Chapter 4
It wasn’t the rise of the sun that pulled Demi from Charlie’s bed. It was the rise of his conscious. He lifted from the bed and Charlie stirred.
“No, babe, nooo,” she groaned, eyes closed, reaching for him, hands fucking everywhere.
His skin burned, but his heart thundered as she pulled him back.
His fists melted into the bed around her body as he hovered over her.
She rubbed her eyes like a big-ass baby, fists going to work as she yawned and then she looked at him through the dark.
Her eyes in the morning time were magnets of darkness that had gravity on her side.
They pulled him, bringing him from reality back to Charliezonia.
The loose hair that curled around her golden locs were feather soft as he took the darkest side of his finger to her face.
How easily Charlie chased intimacy. He saw it all over her.
Her comfort. Her willingness to indulge in a game of emotional hide and seek with him.
He was hiding. She was it. He was desperate to find home base.
“You were going to leave without saying bye?”
She took his breath from his lungs. Stole his words. He just stared at her. He cleared her locs from her face but paused.
“Touch me, Demi. I don’t like when you think about it but don’t do it,” she whispered.
She put so much conflict in this man’s chest. A man who didn’t think twice about pulling triggers thought twice about his every interaction with her.
He caressed the side of her face and her eyes closed.
“Lower, Demi,” she whispered. His fingers made her squirm as he traced her nose all the way to the tip, then manipulating her lips.
“You the shit, Bird,” he said, tone guttural, almost groaning as she felt his body responding.
“See,” she whispered. “I won’t hurt you.”
The seconds ticked away as he hovered there.
“My chest feels so tender with you,” she admitted. “It’s like you tore everything out and I’m waiting for you to put something back in.”
He broke every single rule when he stole her lips, trapping the pout of her mouth between his teeth and then bullying his tongue inside her mouth.
So much passion existed in their interaction.
It was hard to fathom that 24 hours prior they hadn’t even known one another’s name.
If this was what a one-night stand felt like, he could only imagine a lifetime of her.
Some man would have the pleasure to call her his forever, not Demi, but somebody would.
I’ll kill that nigga, Demi thought, going crazy, overthinking, because he didn’t even know this girl and already, he was possessive. She tasted so damn good.
He was on top of her, and when Charlie reached up to touch his face, she felt him stop breathing.
He tried not to react, but the rigidness of his body was a guilty tell.
Her body felt his send silent alerts to his every extremity, steeling him.
She had never met a man so guarded. It only made her want him more.
“You’re kissing me, Demi,” she whispered, smiling slightly. “And touching me. Like I’m yours. Like I’m you. Half of you.”
“You are,” he answered.
Charlie sucked in air as he kissed her chin and then moved to her neck, onto her breasts.
Her nipples tightened as he wet them, teased them.
It felt so damn good and her sex flooded.
She tensed when he kissed the scar between her breasts.
She had tattooed over it, but it was still visible, and her every insecurity sprouted with him focusing there.
“What happened here?” he whispered, coming up to look her in the eyes.
“I don’t like to talk about it,” she answered.
He frowned. “Whatever happened, it ain’t gon’ happen again.
Everything I love is safe,” he said. Her heart stopped.
How was he doing this? Making her feel this?
Saying shit like this? After only one night.
Demi was promising her something— protection.
An act of service. A confession of love.
Informal and premature, yet still true. He felt it. She did too.
“I’m going to change your whole world, mark my words,” she said, blushing.
“Don’t count on me, Bird,” he said. “Take what you can get from me while you can get it. Whatever it is. Money, opportunity, whatever I’m giving, you rack it up while it lasts, but keep your expectations low.”
“No expectations. Got it,” she replied.
He reached down and parted her, exploring her with his fingers.
“This pussy good, baby,” he said, replacing fingers with dick. The way he pushed into her made Charlie’s back arch off the mattress. Backs weren’t supposed to incline like that, but good dick did it every time.
“Mmmmm,” she moaned. His stroke was deep. Deep as fuck. The loooongestttttt strokes she had ever received and her head craned back every time he hit bottom. He bit her chin.
“You gon’ let me keep this shit, Bird? This my pussy?” Demi groaned as he hit her in circles. Charlie’s hands went to his back and then to his ass, pressing him into her completely. She felt the hardness of him pressing into her clit.
“Fuck!” she screamed.
“Tell me, Bird,” he growled. It was fitting because he was an animal in bed.
“It’s yours, Demi, it’s yours,” she whispered.
“Then cum all over this dick ,Bird. Hmm?” he said, gritting his teeth.
“I ammmmm, Demi, I’m cumminggggg. Wait for me, Demi. I feel it, aghhh!”
Demi murdered her pussy, coming straight up on his knees and gripping her at the crease of her hips, slamming her down onto him.
“Cum. On. This. Fucking. Dick,” he said.
Demi beat it like she stole something. Beat it like a case.
Beat it like a bitch beat her face. Demi knew how to make a woman feel like a woman.
He was on an archeological dig to unearth the history of her sex and Charlie was leaving the evidence of her existence all over him.
He had that pussy creaming. Demi played with her clit like he had seen her play her guitar, strumming her love, mastering her strings, as he admired the juices coating his dick as he went in and out.
“Shit!” she cried.
“You making a mess, Bird. Look at this shit,” he said, biting down on his bottom lip. “Fuckkkkkk.”
Round two was a beautiful tie, conceding to one another, giving into fatigue as he collapsed on the bed beside her.
“You want to shower? I can change the sheets,” she whispered, turning to him as she laid on one shoulder.
“Nah, Bird,” he said, eyes lowering. There wouldn’t be any creeping out before morning. Not tonight. Whatever will he had mustered to leave, she had just stolen.
“But you don’t like it. I touched you,” she said, voice small, exhausted.
“You just gon’ do the shit again, so I might as well keep you on me. I’m tired over here, man. Like fucking exhausted. You make a nigga feel like he ain’t slept in years,” Demi said.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“As soon as I walk through the door it’s like I can’t wait to close my eyes.
You got a real comfortable vibe about you, Bird.
Your house feels like a good place to sleep,” he explained.
He didn’t close both eyes often. Demi was always on point, always anticipating his past in the streets coming back to haunt him.
He never relaxed, except here, for this one night.
He was more relaxed than he had ever been.
He didn’t know if it was because no one knew where he was, or about Charlie, or if there was something special she was doing to make him feel that way, but his guard felt useless in her house.
“So, sleep, babe. If my house brings you peace, you can come here to sleep. Whenever you need to.”
Demi looked at her and lifted one arm, so she could ease beneath him. She was hesitant.
“You sure?” she asked. He was so damn funny acting. So damn picky, particular about where her hands touched before touching him.
“It ain’t the house, Bird. It’s you. I’m sure.”
Demi felt something cold and wet and it stirred him from his sleep. He opened one eye and Bails laid cuddled beneath him, licking his cheek. He damn near fell out the bed, trying to scramble away, knocking over the lamp on her nightstand as he hopped from the bed.
“The fuck, man,” Demi snapped. “Yo, Bird, this fucking dog!”
Bails laid down on the bed staring up at him with those glossy, big eyes.
“Fucking look at me like that, man. We gon’ have to come to an understanding around this motherfucka,” Demi bitched as he took heavy steps toward the bathroom, slamming the door before climbing into her shower.
He practically scrubbed his skin raw as he stood beneath the stream of water. He was pissed, grunting, and growling his complaints as he used damn near a whole bottle of soap to get clean.
“Should have took my ass home,” he mumbled. “Goddamn dog.”
He washed his body until the water ran cold, and when he emerged from the bathroom, he paused, noticing the bed had been made with fresh sheets, Bails was gone, and there was a Macy’s bag on the floor.
The smell of food was in the air and Demi stood there, hair on his chest, bare feet soaking the floor, rubbing his semi-toned abs as Charlie appeared at the door.
“Bails versus Demi. Bails-1, Demi-0?” she asked. “You okay?”
He nodded. “What’s this?” he motioned to the bag.
“You’ve been sleeping all morning. I thought you would want something clean to put on when you woke up.
I know you rock your Gucci and shit. I just ran up to the mall and got you clean drawers and a Nike fit.
So you don’t have to wear last night’s clothes,” she said.
“The mall is a mile away. It’s not a big deal. You hungry?”
Demi rubbed his head. “You bought a nigga an outfit?” he almost laughed wholeheartedly. He had heard something similar in a Beyonce song one time. Had he fucked her that good? To where she wanted to buy him a short set? The thought was sweet. He fucked with it.
He reached down for his pants that laid on the floor and dug in the pockets, pulling out more money. He peeled off what he was sure was way more than what she paid and put it on the nightstand. He went to the sink to wash his hands before reaching for the Macy’s bag.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Of course, and you don’t have to pay me back, Demi,” she said.
“I’m not paying you back. I’m just making sure you straight.
This real cute, Bird. The fucking and clothing and feeding and all that, but you ain’t never got to go through no trouble for me,” he answered as he dressed.
Grey sweatsuit, drawers, socks, t-shirt.
Yeah, he was appreciative as fuck because the hour-long drive to the crib in day-old clothing would have tortured him.
“There’s nothing wrong with letting people make sure you’re straight sometimes, Demi. Taking care of the people I love isn’t trouble,” she said, sitting beside him and handing him a plate.
“Love?” he skipped right over everything else she had said, sitting the plate down on the nightstand.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, lowering her eyes to her plate and picking up her fork to feed him eggs. He didn’t open his mouth.
“I haven’t eaten off the fork yet, boy,” she said, giggling.
He took a bite and nodded. “You’re a liar,” he replied.
“About what?” she frowned.
“You ate off the fork,” he said, grabbing his own plate. “I taste you with my eggs.”
She blushed so damn hard.
“I’ma get used to you. It just takes me a minute. Your touch, your smell, your taste,” he said.
“Glad you’re making plans to do that,” she replied.
“You gon’ have to choose, though. It’s me or the dog,” he snickered.
“Nigga, my dog! The fuck!” she shouted.
He laughed hard at that and took another bite of his food before standing.
“I got to go, but I’ma be back for you. I need a little more of that,” he said, reaching between her thighs and grabbing her pussy like he owned it, playing with her clit through the fabric of her panties.
“A nigga got to earn another short set.”
Her eyes were soft, and her lips pressed together in a smile as he reached for his keys, money clip, and the left-over roll of money.
He picked up his old clothes and folded them, but her heart fluttered when he left them sitting neatly on the end of her bed.
He intended on coming back. She was smiling so big on the inside but playing it as cool as she could.
“Text me your number, Bird,” he said. It was a shame. After doing what they had done, he didn’t even have it.
She nodded and then he left, taking her heart out the door with him.