Chapter 10 Ellie
Ellie
When Charles sent me a text out of the blue asking me to join him on this adventure, I thought I was experiencing the most impossible thing ever.
Having the Charles Thornton join me in the shower? I’m still wondering if something so unreal can really happen.
Then the curtain flutters and his thick fingers appear, clutching the thin sheet before revealing an expression on his face that stills my next breath in my chest.
The man I’ve stared at on covers of magazines and watched interviews—the reserved businessman who smiles for cameras—is gone. In his place is a stranger with a predator’s focus.
His gaze doesn’t just land on me; it consumes, stripping away the steam and the distance between us until I feel utterly laid bare. His green eyes, usually so cool and detached, are now dark, the pupils swallowing the irises whole.
They trace a slow, scorching path from my wet hair, over my flushed cheeks, down the slope of my neck, and over my breasts, as if memorizing the shape of me. There’s so much to drink in, but he’s swallowing every drop.
I hardly recognize him, but my body recognizes the heat that floods me under his stare, a liquid fire pooling low in my belly. I’m still trying to accept that this man, this Charles Thornton, thinks I’m beautiful. The thought is so foreign it feels like a dream.
My voice is a shaky attempt at bravery, a whisper that gets lost in the spray before it finds him. “Are you just going to stare, or are you going to join me?”
The spell breaks. That hungry stare leaves my body, his eyes flicking up to meet mine before he steps into the shower.
I don’t get a warning before I get an eyeful of the monster hanging between his thighs. Oh my god.
My breath hitches. He’s thick and gutted, heavy with a promise that makes my knees weak. A mean-looking vein runs its length, a stark, pulsing road map of his arousal.
My mouth actually waters, and my heart hammers against my ribs, so loud, I’m worried he’ll hear it.
The reality of the situation crashes into me. I’m taking up all the hot water. “Here,” I manage, my voice untrustworthy. “Take some.” I take a step back, pressing against the cool tiles. The shock isn’t enough to cool the heat consuming my body.
He steps forward, but he doesn’t stop at the stream of water. He moves with a single-minded intent, closing the distance until his body is flush against mine, the heat of him searing through the warm water.
I don’t have time to prepare, to think, to do anything but feel.
His mouth crashes down on mine. Was this what he was thinking about, too?
The kiss in the bookstore now feels like child’s play compared to what’s currently happening. This is the inferno. This kiss is hot and heavy, a claiming that steals the air from my lungs.
His tongue parts my lips, not asking, but taking, and I surrender to the taste of him. All I can do is moan, enjoying as he takes everything he wants. Somehow, he wants me.
I pull away, gasping, the world spinning. “Is this… is this really happening?”
A low growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating straight through me. “It better fucking be.”
His mouth finds mine again, and this time, I meet his hunger with my own. I suck on his tongue, a bold, experimental move, and the groan it elicits from him is the most rewarding sound I’ve ever heard. He likes that.
My hands slide up his slick, powerful shoulders, feeling the corded muscle bunch under my palms. Every inch of him is hard, his body tense from holding back for what feels like forever.
“Please,” I beg against his lips, my voice ragged. “Charles, touch me.”
I can feel a shiver move through him at the demand in my voice. They hover over my skin, a tremor running through his arms. His fingertips barely graze my hips, and I’m willing to bet it’ll ache so good once he grips them.
“Why?” I whisper, searching his face as I steady my breathing. The hunger is still there, but it’s warring with something else, something vulnerable and deep.
His eyes hold mine, and his throat bobs. “Because I’ve wanted to for so long,” he admits, the confession ripped from him. “I’m afraid if I do, you’ll disappear. That’s how every fantasy ends. You disappear.”
Charles Thornton fantasizes about me. I can’t believe it. He’s been wanting. He’s been dreaming. Just like me.
I don’t answer with words. I reach down and grab his wrist, his skin slick and hot under my grasp. I press his broad, calloused palm firmly against my breast.
His sharp intake of breath is a reward. His next groan is pure torture.
“Start here,” I tell him, my voice gaining strength, “then move to what feels right.”
For a heartbeat, he just holds his hand there. Then his fingers move. His thumb finds my nipple, circling it once, twice, a slow torture that makes me whimper. Then he pinches.
A groan rolls through him before he compliments how my soft body is. One rougher squeeze as me arching against the shower wall, and now I can’t tell if I want his hands to explore, or discover what his tongue feels like on my body.
I’m not a greedy kind of person, but with this man, I want to be.
I don’t have to drag him toward me. He comes back to my mouth on a groan of his own, his kiss more frantic now, fueled by the line we’ve crossed. His other hand joins the first, his touch becoming bolder, mapping the curve of my waist, the swell of my hip.
All the while, his cock grinds against my lower stomach, that thick, veined length a relentless pressure. The friction is maddening, a delicious tease of what could come.
He steps even closer, if that’s possible, eliminating the last sliver of space between us until I can feel every hard, demanding inch of him.
I want to touch him back.
His entire frame rumbles as my nails scratch the back of his hair. Pulling him back, my teeth graze against his jaw.
“Be honest with me, Charles.” Kissing closer to his ear, we both groan in unison as his hips jerk. “I bet you’re used to being surrounded by women. This can’t be anything special.”
I need him to confirm my suspicions so I don’t start falling into a hole I won’t be able to claw my way out of. Once I’m too deep, I’ll be ready to offer my heart, only to have it be forgotten and used.
Sliding his hand from my hip to my ass, a whimper slips out when he squeezes me hard from behind. Pulling back to get a look at him, I don’t expect to see a frown on his lips.
“Ellie…” Another squeeze brings another whimper. “This is everything.”
Having a hard time believing that could be the truth, there’s no denying the passion behind his voice.
“I’m not that kind of man, if you can believe it.” Grumpily, his nose scrunches. “I don’t fool around.”
The longer I spend with him, the more I realize that he really isn’t the man I thought he would be. All the money, the power? It didn’t corrupt him in the slightest. He’s still the same Charles I remember. Just older and sexier.
I want him. It’s dangerous what I’m willing to risk by allowing my heart to lead, but I’m doing it. I’m not going to keep holding myself back because I’m afraid of how the future will turn out.
What happens, happens.
A hiss leaves his lips when I flatten my hands against his chest and drag my nails down his entire front.
He’s got a trail of dark hair that starts at his navel leading lower, lower, all the way until I reach my destination.
He must really like my nails. Or, maybe he just likes my touch alone.
Either way, his cock jerks as I reach the base.
“Fuck, Ellie.” He grits his jaw, trying to keep his composure intact. “Let me touch you. You don’t have to—”
“This is my fantasy.” Confessing the truth, I sink my teeth into the inside of my cheek, trying to contain my composure. Hard to do when I’m about to have my high school crush’s cock weighing down my palm. “I’ve pictured it so many times. Putting your pleasure first…”
My fingers, slick from water, finally close around him. Both hands. I have to use both hands.
He’s immense. Thick and heavy, a solid, searing heat in my palms. The skin is like silk over stone.
A choked, ragged breath is torn from his chest the moment I make contact. It’s not a moan, not yet. It’s the sound of a man hitting his limit. His head falls forward in defeat, his eyes squeezing shut. His hips give an involuntary jerk, pushing himself deeper into my encircling grip.
“God, Ellie,” he gasps, the words strangled.
I begin to move, one hand stroking that impossible length from root to tip, my thumb swiping over the leaking slit. The other hand cups the tight, heavy sac beneath, cradling him. A low, continuous moan rumbles in his throat, a hungry sound that’s making my own body wake up.
I have to be careful. This isn’t the place to get wound up. I can’t just have him take me here in the very public bathroom.
“Shhh,” I whisper, my lips close to his ear. My voice is barely a breath, competing with the drumming water. “You have to be quiet. The other guests…”
He groans a sound of protest, and his eyes snap open.
The desire in them is wild, untamed. In one swift movement, his hand comes up to cradle the back of my head, and he crashes his mouth to mine.
It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s a desperate attempt to swallow the noises I’m pulling from him.
I kiss him back with equal fervor, my hands never stopping their rhythm on his burning skin.
I can feel his pulse racing, his hips thrusting. If he doesn’t have women throwing themselves on him, how long has it been since a woman has last touched him? While I don’t like thinking about others, I like thinking I could be doing more to him than they ever could.
This man, this very controlled man, is melting against me, loving my touch. The noises mixing with our shared breath are more than enough proof of that.
He breaks the kiss with a gasp, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His panting breaths are hot against my wet skin, his big body trembling. “Ellie,” he rasps, his voice shaky.
The water streams over his shoulders, down the hard planes of his back. Delirious with the high this brings in. I lean in, my lips brushing his ear as my hand continues to stroke him, a little faster, a little tighter.
“It would feel so good,” I whisper, letting my arousal seep through, “to have you inside. I don’t even know if you could fit.”
His nostrils flare, his eyes pinching shut like he’s trying to imagine it for himself.
I could tease him a little by pressing the entire length against my stomach so we can both see how deep he’ll reach if he throws caution to the wind and just takes me.
A shiver wracks through me despite the air feeling thick with steam. One last jerk leaves his body before every muscle locks up.
A guttural moan is torn from him, one he stifles by pressing his open mouth against my shoulder. Liquid heat hits my stomach. My eyes fly wide, and I watch, mesmerized, as his release paints my skin in stark, pearlescent streaks against the water-beaded flush.
For a few heartbeats, I just watch it happen, my hand milking him through the powerful, shuddering pulses, watching his essence slide in thick rivulets down my body, only to be washed away by the relentless flow of the shower.
When the last tremor subsides and he sags against my body, his spent, I finally still my hands.
He’s breathing heavily, his chest heaving. He opens his eyes, and his gaze is intense as it searches mine. A wicked smile touches his lips.
“You,” he pants, his voice rough with both awe and satisfaction, “are not the same bashful, shy girl I remember.” He leans in, his nose skimming my cheek, his breath hot in my ear. “You’re so much better. Now I’m going to return the favor,” he vows. “Soon.”
Oh. I like the sound of soon.
I like it a lot.