Chapter 66
CHAPTER 66
CHARLOTTE
Two weeks later
“Aiden.” My voice comes out hoarse.
His hair is dark between my thighs, his tongue moving over my clit. The toy inside me is pulsing with steady, tantalizing vibrations that have my nerves wired high.
He doesn’t stop. I twist my hips and he follows, his lips suctioning around my clit.
My hands are tied to the bedframe using two of his ties.
It had been my idea, my old fantasy, one I’d confessed to him last night.
It didn’t take him long to re-enact it.
“Please,” I whisper. The pleasure is riding me hard and I don’t know if I can come another time. I’ve come twice already and my nerves are shot.
He nudges the vibrator inside of me with his other hand, turning the angle so the sensations hit that spot inside of me.
Liquid heat flows through me and then rises so quickly, it robs me of breath. He flicks his tongue a few times over my clit and I break apart with a shout.
My orgasm is short and intense, spreading like a burst of wildfire. It turns into pain at the end and I use my knees to try to force Aiden’s head up.
He looks up at me, eyes ablaze and mouth smiling. “That was a good one, sweetheart.”
I pant against the bed, my arms still locked above my head. “I can’t do one more.”
“Sure about that?” He blows down gently on my clit, and a shiver runs through me. Without looking, he lowers the vibrations on the toy still inside me.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I’m sure. If you make me come one more time, I think I’ll start crying, and I’ll be a mess for the rest of the day. And I have a meeting to get to.”
Aiden kisses the inside of my thigh, up to the crook where my leg meets my pussy. He takes a deep breath before gently pressing a closed-mouth kiss to my clit.
A whimper escapes me.
“I’ll let you go, sweetheart.” He pulls the toy from me with a soft sound, and I feel abruptly empty. Unfulfilled. I might be done with my orgasms for the day, nerves too frazzled, but I haven’t had him inside me.
He puts the toy aside and smooths his large hands over my thighs. He’s in nothing but his boxer-briefs, his hair still a bit damp from his morning shower. It hangs over his forehead in a much messier hairstyle than his usual one.
He looks so good. Dark hair on his chest, a line disappearing down into his underwear.
He’s hard. I can make out the shape of him, heavy against the fabric.
Aiden looks me over with those eyes that make me feel like the sexiest woman who’s ever lived. I lift my back a little, tits up, and his eyes zero in on my nipples.
“I have a little more time,” I say, “before I need to shower.”
His hands come to rest at my knees. “Oh?”
“Yes.”
His lips curve. “And what do you want, if it’s not to come?”
“I want you to come,” I say, and spread my knees wide in a clear invitation. “Inside me.”
He pushes down his underwear, and I try to slide further down on the bed. My hands are still tied and they’re loose, if I pulled I could get out of them, he had made sure of that. But the tug at my wrist still thrills.
“This was the final puzzle piece, right?” Aiden mutters. He sits on his knees between my legs, and pulls them up so the backs of my thighs are against his chest.
Tie me to the headboard, my legs on either side of your head… bend me double and go to town.
“Yes,” I breathe.
Aiden’s smile flashes, and he lines himself up. The first brush of his head makes me shudder.
“God, you’re wet, sweetheart,” he mutters. “I warmed you up real good.”
I smile at him. “Hurry up, Hartman. I’ve got places to be.”
“Brat,” he says, and kisses the inside of my ankle.
Then he thrusts inside me with a strong push of his hips. I am really wet. He enters me easily, and we both breathe a sigh of relief at the feeling.
He doesn’t let up. Using his weight to push down on my legs, folding me over, and driving into me. He growls while he does it, hoarse groans that shoot fire through me.
“God, I love fucking you,” he mutters. “Best fucking part of my week.”
I turn my hands around, so I can hold on to the headboard. I didn’t think I’d be able to come again, but the way his pelvis is hitting me sends shivers of pleasure through my already too- swollen clit. It’s like faint after-shocks of an orgasm. Delicious and just enough for my system to handle.
I love how much he swears during sex. Love it when he loses himself. As much as I’ve learned to relax during his focus on me, to crave his mouth between my legs, this part is my favorite.
Aiden, eyes near-black and body in a fury, seeking his own release.
“Come inside me,” I tell him.
He groans and his hips stutter. “Fuck, Chaos. Say that again.”
He thrusts deep, and another moan escapes me. “Come inside me. Please.”
Aiden leans forward, and there’s a stretch in my hamstrings when I’m folded double. His face tightens in pain as he thrusts hard. He gives a hoarse half-shout, and then he’s spilling deep inside me.
“I love you,” I tell him when it’s over, when he’s spent and still buried deep inside me. His hair is damp and soapy against my cheek.
He’s let my legs down, and I’ve wrapped them around him.
Aiden chuckles weakly against my neck. “Fuck, I love you so much, Charlotte.”
“I love you more,” I say. “And I know how much you like it when I run my fingers through your hair after you come. I’d love to do that, but you’re gonna have to help me.”
“Shit.” He pushes up on an elbow and easily undoes the ties with his free hand. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“I’m fantastic. Thanks for tying me up.” I use my newfound freedom to rake my fingers over his upper back and through the thickness of his hair. I use my nails, too, and he groans.
Inside me, his cock twitches.
I love these moments. When he’s spent on top of me, both of us are sensitive and slow, and nothing in the world exists outside of this bed.
“I don’t want you to be late,” he mutters between soft kisses along my cheek, “but letting you get out from beneath me might kill me.”
I hold him tighter. “I’ve got time.”
“Mmhmm. I hope I distracted you well enough.”
I kiss him. It’s soft and messy and he’s so warm. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He sighs against my temple, and chest to chest, I feel the pounding of his heart. “It’s going to be all right, sweetheart. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Later that day, I meet Audrey Kingsley at a small café in Westwood. She’s got auburn hair and a wide smile, and she asks if she can give me a hug. Usually, I’d find that sort of thing fake or an over-the-top attempt to win me over, but something about her genuine excitement rubs off on me.
It lessens the nerves roiling inside me like a winter storm.
She asks me what I want to drink and tells me it’s on her. “No strings,” she adds and laughs a little.
I order an iced coffee. “That sounds delicious,” she says and orders the same, but asks for an extra shot of caffeine.
“I’ve got a toddler at home,” she says with a small shrug. “I’m working part time now, trying to juggle both, and I’m always in need of caffeine”
“That sounds hard.”
“It can be, so I’m really enjoying this trip to LA,” she says. “But that also means I’m extra careful about the stories I choose to investigate. I want them to really mean something.”
I look down at my hands, knotted together on the wooden table. “Right. What made you think of… well. Of this topic?”
The waiter arrives with our drinks, and I grab my coffee with grateful hands. Something to do, something to hold.
Audrey takes a sip of hers. “Good question. I mean, it landed on my desk as a tip from the beginning. But I’d been interested in the ethics of reality shows for a long time, especially dating shows. There are different kinds of them, right? The Gamble is definitely one of the…” She looks at me then gives an awkward little shrug. “Sorry.”
“You can say it,” I say dryly. “It’s a trashy one. Alcohol, youngsters, hotness on the beach.”
“Yes,” she admits. “Exactly. With a focus on hookups for short-term gain rather than actually making meaningful connections.”
I nod. It’s easier than I expected, talking about it. To hear her mention The Gamble and know she must have watched my season in preparation for this.
“A lot of them are heavily produced. We’re talking young people, often sensitive situations, unsupervised but constantly filmed—every drop of drama milked.” She shrugs. “It feels like the industry hasn’t been properly investigated. What are the safeguards in place? Especially for young women?”
“So you decided to take the job. When Aiden called you,” I say.
A tiny frown appears on her lips. “He didn’t offer me a job. He suggested I write a story and agreed to provide funding. I did the rest.”
“Right. Of course.”
“Unusual, to be sure. But it’s not the first time a company’s top executive has welcomed scrutiny of his firm. Some have done it to force the change they couldn’t implement because of their Boards.” She gives another shrug, and a smile replaces her slight frown. “I have a feeling, Charlotte, that so much of your story was left untold. It’s there, though, if you look carefully between the frames of the neatly edited season you were on.”
This is everything I never wanted to talk about.
All this time, to be naive felt almost worse than looking crazy. And to be so openly vulnerable, to share what happened and what it meant to me… To admit that I was told and believed that I was going to get vindicated once the show aired. And that while filming, I was egged on and encouraged by producers, and my wineglass always kept full.
But I find myself nodding to the woman across from me.
“There was a lot more that happened than was shown,” I say. “But here’s the thing… I’ve never told my story. And I’m a writer, too.”
Audrey’s eyes light up. “That’s right. I did some searches on your name—you’ve written a lot.”
“I’d like to tell my story,” I say. “But I want to be a part of writing it, too.”
She looks at me for a split second before she extends a hand. “Deal,” she says.
I shake it, feeling better about myself than I have in a long while.
And then I tell her everything.