Chapter 19 Charm
CHARM
KAT
We make it back to Bronwin Home, as planned, but barely. I couldn't help but lean over on the way home and rub his cock over his jeans. It was extra fun seeing him try to focus on the road when I started rubbing my pussy over my clothes as well.
But when the car made a bit of a dangerous swerve onto the shoulder, I had stopped misbehaving and kept my hands to myself for the remainder of the drive.
Walking into Bronwin Home, I breathe in the scent of leather and cedar. Something spicier, like chicory coffee maybe, emanates from the quaint vintage kitchen. Antique blue pots and dishes adorn the space there, and it feels so cozy. Safe.
I set my overnight bag down on one of the plush leather chairs. Zayn offers me white wine, tea, and food. He has a leftover Cassoulet and some crusty sourdough bread waiting in the small retro fridge. I accept the tea as he reheats our food and sets the table.
Sipping my herbal tea, I realize that I no longer feel the desire to numb at nighttime with wine. Huh. When had that happened?
We sit at the circular table and enjoy our food.
We talk about our teen years and our twenties, and I learn more about Zayn’s time in the Corps working in cybersecurity and advanced anti-terrorism.
We share our favorite and least favorite authors and books.
I tell him a little about Rae and share some stories about growing up with her and visiting Pearson House over the summer.
When I ask him more about his childhood, he shifts in his seat.
“What was your mom like?” I ask.
“Oh, she was beautiful. Kind. Nurturing.”
“And your dad?”
His mouth hardens to a flat line.
“Well… he drank a lot,” he says finally.
I nod, encouragingly. “He served, too, right? Did he see combat?”
“Yes,” he answers, “and it… fucked him all up.”
“PTSD,” I reply softly. And he nods.
Without thinking, my hand darts out and covers his.
I tenderly move my thumb over his knuckles.
His gaze meets mine. His eyes reflect a history of pain—both old and new.
But in front of the wounds is a barrier, a veil.
I can perceive it but not yet touch it. He’s not ready to share more. At least not yet. And I don’t push it.
I rise and grab our dishes and flatware to bring them to the sink. After I’ve cleared our plates, Zayn captures my wrist and pulls me onto his lap.
“Leave the dishes. I have something for you,” he says, as he moves my long side plait over my shoulder.
“Oh, do you?” I ask, a coy smile playing across my lips.
“Mhmm,” he nods, pulling me more firmly onto the center of his lap.
He digs a hand into his jeans pocket and pulls out a small, dark blue velvet box. It looks like a jewelry box. I hesitate for a moment as I peer down and then back up to Zayn.
“I want you to have it, to wear it,” he says.
My breath hitches in my chest. It can’t be… can it?
For one wild second, I fight the urge to rise from his lap and bolt out the door. Just be brave, Kat. Open it. Tentatively, I reach down and lift the lid.
A dainty gold charm sits on a satin pillow inside the box. It almost looks like a miniature dog tag. In the very center of the square lies a minute ruby. The candlelight on the table catches on the ruby, glistening a deep scarlet as I tilt the box back and forth.
My chest expands on a relieved exhale, and my eyes flash up to Zayn.
“It’s beautiful!” I exclaim, “thank you.”
“Allow me,” Zayn says, and he removes the delicate charm from its spot in the box. Grasping my wrist, he tenderly secures the clasp onto my chain.
I’d worn this gold bracelet ever since my tenth birthday. A gift from my father. The charms had all changed over the years, but the bracelet never left my wrist. It felt significant to be carrying something from Zayn on it now.
And he knows that, I think.
I lift my hand to cup Zayn’s jaw, and smile.
“Thank you,” I say again.
“You’re welcome, Doc. Please, don’t take it off.”
I smile again, almost laughing with relief and happiness at the perfection of this moment.
“I won’t,” I assure him.
And I lean in to kiss his lips. Zayn pulls me closer into his chest. Then, he lifts me into his arms and carries me into the bedroom.
____________________
I stir sometime in the night and feel my lower body twist in the warm sheets. It takes me a moment to realize a sleepy moan ripped from my own throat.
What?
Drowsily, I continue to stir, slowly embracing consciousness like the mist does the tree line.
Zayn is settled in between my legs, holding them apart.
He kisses along my thigh toward my pussy and with a jolt of pleasure, I realize he has two fingers up to the knuckle already buried deep inside of me. I’m wet, and throbbing around them.
Fuck. I arch my back and moan.
“Zayn,” I whisper into the night.
“Shh,” he replies, his hot breath trailing across my center.
Zayn emerges from under the sheet to look up at me.
He licks my clit while pumping his long fingers deeper inside of me. I widen my thighs, letting them nearly fall to the bed. I can barely make out Zayn’s form twisted in the sheet, but God, can I feel him.
I buck against his tongue and hand, an orgasm already barreling toward me. Zayn sinks in one more long finger and my body explodes.
My scream wrenches out into the night. My pussy convulsing around Zayn’s fingers, my tight tummy rippling with pleasure.
“Good girl,” he purrs.
He continues to gently pump his fingers as I come down from my climax. Then he pushes up between my legs and fits himself at my entrance. Still catching my breath, he pushes inside of me.
“Fuck,” he groans out low and rough.
His hand grasps under my knee and pushes it up and out as he enters me again and again.
“You’re doing so fucking good baby. Now, give me another,” he commands.
And he circles his thumb over my clit.
Bottoming out inside of me over and over, he circles my clit faster. I make a high-pitched sound as a second release builds, slower than the first. I grip onto Zayn’s shoulders as he pounds into me. I bite at his neck and shoulder, eliciting a low growl from his throat.
His thumb moves faster as he thrusts into me, leaning forward to kiss my mouth.
His lips are hot and rough against mine, and I whimper and moan as my climax crests.
Zayn swallows the sounds from my open mouth.
He stills his thrusts as he comes inside of me and presses both of my knees down flat to the bed.
As he thrusts into me one last time, he hits my cervix, making my eyes roll to the back of my head.
Panting hard, he collapses on top of me.
He kisses my shoulder and cups my jaw as he whispers to me, “Give me one more, baby. I love watching you come. I can’t get enough.”
“Zayn,” I exhale, “I don’t thin—”
“Please, Kat. One more for me,” he says again, his voice urgent and dark.
Like he needs this from me. Needs it more than air.
His ferality is so potent in these intimate moments.
I wondered if he needed the release as a way to cope with the true horrors of his past. I gnaw my lower lip.
I really shouldn’t be attempting to psychoanalyze him at this moment.
I smooth my palm over his dark hair, mussed and as wild as his actions.
My head swims, delirious with the aftershocks of pleasure and exhaustion.
I nod and Zayn dips down to collect some of the thick, warm come that seeps out of my spent center.
He brings his fingers up to show me. A languid pang of desire jolts down my stomach as he raises two fingers, still coated in the milky white stuff to my breast. He rubs it into my tits, before dipping down to collect more.
He brings his fingers up again and drags a long, thick streak down my belly all the way to my clit.
Marking me.
“One more,” he whispers.
His voice is a low murmur, a plea against my breast as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, tasting himself on me.
A hoarse groan escapes my throat as he uses his come to rub circles over my clit again and again.
I watch Zayn’s mouth devour my breast, as the streak of his come glistens on my stomach in the moonlight.
Big fat droplets of rain pound the window behind the bed. My breathing increases—and incredibly, I feel another release start to build.
Zayn maintains his punishing ministrations on my clit as he licks at my nipples.
“Give me one more,” he growls. “Give it to me now.”
At his words, I explode. My eyes shut tight as black stars rimmed with white erupt behind my lids. My body spasms as I scream out wordlessly. My moans and pants are swallowed up by the patter of the heavy rain on the glass.
When I come back down to earth, Zayn leans over me, looking down at me.
He gently strokes my face, and his mouth opens to say something.
I wait, still breathless, feeling the moment expand and stretch between us.
But Zayn doesn’t say anything. He holds my gaze and licks his lips, as his thumb continues to stroke my jawline.
Moments later, he rises, heading into the kitchen. He returns with a tall, cool glass of water and a warm, damp cloth to cleanse my body. I accept his quiet care, all the while wondering if he had possibly been on the verge of saying what I think.
After cleaning me off, Zayn pulls me to him and wraps us back into the sheets, the exact same way we went to bed hours ago.
“Zayn?” I ask on a yawn, as I snuggle into him.
“Yeah, baby?” he whispers against my hair.
“Thanks for waking me up.”
I feel his lips stretch into a smile against my temple.
“Any time, Doc.”
And I close my eyes and curl into his body, accepting the warm embrace of sleep.
____________________
ZAYN
Long moments pass between us. I hold Kat’s slender body to my own, desperate to have every square inch of her wrapped up in me.
Safe. She was so open with me. So giving of her body and herself.
Something she rarely is with others. And it's like a secret compartment unlocks within me. Kat has always had the key.
“You still awake, Doc?” I ask her, my voice just a whisper.
“Mmm,” is her thick and drowsy reply.
“Your question from before. About my father,” I start.
Kat remains silent and still, but I know she is listening closely.
“My father… was a fucking monster. He hurt my brother and me, hurt our mom. Mostly our mom.”
Her arms tighten around me for an instant, then relax. She gently drags the backs of her fingernails up and down my arm. The slight scratch of her long nails produces a pleasant sensation, and I shiver with the pleasure of it.
“One night, he had been hitting her again. And he, he tried to strangle her. He was strangling her. And I just flew at him. Across the yard. He fell and hit his head on a rock.”
“Was he…?” Kat whispers, now sitting up and turning to face me.
I say nothing, but nod in reply. Her gentle hand cups my jaw and I turn my head to kiss it.
“Dead,” I reply quietly.
Katherine’s eyes widen to two round orbs. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers.
“Don’t be,” I say against her palm, “he was a fucking tyrant. It had to happen. And it just happened to be that way. By my hands.”
“Not your fault,” she whispers softly.
“I know it wasn’t,” I answer. “After… after he was gone, my mom could finally pour into herself and us boys like she had always wanted to. She read to us every night. She always supported my dream of having more for myself, for us.”
Kat leans forward and kisses my forehead, soothingly. Just as my mother had done that night. And something clenches behind my ribs. Almost painfully. My arms clutch her to me, not allowing even an inch of space to exist between us.
Fuck. She is always so kind to people, so good. A trait that is in rare supply these days.
I know she deserves better than me. But in all my haste and obsession to claim Kat as my own, I never once stopped to ask myself if I deserved her. And despite my questionable and less than honorable methods with her, I am not willing to put her in any further distress now—not for any reason.
Meaning, I should tell her about Lachlan. I should tell her everything, every dark corner of my past and every hidden chamber of my heart. And I should do it right fucking now.
But with her warm head now resting over my heart, and her long, dark hair splayed across my chest, I can’t bring myself to.
Now’s the time, Zayn. Prove you're not an asshole like your father. Just level with her—no more bullshit.
My chest rises and falls faster. I feel my lips part, ready to speak…
and then suddenly— CRACK. Thunder splits the quiet as a bolt of lightning flares white-hot through the room.
A sharp light casts over our entwined bodies.
Katherine jolts in my arms and I press my lips to the crown of her head to soothe her.
The universe—or maybe Lachlan saying not yet.
Wait.
I pull Kat closer to me as rain lashes against the window, a curtain of sound between us and the world.
And I wait.
____________________
The next morning dawns clear and cloudless. I stand in my mother’s garden and turn my face toward an elusive ray of sun, my eyes closing for a beat. I breathe in the fresh, rain-washed air, a sense of lightness spreading over me.
I told Katherine so much last night. Nearly everything. And it felt like a leveling up for us. We were in a different place this morning. A more vulnerable one to be sure, but also one closer to the heart of the truth.
I slide into my car and turn the engine over. I love her. With every bit of my bruised and battered heart, I love her. And I cling to that thought as I speed away.