.

  Still numb from her orgasm, she slipped down from the marble counter and contemplated the most dignified way to collapse onto all fours. Drop to her knees? Downward facing dog?

  The sound of someone thumping up the hallway broke through her floaty reverie.

  “And so I was like ‘why don’t you ever fucking listen to me, huh? I told you, your sister’s a slut’.”

  “You fucking didn’t! Oh my God. What did he say? And where is this fucking bathroom?”

  Charlie giggled softly, her sexual bubble well and truly burst.

  “What do you think?” James pulled her into his arms. “We can camp out in here? Let the valley girls hear you scream?”

  Charlie trailed a hand down his chest lightly, wandering over all those intriguing ridges. God, she wanted to see him properly. Bravery, Bell. Bravery.

  “Come home with me. Please?”

  James pulled away from her, fumbling with his zipper, and Charlie had a minor freak-out, but when he straightened she saw he’d merely tucked
his erection into the waistband of his jeans. Man, I have no idea how guys do that without hurting themselves.

  “My place. It’s right around the corner.” With that, he seized her hand and opened the door. “Bathroom’s in here, ladies,” he said to the girls still drunkenly navigating the corridor. They snickered.

  When they re-emerged into the living room, James was still holding her hand. People pointed at them with rather knowing smiles and Charlie wasn’t sure whether to withdraw or preen. Then she looked up at James and took in the blond hair, the square jaw and the big shoulders. Preen. Definitely Preen.

  James studied her back, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Hell, you’re even prettier than you were when we went in there, Blue-Eyes.”

  Charlie’s chest felt like it was collapsing. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she whispered.

  James grinned. “Let’s get the hell out of here. I want you in my bed.”

  The party was in full-swing and navigating the crowd was easier than Charlie expected. Hopefully a mortifying, post-coital congratulations from the softball team could be avoided. Actually she didn’t care if they did see her. She was going home with James Hunter. The night, this whole crazy idea, had actually worked. She was going to send Sophia a fruit basket. Two fruit baskets. Three fruit baskets and a month of free yoga classes.

  “Hey, hey, hey, Hunter, where you headed?”

  A beefy guy in a football jersey stepped into their path. His bristly brown hair was wet and sweat patches protruded from both armpits. Behind him his equally wasted friends were struggling with the twisty tops on their beers. Charlie’s stomach clenched. This did not bode well. Sweat Patches gripped James’ shoulder. “Got time to catch up, man?”

  James shook his head. “Got somewhere to be, Paul.”

  Sweat Patches turned his bleary eyes to her with the kind of lecherous gaze her sister Tess called a “lesbian maker.” “Man, more like something to do.” His eyes were glued to her breasts. Charlie resisted the urge to glare at his dick with equal vigor.

  Sweat Patches leaned forward and muttered something in James’ ear. Charlie couldn’t hear what he said but the accompanying gesture, cupping invisible boobs and motor boating them, certainly implied enough. She rolled her eyes wishing Sweat Patches would fuck the fuck off so she could fuck. Then Charlie heard James chuckle. All at once, the shame that had failed to register when he was fingering her in the bathroom surged up. James was laughing about bagging her to a total stranger while he was holding her hand. Adrenaline jack-knifed into her system and she pulled her hand from James’ grip.

  “Hey, excuse me?” Both men looked at her. She smiled sweetly. “Would you mind not talking about me like that? It’s disrespectful and gross.”

  Sweat Patches stared at her like he couldn’t fathom where the sound had come from. She felt James stiffen beside her but refused to acknowledge it.

  “Yeah, I just spoke. Because I’m a person, not a collection of body parts for you to wank over.”

  Sweat Patch’s drunken buddies nudged each other, their faces eager. Paul gave Charlie another dumbfounded look before turning to James. “Dude, what the fuck?” He pointed a thick finger in Charlie’s face. “This British chick’s a bitch.”

  “Watch your fucking mouth,” James snapped. He grasped Paul’s finger like he had every intention of breaking it off. Exactly what this situation needed, more testosterone. Charlie placed a hand on James’s chest in warning and turned toward the big sweaty interloper.

  “I’m Australian and your fly’s undone.”

  Paul looked down at his crotch and his friends dissolved into fits of man-giggles. “Slut,” he muttered, fumbling with his pants.

  Charlie had had enough. She ducked around Sweat Patches and through the exit, letting the night air cool her feverish skin. She began walking down Sophia’s driveway, determined to catch the last bus home and forget this whole damn night.

  You are not dirty. You can wear anything you want, your body is nothing to be ashamed of, you are not dirty, going home with someone does not make you a slut, Dale was not right about you.

  She heard heavy footsteps behind her and turned to see James smiling his handsome-guy smile. “Sorry about that. Guy’s a dick.”

  Charlie shrugged. She hadn’t been sure James would follow her but a night of sex wasn’t something most men turned down.

  You are not dirty, you are not dirty.

  James reached for her hand. “C’mon, darlin’, let’s not ruin a perfectly good night.”

  Charlie pulled away gently, but firmly. “I don’t think this is going to happen, James, I’m heading home.”

  He reached for her hand. “Darlin’…”

  Charlie realized he couldn’t remember her name. Resentment flared inside her and she bit back the urge to demand he say it, throw his rudeness in his face. This evening had been way too much. She’d been dominated, humiliated, and had the man who coaxed her to the most intense orgasm of her life forget her name. Excellent. Hooray for being single.

  Steeling her spine, Charlie looked directly into James Hunter’s eyes. Those damn infuriating beautiful eyes, they were what got her into this mess. “Look, I was willing to go home with a player but I don’t operate on the same brotastic shagging circuit you do. I don’t appreciate being talked about like that in front of strangers and I’m not going home with you tonight, James.”

  Without waiting for a reply she turned and strode off into the darkness. She listened for the crunch of gravel that would indicate he’d followed her but it never came.

  Good.

  Chapter 3

  When Charlie entered her classroom the next day, she wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Sophia and Jordan front and center, both with eager looks on their faces. Hayley was missing, but that was also unsurprising. She was most likely at home with a hangover, waiting for Sophia to text her the dirty details. She led the class much more slowly than usual, trying to come up with a reason to dash home afterward. As much as she loved her friends, she was dreading rehashing her night with James. She had forgone her strict Sunday routine of meditation and cooking for the week ahead to spend the day in bed drinking a hundred cups of Earl Grey and contemplating what the hell had happened to her. Even though she didn’t drink, the morning after big events always left her feeling a bit hungover. There was a kind of unease that followed a heightened stretch of excitement and it didn’t get much more heightened than what had happened in Sophia’s bathroom. Or her driveway.

  Recalling the night, she didn’t regret how she’d acted. Sophia’s party had been a success. It proved there were guys who could fulfill the urges she kept locked inside of her. Charlie so badly wanted that to be enough, but it wasn’t. Despite a vibrator-happy afternoon she was still aching for physical contact. The promise of James couldn’t be eased with a few solo orgasms, not when she’d come so close to having the man himself. Getting so attached to a guy who was less than a one-night stand wasn’t something Charlie wanted to confess to herself, let alone to her friends. Yet here they were and they would soon be demanding details. She extended the final meditation a whole five minutes, desperately trying to come up with a less pathetic cover story and, failing to come up with anything she resigned herself to her fate.

  After class, Jordan and Sophia barely let her lock up the studio before they dragged her across the street and into the Humble Ruby café. Sophia ordered them green tea and waved the waitress away impatiently.

  “Okay, Little Miss Secretive, spill.”

  “Now,” Jordan added. “Dear God, your backpack smells like weed.”

  That was a parting gift from her roommate, who had woken up with a very non-metaphorical hangover, one that required chemical assistance.

  “Yeah, sorry, Belinda was using her bong again. I’ll air it out later.”

  Jordan gave her an irritated look. “I cannot believe you’re still sharing a slum with that junkie, Charlotte.”

  Charlie shrugged. “Because
I’m poor as hell. Besides, Belinda’s not a junkie she’s a pill enthusiast slash stoner.”

  Jordan arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “She’s human garbage.”

  Charlie smiled winningly. “C’mon, Jordy, lighten up. The rent’s cheap.”

  “Because your apartment stinks like pot and broken dreams. You’re terrible roommates, Charlie.”

  That was true. Belinda resented living with a “hippy yoga weirdo” who wasn’t into pot, and Charlie resented the stoners who showed up at the apartment at all hours of the night to get high and eat her coconut muesli. Jordan huffed out a noise of frustration and swept her shining black hair across one shoulder. She was Korean-American and easily the most glamorous person Charlie had ever seen up close.

  “Anyway, we’ve got more important things to discuss. Like Sophia’s hot cousin and whether or not you put his dick in your mouth.”

  “Okay, if we’re going to talk about this, you cannot refer to James as ‘Sophia’s hot cousin’,” snapped Sophia.

  Jordan rolled her eyes.

  “Fine. What the hell happened, Charlie? One minute the whole team was doing victory shots and the next you’d vanished and James was feeling up some redhead.”

  Charlie winced. It shouldn’t hurt that he’d hooked up with someone else. He was a gorgeous, hyper-masculine guy and she’d left him high and dry. Get your shit together, Bell.

  “It wasn’t Hayley,” Sophia added. “She planned on being here but she passed out near my lawn statue at six in the morning.”

  Charlie fiddled with the honey pot. “It wouldn’t have mattered if James hooked up with Hayley, I get the feeling when it comes to James Hunter you’re either the quick or the dead.”

  Jordan smirked. “Was he interested in your particular inclinations?”