I wasn't going to tell Charlie, but I was debating sneaking into my father's house one last time, grabbing just enough to pay for her burial. A proper one. With a lovely casket, flowers, and a nice gravestone.
But those were problems for another day.
The bed - and the things we both wanted to do in it - were what was making it hard to focus.
Even when I went back to work, falling into old routines, making the money that would ensure we had a place to stay while Charlie healed, then while he got a business up and running, it was all that was on my mind.
Maybe because I had gone down on him.
More than once.
And he had played with me.
And both of us were feeling it. The sensation of needing "more." Of needing it all.
We had waited so long already, and climbing into the same bed each night, fresh from showers where we had both tried to calm the need growing inside, snuggling close, yeah, it was only aggravating the problem.
Charlie was getting better.
Most of his cuts had healed over. The missing tooth - luckily - had not gotten infected. The bruises were even lightening.
But his ribs were still giving him issues.
It wasn't like it was the first night or two, when any movement at all made him hiss out in pain. But there were still times when he tried to turn too fast, or reach over his head, or bend forward that I could tell it was still a struggle, still a nuisance.
And for someone like Charlie - all action - the injuries were getting to him.
I got to go out every day, breathe different air, see different people, do different things.
He was stuck in a dingy motel room with nothing to do but flick through television shows and feel useless.
I tried to remind him it was temporary every night when he would give me that look of his as I went off to work, and he had to stay back. The look that said he hated this, hated me being the provider, a job he wanted to hold.
I'd bring us home shift meals that Ed made for me, doubling up on the portions because he felt bad for me, living at a motel with a dead father and incarcerated brother. I felt guilty taking advantage of their good will, but everyone brushed it off, told me I had been through so much, that a little kindness was just what I needed.
They weren't wrong either.
I had been through a lot.
A lot that I was trying not to focus on too much, knowing that was not a headspace I wanted to be in right then. I didn't want to analyze what it said about me that I had shot my own father, that I had framed my brother.
So I took the extra meals.
I took the extra shifts when Vicky claimed she wanted some time off, when I really knew she just wanted to give me some extra cash.
And I needed it.
So I took it.
At the bar, a few of the regulars overtipped me. The bartenders took me under their wings more, teaching me the ropes, telling me they would put in a good word for me as soon as the owner came back from vacation, so I could make more money like they did.
I took my shift meals from there back to the motel as well, along with any of the food that 'died in the window.'
We were doing alright.
Our bellies were full.
Our room was paid for.
Charlie was mending.
And we were on our way.
"Helen, come to bed," Charlie called, voice sleep-slow because it was nearly four in the morning, and he had passed out a few hours ago while I sat at the small table that wobbled on the shag carpet, staring out the slit in the curtains, watching people drive in and out of the gas station.
Trying to avoid the bed.
And the way his body felt too good next to mine.
And the way my body refused to calm down when I got too close.
"I'm not tired," I lied, unable to meet his eyes as I did.
"Bullshit. You were nodding in and out. I saw you," he countered, making my guilty gaze shoot to his as he slowly pushed up in bed, making me painfully aware of the fact that he didn't have a shirt on because all of his t-shirts were in the wash that he was going to handle tomorrow while I pulled an afternoon shift at the ice cream stand. They were closing in a week. I figured I would get every last penny out of it while I could.
And Charlie without a shirt?
Yeah.
It was problematic for me.
Especially now that most of his injuries were healed, there only being a small smattering of purple on his left side across his ribs.
It was easier to control myself when his body was bruised, cut, and half-broken.
But like this?
Mostly healed?
With very little to mask the breathtaking way his abdominal muscles etched, shifted as he moved, never once losing any of their definition, yeah... this was a test to my self-control.
And tonight, I knew I was failing.
Which was why I was drifting off to sleep at the table sitting up instead of curled on the mattress beside him.
"I'm fine. Really. Go back to sleep."
"You're not fine," he countered, brow lifting at my obvious lie. "Something is wrong between us if you can't tell me what is making you sit as far away from me as you can get," he went on, making a stab of guilt pierce my stomach. "You changing your mind?" he asked, not looking at me, voice rough. Rougher than I had ever heard it, making my eyes shoot to him, worried.
"Changing my mind about what?"
"About the future. About me," he went on, gaze finding me, and there was raw pain there at the very idea.
"What? No!" I shrieked, shaking my head so hard that the room wobbled a bit when I stopped. "That's not it at all."
"Tired of busting your ass while I sit here and do nothing?"
"Charlie," I cut in, voice reasonable. "Don't do that."
"Don't do what? Tell the truth?"
"Don't put your insecurities on me, and try to make me own them too," I shot back, watching as his chin lifted a little, taking the hit. Like I had intended.
He'd once told me not to censor myself, silence myself like I had to do my whole life, that he was man enough to take whatever I was thinking, even if it hurt his pride a bit.
And I had been doing my best to believe him, to speak my mind when I thought I had something to say, to contribute. I'd found a power in that the likes of which I had never known before - this freedom to be a whole, functioning person with wants, needs, ideas.
And so far, nothing I had ever said had penetrated.
It was clear, though, that what I just did had.
I'd called him out.
That was new for him.
And me.
But it had to be done.
"I get that you hate this," I went on, keeping eye-contact, almost daring him to break it. "But this isn't some hardship to me. I am not 'carrying' you or whatever it is you have been thinking. I worked this much back when I lived at home too. This is nothing new to me."
"Then what is the problem?" My gaze fell then, studying the blue and white plaid pattern of my pajama pants. "Helen," he said, voice a little demanding, a tone he rarely took with me.
I swallowed hard, knowing I had to say it, knowing there would be no moving past it, not when he caught me like this, until we discussed it.
It shouldn't have been hard.
Nothing ever was when sharing it with him.
But this was new.
Awkward.
"Baby?"
Ugh.
His voice was doing that smooth, sexy thing too.
Which was not helping.
"It's hard to be in a bed with you right now," I blurted out before I could think about it too much.
"Okay," he agreed, but his brows were drawn together. "Ah... do I snore?" he asked, face scrunched up when I snorted and shook my head. "Got a B.O. problem going on?" he went on, looking more and more lost. "Helen, babe, you're giving me nothing here. Why can't you be in a bed with me?"
My head moved back,
eyes studying the ceilings I sucked in a deep breath, looking for, then finding the guts to face him while I said it.
"Because all we can do in it is sleep," I told him, watching as realization dawned on him.
"Baby," he said, scooting to the end of the bed, then holding an arm out toward me, snagging my hand, pulling until I stood, and moved to stand in front of him. "If you're frustrated, you tell me."
"Right," I said, shaking my head. "Like that is such an easy thing to bring up."
"It should be," he told me, thumb tracing over the pulse point in my wrist, an innocent touch that was somehow creating chaos through my system. "Someday, it will be," he promised. "And I might not be one-hundred-percent, babe, but I can sure as fuck take care of my woman."
My woman.
Such a simple turn of phrase made my belly wobble, my heart squeeze in my chest.
I was pretty sure I had never liked anything in my life even half as much as I liked being his woman.
"Charlie, no," I said, shaking my head as he pulled me closer, until my body was between his legs, his face right at the juncture of my thighs, making a wave of heat wash over me - a mix of desire and embarrassment.
"Why not?" he asked, hand sliding up my thigh, moving around, giving my behind a hard squeeze.
"I don't want you hurting your ribs."
"Let me worry about my ribs," he suggested. "You just worry about getting what has made you so tense for the past few days," he told me, hand leaving my butt to slide between my thighs, pressing down hard into my clit, sending a shock through my body so strong that I wavered on my feet for a second.
"Charlie..."
"Yeah, baby," he crooned as my hand lost his, so he could snag the front waistbands of my pants and panties, dragging them down my thighs.
There was a moment of insecurity, his face level with the most private part of me, but it was overwhelmed by the need clawing at my core, the pressure on my lower stomach, the growl of appreciation he let out as he leaned forward, as his tongue traced up my clit.
"Oh, my God," I whimpered, hands slamming down on his shoulders for stability as he worked small circles around the sensitive bud, only stroking over it here and there. "Charlie, I can't..." I whimpered, nails digging into his shoulder blades so hard that I was sure I must have drawn blood, but he said nothing as his hand found my ass, urging me forward as he moved back until he guided me to straddle his face.
I was too lost in the sensations to feel anything even akin to uncertainty, to embarrassment at the position as his tongue ravaged me, as his hand moved in between to tap against the opening to my body before languidly gliding in, thrusting slowly, lazily, building the pressure as my walls tightened around him, then turning, raking over my top wall just as his tongue pressed into my clit.
The world went white.
The sound that came out of me was a choked scream that came out like a gasp, my thigh muscles shaking so hard I was worried they wouldn't hold me as Charlie just kept working me, dragging it out.
As soon as the waves stopped crashing, I lifted one leg over to the other side to meet the other, dropping down beside him on the bed, a curled ball of uselessness.
"Fucking sweeter than I imagined," he informed me, curling closer to me, stroking a finger up my bare thigh, leaving shivers and goosebumps in its wake. "Breathe," he reminded me, almost making me roll my eyes until I realized he was right; I wasn't breathing. "See, baby?" he asked, finger snaking up my side, over my ribs, pushing gently until I was on my back with his hands pushing up my shirt over my belly. "You take that frustration, give it to me, and I'll take care of it."
He said it like a vow, like words he would always make good on. No matter what.
"Charlie," I sighed out when I felt his finger trace the sensitive underside of my breast, making the nipple tweak harder.
"I'm just getting started," he informed me as his fingers kept inching up my t-shirt, the soft cotton feeling scratchy as it scraped over my hardened nipples to bunch up near my clavicles.
"I'm okay now," I told him with a shaky voice betraying the way my need was already becoming overwhelming.
"Ah, but okay isn't good enough," he told me, face lowering down, warm breath tickling over the column of my neck.
"Charlie..." I started, breaking off on a sigh as his scruff tickled under my collarbone before shifting down to brush over my hardened nipple.
There was only a moment to revel in that sensation before a new one replaced it - his tongue sliding velvety soft around the hardened peak making my back arch off the mattress toward him, begging for more. He obliged, sucking it deep into his mouth with a vibrating growl.
My legs tightened around his sides, wanting to press together to stem the chaos building there.
Unable, my feet planted instead, allowing my hips to thrust up, grind against him for the small bit of relief that allowed.
Charlie's air hissed out of him as my heat glided across his hard length, the mix of his struggle for control mingled with my own causing a shiver to course through me.
In punishment, his teeth sank down into my nipple, pulling up slightly, the pain/pleasure mix creating a sensation inside that I had no name for, but it made every inch of my skin hyper-aware of every touch as his mouth and tongue moved away from my breasts, down over my belly, shifting at the last possible moment to trail down my inner thigh, the crook of my knee, down to my ankle, then back up the other before I finally felt his mouth on me, closing over my clit, and sucking hard.
The world flickered in and out of focus for a long moment as his lips kept sucking in an odd strobe-like motion.
His finger slid down my slit to slip inside me, stroking gently, languidly, like we had all the time in the world, like he was blithely unaware of the unyielding torment of slow-building desire.
His head lifted as if sensing the thought, lips pulled up slightly, eyes almost dreamy as another finger slid inside me.
My body, unaccustomed to the invasion, stretched with a slight pressure as Charlie gently worked his fingers in circles, softly stroking over my walls before thrusting. Tentative at first, he grew in demand as I grew impatient with need, the pressure on my lower stomach becoming painful as each moment passed.
"Charlie, please," I whimpered, fingers curling into his arms as his fingers got more insistent, wilder, rougher.
"Please, what, baby?" he asked, eyelids heavy, voice rough with his own desire I still felt pressing against me.
I couldn't claim to know the right words, the sexy words, the words that would make me sound confident and experienced.
All I had was the truth of what I needed.
"I need to feel you inside me," I told him, my voice stronger than I expected.
It didn't matter that they weren't the right words, the sexy ones, the confident or experienced ones.
But they worked regardless.
A low, deep growling noise moved through his body and vibrated into my own, a primal, animalistic sound that my body responded to in kind, getting wetter, needier, my breasts getting heavier, my skin more sensitive.
His body shifted, hands planting on other side of me.
He moved over me, wedging his body between my welcoming thighs, his hardness pressing against me through the thin barrier of his pajama pants.
"Barely been able to function thinking about being inside you," he told me, lips brushing my ear as he did so, the closeness of our bodies ensuring he felt the tremor as it moved through me.
His hips shifted away then thrust forward, making his cock slide up my cleft, pressing hard against my sensitive clit, dragging a moan from deep within me.
His arms pushed him up, those striking eyes boring into mine even in the darkness.
His hips ground down once again, making my hands slap down on his bare back, sliding down the strong length of his spine to sink into his ass, holding him against me, begging for more of the sensation.
Lowering down on his forearm, his free hand moved between us to
push away the final barrier between us.
When his hips pressed down again, it was his hot, firm length I felt against my heat, both tantalizing and mildly terrifying given his size.
"You wanna stop?" he asked, voice rough, like the very idea would take every last bit of strength for him to pull away. But it proved yet again how attuned he was to me, being able to read my concern without a word from me about it.
"I'm just nervous," I told him, shaking my head, my hand sliding up his back, settling on the side of his neck, my thumb stroking the solid jut of his jaw. "I've only ever done this once before," I admitted, shrugging a shoulder.
"And clearly with someone who had no idea what he was doing," Charlie agreed, smiling softly as he lowered his head down closer to mine. "We'll go at your pace," he told me, sealing his lips over mine, kissing me long and deep until all thoughts of fear or uncertainty melted away under the need to feel all he had to offer me.
"Charlie, please," I whimpered, hips grinding up into him.
A groan escaped him as he balanced on one arm again, reaching toward the nightstand on his side of the bed, producing a condom foil, then making short work of protecting us both.
The hesitation returned, making my muscles tense, my body suddenly unsure about the invasion.
But Charlie slowed, his head ducking so his lips, tongue, and scruff could tease my neck, my breasts, before moving back upward, claiming my lips once again.
Only then did I feel his body shift, his cock sliding down my cleft to press against the entrance of my body.
His head lifted, eyes searching mine as he tentatively eased forward, his cock sliding ever-so-slightly inside me with a slight burning twinge of pain as my body tried to adjust to the invasion, to his sheer size.
"Breathe," he reminded me, making me realize my chest was tight. I slowly sucked in air. "Good girl," he crooned on my exhale as he pressed deeper, the pain a little less intense, just a pinch that said no one had ever filled me the way he could. "You're so tight, baby," he added as he surged forward one more time, claiming every last inch of me, settling so deep that it pinched in an entirely new way, one that was almost half-pleasure, one that I perversely hoped would never stop.
Fully inside me, his lips claimed mine again, but not so patient, so explorative. Harder. Hungrier. More needy. Like I knew his body must have been. Because mine was as well.
Mallicks: Back to the Beginning (Mallick Brothers Book 5) Page 12