by L. S. Pullen
Our eyes connect when she brings herself up and over me, taking me in one hand. Slowly—excruciatingly slowly—she lowers herself onto me until every inch of me is deep inside her. Her eyes close, and a sigh escapes her as she tilts her head back. I bring a hand up and trace my fingers from her throat, over her breasts and down her stomach. Her flesh pebbles with goosebumps.
“Soph, look at me?”
My other hand caresses her cheek. She opens her eyes, and I move my hand around the back of her neck, gripping it gently, pulling her head closer to mine. I want to feel her lips on mine. And when I move, the connection between us intensifies. Her tongue dances with mine; a moan rolls up and out of my throat. Kissing her makes me harden even more. It’s unnerving how much she affects every cell of my body. Our skin’s slick with beads of mixed perspiration.
Her pelvis rocks in a crazy, fantastic circular motion. I pull away, so I can watch us move together. I don’t know where she begins, or I end. My hands slide up her back and cup her shoulders, pulling down hard and firm. The noises coming from her are too much. I take the lead and roll her onto her back. Grabbing her knee in the crook of my elbow, I push her leg up toward her shoulder. Then freeze in position. A crackling tension rolls over my body in waves. She lifts her head to my shoulder, and her teeth sink into my skin. It’s all too much, the sensation overwhelming.
Damp from the exertion, I move with a renewed purpose. Her smell—intoxicating—urges me on.
Every thrust is deeper than the last.
The bite of her nails digging into my back heightens my senses.
It’s as though my body is on fire. My balls harden each time they slap against her flesh. My mind grows foggy, disorientated from the build-up. Her head is edging closer to the headboard with every thrust.
“Oh. My. Fucking. God. That’s it right there,” she exhales.
And I know she’s right there with me.
“What, like this?” I grunt and pull back, my arms shaking beneath me, my tip just inside her entrance. And then I slam back into her.
“Char-lie… I’m—”
My mouth covers hers, and I swallow her moans with my own. Our movements are feral as we come together. My release is hard and fast; her channel pulsates tightly around me, ringing me for every last drop.
I gasp for air and roll onto my side, taking her with me, not ready to pull out. She lets out tiny shudders; the aftermath of her orgasm still spasms all over me. We lay here as our breathing slows.
I pull out of her, and she lets out an involuntary shiver. But it’s wet.
Too wet.
I check to see why. My stomach sinks and my heart stutters. I rush to sit up, my hand holding the condom in place. She shuffles away from me.
“Fuck,” I grit out.
Her eyes glance down to my hand then back up to my face. It doesn’t take a genius to work out the condom has split.
“Shit, Soph, that’s never happened to me before. I swear.”
“It’s okay, Charlie.” She places her hand on my shoulder.
How is she so calm?
“Don’t worry, Charlie, I’m clean…honestly,” she says.
My eyes spring to hers, and I lean back, incredulous. Her face is the opposite of how we were both feeling moments ago.
“Fucking hell, you think that’s what I’m worried about?” I ask, springing to my feet.
I pull off the condom too hard, and it pings against my tender flesh. Fuck. My eyes water, that stung.
I head into the bathroom and toss it in the bin then grab for the flannel and hold it under the tap, so I can clean myself up. When I walk out, Sophie’s back in her dress, hand on the door handle. I’m across the room in three quick strides, my dick knocking angrily against my inner thigh. My hand covers hers. “Don’t go.” I tilt her face up towards mine, but she shifts free.
“I need the bathroom,” she replies.
I move to the side and angle my head towards the one I just vacated.
Pulling on my boxers, I hang my head as I sit on the edge of the bed.
Fuck.
I listen to her muffled movements—the flushing of the toilet, the sound of running water. I chew on my thumbnail until she reappears. I get to my feet and watch her eyes dart from me to the door. Cautiously, I approach her—eyes slightly puffy and bloodshot—fuck me, she’s been crying.
“Soph?” I croak out. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” I say and reach for her hand.
“I’m clean, Charlie,” she says, defiance in her voice, raising her chin.
I audibly release a sigh. “Fuck, Soph, no.” I pull her into my chest, the separation too much. I stroke her hair, and she wraps her arms around me.
Walking back to the bed, I usher her to sit with me. Her eyelashes are damp, and if that doesn’t gut me, I don’t know what does. I wrap her hand in mine.
“I was only worried about you, Soph,” I try in the way of an explanation. “I promise you. My concern was only for you.”
She meets my eyes. “I just assumed you were worried I wasn’t clean… That we weren’t, you know, safe.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m pretty sure if anyone had concerns in that area, it would be you over me. Not the other way around. Not that I’m saying I’m not clean. I’ve always used something.”
I search her face, hoping like hell she believes me. She nods. “I’ve always used something, too.”
She eyes the door. I can’t have her go back to her room. Not like this.
“Stay,” I blurt out, and to keep my nervousness at bay, I spring to my feet and grab my t-shirt from the floor. I stand in front of her.
“Charlie, I can go back to my room. I don’t want you to think that was what this was about. I didn’t have any expectations.”
I crouch down, so I’m eye-level with her. “I know, but I’m asking you to stay with me anyway. Please?” My voice wavers with uncertainty, pulse racing. I reach out to cup her cheek—I can’t have her so close to me and not touch her.
“If you’re sure…”
I give her a megawatt smile, not even bothering to reply. If I weren’t sure, I wouldn’t have asked her. “Arms up.”
She cocks an eyebrow but does as I say. Reaching for her dress, I pull it up and over her head and replace it with my t-shirt. She stands up, and it falls just above her knees. I take a step back. She’s a vision—puffy eyes and all.
I pull the duvet back and pat the mattress. She smiles softly before climbing in. I switch off the lamp and get in beside her, bringing the cover over us, reaching out for her. She turns to her side, and I pull her body flush with mine.
Spooning isn’t something I usually do. A girl sprawled over my chest, maybe, but not like this.
“I am sorry for upsetting you, Soph,” I whisper into the quiet room.
She turns her head to the sound of my voice, and her breath tickles my chin as she speaks. “It’s fine. Honestly, you don’t have to worry. Not about that.”
She still has a faint hint of vanilla and flowers, but she also smells like me. Damn. The realisation makes me instantly hard. I am reaching for her chin, and my mouth covers hers. The kiss is unhurried, slow. And she is painstakingly arousing. I suck on her bottom lip and kiss the tip of her nose before pulling back. She settles with a contented sigh. I think it’s one of my new favourite sounds.
We both begin to stir in the early hours, neither of us asleep nor awake—just the state in between. But I find my body reacting to her like a magnet, and in return, she moves closer. Her hand finds my waist, her fingers tracing my skin until she finds me aroused and wanting.
She rolls over to face me, her chest flush with mine. I blink my eyes open to see hers are still closed; there’s enough light to see her eyelashes settled over her cheekbones. I skim my fingers up her bare thigh and she lets out a sigh, her breathing changing.
My fingers find the top of her knickers, but I pause. She moves her hand over mine, directing me lower, and I half-smile, knowing she wants me to
touch her. I slip underneath the material, my fingers grazing over her folds. Ragged breaths escape from her as I circle her clit and then slowly slide my finger inside. She moans and bites her lip, moving into my touch. She fidgets and then her hand is on my crotch. My breathing halts as she pushes the material down, freeing me, taking hold, palming me; I’m heavy in her hands.
Her hair loose over her shoulders, tickles my chest. Her body moves with the motion as she pumps her hand up and down my shaft so excruciatingly slow. I forget what my fingers were doing and then insert another, hooking it and moving them to match her pace.
Her nipples pebble against my chest and I dip my head, taking turns to suck them into my mouth before nipping them between my teeth.
“Ahh, Char–lie,” she huffs out as her channel begins to constrict, an orgasm hanging in the balance. I speed up, wanting to give her more. And keep up the pace and the circular motion she seems to love so much until she’s coming all over my hand. Her movements up and down my shaft are clumsy, but it only makes me harder. Seeking out her mouth, I kiss her with a renewed purpose, not knowing where she begins and I end.
She rolls onto her back and pulls me with her, my dick still in her grasp. But I am restricted, my boxers only halfway off. I fidget and make quick work of removing them in my half-dazed state as she works on removing hers, too.
And then I’m covering her body with mine.
Her palms cup my arse as she pulls me closer, aligning me perfectly with her entrance—warm, slick, inviting. I enter her until I’m completely immersed. Holding still, I allow myself a moment to revel in the sensation of being balls deep. There’s a new familiarity that is all Sophie, and right in this moment, I feel it to my core as our bodies come together. This is home.
Chapter 11
Charlie
When I wake again, Sophie’s wrapped around me like a security blanket. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so fucking aroused. It takes everything in me not to wake her for round three. She’s sated and peaceful. So, instead, I do the creepy arse thing and watch. Her lids flutter while she’s deep in sleep. The t-shirt’s ridden up to her waist. Her leg slung over me, I can feel her soft, warm centre pressing on my outer thigh. Her hair is fanned over the pillow—a hot mess, unkempt, just been fucked look.
But as I explore her with my eyes, I know what we did wasn’t just fucking. It’s never been like that for me and I know it sounds like a fucking cliché. Maybe at the back of my mind, I thought if we finally did this, it would ease the sexual tension that’s always been there—crackling just beneath the surface.
No, what we have won’t ease with a hook-up or two…not now. I want to see where this can go. I want to take her out on a real date, do shit that couples do.
As exhilarating as this epiphany is, it’s also freaking me the fuck out. There’s so much at risk. I never expected to end up being friends with Soph. Apart from Flick, I don’t tend to have many female friends. Mainly because in the end, they had an underlying ulterior motive—they wanted more.
I stroke my fingers over Sophie’s collar bone and trace the line of her shoulder. The fair hair on her arms rises at my touch, and I lean in and kiss her on the forehead before detangling her gently from me and slipping free.
Grabbing a change of clothes, I rush into the bathroom and make quick work of getting ready. When I return, she’s still sound asleep, so I slip into my boots. I’ll take Nate’s bike and go pick up her car.
It’s still early, but I’m hyper-alert this morning. The warm oranges and reds from the sun rising calms me. And the revelations of what happened and the possibilities of where we go from here.
Sophie
Stretching with a groan, I roll onto my back. I haven’t slept so well in what seems like forever. My heart pauses with the unfamiliar sheets beneath me. My eyes spring open, it all comes back, and I smile until I feel the cold spot next to me and wonder where Charlie is. I sit up and scan the room. Maybe he’s in the bathroom? But I can’t hear any movement. Slowly, I crawl out of bed and tiptoe over to the bathroom door that’s slightly ajar—empty.
I spin back around. What the heck?
Maybe he’s downstairs with Ana and Evie already. I grab my discarded dress and clutch my pumps to my chest. Waking up alone has me uneasy. Why did he even ask me to stay with him if he was going to bail on me at first light?
And I sure as hell don’t make a point of doing sleepovers, not even with the guys I date.
So, why did I say yes? Why did I stay? Because for a brief moment, I thought he was different, that this pull between us was more than just sexual. I broke down in the bathroom last night, thinking he thought I wasn’t clean, but I saw it in his eyes, he spoke the truth when he said that’s not what his concern was about. And I believed him, I still do. So, why did he disappear, leaving me to do the walk of shame down the hallway?
A cough from behind me causes me to stop in my tracks.
“Good morning, Sophie dear.”
I turn back towards Ana and smile awkwardly. I’m dressed in just Charlies top, and I don’t need to see my face to know it’s heated up like a beacon.
“Morning,” I reply.
“I’ll just see you downstairs in a bit,” she says with a knowing glint in her eye.
I nod and make a mad dash for my room. Great! Just bloody perfect.
Inside, I close the door and thump my head against it harder than I intend then curse under my breath for being caught. Could this get any worse?
She’ll no doubt tell Evie and I’ll know that they know. I don’t want to face them, and I sure as hell don’t want to face Charlie. He could have had the decency to wake me so I could at least slip back to my room unnoticed. My stomach quivers and a nauseous wave hits me. I need a shower. I can’t think straight. Stripping out of my clothes, I run the water and make sure it’s as hot as my skin can stand before stepping under the spray.
My breath catches as I’m assaulted with the nightmares from my past.
I never told anyone for a long time that I remember waking up in that room—alone. My body alien to me, I tried to ignore the dirty stench of tobacco while pulling my clothes back on—the ones I never remembered removing. I knew something was wrong. Very wrong. I knew my body, and whatever happened that night wasn’t something I consented to. I don’t know if it’s a burden or a curse that I have no recollection of it. It’s a faceless monster who visits me in my nightmares. Sometimes I have these brief flashbacks—memories or maybe they’re illusions my mind has conjured up. What is real and what is fiction?
And what makes this worse is that Charlie evoked feelings in me…ones I had long forgotten. Every man I’ve chosen to be with since then hasn’t managed to pull them from me; I was numb, emotionally removed. So, why Charlie? Is it because we are friends? Is that why I feel more?
That’s why the blow is harder to take—I trusted him. I handed myself over to him, let go of my inhibitions while he explored my body. He’s the first man to make me orgasm during intercourse, and he’s the only one who managed to make me…feel.
I don’t notice how I’ve been scrubbing at my skin. Not to rid myself of his touch or the memories of his lips on my body but from the overwhelming emptiness of being abandoned. Again.
The water’s cool now. I have no idea how much time has passed, but my shiver and my chicken-like skin tells me it’s been too long. I grab the biggest towel I can find and lose myself beneath the thick cotton as I slump onto the closed toilet lid.
Breathing is getting harder as sobs rack through my body. It hits me full force—Charlie has the power to hurt me. He left before I woke and look at me now, I’m a bloody wreck. He held me last night after he roused me from my sleep, and unable to keep my hands off him, my body sought him out even in the early hours. He worshipped me and I felt cherished. And that’s just from one night with him.
I’m a damn fool.
I pull myself up. With each step, my legs feel heavy, laden. Searching my room, I hunt for my phone.
When I remember it’s in my bag in the kitchen, I grab for my tablet instead. I take a deep breath and switch it on. I know what I need to do.
Chapter 12
Charlie
As much as I enjoyed the thrill on the open back roads and riding the bike, I’m itching to get back to Sophie. I would love to wake her by burying my head between her legs. I locked the bike up and jumped straight into her car. I’m about five minutes out when I spot the golden arches and make a quick detour through the drive-thru.
Just as I’m getting out of the car, one I don’t recognise pulls up in front of the house. I wait to stare, and then Nate’s head pops out, he holds out his hand, and then Flick appears. I stop what I’m doing and leave the cardboard tray on the roof, walking over to greet them.
“Good to see you, man,” I say, pulling Nate in for a hug.
“Same. Where are you just getting back from?” he asks with a smirk.
“Oh, nowhere. I went to pick up Soph’s car. I borrowed your bike, but it's locked in the compound at my bar.”
“No, worries. Soph all right?” he asks, moving around to the boot to help the driver with their luggage.
“Yep,” I reply, popping the p, and take the opportunity to grab Flick into a bear hug.
“Charlie,” she says, her voice muffled.
“Looking good,” I say, pulling back to appraise her. She laughs, slapping my shoulder playfully. I can’t help it, I’m in a good mood, and it would appear happiness is contagious, I think, scooping her into another hug.
Nate sees off the cab driver and just like I knew he would, he pipes up.
“Jeez, Charlie, put my wife down would ya?”
I let her down back to her feet, and he gives me a love punch. I rub my arm. I don’t blame him, not now I understand the feeling, and if it were the other way around—if it was Soph—I’d be the same.