Progress (Progress #1)

by Amalie Silver

  She held her breath and brought her hands to my hair. Pulling gently, she guided my mouth back down to her flesh and whispered “More.”

  My sensitive and caring side flipped, watching her respond to me. My savage nature was brought out for a moment, and all I wanted to do was violate her innocence. The craving took over. What it would take to get her to writhe in pain and watch her grind the pillowcase between her teeth was enough to send my animalistic reflexes into overdrive.

  I wanted to see that exquisite face in pain.

  But if I wanted her to stay, I’d have to tame that beast. And so I pushed him down, as far as he would go, and kept my thoughts on the prize in front of me.

  I snaked my arms around her back and unclasped her bra. A small blue dragonfly on her right breast appeared from underneath the lace, and I wrapped my mouth around her nipple. I yanked up her hips, positioning her before me, and bit down just as I entered her.

  Of every sound I’d ever heard from the women who came before her, Charlie’s moan was the most beautiful.

  I thrust deeper and without apologies, just to hear it again.

  And again. Another soft squeak.

  I smiled, burying my face into the crook of her neck. “We waited too long,” I breathed into her ear.

  She said nothing, merely exhaled slowly, and brought her clumsy hips up to meet mine. Her naivety garnered another smile from my lips.

  I wanted to show her all of it. I wanted to be the one she learned everything with. Still, she was sweetly inexperienced; her movements weren’t as fluid or relaxed as most of the women I was used to. But that was precisely what I’d hoped for, exactly how I thought she’d look in my bed.

  “Turn over,” I said.

  She stopped moving and hesitated with my demand, but crawled onto her stomach anyway. She gripped the sheets and turned her head to the side.

  “Get your ass in the air.”

  She arched her back slowly, spreading her legs and bringing her cheeks up.

  I couldn’t resist another taste, and dipped my tongue down to her clit. “Mmmm,” I hummed.

  I pressed my cock against her and spread my hands over the velvety skin that draped her back. Smooth, pale, and sexy, I’d never felt anything so soft.

  I leaned down to her ear. ”Have you ever done it like this before?”

  She shook her head and her knuckles turned white as she anticipated my entry. “No.” She sniffed.

  I wiped a stray curl from her face, making sure I could see her eyes. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Please, Jess. Now,” she begged.

  And I didn’t wait. I spread her heated lips with my fingers and pushed myself inside of her. Her waist was small, but she’d kept that ass I liked so much. I grasped her hips, moving slowly at first, getting her used to the position. She flinched with every thrust, so I slowed my pace and kept my eyes on hers.

  She felt so damn good; I’d forgotten what it was like to go slow. A methodic and desperate kind of torture, each pump felt better than the one before it. And she was getting wetter and slicker with each thrust. She loved it. I loved it.

  We were perfect together.

  Chapter Seven

  Charlie

  I don’t know where he was, but he wasn’t with me anymore.

  He was somewhere else; a place of forgotten thoughts of yesterday in a justifying act of making everything all right.

  It wasn’t what I expected, but it was something I shouldn’t have doubted. Jesse was a different man in the park from the one he was in his bed. Different from any other time I’d ever seen him. I wasn’t sure if he just wanted to get it over with—like I did—or if he really used that night to escape from some kind of reality too painful to bear.

  He wasn’t kind. He wasn’t gentle. His touch held nothing it once had for me.

  He’d either buried himself so deep within the act, or I’d lost my connection with him altogether.

  It made sex with Jesse easier. It made doing what I was about to do palatable.

  Because as I lay there with my ass in the air, experiencing nothing but lust and emptiness with a man I adored, any moment it would be over and I’d be leaving for good.

  I’d never forget that night as long as I lived.

  I’d survived twenty-three years of ridicule to finally experience what it was like to be beautiful. I’d carried the weight of a million insults on my shoulders to finally know what it felt like to be desired. I don’t know if I truly believed it myself until he pulled me into his room. It was the validation I’d always needed. A beautiful, broken bully loved me. He saw me for who I was, not for what I looked like.

  But it was the journey that made it worthwhile; it was my friendship with Jesse that had pummeled that message through my thick skull. Not that stupid night.

  So I buried my confliction. I tried to be the complacent phone number that I’d be in less than an hour. Or the one I’d be a month from now when he grew tired of me.

  I’d have to walk away from him. For me.

  His strong arms flexed with every thrust, his taut stomach slapped against my backside, and his hooded eyes were commanding, desperately begging me to moan some more. Sweat dotted his blond hairline, the scruff on his chin had left remnants of burns on my face, and his tongue carried my flavor. Nothing but fire and sex rested in his gaze, and I’d almost come apart three times by his expression alone.

  He flipped me over again. My bare breasts sprung with the motion. His mouth dipped down to my nipple and he grabbed my thighs to spread my legs.

  He was frantic and eager, thrashing himself into me, and we gave each other all we had left to offer. I arched my back to deepen the penetration. A guttural moan flew from his lips and I grabbed his hair, pulling tightly.

  “Jesus,” he breathed, quickening his pace.

  Thrust after thrust, our hips found a fast rhythm, and he stretched his back to bring us face to face. His back was covered in sweat, his eyes were blue-gray, and he rested his slippery forehead to mine.

  “So sweet,” he whispered, and brought his rough lips to mine. He kept them there, and with every crash forward, he bit down on my bottom lip. I didn’t want to like it, but I did. My body responded to it, but my mind remained numb.

  He did everything right. He knew my body better than I knew it. But for all the kisses and nibbles and gliding fingertips, the revelation came to me:

  Jesse didn’t know how to make love to a woman. He only knew how to fuck one.

  And suddenly I wasn’t the only naïve one in the room.

  I breathed easier, letting the air lift from my lungs. “Jess,” I whispered, cradling his cheeks in my hands and pulling his face away from mine.

  His eyes were closed. I lay still, waiting for them to open. “Jess,” I repeated.

  His body stopped moving and he opened his eyes.

  “Lay down on your back.”

  His gaze drew inward and he swallowed, giving me a nod.

  I took a deep breath and sat on my knees, keeping my hands on his chest. His naked body lay before me and I took a minute to appreciate it.

  His legs and arms still held remnants of the sun from last summer, and it made his skin look rough in comparison to my ivory hue. The dusting of light hair from his groin to his belly button was enough to make the most sensible woman cave under the pressure between her legs. His erection lay across his stomach, and he brought his hand down to smooth its tip. A small vein stretched from his groin to his navel, and the definition in his legs from riding a bicycle half his life only added to a perfect image.

  But he wasn’t perfect. His body held terrifying scars.

  So did his mind.

  Scars that I couldn’t fix, no matter how hard I tried.

  I positioned myself above him, straddling my legs across his hips. I was scared shitless to let him see me that way, but managed to keep my fear away. Gliding my hands over his chest, my finger circled the first burn scar, similar to what I would imagine a ciga
rette butt would do.

  His skin displayed an array of goose bumps with my touch, and he kept his eyes closed.

  One by one I moved from scar to scar, examining each and kissing it before I moved to the next. I wanted to take the pain away; I wanted to soak up the anger and fear that each one of them had left in their wake. And by the time I got to the burn on his side—the one that looked like boiling water or a grease fire had caused—I was exhausted.

  As my hand stretched across his abdomen, he yanked on my wrist. Startled, I looked up, and tears sat in the creases of his eyes.

  “No,” he said, grinding his jaw.

  I pulled my hand away and stared into his eyes.

  It was too much.

  It was too soon.

  Or it wasn’t soon enough.

  “We waited too long,” I whispered.

  He closed his eyes tightly, squeezing out a small tear, and then he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me down to my back.

  He ripped open my thighs, crashed back into me, and finished what he’d started.

  It was the only thing he knew to do.

  Either the lighting was so dim that it wasn’t able to reflect from his eyes, or his eyes refused to take in the light. And I remembered thinking so long ago that my own doubts were a dark and scary place to be; nothing could’ve compared to it. In a year I’d come so far, but Jesse hadn’t come far at all. He was still scared of himself and where his thoughts and memories would take him.

  And so I gave up. I let him take me the way he needed to take me. There was nothing more I could do.

  He slammed his hips against me repeatedly, but I wasn’t scared. I didn’t flinch, and I continued to moan my approval. My heartbeat slowed and I wasn’t shaking. I did all the things he needed me to do, and took pity on him. His hands left red marks on my breasts and hips, and his teeth dug into my neck and lips.

  His sorrow left me barely able to breathe.

  It’s what he needed from me. For everything that had happened between us, I’d never felt like I’d done anything more right for him.

  And as he held his breath and spilled himself into me, the only word that ran through my head was goodbye.

  He rolled over, panting heavily. My mind was empty, my body a shell. He’d taken everything he could from me, and I took what I’d needed too. But as I looked over at him and at the cool sheets that took away his warmth, I smiled.

  His face was unreadable, a distance in his eyes.

  I had no fight left in me. The courage I gathered in my voice was robotic and harsh.

  It was time. I couldn’t wait to leave. I was done.

  So I cleared my throat and began. “Where did the scars come from?”

  Shaking his head from his thoughts, he frowned. “Nowhere.” His jaw tensed. “A bar fight.”

  I closed my eyes. “We’re never going to get anywhere like this.”

  “Why do we have to go anywhere?” he said playfully, and wrapped his arms around me.

  I pulled away.

  I stood and put my bra and panties back on. “That’s the problem. You’re killing yourself. And I’m not going to stand around and watch you do it. It doesn’t matter how much you claim to love me when you’re doing it for the wrong reasons.”

  He sat up quickly, and the sheet fell to his lap. “But I love you. I know I do.”

  “And I love you,” I said, my eyes fluttering shut. I grabbed my shirt and slipped my arms through the sleeves.

  His eyes opened wide and he got off the bed. Standing naked in front of me, his body glistened with our aftermath. “You’re not leaving. I love you,” he repeated.

  I shook my head and stepped back. “You hardly know anything about me. You love me because I take some of the shit away for a while. I make you feel lighter, better. You love me for what I can give you, not for what you can give me. If you truly loved me, you’d know what you do to me and why I can’t live a life like that with you.”

  “I don’t understand,” he begged. “Make me understand.”

  “Love isn’t just about what you can take. It’s also about what you can give. I adore everything about you. But you don’t make me feel good about myself. A compliment here and there doesn’t cut it. And I won’t live a life in love that requires me to stay on guard and cower in the corner. I’m pretty sure I deserve better than that.”

  He raked a hand through his hair and then clasped his fingers together in a plea. “Tell me what I have to do.”

  My chin quivered and I kept my distance. With each step I took backward, he would take another forward. “I don’t want you to change a damn thing about yourself for me. You have to do it for yourself. And I could sit here for eternity telling you I’m sorry and I still wouldn’t have enough to express how I feel. Neither would saying thank you.” I wiped my nose and sniffed. “Because I do love you. I’ll always love you. And while you’re the boy who made me love myself, he can’t love me the way I need him to. He has a lot of shit to sort through before that can happen.”

  “So that’s it?” He slapped his hands against his sides. “I don’t even get a say in this?” His jaw clenched. “I tell you I’m in love with you, and you’re telling me that it’s not enough?”

  I put my pants on, one leg at a time, and kept my eye on his distance. I zipped them up and walked to the door.

  With another exhale, I turned. “Love isn’t the place you go when there’s nowhere left to run.”

  The End

  Progress: Interrupted is the next book in the Progress Series.

  A release date is pending in 2016.

  Part I

  Progress: Interrupted

  On the way home that night, I hit a baby white rabbit. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the life ripped from its fragile body, peppering the pavement with white and red pieces of innocence.

  We all had to live with the choices we made. Some seemed brilliant at the time, and some mistakes we realized right away. Regret wasn’t something that disappeared, it was something that lived inside of us and altered every path we took from that point on. Sometimes it could be beautiful, and sometimes was anything but.

  For as proud as I felt about my decision to leave, there hadn’t been a day since that I didn’t wonder what would’ve happened if I’d stayed.

  -Charlie

  This has been a very personal journey for me. At times, heartbreaking.

  I have many people to thank for helping me along the way, and I hope to

  God I haven’t forgotten anyone.

  Just know that I will be forever grateful to them for encouraging me to pick this manuscript

  off the floor, and for helping me blow the dust away.

  Xo Big Love. -Amalie

  Acknowledgments

  Amy Jackson

  Vince Queau

  Michelle Johnson

  T.K. Rapp

  Stacey Lynn

  Brittainy C. Cherry

  Barb Speak

  Taryn Plendl

  A. Meredith Walters

  Kelsie Leverich

  Letty Mtz-Sid

  Carol Wahl-Allen

  Tesrin Afzal

  Brandy Mooney

  Tania Marinaro

  Susan Garwood

  Jenn Beach

  Kelly Brzoska

  Debbie Rodriguez

  Jolene Reding

  Karalee Vigstol

  Julia Peters

  Kinsey Taylor

  Kayla Harrison

  Natali Ghourizi

  Angela Withrow

  Eli Peters

  Kim Ginsberg

  Dawn Erbstoesser

  The Rays of Fucking Sunshine

  The Silver Sirens

  The Progress Support Group

  Depression Resources

  Depression and bipolar are two of the most common mood disorders, but continue to go untreated because of the stigma associated with them, and the lack of knowing where to seek help.

  If you or a loved one suffer from depress
ion or bipolar (also called manic-depressive disorder), and you need more information, please consider the resources below. These disorders can be treated in a multitude of different ways and can be managed with the right resources.

  National Suicide Prevention Hotline

  1-800-273-8255 (free)

  Crisis Text Line

  Text START to 741-741 (free, standard text rates apply)

  American Association of Suicidology

  http://www.suicidology.org/

  American Foundation for Suicide Prevention

  http://www.afsp.org/

  Families for Depression Awareness

  http://www.familyaware.org/

  Prevent Suicide Now

  http://www.preventsuicidenow.com/

  International Bipolar Foundation

  http://ibpf.org/

  Discussion Questions

  1. Explain what prompted Charlie's decision to start exercising and eating healthier. How do you think her motives changed throughout the novel?

  2. Have you ever been in a relationship that your friends and family disagreed with? Were they right or wrong about your relationship? Do you think Charlie's friends were right about Jesse?

  3. Jesse was often cruel to Charlie. Does his bipolar disorder justify his behavior, or does he use it as an excuse? Did you feel he was abusive?

  4. How do you know when it's time to put your own needs ahead of a loved one? Do you think Charlie made the right decision at the end?

  5. Why do you think Jesse said what he did on his birthday? Since that was a breaking point for Charlie, do you think that contributed to her decision to leave?

  6. Going forward, how do you think Charlie’s decision will affect her? How will it affect Jesse?

  7. Why did Charlie go to Jesse’s that night? Is she capable of being as callous as she conceived herself to be?