One Golden Summer(87)

Charlie sets me down on the edge of the sink, stepping between my thighs. I reach up, pulling his face to me, taking his bottom lip between my teeth, hard enough that he hisses and then tugs my hips against him, letting me know how much he wants this.

“Don’t you dare hold back,” I say.

He groans. The word trouble vibrates in his chest.

I feel his fingers working at my bun, and then my hair falls over my shoulders. I reach for the fly of his pants as he slips the straps of my dress off my shoulder, the material puddling at my waist, leaving my breasts exposed.

“Fuck, Alice.”

I don’t know if he’s swearing because I didn’t wear a bra today, or because I have my hand around him. His fingers tease my nipple, a firm, rolling grip that has me tilting my head back. Charlie’s tongue finds the opposite breast, flicking in a way that has my legs squirming. We both moan as he pinches and sucks. My heel connects with something on the shelf below, and it crashes to the ground.

He pushes my dress up my legs, presses his thumb against the already damp fabric of my underwear, and I buck again, then hurry to push his jeans fully down his hips. “Now,” I tell him. “I want you now.”

We’ve already had the talk. He’s clear; I’m clear. Birth control? Check.

I lift my hips to pull down my panties, but Charlie rips them off.

I blink in shock, then laugh. “Always so dramatic.”

He grins as he pulls off his shirt, and the look is mischievous and sexy and wholly Charlie. The sight of his absurd body, how impressively large everything is, in the red light of a darkroom, is so filthy I’d laugh if I weren’t about to combust.

“You’re so hot,” I tell him.

His gaze travels over my body slowly, and he grips himself with his fist. He strokes himself as he presses a finger inside me, and then another. “So ready.”

“You have no idea,” I say, repeating his words back to him.

He moves his fingers, slowly, torturously, in and out. His eyes are locked on mine.

“Please,” I say. “Charlie.”

His grin is wicked, a promise of things to come. “Say it again,” he grinds out, taking my hips in his hands, pulling me so that he’s right there.

“Charlie,” I say as he pushes inside.

I gasp at the size of him, and he stills, eyes searching mine. “You okay?”

I nod. “Everything,” I tell him. “Please.”

He slowly presses, giving me time to adjust. But I don’t want time. I don’t want to adjust. I want him, and I want him now. I wrap my legs around the backs of his thighs, trying to pull him into me. “All of you,” I tell him. “Hurry.”

He kisses me, hard, then he lifts me, and with one strong thrust, he’s there. I gasp his name.

“Don’t stop,” I say. I try to rotate my hips, but his grip is too strong. He holds me in place.

“I need a second, Alice,” he grits out, forehead on mine. “You feel too good.”

He inhales through his nose, and then his eyes find mine. A tremor runs through me at what I see there. He presses his lips to my scar and then to my lips. It’s the sweetest of kisses. My back meets the cool brick of the wall. His smile is quick, and then he’s moving with strong, unrelenting thrusts that steal my breath. I begin to squeeze my eyes shut, but I hear Charlie say, “Stay with me.”

“Too good,” I manage to say. Charlie is hitting me in the exact right spot, and everything inside me is coiling tight.

“Not yet,” Charlie says. “I’m not even close to being done with you.”

He gathers me up and drops onto a rolling stool. His mouth closes around one of my nipples, his hips still. My legs are spread over him, but my feet don’t reach the floor. There’s nothing for me to use as leverage. I’m at his mercy.

Charlie hums against my skin, his tongue finding the tightened flesh. His hand comes between us, and the feeling of his lips and his fingers is almost too much—and then his hips begin to rock. My thighs start shaking, and Charlie eases off. I growl.

“Stop showing off,” I pant the third time he brings me to the edge. I can feel my pulse all over my body, hypersensitive.

He gives me a half smile, his bottom lip held between his teeth, and grinds out, “This is nothing.”

I roll my eyes, and he nips at my earlobe. “Wait till I get you in a bed,” he growls against my neck, and a thrill runs through me.

“Tonight,” I say.

He nods. “Tonight.”

He positions me so I can sink on top of him, my knees around his thighs. Like this, I can move. Being on top has always made me feel vulnerable, nervous, like I might do something wrong. I circle my hips once, tentatively. I look between us, feeling awkward, and then back to Charlie. I don’t have to say anything. One hand curves around my waist to guide me. Still, Charlie lets me take the lead, feel what works for me. He stares up at me, murmuring praises, saying my name, and any trace of self-consciousness vanishes. I can be myself with Charlie. Even like this, he only wants me as I am.

I can tell he’s struggling to keep his eyes open, to keep himself from taking over. His fingers are between my legs, urging me closer. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth again, tendons in his neck straining, and the sight of this man coming undone beneath me is intoxicating. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this powerful.