Chapter 19 - Charlie
S tupid small towns and their stupid trusting of each other, and leaving stupid keys out under their stupid door mats. Why the fuck did I leave an emergency key out?
Wait ... did I?
Practically yelling at the loser on the floor, “Not today creep, you picked on the wrong girl.”
I take a little satisfaction in hearing him struggle to breathe. I know I haven't done any major damage to his oesophagus but if I need to do it again, I will.
Trying hard to control my breathing and rational thinking, I can feel my adrenaline pumping and I'm grateful that this asshole was so loud trying to break into my apartment that I was ready for him when he got the door open.
I was crashed out on the couch and I don't know if I would have woken up if he wasn't so loud.
I'm exhausted.
The last 24-hours has caught up with me, or maybe it's the last few months of this push and pull with Porter, on top of managing Dante and looking after Mila. It was freezing when I came in, the fire dead cold after no one was here to stoke it.
Lighting it quickly, I put the load of laundry I needed to do on. I was one pair of knickers away from my emergency granny panties and the last thing I need is Porter catching sight of them when we’re entering the sexy part of getting together.
I give the guy on the floor a small kick in the ribs with my foot. Not enough to break anything but just enough to keep him on the ground a little longer while I turn on the light switch.
“Stay down or I'll pepper spray you again, asshole,” I yell, trying not to cough with all the residual spray in the air. My eyes are already irritated from being in an enclosed space with it, and my nose is starting to run.
Never turning my back to the person, I slowly take small steps away from him toward the wall switch. Gasping when I finally get to it and turn it on. Lighting up the small space and revealing my supposed intruder.
Porter.
“Oh my gods, Porter!”
Running to the large windows I slide them open as fast as possible, letting the cold winds in and taking the tarnished air out.
“Porter, I'm so sorry. I thought you were a bad guy trying to get me.”
I continue to try and explain myself, darting to the kitchen sink and soaking a tea towel in warm water. He's on his hands and knees, resting his head on the floor, trying to control his breathing.
“Sit up, I need to wipe some of this away and then I’ll tak— oh fuck. That's a lot of mucus. You need to stand up, we have to get you in the shower. Why the fuck didn’t you just knock on the door like a normal person.” I say, guiding him into my small bathroom and unzipping his jacket.
“I did,” he rasps out. His breathing is still very stilted and he has to be in a bit of pain considering I got a few unnecessary jabs in there.
Turning on the shower, I remove the rest of his clothing, his breathing evening out a little more. His inflamed eyes are shut and his fists are clenched, resisting the urge to rub them.
Swiftly, I undress, knowing I'm going to have to do more laundry as all of our clothes are now covered in pepper spray, then guide him into the shower.
“Here turn this way. Put your face right under the water and try not to rub it,” I soothe, gently tilting his head so it's in the perfect place.
His hands move to my waist, keeping me with him as his breathing slows and his face relaxes. Taking a moment to explore my body, his hands wander across all the parts he can touch without moving his face from the water stream, until one eases up and holds my throat. I rest my head against his chest, close my eyes and just enjoy this closeness, completely ignoring how we got here. There's something comforting when he does this, and I'm not sure if this is just a part of who he is or a way for him to pull me closer. It never feels threatening or controlling which I would expect it to be. It's almost tender, the way his hand gently takes my throat and the firmness of his fingers only help to make me feel secure in what we’re doing.
Secure in us.
“I fell asleep on the couch. I've been a little tired lately, I was just enjoying the heat of the fire and fell asleep. I'm sorry if you worried,” I practically whisper.
I choose not to look at him when I say this. I don't want to see the anger in his eyes or disappointment. He still won’t let me into his secrets so I understand that this could trigger him. I said I was going to message and I didn’t so I need to at least own my part in all of this.
“No,” he sputters out, coughing aggressively for a moment. Taking my face he tilts my head up, the whites of his eyes so red he looks like a demon with the contrast to his dark irises. “You don't have to apologise for this. I want you to fight back no matter what, I need you to fight back. Every time Charlie, no matter what happens, you fight back, okay?”
His voice is so raw and husky, and I can't help but wince knowing I'm the one who hurt him. I gently rub his side, a deep purple hue appearing from where I kicked him.
“I’m sorry for this,” I say, my fingers skimming over the bruise. “And for this,” as I reach up and rub my hands gently across his face, stretching up onto my tiptoes to run my fingers across his skull.
“I’m proud of you, baby.” He says, pressing his lips to the top of my head, whispering, “I love getting my ass handed to me by you.”
Shutting his red swollen eyes, his face softens to my touch as I firmly rub his head and neck. Leaning over, he lifts me from under my thighs and I wrap my legs around his waist. I can feel his hard length between us and I reach down and put him at my entrance before he pushes inside, both of us letting out a low groan. “It feels better this way. I just need to be a little closer to you right now. It's been a big 24 hours,” I whisper.
“Promise me. You'll always fight back like tonight, no matter the situation. You won't stop fighting,” he growls.
“I promise,” I say, searching his eyes for where this raw honesty has come from. “Do you want to tell me about it?” I can't help but ask. I need to know a little more about his past but I also don't want to force him. He's clearly gone through something and even though I'm not bothered by the likelihood of him being this big mafia man, I still want to know how to navigate everything.
“Who taught you how to fight?” he murmurs, still holding me tightly as the hot water runs over us.
Okay, I guess we’re not talking about his stuff then. I can play the long game when I need to. He won't be able to avoid this conversation forever. Eventually, I'm going to need to know.
“As much as I love them, I don't really want to be thinking about my dad and brothers when your balls deep in me, so can we save talking about my overprotective family until another day?” I sass, slightly frustrated at him changing the topic but not willing to let him go either. “Stay here with me tonight? I’ll have to wash our clothes to get rid of any extra pepper spray, plus I don't want to go back out tonight.”
“Did you forget already? We stay together every night moye spaseniye [4] . This is happening, Charlie. There is no other world in which we part,” he says, softly kissing my lips. Deepening it as he pushes me against the shower wall.
“What does that mean? You’ve said it a few times ... tell me,” I moan, as he slowly eases in and out of me. My body already adjusted to his hard cock.
For the several minutes we talked, we were one whole person, connected, and not fractured parts being held together. I can feel him smile as he continues to kiss me, never once stopping his assault on my senses.
“It means you’re my everything.”