Electrify Me (The Fireworks Series Book 1)

by Rizer, Bibi

  “I’m right here. Hold still.”

  There’s a snipping noise and the clatter of some tool to the floor. The moment I’m free, I wind my arms and legs around him and squeeze so hard he whimpers.

  “Where’s…the…he…” I don’t even know what to call the guy who abducted me.

  “He’s unconscious on the floor next door.”

  “It’s so dark, Charlie.” My teeth are chattering, shaking things around in my brain.

  “I cut the power. You’re safe, though. I’ve got you now.”

  Like it’s nothing to lift a full-grown woman, he stands up with me still hanging from him and sets my ass down on the table.

  And he kisses me. It’s only a few seconds before our bodies take over. Maybe because whatever is going on in our minds and hearts is too complex, too terrifying, too insane to manage at this moment. But our bodies know what to do, know what we need. While I find his belt and the button of his pants, his hands have pushed my top up, pulled my bra askew. I gasp as he takes one nipple into his mouth and moves his hands down to tear at my tights and panties.

  The table edge digs into my bare ass as he pushes against me, and I claw at his zipper and boxers until finally I wrap my fingers around his rock-hard dick, pulling urgently, trying to pull him closer somehow. His fingers are on my clit, in my pussy, my tights and panties stretched against my thighs.

  “We need to fuck, Charlie, right now.” I’ve never felt the need to beg before, but right now it’s as though if he’s not inside me in six seconds or less, I’ll lose what’s left of my mind. “Please fuck me.”

  He wriggles one hand out of my panties, and I hear things falling to the floor as he fumbles with the pockets of his coat.

  “I have the condoms,” he says.

  I can hear the smile on his face. Which makes me smile. Then laugh at the sounds of his strained breathing mixed with things being pushed off the table and the rustle of plastic wrap.

  “Fuck!”

  “What?”

  “I dropped it. Wait.”

  There’s another rustle of plastic, and Charlie gently peels my fingers off his cock. I lay my hands over his as he slides the condom on, not wanting to lose that contact. I try to wrap my legs around him, but with my tights and panties around my knees it’s impossible. So I slip off the table and stand, but now I’m so short that he’s more likely to penetrate my bellybutton than anything else.

  Charlie bends his knees, kissing me, his tongue hungrily searching, his cock bouncing tantalizingly close to the perfect spot. We’re both pulling at my tights and he’s trying to get some traction so he can press in close enough, when the table slides back and we nearly end up on the floor.

  “Wait! Wait!” I take a breath, panting. “I’m just going to turn around. Is that okay?”

  “Oh, good God,” is his answer.

  I turn, sweeping whatever remains on the table onto the floor. Then I bend over, feeling Charlie lift my skirt up over my butt. Though I can’t see him and he’s completely silent, I can feel the reverence in his gentleness. All the frenzy of the last few minutes has dissipated, replaced with a kind of quiet intensity as he slides his fingers down, just grazing my ass with his thumbs before gliding them into my pussy.

  “God. Yes,” I say. “Fuck me, please. Now.”

  He extracts his thumbs, and I’m left for a millisecond wondering how I will ever survive without part of him inside. Then, mercifully, he curls his fingers around my hips, and in two quick thrusts he’s filling me up, connecting us at the hot center of our lust, our passion. And our fear. And something else. Something neither of us is ready to name.

  Charlie starts to move, slowly, one hand holding my hip, the other sliding up my back to stroke my spine and shoulder blades. His hands are beyond warm, actually hot, so that combined with the sensation of his cock sliding in and out so infuriatingly, blissfully slowly, it’s enough to make my eyes roll back. I must make a noise because Charlie stills, bending down over me, his lips brushing the top of my ear.

  “Is that okay?” he whispers. “Does it hurt?”

  “Fuck, no. Keep going.”

  He moves again, still bent over me, his nose and lips nuzzling my ear and cheek. I turn my head and our lips meet, so sweetly, so tenderly. Charlie whimpers as my tongue slides against his. His arms tense around me.

  “You can come, if you need to,” I say.

  I feel him shake his head. When I try to kiss him again, his teeth are biting down hard on his lower lip. He changes position, spreading his legs maybe so he’s lower down, and the angle of fucking gets that much more intense. The tip of his cock presses against something inside me–a mixture of pleasure and pain that I can’t even define much less explain. Then he leans back up, one hand pressing down on the center of my back, mashing my breasts into the table, the other grabbing a handful of my hair. Kinky, debauched and glorious. With every one of his thrusts, my hipbones crack against the edge of the table. It both takes me out of the moment and draws me even deeper into it, past a need for my own release into a place where all I want is to hear him whimper again, to hear him lose control, helpless against the ecstasy of our connection.

  The hand in my hair tightens into a fist while the other one releases the pressure on my back. I arch backwards as that hand slides around to swirl over my achingly hypersensitive clit.

  “Ahhh, God, fuck, yes,” I say along with many other much more vulgar and frantic things as I begin to unravel in his hands, at the mercy of his pistoning cock, his inexorable fingers. It only takes seconds to lose myself in the sensation that my feet are leaving the earth, my soul is leaving my body. I become pure electricity, only aware in the most basic sense that I’m propped up on my elbows, hanging my head over the table making unearthly primal noises.

  “Oh, God, please come now,” I manage to cry. “Come with me. Come with me.”

  Charlie says my name. Not shouted triumphantly or in an agonizing theatrical scream. Quietly, almost whispered in a harsh exhale of air.

  “Gloria…”

  Like a prayer. And the noise he makes when he comes is everything I’ve dreamt of. Helpless surrendering, worshipful. As though he might append it with in Excelsis Deo.

  It sounds like love.

  Chapter Ten – Charlie

  It’s a few seconds before I remember to breathe, before I remember where and who I am. My cock is still twitching inside her as I catch the words I was about to say just in time. Catch them and swallow them back because that’s ridiculous. I only just met her.

  I pull out and deal with the condom, trying to think of something, anything else to say. Nothing seems sufficient. Everything pales in comparison to what I almost said.

  “Are you okay?” I finally manage. I lift her off the table and help pull up her tights.

  “I’m so much better than okay. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” Biggest lie I ever told, and I know she knows because my face is wet. She slides one hand up to my face and around my neck to pull me down to her. Then her other hand closes around my still hard cock as she kisses away my tears. I don’t even have the brain power left to be ashamed of them. I held it together long enough to find her. That’s going to have to be brave enough.

  “God. I was so scared for you,” I say. “Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?” There are tears on her face too. I kiss them away.

  “He didn’t touch me. I was pretty scared too, though. It’s okay now.”

  We encircle each other. Now that those fucking tights are back in place, she can wrap her legs around me. I lift her up, vaguely aware that my dick is still hanging out, but I don’t care. Light-headed from having her safe in my arms again, I might never let go. We stand there as I process how deep and complete this dark is. I’ve been straining my eyes since I got down here, and I still can’t see anything, not even her sweet face, her nose pressed against mine. I tilt my head and capture her lips in a kiss for the ages, a kiss that climbs to the top of my greatest hi
ts of all time kisses. Number one with a bullet.

  My watch starts to beep.

  Gloria whispers onto my lips. “What’s that?”

  “Midnight,” I say. “Happy New Year.”

  I think she sobs, but I press my lips on hers again. I’ll keep kissing her until everything is good again. I’ll kiss it all better.

  Somewhere in the dark there’s a deafening crash. Then stomping feet. And shouting. “Police! Police!”

  Doors being kicked in and more shouting. And feet stomping downstairs.

  Gloria wriggles out of my arms, tugging me down. “Kneel down! With your hands on your head!”

  “Wha –?”

  “Just do it!”

  I make a half-assed effort to tuck my cock back into my boxers and do as she says, kneeling in the dark with my hands on my head. There’s a burst of light, blinding me. I just have time to turn my head to see that Gloria is kneeling next to me before two giant cops appear in the beam of light, guns pointing at me, shouting.

  “Get down! Get down! Hands behind your back!”

  Then I’m shoved down onto my face. “Gloria!” I try to say but end up with a mouthful of grit and whatever else is on the floor. Pot I think it is. I spit it out as someone cuffs and frisks me, spreading my legs with his feet like he’s planning to rape me. The wrench swishes out from my belt loop and clangs on the floor.

  “He didn’t do anything!” Gloria yells. I try to look up to see where she’s going, where they’re taking her. All I can see is shadows moving in waving beams of light.

  “Stay the fuck down!” the cop says. His boot presses on my head, slamming my nose into the floor. I taste blood.

  Gloria’s voice is farther away now. “He’s not the one who kidnapped me! Let him go!”

  Then I’m being dragged through the dark, upstairs, through a narrow doorway that my head smacks into, down a hallway until I’m blinking and blinded in the bright lights of several police cars. Whoever was dragging me shoves me down to my knees in the gravel.

  My blood is pumping so heavily in my ears, I can’t hear anything, just the pounding of my heart. The voices around me sound dull and thick, as though I’m underwater. Someone is shouting at me. A giant shadow above me. All I can see are guns. I close my eyes and try to think of something to block my instinct to stand up and fight. You’re not in Afghanistan, I think. It’s just American cops. Stay down.

  Fuck. That was something pretty far back in my mind.

  “What’s your name? What’s your name?” the shadow screams at me, his flashlight raised over his head, blinding me.

  “PFC Charles Zhang, sir!” I say.

  “Private Zhang?”

  Blink. Think. I think I hit my head on that doorway pretty hard. “No. Sorry. Just Charles Zhang. Charlie. I was discharged.”

  “What branch?”

  “Army, sir.”

  “Why were you discharged?”

  It takes me a few seconds to dredge up this piece of information. I’d tucked it away from shame, I guess. But for some reason as I say it, I’m not ashamed anymore. It is what it is. There’s no such thing as a perfect hero. “Bee stings, sir. I’m allergic to them.”

  The cop says nothing for a few seconds. He tucks his flashlight under his arm, and I risk a look up at him. He’s actually smiling.

  “It’s not funny. I nearly died on patrol outside Marjah.”

  His face grows serious. “Did you hurt that girl?”

  “What? No! What do you mean?”

  “What do you think I mean?”

  I have no earthly idea, and I’m not about to start making suggestions. Did I hurt her? I might have in a good way. I don’t think I should say that though.

  “Who gave you the bloody nose?” he asks.

  “You did, didn’t you?”

  The cop bends down, his face inches from mine. His breath smells. Coffee and cigarettes. “Listen, kid. I’ve seen some sexual assault victims in my years on the force, so I know what it looks like, and that girl looked like she was worked over by someone, so I’m asking was it you? Because you had your cock out when we busted in and there’s a condom on the floor that I bet is full of your DNA.”

  Well.

  I might vomit all over this nice man, because reliving the scene from his perspective doesn’t look very good. Did I get all the duct tape off Gloria’s wrists? Does she have bruises? She was crying. Her clothes were all messed up. I think I might have torn her tights. “Is she saying she was assaulted?” I don’t know why she would say that, unless maybe she was. Maybe that tattooed prick did touch her. Why would she tell me? She doesn’t even know me.

  “You tell me,” the cop says, wafting his breath over me again.

  This is some kind of game; and I’m too tired and confused to play it to win. I try to think back to what they taught us in basic about getting captured. Don’t say anything. Name, rank. I’ve already given him that. I’m so thirsty. My mouth tastes of dust and mold, and I’m hyper conscious of the fact that my pants are still hanging open with my Batman boxers showing. Thankfully, at least I don’t have a boner anymore. I’m beginning to think I may never get another one again.

  “That goon in the other room.” I say. “She said he didn’t hurt her, but maybe he did.” I close my eyes. Damned if I’m going to cry in front of this fucker. If he would just un-cuff me, I could kick his doughy ass into next week. And then go Rambo on that drug-fucked deviant.

  “What goon in the other room?”

  “He was the one who stole my truck and kidnapped Gloria. I don’t know what he did. I knocked him out and it was dark and…”

  “What?”

  “Okay, I did have sex with her, but it wasn’t rape.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  God.

  “You’re saying you found this girl in the dark, and you just had sex with her? Just like that?”

  It sounds ridiculous, implausible in the extreme. Even if I tell him the whole story, why would he believe it? What if Gloria is saying something else? “Where’s the other guy?” I try to hide the desperation in my voice. Because I’m starting to think maybe I’m seeing this all wrong. Maybe there’s something I’m missing, or I’m delusional. Did I ask her if I could fuck her? I don’t even remember. Everything they ever told us in boot camp about getting enthusiastic consent from your sex partner was a big waste of time, I guess. My head hurts with the effort of trying to put the pieces together. But I think I remember her begging for it.

  “What other guy?” the cop says.

  “The guy in the basement. I knocked him out with a wrench.”

  The cop looks confused for a second, but it passes quickly. “We found a wrench. But there wasn’t anyone else in the house.”

  Fuck. He must have woken up and bailed. Maybe after listening to us fucking for a few minutes. Because I stupidly didn’t tie him up, like I had planned. I want to be un-cuffed bad now so I can slap myself in the head. Some super soldier I turned out to be. My only excuse is that I was out of my mind desperate to find her.

  “Where’s Gloria?” I ask. “She can clear this all up. Can you just talk to her?”

  Maybe she will throw me under the bus. At this point I’ve stopped caring.

  Chapter Eleven – Gloria

  The lady paramedic dabs numbing ointment on my chaffed wrists and bloody knees, as I breathe into a plastic bag. As much as I hate the dark, apparently I hate flashing lights and people waving guns around even more. About the time that Charlie was being shoved to the floor, I must have checked out for a few minutes. When I came back online, I was hyperventilating on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance.

  “Is that better?” the paramedic says.

  I look at my wrists, at the Technicolor bruising and welts around them. I don’t know that I’d even registered the pain before the ointment, but now they just tingle with icy numbness. My knees are shredded along with my favorite tights. “It’s fine, thanks. Where’s Charlie?”

&nbs
p; “I’m sorry, I don’t know. We’re going to take you into the clinic for the kit, okay?”

  “Okay…” I look over her shoulder to the dark house and the police cars surrounding it. “Wait…what kit?”

  The paramedic looks at me, pity in her eyes. I read her nametag. Nancy. Like something from an old movie. “The rape kit. We’ll need that for the court case.”

  Did I hear her wrong? “What court case? Against that dealer? Aren’t the two grow houses enough to bust him?” Wait. Did she say rape kit? “I…there was no rape.”

  Nancy looks at me again, frowning this time. “Your tights and underwear are ripped. You’re bruised”

  Well, I guess she’s never had a frantic comfort fuck over a table in the pitch dark after being rescued from a kidnapper. Because that’s pretty hard to manage without a few things getting ripped and bruised.

  “And you were saying something about being kidnapped, just now. Someone kidnapped you?”

  “Someone did kidnap me, but he didn’t rape me. Where’s Charlie? The guy who was with me when the cops busted in? Where is he?”

  Nancy shakes her head, looking so perplexed that I feel sorry for her. “I think he’s been arrested.”

  What. The. Fuck.

  If the New Year’s gods cooked this up for me, I’ve got to give it to them. This takes the cake. I meet and fuck the man of my dreams literally at midnight only to have him arrested for raping me seconds later. I would laugh if I could remember how. “I have to go.” Mercifully I don’t appear to be hooked up to any machines, so I just push past Nancy and jump down onto the driveway. “Charlie!?”

  A whole bunch of cops and various other dangerous-looking dudes turn and look at me suspiciously as I limp across the lawn. Is it possible they’re all called Charlie? Am I in a Dr. Seuss book? “Charlie?!”

  When I come around the side of the house, what I see is like something from a movie. A scary fucking movie. The driveway is bathed in spotlights. No, bathed is too soft. Flooded. The front driveway is flooded with light and ringed with police cars and other vehicles. There are at least a dozen uniform and plain clothes cops standing around. And in the middle of it, in the center of the blazing circle of light, kneeling, stooped on the gravel with his hands cuffed behind his back, is Charlie.