Chapter Seventeen #2
“What if I want more than kisses?” Her question surprised him. Hell yeah, he wanted more, but not tonight.
“Just kisses tonight,” he said softly.
“Why?” She sounded hurt.
“Because you’ve had a few cocktails and I don't want to take advantage.”
“I’m not drunk, Donnie.”
“I know. But I want to do this right. I want to spend some time with you. I want to start winning your trust. As smoking hot as you are, I want you for more than your body. I want you to be sure.”
“Are you forgetting we already had sex?”
“Technically, we didn’t. But no, I haven’t forgotten. I relive it most nights.”
She sighed. “Donnie, I don't want to wait. I feel like we’ve already wasted so much time. I know you would never take advantage, but I want this. I want you. The rest of it we can work on. Together.”
Jesus, she was making it hard to say no.
He had no plans to hurt her. He wanted her as his wife, he now knew that.
But they needed to talk about Nate. The night he died.
He also needed to tell her about Simon. He should be honest about it all.
He hadn't expected Charlie to be here, like this, wanting him. He thought he had more time.
Her lips were on his neck, giving him soft light kisses. He groaned as his cock strained against his jeans.
“Charlie,” he warned as she rubbed against him.
“Are you going to make me beg?” She nuzzled his ear, nipping his earlobe.
Fucking hell, he was done. Turning his head, he found her mouth and plunged his tongue inside. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her tight against his chest. She moaned, her hands all over him: stroking his chest, his face, pulling his hair.
“Charlie, stop.”
She did, but she didn’t move from his lap.
“Babe, there are things we should talk about.” His voice was strained; he was so damned turned on.
“We can talk tomorrow. I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered before her lips were again on his neck.
“Maybe we should talk first.”
When she abruptly stopped and climbed off him, he braced himself for the conversation.
Charlie grasped his hand. “No more talking tonight. Let’s go to bed, so I can explore you properly.”
Shit. Donnie was no longer in control of his thoughts. All his good intentions about talking evaporated. In this moment, Charlie owned him. His mind was full of images of her naked. Of all those soft curves and smooth skin. His imagination provided him with a vivid, detailed picture.
He stood and allowed her to guide him to his bedroom. She gently pushed him back, until he fell on the bed. Then she undressed him. He couldn’t speak, completely lost in the feel of her hands on him. This was the last thing he had expected tonight but, hell, he didn’t want it to end.
“Lay back,” He did as she ordered, enjoying this little bit of dominance from her. He had always liked to be in control in sex, but this was fucking hot, and he would go with it. For now, at least.
The bed dipped when she straddled him. Her naked thighs against his sent his heart rate soaring. He reached out, needing to touch her, but she took hold of his hands.
“No. You did all the work last time. Tonight, it’s my turn. I want to explore.”
“Charlie. I have to touch you.”
“You will. Just not yet. Hands behind your head.”
Goddamn, she was driving him insane. He laced his fingers behind his head. “OK, beautiful. Explore away.”
She did. She trailed kisses over his face and down his neck. She rubbed her breasts against his chest. When she licked over his nipples, he swallowed hard. It took every bit of his restraint not to touch her.
Charlie took her time kissing, licking every inch of him. She traced over his pecs with her fingers, then across where he knew he had a tattoo.
“Five dash two. What does this mean?” she asked.
“The final score of the last Yankee’s game Nate and I watched together.”
Her fingers stilled. “When did you get that done?”
“Right after the funeral.” It had been a dark time. He had been blaming himself for Nate’s death. Wanted to forget it, but didn’t want to forget Nate. He found himself outside a tattoo parlor. His first tattoo, and it hurt like hell, but he had told himself he deserved the pain.
Charlie’s lips covered the spot, bringing him back to the present.
“It’s beautiful.”
She traced her fingers to his arm, and over to his other tattoo. The SEAL trident. He’d had it done before BUDS. Determined he was going to make it. He wouldn't quit.
“Trident,” she murmured, surprising him.
“Yes. You know what it is?”
“I told you; I did some research.” She then kissed it and moved lower. She didn't ask about the scars he had but kissed each one as she trailed her lips over his skin down further to where his rock-hard cock jutted.
When her hand circled his length, he tensed. He was ready to explode. She stroked him up and down. Then her mouth touched his tip, and he cursed out loud, but he kept his hands still.
As she sucked him, he pictured her on her knees between his thighs, her blond hair probably falling over her face, her head bobbing up and down.
The feel of her mouth sent shockwaves through his body unlike anything he’d ever known.
His other senses were working overtime, making up for what he couldn't see, and it was erotic as hell.
As she took him deeper into her mouth, his resolve gave out.
He moved his hands to her head and into her hair as she worked him.
He had never felt pleasure like it. Suddenly, the fact that he couldn't see barely registered.
The sensations from her touch overwhelmed him.
He was close, but he didn't want to come yet.
Tightening his grip on her head, he pulled her off his cock. “Come here,” he growled.
Pulling her up his body, he wrapped her up in his arms. He kissed her deeply and rolled them until he was on top. His turn.
It was like touching her for the first time again. Every touch, every kiss, every lick felt different. She writhed under him while he left no part of that luscious body untouched.
“Donnie, please,” she whimpered. He wanted to take his time, but he was barely in control.
Spreading her legs, he ran his fingers over her.
So wet and ready for him. Without warning, he pushed two fingers inside and she cried out, lifting her hips and pushing against him.
He added a finger and increased his rhythm.
“Come for me, baby. I want to feel you on my hand.” She writhed under him, whimpering when her orgasm took hold. She came quickly, gushing over his hand as she cried his name. The sound of it on her lips pushed him closer to exploding.
“Babe, I need you to get the condom. Top drawer.” He shifted his weight so she could move. The wrapper crinkled, then she was rolling the condom on him, and he almost came in her hands. No sooner had she moved back, with fumbling hands, he lined himself up and pushed into her.
“Yes. Oh, God, yes!” she cried and arched into him.
He couldn't think. Being inside her was too intense.
It consumed him. Grasping her thighs, he spread them wider as he pounded hard.
He should probably go slower, be more gentle, romantic, but he was out of control.
She pushed against him, urging him deeper.
He didn't even recognize the roar that left him.
His whole body shivered as he gave in to his own release.
In that moment he gave her everything. His mind. His body. His soul. His heart. She might not know it yet, but he was hers, and he would do whatever it took to keep it that way.