Chapter 3 #4
Demi was too good at this to be so selfish.
He fucked her against her shower wall, delivering inches of bliss as he split her walls.
Inches. Demi delivered inches, both wide and long.
She felt all his frustration as he hit it.
He pulled out and teased her clit, pulling moans from her soul as she sank her teeth into his shoulder.
“Demi,” she whispered, hanging on tightly, like the ride was moving too fast. He gripped her ass with one hand and her neck with the other, fucking her so good that Charlie wished she was able to run from him.
He was so deep she was gagging on the dick.
She felt him in the depths of her soul until neither of them could take anymore.
“Fuckkk,” he said with bass. “Oh shittt.” He pulled out, leaving her legs too weak to support her as he pressed his forehead to hers.
He was quaking, body literally shivering from the encounter.
He didn’t know if she was made of magic or if he was just completely in over his head, but her touch lingered.
He felt her everywhere. Charlie had pulled an orgasm from him that started at his toes and spread over every inch of him, inside and out, until he had erupted.
Demi had indulged in plenty of women; none had brought him to a nut like this.
“Are you okay?” she asked, voice unsure, small, unusually so because Charlie gave big energy. He could tell he had thrown her off, made her uncertain of how and if she should be handling him.
“Give me a minute,” he said.
Charlie nodded. He was trying to be normal, but she could see the abnormality in him.
This nigga is fucking odd, Charlie thought. She slipped out of the shower, leaving him in the bathroom alone.
Demi’s fist bawled against the tile wall once he was alone.
“Fuck, man,” he spat, gritting his teeth, temple throbbing.
So much conflict swirled in his chest. He had crossed a line.
So many lines, but it was too late to turn back.
He should have never let her get in his car, never discovered where she lived.
This was bad. This was out of fucking control.
He was out of control. He cleaned his body and then located her cleaning supplies and cleaned the shower before stepping out of the bathroom.
Charlie sat on the bed anxiously, dressed in his shirt.
He tensed. It was shit like that. Her opting to wear his shit, leaving invisible Charlie pieces on the fabric. She was going to drive him crazy.
“This was too much?” It was rhetorical because she knew the answer already.
“The dog,” he said. Charlie looked behind her to the dog resting on her bed. Of course, he didn’t like dogs.
“The sheets,” he continued. “They’re the same as last time.”
It hadn’t even been three days.
Oh, this nigga is pyscho.
“It’s little shit, Bird. That will have my mind running for days. The clutter. I just need my life organized,” Demi tried to explain.
He had even cleaned her entire bathroom before emerging. Demi was a man who required order.
“You can’t organize your heart, Demi,” Charlie whispered. “I can do some things to make you comfortable, but I’ma make mess of your heart.”
He nodded, biting into his bottom lip, face destroying in indecision and turmoil. “I know.”
“I can’t not touch you,” Charlie said. “I need to be the exception.”
Demi stood before her with beads of water dripping from his strong body. “I don’t fuck face to face. I ain’t fucked nobody without a condom ever and I don’t put my tongue in wet places. I would say you’re the exception.”
“Can we revisit the tongue in wet places rule?” she asked.
He snickered at that and she blushed. “Com’ere,” she whispered, patting the spot beside her.
He sat beside her, and Demi turned, lifting her left thigh onto the mattress so she could face him.
“Will you stay?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Yeah,” he whispered. He didn’t even hesitate.
He wanted to hop in his car and push 90 in the 70 zone just to put some distance between them, but there was an urge to be in her space.
To smell her. Her locs. To inhale the scent of her hair because the shit smelled like freshly cut flowers and he breathed deep when he was around her.
Her smile was blinding. Worth it. She stood.
“Come on, Bails, Demi don’t like you, baby boy,” she said, pouting as she picked her dog up and put him out the room.
He whimpered on the other side of the door and Charlie laughed.
“You’re fucked up for making me put my best friend out,” she said.
She went to the linen closet and pulled out new sheets.
“My bad, Bird,” he smirked as she pulled off the old sheets. She changed the linens, tossed the water bottles, and sprayed the room down with Lysol before opening the windows. She went to the sink to rewash her hands and forearms and Demi was appreciative because the fucking dog was a real thing.
“I’m clean, you’re clean,” she said as she climbed into the middle of the bed, sitting up on her knees.
Demi walked over to her and Charlie made her way to the edge.
He placed his face in the groove of her neck, kissing her shoulder.
Progress. They were making progress. The shit felt so dirty, but it was the most enticing filth he had ever discovered.
Muddy puddles. Charlie was like the muddy puddles that kids loved to jump in on a rainy day.
Liberating, completely senseless, but the best fucking time.
He would watch those kids when he was younger, having the time of their lives, smiling bright as their laughter infected the warm scented air.
He never joined in the fun until now. Charlie was his muddy puddle.
Charlie climbed beneath the covers and held them up for him. He hesitated but joined her. Demi eased behind her body, wrapping one hand around her waist, spooning her, burying his face in her wet hair.
“You’ve got to breathe, Demi,” she whispered.
“Fucking I can’t,” he whispered back.
She sat up, yawning, and nodded. “Okay.” She scrambled across the bed and reached for her guitar. “Relax.”
“A tornado flew around my room before you came, excusssseee the mess it made, it usually doesn’t rain innnn Sunny Demifornia, much like Charliezonia,” she sang, changing the lyrics, pulling a scoff from Demi as he sat back, both arms folded behind his head and watched her play.
She laid down, cozying underneath his arm as she strummed the strings.
Frank Ocean’s song had become her own and her version was better, at least to Demi.
“My heart won’t get you dirrrty, boy, let’s ball, cuz I’m thinking ‘bout you. Oooo, nahh, nahh, nahhh, I want to touch up on you, oooo, noo, noo, nooo, rub my hands up on you, please, boy, tell me that you will, let me, let me...”
Charlie had changed the entire song and her voice regulated his pulse, slowing it, taking the anxiety out of his mind effortlessly.
“Or do you not think so farrrrr, aheeeeeeadddddddd, cuz I’ve been thinking about forever, with your weird-asssss, yeahhhhhh.”
She felt his chest rumble as he laughed.
Such a deep, throaty sound. It made her heart fill and her lips spread east to west as she tried to contain her own…
Smile. He made her smile. How this man had ended up in her bed was anybody’s guess.
His timing was all off, but somehow, he was filling a hole in her heart.
She stopped singing and just kept playing lazily, her fingers stroking the chords from memory as Demi’s body relaxed.
“Charliezonia, huh?” he asked.
She nodded. “That’s our place. A clean, safe place where we don’t think.
We just exist and do whatever we want with one another,” Charlie explained.
She was playing the guitar effortlessly, not even thinking or looking at the strings.
The impression she was leaving on Demi was one that he wouldn’t be able to erase.
“Sound like it might be my new favorite place,” he said, caressing her thigh gently with the back of his knuckle.
“It’s completely sterile there by the way,” she said, cracking a joke that made his entire face heat in embarrassment. She laughed.
“I’m thinking ‘bout you, do you think about me still? Do you? Do you?” She leaned forward, placing her lips on his, not missing one chord as she forced a kiss.
Demi’s dick stiffened and his skin crawled.
This woman, whom he had just met, confused him.
Body, mind, and soul. She was violating him, ignoring rules, doing what she wanted.
Whatever lived inside her mouth was now inside of his and it was an erotic exchange, unlike anything he had ever felt.
Charlie did this often, strumming the songs of her heart in the middle of the night, but tonight she had an audience, and a good one he was.
She felt the tension be put to rest when he finally fell asleep and she stopped all sound, gently placing the guitar on the side of the bed.
She placed a pillow between them because she wasn’t sure if cuddling under him all night would make him uncomfortable, and before she laid down, she looked at him for a long time, just staring.
He was so rough around every edge, the kind of edge you cut yourself on if you didn’t walk around it just right.
Like the corner of a bedframe. His handsome features had never looked so relaxed.
The permanent dent that normally creased his brow was gone and Charlie felt full on him, full on the uncertainty of them and it both electrified her and terrified her.
She listened to him breathe until hers slowed and her eyes closed.
Peace was rare for them both, but together, somehow, they had found it.
This night, lying under one another, they had discovered it and it felt glorious.