CHAPTER NINE #2
“Dang, do you need to go back in there?” Mike asked but reached for the hand sanitizer.
Alex turned to me, shaking his head ruefully. “Straight men. Animals, man. Animals.”
* * * *
I got a text from Charlotte at one in the morning asking: Is it safe?
Are you safe?! I answered. She’d stayed out far later than I’d expected. Way later than I’d wanted to stay up, but I couldn’t sleep without knowing she was okay.
I didn’t want to interrupt. I’m on my way.
Since it was safe to go to sleep, I headed to the bedroom.
I’d already cleaned up the tissues and supplies left in the media room, but the staff could get empty cans and snacks in the morning.
I tied the top of the opaque trash bag and set it by the door on my way out, hesitating a moment to make sure the motion activated lights turned off.
It would be strange, falling asleep without Charlotte. I brushed my teeth and threw my clothes in the hamper, then got into my bed and found that rather than sprawling across the middle, as I’d always done before, I stayed on my own side automatically.
My side. I loved that we had sides.
Alone in the dark, I couldn’t sleep. I knew Charlotte was on her way home, but I didn’t know how long it would take. What if I nodded off, woke up at some weird hour, and she still wasn’t back? I could feel the panic as keenly as if I were actively experiencing it.
Since I hadn’t gotten a chance to... relax at the circle jerk, I reached under the covers for a quick maintenance tug.
I didn’t look for anything dirty on my phone; this was purely to get to sleep.
Instead, I let my mind wander to the memory of Charlotte in her cute purple undies that I ripped off her.
I would have to replace those. I thought of the way her creamy skin had glowed through the lace, the feeling of her silk stockinged feet rubbing over my aching cock. Fuck, that had felt good.
I pulled her pillow over my face and inhaled her scent with a groan.
“Wow, I was just in the parking garage.”
The lights flared on.
I jumped, practically flinging the pillow across the room. Charlotte stood near the doorway, carrying her shoes and purse in one hand. The other was perched on her hip. “So... whatcha doin’?”
I flung the covers back. There was no need to be coy about it. I’d already been caught. I kept stroking while she watched.
“You didn’t get enough of that at your little party?” she teased.
“I didn’t do anything. I was trying to be a good host.” I gestured toward her. “You’re here now. You could take over.”
“No. I’m fine where I am.” She tossed her stuff onto the floor and crossed her arms. She’d gone out for the night in a strappy black top that stayed barely on the sophisticated side of potentially trashy, and a purple miniskirt that looked painted-on.
I wanted to run my hands up under the cut-outs in the shirt, shove her against the wall, and let that skirt ride up while she slid down onto my cock.
It would be nice to have that kind of strength and balance again, but I wasn’t sure my physical therapist wanted to hear that particular goal.
“Keep going,” she said, nodding toward my hand on my dick.
I swallowed, thought about reprimanding her for giving me orders, then decided she was perfectly welcome to enjoy the show. “That’s right. I remember you liked watching.”
“You make me sound so dirty.” She peeled one shoulder strap down, her gaze never traveling away from my cock.
“You are dirty, princess.” I would fucking explode all over myself in a second if I thought about how dirty.
She drew the other strap down and rolled the tight material to her waist to reveal her magnificent breasts. She’d gone out braless, like the night we’d first met. “Doesn’t my dragon want me to be dirty?”
“Filthy,” I confirmed.
She pulled her skirt up and dragged her flimsy black panties down her legs. “I’ve been wearing these all over town. Do you know what they smell like?”
“I’d like to find out.”
She walked slowly toward the bed, her clothes half-off. But she didn’t walk close enough for me to touch her. She came to the side of the bed, tossed the panties to me, and stepped back, still just watching.
I brought her panties to my nose. They were damp, and I didn’t flatter myself that it was all because of me. “Sweat?”
She blushed, and not in a cute way, but a truly mortified one.
I took a deep, deep sniff and closed my eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. I didn’t say I don’t like it.”
When I opened my eyes again, she leaned against the wall, one leg splayed to the side, her fingers sliding slowly up and down her slit.
“I love the way you smell.” Sweat and lust and the heat of her all combined, exactly the scent she left in my bed, on my body. “I love the way you taste, even more. Come sit on my face. I want to drown in you.”
She pulled her skirt down and hurried over with a little whoop of happiness.
The leap she took launched her onto the bed with both of her knees landing dangerously close to the side of my head before she swung her leg over and settled onto my waiting mouth, her body positioned so that she could still watch my hand on my cock.
“I didn’t realize you were a fucking gymnast,” I mumbled against her, and she shivered.
“You knew I was spry and flexible.” She lifted up in surprise at the first swipe of my tongue over her, then eased back down.
I groaned and buried my face into her hot, slick flesh.
My nose bumped her opening, and I tipped my head back to give my tongue access for a quick taste before I concentrated on her clit.
It wasn’t difficult to split my focus between what my tongue was doing and what my hand was doing; I had plenty of experience jacking off.
Plenty of experience dining out, as well, but not as much expertise when it came directly to Charlotte.
I relished every time I got to go down on her, tried to notice something new every time until I learned everything about her responses.
I knew, for example, that she enjoyed a horseshoe-shaped stroke over the top of her clit, but that direct stimulation of the hard little points beneath the hood was more torture than pleasurable.
The latter was useful information during a play session, but the former was what I was going for now.
She practically purred, and I lost myself in the steady, metronome arc I’d set up.
Lost myself a little too much; while I focused on and savored her grinding her cunt onto my face with increasing urgency, I missed the slight shift of her weight onto my chest. Her hands sliding down.
When she took the head of my cock into her mouth, my hips bucked with surprise. She applied sucking pressure that was truly masterful, while I continued stroking, careful not to accidentally punch her in the face.
That would have ended things quickly, disastrously, and probably, in hindsight, hilariously.
But I wanted to enjoy her, and I wanted her to enjoy this.
Nothing was planned, this wasn’t a momentous occasion where perfect sex was required so as to stave off some kind of anti-climactic—literally and figuratively—disappointment.
At least, it wasn’t, on paper; every time we fucked, it felt… important.
Charlotte didn’t want our entire connection to be sexual.
I didn’t, either, but there was no denying that we were perfect partners in that area, and sex would always be a crucial component for us.
I never wanted to stop being with her like this.
I would never get tired of her, whether we were engaging in a long roleplay session with toys and paddles and ropes or a spur-of-the-moment sixty-nine like the one we were in now.
I would never have enough of her.
She moaned around the head of my cock and her clit drew back as if trying to avoid my touch before her thighs trembled against my cheeks.
The slick, creamy sound of her clutching pussy was the final trigger; my hips jerked up hard, driving my cock to the back of her throat as I pumped spurt after spurt of cum into her mouth.
She gulped down nearly every drop; when she sat up and moved off me, a pearly bead rolled down her chin and she flicked it away with her fingertip.
“There,” she said breathless, grinning at me with her shirt still banding her waist. “Wasn’t that so much better than masturbating?