I climb over her on the bed, kissing her again as I reach down and guide myself between her legs, feeling the head of my cock begin to press against her tight opening.
She moans into my mouth, spreading her legs wider, pushing her hips up towards me, and then she shivers as I slip a little way inside her. I don’t know if it’s because I’m big or because she’s really fucking tight, but this feels totally amazing and I can’t help but moan too, thrusting myself further and deeper inside her, feeling her slender body tremble beneath me.
She cries out as I drive the rest of my girth hard inside her, my mouth finally moving to her left breast, taking that hard nipple between my lips and teasing it with my tongue, causing her to moan again.
Then I reach between her legs, grazing her clit with my fingertips while I begin to fuck her in slow, sensual movements, each thrust causing her to moan and shiver more than the last.
Her hands move to my ass, urging me to fuck her faster and harder, which I do, driving myself so deep into her, faster, faster, working her up into a state of shivering ecstasy.
All of a sudden, I feel her shudder beneath me and she lets out a cry, wrapping her arms and legs so tight around me as she comes, her mouth pressing urgently against mine, her tongue slipping into my mouth, pushing me right over the edge too. With a final thrust, I feel myself explode inside her, both of us gasping, lost in our own pleasure as if the rest of the world has stopped still for a moment.
We fall backwards onto the sheets afterwards, still catching our breath.
I turn to her, feeling a surprising tenderness fill me as I see her face.
“I did recognize you, you know,” I say quietly, tracing my finger over the flushed, delicate skin of her chest. “Deep down, I did. I’ve wanted this so much. But back then, the desire was so strong — so dangerous — that I had to push it somewhere deep inside me.”
“I’m glad,” she replies with a smile. “It meant so much to me. I guess I was worried it meant nothing to you at all.”
Too slutty.
Too prim.
Too short.
Too long.
God, clothes shopping is hard. When did this all get so complicated?
As I walk the aisles of Bloomingdales, I realize that it’s been months since I last bought some clothes. I’m so careful with money, I just never see the point in buying something unless I absolutely, one-hundred-percent need it.
Also, and this probably makes me sound really weird, but I don’t even like shopping. There just seems like so much pressure. And it’s always so busy. I’d rather just order online.
But I’m actually kind of enjoying myself today. I’m still overwhelmed by the sheer number of possibilities. Maybe it’s because I have a purpose today.
I’m going to treat this like an assignment. And I’m determined to get an A for my ‘date with Chase’ dress …
I’ve circled the department store twice already now, and I’m starting to get worried. Nothing seems quite right. Nothing seems quite ‘me’. And some of the prices are just outrageous. Like eight hundred dollars for the tiniest little piece of fabric? You could hardly even call it a dress. Some people must be out of their minds …
And then I see it:
Sleeveless with an elegant crew neck, it’s fitted tight to the waist, but the pretty skirt flares out just above the knee. It’s in blue, which is my favorite color, but the abstract floral pattern also contains pink and white, so it doesn’t look like everything else in my wardrobe.
I wince a little when I look at the price. Two hundred and thirty six dollars. Ouch.
I’ve never spent that much on an item of clothing.
I stand there for a long time, wondering whether it’s worth it.
Come on, Charity, I tell myself. Have you ever had a night as important as this one?
“Shall I take this to the fitting room for you?” the voice of the sales assistant says, snapping me out of my thoughts and spurring me into action.
“Yes, please,” I reply.
And as I follow her to the fitting rooms, I already know that it’s going to look perfect.
I watch myself in the mirror as I slowly button my crisp white shirt.
I’m meeting her at downtown at seven, for a movie and dinner.
A real date.
Date.
The word makes me wince. I’m not a guy who ‘dates’, who gets caught up in all that shit. That’s not me, it never has been. Dating always makes me feel itchy and trapped, like I just want to get the hell out of there. Dating in New York is like some kind of game, one where the women fight over their prizes. They dress to kill in those heels and tight little outfits, and I’m the one who’s gonna end up dead.
I promised myself that life was never going to be for me.
But this is Charity, I remind myself. This is different.
But is it really so different? After all, she’s just a girl, isn’t she? Surely she just wants the same things as everyone else.
As I loop my tie through the collar of my shirt and begin to knot it, I realize that I can just about count on one hand the number of second dates I’ve ever had.
I’m just not that kind of guy. It’s difficult for one woman to hold my attention. And my philosophy has always been to get the most out of life, to experience everything that’s out there. And how can I do that if I’m with just one girl? I’ve been here before. I’ve seen how it ends. After just one date, they think I’m the guy for them. And after the second, they’re choosing the color scheme for the wedding. So I bail of course, and then there’s tears.
I’ve hurt too many girls before, and I don’t want to hurt Charity like that. Maybe I should just shut this down now, before things go too far …
I glance at my cell, sitting there within easy reach on the polished glass of my new coffee table. It would be so simple to pick it up, dial her number, make up some excuse, and cancel this whole thing.
I take a step towards it, then stop.
“I can’t believe you liked that bit!” I laugh, shaking my head. “It was so corny! The rest of the film was okay, but that moment was just so cheesy!”
“Okay,” he laughs in reply, setting his burger back down on his plate. “So maybe I’m not as cultured as you. I mean, we can’t all have the impressive critical faculties of a Columbia postgrad.”
“Thank goodness,” I say. “Trust me, that would make the world a very boring place.”
And even though he’s teasing me, I’m glad we’re talking now. He’s been kind of quiet all evening, and I’m wondering what’s up.
Or maybe I’m just imagining it.
“Is everything okay?” I ask. I can’t help it.
“Sure, why?” he says, shrugging his shoulders slightly defensively. Or am I reading too much into that too?
“Oh, you just seem a little quiet this evening, that’s all,” I say, trying to make it sound as casual as possible, like it’s no big deal, which it isn’t of course.
“It’s nothing,” he says. “Just a long week at work.”
I nod.
“I keep forgetting that you’re this hotshot business guy now,” I smile, wanting to tease him again, bring out his fun playful side. “It’s so different to the Chase I knew.”
“Come on,” he says suddenly. “Let’s get out of here.”
We haven’t even finished eating yet, but there’s something about his expression that tells me that he just won’t wait.
“I guess I just want to have you alone right now,” he says.
I look at her as the elevator shoots up towards my apartment.
She’s amazing. I’m an idiot. She’s everything I ever wanted: she’s smart and beautiful, kind and caring, and then of course there’s that spark between us — that thing that everyone hopes for, that thing you just can’t quite put into words, that seems to crackle between us at times like this, threatening to burst into flames at any moment.
This is better than a string of anonymous women, I
tell myself. This is real life.
I need to get out of those negative ways of thinking. That’s what’s dragged me down all these years.
I need to stop running away. I’ve been doing it my whole life.
But at the same time, it’s like there’s this other voice in my head, too. And it’s telling me that running is exactly what I need to do right now. That I’ll never be happy, tied down to one girl. That it’s kinder to bail in the short term — that a few tears now will save a whole flood of them later on.
But just then, the elevator arrives at my floor, she catches my eye, and there it is again — that spark.
I take her hand, leading her out into the corridor, pushing those negative thoughts once more from my mind.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say, and she replies not with words but with a gentle squeeze of my hand.
As soon as the door closes behind us, his hands are all over me.
This time there’s an urgency I wasn’t expecting.
I gasp as he pushes me back against the wall, pinning my hands in place above my head as he kisses my neck. He holds me there, so firmly, his grip strong and decisive. And I realize I like it. I’m seeing the darker side of him now — the side of him that’s always brooding, just beneath the surface.
“I’ve got to have you, Charity, right fucking now,” he says, still pinning my hands above my head.
“Go on then, take me,” I say, daring him to show me a little more of that darkness that I know lurks just beneath the surface, my voice trembling as I feel his hand move between my legs, tugging my panties sharply down around my thighs, causing me to gasp. I feel them fall around my ankles and I kick them free, my body flashing with anticipation, my pussy growing hot and wet; I’m aching for him now.
He takes one hand from my wrist to free himself, hurriedly unbuckling his belt then tugging open his suit pants.
I glance down between his legs, just as his cock springs free, jutting upwards — so hard, so big, and glistening in the dim light of his apartment.
I want to touch it, I want to wrap my fingers around it, but he’s still holding me firmly in place against the wall.
“Spread your legs,” he commands.
I do as he says, spreading myself wide, feeling the cool air of the apartment against that burning hot place right at the center of me, my clit throbbing madly, my wetness actually beginning to trickle down the insides of my thighs.
I shudder as I feel him press the hot, hard tip of his cock against my opening, teasing me, brushing it back and forth against the slickness of my lips. There’s the most delicious pause and then …
I groan as he slips so deep inside me, stretching me wide, filling me completely with himself. I groan again, as he thrusts then withdraws, thrusts then withdraws, plundering me now, the electricity building in my tummy and fluttering out in flashes all around my body.
Finally he lets go of my wrists, and I throw my arms around his neck, just as his hands move to my ass, his cock thrusting even deeper inside me, filling me completely.
I’m moaning loudly now, no longer caring how much noise I’m making, each fresh thrust of his hips sending me ever closer to the edge.
And I can tell he’s close too. He’s kissing me so urgently, his whole body tensing, his own moans mingling with mine as he slams himself hard into me, both of us crushed against the wall of the apartment, his taught muscular body driving itself deeper and deeper inside me.
When I finally come, it’s like an explosion. I throw my legs around him too, feeling him pick me right up off the floor, moments before my body shudders with my pleasure, my mind flashing white, the sensations shooting around my body like jolts of electricity.
A few moments later, I feel Chase come within me too, the hot pulsing warmth of him, deep inside, pushing me even further over the edge — further than I thought I could ever go …
I wake up. It’s an unfamiliar but not unpleasant feeling. I’m not alone in my bed for once. Tangled in the sheets, wrapped sleepily around me, is Charity’s warm, naked body — her skin so soft.
I watch her as she sleeps. She looks so peaceful, so content, so beautiful. Her hair frames her face, tumbling over the pillow, her sumptuous lips slightly parted, her eyelids closed.
And still half asleep, she snuggles up a little closer to me, moving her hand from beneath the pillow and gently throwing her arm around me as she pulls me tighter to her.
Her eyes still closed, her mouth curls in a soft smile before she whispers, “I love you,” still half asleep.
The words sting me like a thorn.
What? She loves me?
This is too much, too soon.
I can’t do this. This was a fucking mistake.
I can see exactly what would happen from hereon in: sure, she’d say that she wanted to stay in the city, finish up her PhD, but I’d be living in some soulless gated community in Connecticut before I even knew what was happening, commuting to work while she sits there, complaining about our kids, her friends, everything …
“Do you want a fucking engagement ring now? Is that it?” I snap, pushing myself up in bed, her arm slipping from my chest.
“What?” she murmurs, confused, still only just coming round from a deep sleep.
She might seem confused, but deep down it’s what they all want: get the rich man, tie him down, the whole white wedding fantasy.
“I don’t understand,” she says.
“What do you want from me, Charity?” I say.
She wraps the sheet around herself defensively as she sits up in bed.
“Jesus, Chase,” she says quietly, pushing the hair from her face. “Isn’t it a little early in the morning for this?”
“What do you want from me, Charity,” I repeat, coldly.
She sighs, still somewhat confused, but clocking now that I’m being serious.
“I guess at first,” she begins, “I just wanted answers. I felt like I couldn’t get over the past, what had happened between us, not without finding out how you really felt. But I didn’t expect this. I really didn’t. And I know what you mean, Chase. It is a bit weird — you and me. But I thought we could see where this goes.”
“You mean you want to go steady?” I sneer. “You mean you want me to be your boyfriend?”
“I don’t know, Chase,” she sighs. “Like I said, I just want to see where this goes.”
“I don’t think there is anywhere else for this to go,” I say, quiet and cold. “This is as far as I go, I’m afraid.”
“What do you mean, Chase,” she says, turning to me now, her eyes beginning to brim with tears, resting her hand gently on my shoulder.
I push it away.
“I think we’re done here, Charity,” I say.
I need to get her out of here, but I can see that I’ll need to do this as delicately as possible. She’s already getting upset, her eyes filling with tears, threatening to spill over at any moment.
“Listen,” I say, trying to keep my voice measured and calm, “I don’t know what you want from me, but you must know that I’m not the kind of guy to settle down, with you or anyone. It’s just not who I am. I don’t want you to get hurt. And I hope you’ve got some closure now, or whatever it was you came here looking for. Now, if you’ll excused me, I’ve got work to do.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, impassive. I force myself to remain silent as I watch her gathering her things, trembling and crying.
“I don’t know what I did,” she says. “What I did wrong. Please. Chase. Talk to me.”
But I remain silent, my eyes fixed on the floor.
This is the only way I won’t crack, the only way I won’t change my mind.
Eleven Years Ago ...
It was the last thing I wanted to do that summer. But Mom said I had no choice. Every year since my parents’ divorce, we’d spent the summer with my Mom’s family on Sanibel Island, Florida. I loved going there. As an only child, I loved spending the whole summer with my cousi
ns. My house was always so quiet, but Aunt Sarah’s was full of noise — full of children, fun and games, and laughter. The island was safe and quiet, so we were allowed to go off exploring on our own. So whenever I needed some time alone, I could disappear with a book for hours. It was perfect.
But that year was different.
My mom had remarried in the spring, and Alan was a nice guy, don’t get me wrong. I had nothing against him. Until the day they sat me down, and told me that since they hadn’t had a proper honeymoon, they were going to spend the summer touring Europe.
Since it was their honeymoon, of course I wasn’t invited.
I thought they were going to send me to Aunt Sarah’s on my own, to stay with my cousins as usual. But instead, they told me that I was going to be spending the whole summer with my dad, at his beach house.
Apparently, without consulting me, they’d all decided that I needed to spend some more quality time with my dad.
And I did love spending time with my dad. I was a real Daddy’s girl in fact. I really missed him, since he’d moved out of state. The problem was that he’d remarried, too.
Now I’m older, of course I understand. But back then? I really didn’t get what he saw in Cassie. She was nothing like my mom. She pretended like she wanted to be my best friend, but I knew deep down she resented my presence. She was mean and stupid, and she had my dad wrapped around her little finger.
I’d only met her once before, on a weekend visit.
I knew my mom didn’t like her either. Nothing spiteful — the divorce was as amicable as these things can be. Really, she was just concerned for my dad, and my relationship with him. It was important to my mom that my dad was always in my life. This woman had ‘gold digger’ written all over her, and that usually means trouble.
“I know you’re gonna miss your cousins, sweetheart,” my mom said, that evening after dinner, “but you’re not going to be left alone with your dad and Cassie. Don’t forget that Cassie’s son is about the same age as you, and he’ll be there too. So you’ll have someone to hang out with.”
Claiming Chase: (A Second Chance Stepbrother Romance) Page 6