Chapter 16
Charlie
I’ve never been more aware of my own body than I am right now.
Every nerve ending is awake. Every inch of skin feels hypersensitive, like I’ve been wrapped in electricity and told to hold still. The silk of the teddy whispers against my thighs as I crawl onto the bed, and even that small friction makes me shiver.
Behind me, I hear Taio’s footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. The sound of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing and is in no rush to do it.
I arrange myself against the pillows the way he instructed—on my back, legs slightly parted, hands resting uncertainly at my sides. I feel ridiculous. Exposed. Like I’m posing for a photograph I didn’t consent to.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Taio says from somewhere near the foot of the bed. “I can hear it from here.”
“I can’t help it. My brain doesn’t have an off switch.”
“It does. I’ll show you.” I look up to see his sly smile and my stomach swoops in anticipation.
The mattress dips as he climbs onto the bed. I resist the urge to squeeze my eyes shut like a kid waiting for a shot at the doctor’s office. Instead, I force myself to watch him—shirtless now, all that warm tan skin and defined muscle moving toward me with predatory grace.
He’s beautiful. Objectively, scientifically, undeniably beautiful. And he’s looking at me like I’m something to revere. Something worth taking his time with.
“Hey.” He settles between my legs, his hands coming to rest on my knees. The touch is gentle, grounding. “Look at me.”
I meet his eyes.
“You trust me?”
I nod.
“You want me?” he asks in a sex-drenched drawl.
I nod again.
His expression shifts—it softens, deepens. His thumbs trace small circles on my inner knees, and even that innocent touch sends heat spiraling through my core.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Now close your eyes.”
I obey. The world goes dark, and suddenly everything else amplifies—the whisper of the air-conditioning, the distant cry of seagulls outside, the sound of my own breathing, shallow and uneven.
His hands slide up my thighs. Slowly. So slowly it’s torturous. Fingertips tracing paths along my skin like he’s mapping territory, memorizing every curve and hollow. When he reaches the edge of my underwear, he pauses.
“Still good?”
“Mm-hmm.” It comes out strangled.
He unsnaps the teddy, exposing my underwear.
I don’t think you’re supposed to wear this outfit with anything underneath.
It was sent to me by some up-and-coming lingerie brand looking for celebrity ambassadors.
But no one from my marketing team thought it was a good idea to get in bed with something so risqué.
Now, here I am, riskier than ever, putting the merchandise to good use.
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties. The fabric slides down my hips, over my thighs, past my knees. The cool air hits skin that’s never been exposed to anyone like this, and I have to fight the instinct to clamp my legs together.
“Breathe,” Taio reminds me, and I exhale shakily. He’s right—I’d been holding it without realizing, my whole body locked up with anticipation. “That’s it.” His voice is low, warm, reassuring. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”
His hands return to my thighs, easing them apart with gentle pressure. I let him guide me, let myself be opened, and try not to think about how vulnerable I feel. How seen.
For a long moment, nothing happens. He’s just…looking. I can feel the weight of his gaze between my legs, and my face flames with embarrassment.
“Taio—”
“Shh.” His breath ghosts across my clit, and I nearly buck off the mattress. “You’re so beautiful, Charlie. I can’t wait to taste you.”
Before I can argue or deflect or make some self-deprecating joke to cut the tension, or tease him to hurry up, his mouth is on me.
Oh.
Oh.
His tongue is soft, exploratory, the first brush more a question than a demand. I tense, because of course I do, and in response he hums, the vibration so light it makes my hips jerk in surprise. Embarrassment wars with pleasure, but the pleasure is winning, and he hasn’t even really started.
Taio takes his time. Every lick, every kiss, is deliberate, reverent.
He’s not showing off or teasing me. It’s like he’s tuning an instrument, learning what makes the strings inside me shiver.
He laps at me in slow, shallow sweeps, then presses his mouth down, sealing me in darkness and heat.
The sensation is nothing like I expected—maddening and tender and somehow more intimate than I ever imagined sex to be.
My hands fist the sheets, nails digging tight enough to leave crescent moons in the fabric.
I can’t help it. My hips want to move but I’m paralyzed by how good it feels and how much I don’t want to mess this up, to let myself be bad at receiving pleasure in front of him.
I should be making noise, saying his name, maybe arching my back like every woman does in every movie ever, but I’m caught somewhere between wanting to disappear and wanting to let him see every inch of me unravel.
He pauses, just for a second, and lifts his head. I risk opening my eyes.
“Still okay?” he asks, voice thick and impossibly gentle.
I nod, then realize maybe he can’t see me, so I make myself say, “Yes. Um, thank you.”
He grins, and there’s a little smear of my wetness glistening on the corner of his mouth.
The sight of my arousal on his lips should make me want to die, but it doesn’t—it makes my clit throb harder.
He looks so satisfied, so proud, like he’s just tasted paradise.
Then he dives back between my thighs, his tongue delving deeper this time, his strong hands spreading me open so he can taste every slick fold.
I feel the hot, firm pressure of his tongue circling my entrance before pushing inside me, fucking me with slow, deliberate strokes that make my inner walls clench desperately around nothing, silently begging to be filled.
I let out a sound, a weird half sob, half plea, and Taio groans in response, the vibration sending another bolt of sensation through me. “Oh, good girl, you’re already singing for me.”
He’s paying attention, adjusting his rhythm, finding the edge where the pleasure turns sharp.
He keeps me right there, hovering, holding me open and wet and desperate, until I’m not thinking about anything except the hot, slick way his mouth moves and the way his hand fits against my thigh, grounding me so I don’t float away.
I dig my fingers into the sheets. I want to say his name, but I can’t remember how talking works. The world is a tunnel and the only thing at the other end is Taio, and Taio’s mouth, and Taio’s hands bracketing my hips like handles on a carnival ride.
Somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, his rhythm changes.
He finds a pattern—a pulse and flick that feels mathematical at first, but then he throws in a syncopation just to keep me off-balance.
There’s a pressure building inside me, every muscle banding tighter, a high-pitched note winding in my chest.
All I can do is gasp, fists knotted in the blanket, thighs trembling around his shoulders.
“Taio—” I try, but it comes out a whimper.
It’s ridiculous—he’s barely even started and already I’m right there, teetering on the edge like a cartoon character about to look down and realize there’s nothing but air.
I bite my lip, afraid of the noises clawing up my throat, but he just keeps going, relentless, gentle, the tip of his tongue circling my clit like he’s drawing a map of my undoing.
The tension builds and builds, everywhere at once: behind my knees, up my neck, in the soles of my feet.
I’m going to come, I think. I’m really going to—
And then he stops.
I make an inhuman sound. Not broken, exactly, but not whole, either. I open my eyes just in time to see him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, a wicked gleam in his gaze.
“Not yet,” he says, voice rough with authority and amusement.
I want to argue, but I can barely form words. Instead, I pout, and he laughs—a low, satisfied rumble that pulses into my bones.
He flips me over like it’s nothing, rolling me onto my stomach with hands both gentle and firm.
I gasp, the shock of movement making me hyperaware of every inch of my body.
All the places still tingling, all the places suddenly exposed.
The silk teddy is bunched up around my ribs, my ass in the air, the backs of my thighs trembling.
“Keep your legs together,” he instructs, and I do, feeling awkward and animalistic and so, so open.
He kneels behind me, large hands sliding up the insides of my legs. His thumbs spread me apart, exposing everything, and I almost choke on my own nerves. Then his mouth is between my cheeks, tongue darting between the tight lines of my body, and I lose whatever composure I had left.
He licks me from behind, slow and deliberate, sometimes flattening his tongue and sometimes flicking, sometimes just breathing me in.
He eats my pussy like it’s the only thing he’ll ever taste again, and the new angle makes everything sharper, more desperate.
My hands claw the sheets, my forehead pressed into the mattress, and I don’t even bother to muffle the noises now.
I’m crying his name, begging, and it doesn’t matter.
Nothing matters except the relentless, exquisite sensation of being devoured.
He slides a finger into me while he works my clit with his tongue, and I come apart, body going rigid and then melting, a hot flood of pleasure crashing through me so hard it makes my vision blur.
I convulse, sob, and Taio keeps going, licking me through it, holding my hips so I can’t squirm away from the overwhelming feeling.