Chapter 42
CHAPTER 42
AIDEN
There’s a faint buzzing. It cuts through my head like an arrow. A particularly annoying one, even if it’s familiar. I keep my eyes closed and reach for the nightstand. Grip my phone and press down on the button that will shut it the hell off.
I was having such a good dream.
I’m also lying on my back in a bed that’s far too soft. I feel like I’m drowning in it, cocooned like in a hammock, it’s swallowing me whole. There’s also a warm weight draped over me. My left arm is around someone.
Someone .
Charlotte.
Her leg is on top of mine, and I reach down with my free hand to find the crook of her knee. Her head is a weight on my chest, lifting gently with each one of my breaths. I hear the soft wafts of her own exhales.
I look down at the top of Charlotte’s head, and her silky hair spread out over me. She’d fallen asleep first last night. I remember that. Her eyelids shutting, her hand wrapped in mine. I moved her laptop off the bed and then settled beside her with a book.
I hadn’t planned on falling asleep, too.
But I must have… and here she is, clinging to me like I’m her favorite pillow.
She smells good. Draped over me, her body soft in sleep.
And I’m hard.
It’s been a while since I’ve woken up hard. It’s usually not much of a problem. A quick cold shower solved it; or a longer, warmer one and the aid of my right hand.
Now there’s a dull, throbbing weight between my legs, rising up beneath the waistband of my boxer briefs. The zipper of the slacks is uncomfortable.
I’d much, much rather have slept in the same bed as her without our clothes. Under the comforter.
Rubbing circles over her knee, I take a few deep breaths. I need to get back to work. The rumors haven’t died down yet, and I’ve scheduled several interviews today with news outlets. Somehow, I have to be coherent for them.
She mumbles something against my chest. Her hand tightens by my waist, as if I’m a body pillow she’s hugging.
I run a hand down her back. “You’re talking?”
“Mm-hmm.” She nuzzles against my chest, her nose brushing the open V where several of my shirt buttons are undone. “Good.”
I smile. “Good?”
“So… annoying,” she mumbles and then sighs deeply.
I smile. That can only be about one person.
I didn’t know she spoke in her sleep.
My phone rings again. It’s an alarm in the form of Eric, and I reach over to shut it the hell off. It’s a Saturday. But that’s never stopped him or me before.
This time, Charlotte stirs against me. Her arm tightens, and her leg shifts. Her knee brushes over my erection and I bite out a hiss. Fuck, that is not abating.
She blinks at me. Her skin is rosy with sleep, her lips parted. “Aiden?”
“Good morning.”
Her eyes close briefly. “Ugh. It’s too early.”
“Yeah, we didn’t get many hours.”
“Not enough.” She rests her forehead against my chest, and a weak laugh escapes her. “I can’t believe we fell asleep.”
My hand keeps moving in long sweeps over her back. “You were tired.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve… well.” She looks down at my exposed skin rather than my eyes. “Used you as a pillow.”
“Does it seem like it bothers me?” I ask.
She smiles. It’s a small, almost shy expression, so different from the fierce Charlotte who negotiates, and who doesn’t take any crap.
The sight makes my chest tighten.
“No,” she whispers.
I lean my head back against the pillow. Desire still pulses through my body, driven by her presence and my dream. A memory, really.
Her body beneath mine on the couch.
“I like it too much,” I mutter.
“What do you— Oh .” She shifts again, and this time, it’s her forearm that brushes over my stomach and against my erection.
“Ignore it. It’ll pass,” I say tightly.
Charlotte doesn’t do that, of course. Because she is nothing if not curious.
Her hand traces my lower stomach until she brushes over my head. My cock twitches, and I close my eyes.
“Do you wake up hard often?” she asks.
“Sometimes. It doesn’t help when a pretty woman is draped over me.”
“Oh.” There’s a smile in her voice, and her fingers dance lightly along my length. The touch is tantalizingly light and not nearly enough. I grind my teeth together. “Maybe I’ll use this opportunity to ask you some… questions.” On the last word, her hand wraps around my balls, and a hissing breath escapes me.
“Like what?”
“Like… if you give me good answers, I’ll keep going. Stonewall me, and I’ll stop.”
“That’s extortion.” But my hand keeps moving up her back, slowly. I feel her warm skin beneath the fabric of her tank top.
She slides her hand up, flattening it against my stomach. “What was the worst part of the trial?”
I groan. “Talk like that will get me further from the finish line, Chaos.”
But then she moves her hand under the waistband. It takes every ounce of restraint I possess to lie still on my back and let her torture me.
Nimble fingers undo my button and pull down the zipper of my pants. She folds down the two parts, and I hold my breath. Waiting.
Then she takes my cock fully in hand. Skin against skin.
Heat surges through me. But she just holds her hand there, gripping me tight, like the sweetest kind of torment. Fuck.
“Okay,” I grind out. “What I hated the most? The media. Being picked apart every day for some minute expression. Having people place bets on whether I knew about Dad’s fraud or not, based on nothing but what color my fucking shirt was.”
I close my eyes and throw my head back. She’s stroking me now, base to tip, slowly and skillfully.
“That’s good. That’s great, actually.”
I look at her with half-slitted eyes. “I feel like I’m getting my ego stroked.”
“Not the only thing I’m stroking.” She looks glorious—all messy hair and soft sleepy eyes, lit up with excitement at the new game. “Okay. Do you still talk to him?”
I grip the comforter beneath me with both hands. Focus on breathing in. Breathing out. “I have almost no contact with him these days.”
She speeds up, just a little. “Oh?”
“He writes from prison like clockwork. To me, to Mandy, and to my mother. But I haven’t responded to a letter in a long time.” I reach up and pillow my head with my arms. I need a better view. “The last time I did, it was intercepted by someone who leaked it to the press.”
Her mouth opens, and her hand falters. Almost without her realizing it. “What? Really?”
“Yes. I killed the story. Had to pay a hell of a lot of money to do it, too.”
“Shoot. I’m so sorry.”
“Saves me the trouble of needing to have a relationship with him, I suppose. Chaos, your hand.”
“Oh. Right.” She looks down, at where I’m hard and aching, and smiles softly. Her hand speeds up, and her grip tightens.
“It was right before Zion,” I volunteer.
Her movements falter. “When your letter was… intercepted?”
“Yes.” This room is too hot. “I had to… get out of LA for a bit. Clear my head. But I found you instead.”
“I didn’t help?”
“You helped,” I say darkly. “But my head hasn’t been clear since.”
Her other hand reaches below to grip my balls.
“Fuck,” I bite out. They’re sensitive as hell, and here she is, fondling them. A steady electric pulse pounds through me. Every firm stroke of her hand sends a jolt through my limbs.
“Do you miss having a relationship with your dad?”
“This is the weirdest hand job I’ve ever received.”
The grip on my balls tightens, but her hand on my cock stills. I nearly buck into her palm, needing her to keep stroking. Fuck if I’m not turned on like hell.
“I like giving you weird,” she says.
“Uh-huh. Right. It’s complicated.” I look at her hand wrapped around my dick. Long fingers, short nails, no nail polish. I don’t know why I like that. The no-nail-polish thing. But I do. “I’m angry with him. Have been for years. Since before the FBI came to pick him up, to be honest.” My voice comes out between harsh breaths. “He was not a very present father or husband.”
“I’m sorry about that.” Her hand curves over my head on an upturn, and it’s almost painful with how hard I am and how desperately I want even more. Her naked again, beneath me, against me. Her tight, wet heat surrounding me.
“There are moments I miss that I shouldn’t. All of us at the house during the summers. Rare times when he would fire up the grill, and I would help him. Hearing him bark orders on the boat. But those are just moments, I suppose… and not the total sum of a person. So, no. I don’t miss him .”
“He saddled you with an awful lot of things when he did what he did.” Her voice is soft, but her grip isn’t. She rolls my balls in her hand and grips my head tightly, and the only thing I can do is nod. My jaw is clenched while I try not to explode all over her pretty fingers.
“Yes, he did. And he lied throughout all of it. To investors, to the Board members. To me.” I force my head back against the pillow. “Fuck, Chaos, I’m going to come if you keep doing that.”
“I think you’ve earned it. You’ve given me more in the last ten minutes than over the previous weeks.” She starts to lean down, her lips dangerously close to the leaking head of my cock. I know how good it would feel. Her hot lips stretched over me, wet heat?—
But I put my hand on her shoulder. “No.”
Her eyes flick to mine. “What?”
“Our deal. What you do to me, I do to you, remember? And you don’t want me going down on you. So no blow jobs.”
It’s fucking agony to say the words.
But it’s worth it for the widening of her eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Tell me why you don’t like it, and I’ll rescind the rule.”
“No man has ever said no to having his dick sucked.”
“Maybe asshole men who don’t care about reciprocating. But I do.” The pleasure-pain dances through my system so fiercely, it’s difficult to form words.
Her reaction when I wanted to eat her out has haunted me. Seeing her, touching her, fingering her… but not tasting her. She’d stiffened up all over—a fear response if I ever saw one.
I want to find out why she had responded that way… and killing, maiming, or torturing whoever is responsible for it. Because it’s not hard to believe that there’s a man out there who once made her feel a certain way about it.
Charlotte stretches out beside me. Her hands increase their tempo, gripping me so tightly that I momentarily black out. Her mouth comes to rest by my ear. Lips brush the side of my cheek, and I’m so, so close to exploding.
“Why are you allowed to use your mouth on me, while I’m not allowed to do the same, hmm?” I ask. My voice is barely audible.
She turns her face into my shoulder. “I didn’t think you would mind.”
“I’m close.” I touch my lips to her silky hair. It smells floral and sun-warm. “I’ve imagined eating your pussy too many times to count.”
“That’s very unprofessional,” she says.
“Yes. It is. But that’s not why you don’t like the idea of my mouth between your thighs.” I’m breathing too hard. “Someone made you feel bad about it once. Didn’t they?”
Her hand curves over my head, and I groan. “Maybe they did. But going down on your memoirist would be decidedly unprofessional.”
“And jerking off the subject of your memoir isn’t?”
“Maybe neither of us are good at remaining professional.” Her hand squeezes, and that sends me over the edge. Heat erupts through my body and my balls tighten in her hand.
Heavy spurts land on my stomach and my chest, ruining the crumbled button-down. I buck into Charlotte’s hand on the last reflex. The room fades away, the whole world—there’s only pleasure. And her. Her touch. Her eyes.
Afterwards, I press my lips to her head again. “With you, Chaos, it’s the last thing I want to be.”