CHAPTER 13 Charlie
CHAPTER 13
Charlie
R owan’s behind me, and every time I look in the rearview mirror he’s still there. But I keep expecting him to take off.
I don’t want him to, obviously. I don’t want him living anywhere like that shithole apartment ever again.
Even so, I realize that bringing him to live with me isn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. But he’s not going anywhere without me if I have anything to say about it. At least not unless he’s taken care of.
When we get to my place, I pull into the garage, and Rowan continues down the block. I tell myself he wouldn’t follow me all the way here and then ditch me, but my heart rate still picks up, and I jog out to the sidewalk, sighing with relief when I see him parking in an empty space a few houses down. The spot right in front of my house is occupied by a car I don’t recognize—a black Dodge Charger—with someone in it, doing something on his phone. Probably texting or looking up a location. But I don’t like the look of him.
I trot over to Rowan before he gets out of his car. “You can park next to me in the garage,” I call through his window .
For a second, he looks like he’s getting ready to argue. It seems like that’s his default setting, and given what he’s told me about his life so far, I can understand why. He deserves better, though. I’m going to do everything I can to change what he expects from the world.
“Don’t park your car on the street in LA if you don’t have to,” I say. “I’m sure you know that already.”
After a moment, Rowan nods. He starts the car again and turns around, maneuvering into the space next to mine. I like seeing it there. I like the way it says two people are going to be living here. It’s … right.
“Do you want to set up your air mattress in my office?” I ask as we start hauling bags out of the back of the Land Rover.
“Is that where you want me to stay?”
Hell no. All I can think about is Rowan naked.
“I want you in my bed, god help me. I presume you don’t have any objections to that?”
He smiles. “No objections.”
We leave the air mattress in the garage and pile Rowan’s things haphazardly in my bedroom. I like having him in my space. Do I know him? Not really. But being close to him feels right.
And let’s not ignore the desire coursing through me. I keep eyeing him when I think he’s not watching me. His sexy, languid movements. His wild hair and crystal-clear eyes. All those tats. That smart mouth.
I want that mouth on my cock. I keep remembering the way he sounds when he comes—both when we were in the shower and the recording on my phone, which I saved and have listened to more times than I can count. I swallow hard.
“Um,” I say, looking around. “I can clear you a spot in my closet.”
“I don’t need it,” he starts, but I glare at him.
“You do. ”
Rowan looks at me like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t, and I feel like that’s a win. He studies my face. “Really? This is okay?”
I nod. “Yep. More than.” We put his clothes away, and he sets up his books in my office. That’s all he has, practically.
“Want something to drink?” I ask.
He nods and follows me into the kitchen. Before I can do it, Rowan goes to the sink and starts filling two glasses with water. His ass is sticking out delectably as he leans over the counter, and I can’t be certain, but I suspect he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says quickly. Too quickly. He hands me one of the glasses.
“You said you were missing a plant. What plant? Why did you have it in your car?”
For a long moment, he doesn’t answer me, just sips his water. Then he sets it on the counter and faces me, his hands clasped in front of him. “Like I told you, I don’t know who my mom or dad were.” I’m listening, even though this isn’t the way I expected his answer to begin. “I grew up going from home to home. Some were foster homes and some were group homes, but I never really had a place to call mine. And that didn’t change much once I was on my own. For as far back as I can remember, the only constant I ever had was Wilbur. He’s a philodendron. That’s a houseplant with leaves shaped like hearts. Nothing special or rare—you can probably get them at Home Depot or wherever. But he was mine, and now he’s gone.”
That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard , I want to say, but that would be rubbing it in, and even I can refrain from being a dick some of the time. “In summary, Wilbur matters to you.”
“He does.” Rowan’s eyes go to the floor, and he touches his throat. “I had nowhere else to turn today, even though I didn’t want to admit it. Thanks for coming to my rescue. Thank you for letting me stay here. Thanks for?—”
My cheeks heat. “You’re welcome. I want you here. ”
His eyes scan me up and down, and I can’t pull in a full breath when he looks at me like that. “I can’t believe I’m living with the sexiest man I’ve ever seen,” he says.
Yeah, I’ve had enough with keeping my hands off him.
I move forward and capture his mouth in a strong kiss. His response is immediate, opening to me and letting me plunder him.
Rowan turns and pushes me against the counter.
“Fuck,” I groan. “What I want to do to you.”
His hands cradle my face. Mine are behind his neck, holding him as close to me as I can.
“I really missed you the past few days,” Rowan says between kisses.
“I missed you, too.”
Something about Rowan makes it easy for me to be honest. Maybe because he doesn’t have any preconceived notions about me. I don’t have to pretend I’m something I’m not. With him, I can just … be myself.
Rowan rubs against me, and his hand snakes down to the front of my jeans. My cock is rock hard. He grins up into my neck. “Can we fuck?”
I move my head so I can look at him. “Is that how you seduce all the guys?”
Do I want to explore his tight ass? Absolutely. Do I want to make him moan in pleasure? Also yes. I want him writhing under me.
In short, I want to fuck him, his clunky request notwithstanding. Although I suppose it was no more blunt than a lot of conversations at the club.
I assume he wants to bottom, with the way he’s talked, but I need to be sure. It’s been a long time since I’ve topped, but damn, I want to. “Do you want me inside you?”
Please say yes. Please say yes.
Rowan bites his lip and gives me doe eyes.
“I need an answer. ”
He shivers. “Yes.”
“Do you need time to prep?”
“I should be good. I believe in manifesting?—”
“Then come on, baby boy,” I growl. I pick his ass up, and he wraps his arms around my shoulders and his legs around my waist. We kiss the entire way down the hall. When we get to my bedroom, I set him down carefully, then strip off my flannel and my T-shirt.
He’s watching me with interest, but I notice a resolute set to his shoulders.
I cock my head. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” His nostrils flare. “We’re doing this.”
I pause, my hands on my waistband. “I may be an asshole, but I’m no goddamn rapist. We don’t have to have sex, today or at all. I’m not gonna force you.”
“You’re not. Although a secret wish of mine is that you would,” he admits. “Or would pretend to. I mean, it wouldn’t really be forcing me.”
It seems he feels safe sharing his truths with me, too.
“What do you think?” Rowan whispers, trailing a finger up from my belly button, over my abs, between my nipples, all the way to my Adam’s apple. “Do you like the idea of holding me down? Making all the decisions for me? Bending me in half? Shoving your hard cock in me while I try to get away?”
My cock could be made of titanium. “Shit, Rowan.”
He smirks at me. “I like that part of you is bad.”
I drop my pants and stand there in only my boxer briefs, which are tented out over my erection, letting him look for a moment. I’m so hard I’m soaking the fabric. Then I move to him and tug his T-shirt up and off. “Maybe you’re right,” I say.
“Be yourself with me,” he orders, and I again capture his lips with mine.
Against his lips, I pant, “Same.”
Rowan unbuttons his jeans and shoves them off, along with his underwear and socks. He gives me a dazzling smile. And he’s so damn erect. Without hesitation, I drop to my knees, push his foreskin back, and suck his tip into my mouth.
Rowan’s knees wobble, and he whimpers. “Oh, shit. Charlie. That’s … fuck. Yes.”
As I bob up and down on him, he runs his fingers through my hair, then tugs so roughly my eyes water. The bite of pain—I love that. I love how it feels to gag on his cock. It’s disproportionately big, but I can still get most of it down.
My fingers go exploring between his legs, playing with his balls, pressing into his taint. Then I go back farther and circle his entrance with the tip of my finger.
He shivers. “You’re gonna make me … have anticipatory early jizz. I don’t want to come yet.”
I smile around his cock and pull off, chuckling. “‘Anticipatory early jizz.’ Only you, Rowan. Need lube, then,” I say, standing up.
Rowan catches my eyes over his shoulder as he bends, his feet on the floor and his chest on the mattress, putting his perky ass on display for me. I stroke my own cock a few times before going to him.
I fall to my knees and bite each side of that peach. Then I bite the Care Bear tattoo he for some reason has on one ass cheek—Cheer Bear, if I recall correctly. The pink one with a rainbow, because of course.
“Charlie,” he moans. “I need you.”
“Patience.” I slap his ass and watch it bounce before spreading his cheeks and licking down his crack. When I get to his hole, I stop there, focusing attention on it.
He gasps. “Oh, hell.”
I keep at him, loosening his entrance. Before long, though, I can’t take it anymore and grab the lube. I spill some into my hand and slide two fingers into him, but when he jumps and lets out a grunt, I scale it back to one. For all his talk, he’s tight as hell.
Rowan’s wriggling under me and fucking against the mattress. I slap his ass with my other hand. “Stay still. Don’t make yourself come yet.”
“Ugh. Fine. It’s so hard,” he whines.
“I hope you’re damn hard.”
I watch the way his muscles move as I put that second finger back into him. The way his ass clenches around me. I’m aching to fuck him hard, but he needs prep first. I want him to howl in pain—but not too much pain.
I lick his ass cheek as I work another finger into him. I bite where I licked, then move to the other side.
Finally, I think he’s ready. I get to my feet to riffle in a drawer.
“No condoms,” he whimpers.
I stop and stare at him. “What? No.” Except now that he’s said the words, I want that so badly I can’t explain it. Images of my come leaking out of him swirl around my brain.
“Why do you think I sent you my test results? I want your come in me, Charlie.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and adrenaline floods my body. “I never go bare.”
“I’m begging you.”
Is it reckless? Not as reckless as it would’ve been last week, but it doesn’t feel totally safe, either. I’ve known Tristan five years, and we always used a condom.
But. Some primal, possessive instinct is taking over, and I’m not questioning it. I want to fuck him raw.
“Okay, baby,” I whisper, and I return to him, my eyes locked on the tattoo at his nape. I bite it. “ Baby boy .” I run a finger down his spine to that ass I want to own. His chest is on the bed, our feet on the floor.
I dribble lube on my cock and push some of the liquid inside him. He’s as loose as he’s going to get, I think. With my breath catching, I slide my cock against his hole. He’s shorter than me, but he’s up far enough on the bed that we line up. I watch his shoulders, which are braced for impact .
He wants this. I want this. I’ll give him what we both want.
Holding his hips, I press into him, but his body resists, and I pop out. So I try again, pushing my tip inside him, and this time I make it farther. It’s hard work, especially when he’s clenching up. He suppresses a yelp, but it sounds like pain, and I freeze. “Baby. You okay?”
“Ow, ow,” he whimpers into the mattress.
I rub his upper arms and kiss his shoulders, then move my hands down him, trying to soothe him and ignoring how I like hearing him whine. “Want me to stop?”
“No, it’s fine. I just didn’t think it would hurt this much.”
“Does it always hurt you?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he says. And my cock slides in a little more as his body gives way. His blue eyes catch on mine as he looks over his tattooed shoulder.
Shock and concern spike through me. How much am I hurting him? He didn’t tell me …
Wait, he’s a virgin?
I stare down at my hard cock making its way into his body, and some primitive part of my brain takes over.
I don’t know much. But I know for sure that no matter what anyone else says—and “anyone” includes my plans, my conscience, and my logic—Rowan’s mine .