Chapter 13 #3
Though Riley has probably meant it to sound joking, and though she’s admittedly suffered through half of the date, her comment keeps swimming around in Charlotte’s head long after they’ve arrived back at the hotel.
Has Charlotte actually messed it up? Is she that bad at taking someone on a date? Does Riley still want her if she clearly has nothing to gain from her, if Charlotte can’t manage to make her feel special and cared for?
If she hadn’t already brought up the stupid name thing, she would feel comfortable enough to share her fears with Riley.
Now she feels like she’s already used up all the complaints on her punch card: she doesn’t want to have another difficult conversation.
She wants to be fun. She wants Riley to have a reason to spend time with her.
Her own insecurities and weird brain worms are clearly not fun for anyone, so she decides to battle her thoughts alone.
Initially, nothing seems to have changed.
They steal moments during the day, secretly sneak into each other’s rooms at night, and bicker and provoke each other in between.
It’s easy to let a little more carelessness slip into their dynamic, but they make sure to stay careful around Gabi and Lou as her sudden sapphic splurge still isn’t something Charlotte is ready to shout from the rooftops.
As they wake up on the day the guests begin to arrive, they’ve already started to mourn the loss of their free time. Knowing they won’t be able to sneak away as much, they try to make the most out of their last day before stepping fully into the roles of hostesses.
“Fuck this… and fuck… you,” Charlotte mutters in between kisses.
“For being so… goddamn… insatiable.” She nips at Riley’s bottom lip, making her gasp so she can slide her tongue inside.
Riley’s moan is sinful, and she loses her composure for a second before doubling down in intensity, sucking back at Charlotte’s lips.
“I’m the insatiable one?” Riley says, greatly offended, cupping Charlotte’s ass with one hand and the back of her head with the other. “Do you remember who woke me up this morning by rubbing her needy pussy against my thigh?”
Charlotte does remember, even though the memory has already grown hazy since it got followed up by a lesson in queening: Riley had made Charlotte straddle her head, which had Charlotte concerned for their safety before losing herself to all-consuming pleasure.
The way this position had granted Riley full access to Charlotte’s most sensitive areas had taught her to engage her core muscles—as well as hold onto Riley’s hair, as if she was riding a horse—in order to stay upright.
Riley’s pained grunts had quickly turned into blissed out hums, and Charlotte’s orgasm had nearly sent her into space.
Now, with Riley willing but still clothed in her bed, only a few hours after their morning session, she a little dazed from the dirty talk. She has a sense Riley knows how weak she is for it, but still she tries to hide her reaction lest Riley uses it to her advantage.
“I learned from the best,” Charlotte says, straining as she kicks Riley’s feet apart to buck up into her core with her own thigh.
Riley laughs and throws her head up in ecstatic surprise. “Oh fuck, I’ve created a monster.”
“I’ll show you a monster,” Charlotte growls. She kisses her again, and gratefully drinks up Riley’s moans when she replaces her knee with her hand to press her palm against her pussy, applying pressure over her shorts.
Riley tilts her hips up, needing more friction, but Charlotte pulls back evilly.
“Charlie,” Riley sighs, releasing Charlotte’s ass to grab her hand. Charlotte deftly yanks herself out of Riley’s grip and captures her wrist against the mattress. Riley gives her an impressed smile and shakes her head.
“A beautiful, powerful, insatiable monster,” she says almost proudly, before freeing herself with a sudden tug, now sliding both hands in Charlotte’s hair to pull her closer. “Fuck, you’re hot,” she groans against her mouth.
Charlotte’s entire body heats up. “I need you,” she breathes. “Need to be inside you.” Even before she finishes her sentence, her hand slips behind the waistband of Riley’s shorts, letting out a surprised squeak as her fingers immediately brush through a familiar patch of hair instead of underwear.
“Presumptuous,” she remarks playfully, reveling in the way Riley’s body tenses up as she finds her way between hot, damp folds.
The moment her fingertips graze her clit, Riley lets out an open-mouthed sigh that she’s convinced will send her straight to hell.
Charlotte will gladly follow her, she decides then and there.
As her fingers dart through Riley’s wetness, Charlotte is reminded of the thing she has been putting off ever since she’s started sleeping with Riley. She feels her face flush.
“I wonder what you taste like,” she blurts out, morbid curiosity winning it over sex-etiquette. Despite their many steamy moments over the past few days, going down on Riley still feels like another step she isn’t ready to take. She’s briefly worried Riley might laugh at her, but she doesn’t.
“Have you ever tasted yourself?” Riley asks with a tone of genuine interest.
Charlotte presses her lips together in thought. “Maybe. A long time ago.”
“And what was that like?”
Charlotte frowns, wondering how Riley is expecting her to describe such a peculiar thing. “Five Michelin stars,” she deadpans.
“You’re aware the maximum is three?”
“So can you imagine how good I taste?”
“Actually, I can.” With the teasing look in her eyes still intact, Riley rubs the back of Charlotte’s hand with her thumb. “Wanna give me a try?”
She wants to, but her inner turmoil makes it feel like too big of a step. Like something she can never come back from. To taste another woman: that will make her a lesbian for sure.
“I’m sorry,” Charlotte says, truly embarrassed about her own reservations. Riley doesn’t give her a single second to feel bad about it.
“I don’t wanna hear you apologize,” she growls, pressing several kisses to her jaw, and then up toward her ear. “Why don’t you spend that energy on something else, and finger me instead?”
Charlotte feels herself clench at those words. She wonders if Riley could make her come just by talking to her—they might need to try that one day.
“It’s not fair,” Charlotte strains, slipping her fingers down to find Riley’s entrance.
“Why do I keep wanting you all the time? Why can’t I stop thinking about it?
And why…” She feels enough slickness, so she pushes two fingers in.
“Why is it so fucking amazing to touch you like this?” Once her fingers are all the way in, she curls them, turning Riley into a whimpering mess.
Feeling Riley come apart like this is immensely satisfying and yet, there’s a weird sense of frustration bubbling up inside of her.
“Seriously. What the fuck,” she says, finding Riley’s lips again. “This isn’t… this isn’t normal, to want something, someone, this much.”
She straightens her fingers, pulls them out, and adds a third one before slowly adding them back in. Riley’s breathing turns into uneven gasps, like she’s trying to say something, but she’s too far gone.
They pull each other apart like this all afternoon, giving and taking not in equal measure, but according to what they each need and want from moment to moment.
They miss the arrival of most of the guests, knowing they’ll have to be at their absolute best tonight to survive a cross-examination from either Gabi, Lou, or both.
By the time the rehearsal dinner is supposed to start, she knows they'll have to hurry to get there. Riley eventually runs back to her own room for a quick shower and a change of clothes. Charlotte does the same and rinses herself off. She doesn’t bother washing her hair and prays the smell of sex won’t linger.
She throws on the suit she had packed for the rehearsal dinner; a fuchsia pantsuit with an oversized jacket and a white sleeveless top underneath, perfectly in line with the dress code. Gabi’s friends and family would wear any color related to pink, whereas Lou’s guests would stick to blue.
She quickly corrects her smudged mascara and applies a rosy lipstick that matches her suit. Nearly suffocating herself in a cloud of perfume, she decides she’s good to go.
When she leaves her room, Riley is already walking down the hall.
They’re in such a hurry, they even forget to enter separately like they’ve been doing religiously for the past few days.
Finally entering the part of the restaurant they’d rented out for the rehearsal dinner, both chests heaving, they pointedly ignore the looks from Gabi and Lou and throw themselves onto their task of welcoming the guests who are already there.
While putting on her fakest smile, Charlotte speedruns through shaking the hands of Gabi’s family.
She hugs her friends, quickly catches up with them and sits them down.
She vaguely notices the decorations, which—she has to give it to Riley—look stunning.
The garlands, balloons, glitter, and photos of the couple everywhere are way too over the top for her own liking, but she knows Gabi and Lou will love it.
Charlotte catches a glimpse of Riley every now and then, but she deliberately looks the other way when she catches herself.
There is no need to be reminded of what they were doing only hours ago, and they have some catching up to do here if they want to keep Gabi and Lou from being mad at their tardiness.
But where Lou might be someone to let it slip, unfortunately Gabi isn’t.
“Where were you?” she asks with a big smile on her face, her tone deadly.
“I was… well…” Charlotte stammers, she has no idea what to say and her brain is too busy to come up with a lie. “I’ll explain later.”
When her gaze lands on a familiar person out of the corner of her eye, she uses them as a buoy and launches herself at her.
“Hannah!” she squeals. “How lovely to see you here!”
She ignores both Gabi’s eye roll and Hannah’s surprised expression, and utilizes every single brain cell to engage in small talk to save herself from questions she doesn’t want to answer.
When eventually, all the guests have arrived and taken their seats, Charlotte is relieved to be seated all the way on the other side from Riley. At least they won’t be questioned together, and no one will watch them interact.
Once the pink-and-blue suited waiters arrive to bring out everyone’s first glass of champagne, Charlotte softly blows out the stream of air she’d been holding in.
First, Charlotte gets overwhelmed by a deep sense of adoration.
Throughout the evening her eyes keep drifting to Riley, whose body is tightly wrapped in a baby blue dress that shows off her muscles and tanned skin.
Charlotte admires how much control Riley seems to have over her own likeability.
She chats everybody up, treats everybody to a warm smile, and everyone seems to adore her. Just like Charlotte does.
Then, the adoration gets a sour aftertaste. Not only because Charlotte isn’t nearly as skilled nor interested in making people like her, but because she feels uncomfortable about not being on the recipient of those chuckles, smirks, and empathetic responses.
The sourness quickly starts to overshadow every sense; not just her taste, but the stolen glances start to sting, and catching a whiff of Riley's perfume makes her nauseous. Her radar is working overtime; when the dinner is finished and guests are starting to mingle, she senses where Riley is at any given moment, even without trying to. She doesn’t want to be so aware of her, but she can’t help it.
It gets later, and the only two things Charlotte wants to do are impossible.
She either wants to bail, which she can’t do to Gabi, or she wants Riley to talk to her, but she can’t risk them drawing too much unwanted attention to themselves.
Still a little unwell, she becomes aware of a new, unknown feeling in her chest. It feels like a claw, but instead of it being attached to some kind of monster, she feels like she is the monster.
Why is Riley not paying as much attention to her as the other way around?
Isn’t she on her radar? Doesn’t she get distracted by Charlotte’s presence?
A few minutes to midnight, she gets her answer. While she quietly sips her champagne, largely ignoring the group she’s attached to, she catches part of the conversation Riley is having nearby.
“What about you?” she hears Hannah’s nasally voice ask her. “When are you getting married?”
Riley snorts and immediately answers. “Oh, no. I won’t be getting married.”
“Why not? Don’t you have a partner?”
“I do not,” Riley says, her low voice giving away her awkwardness around the subject. Hannah doesn’t seem to notice.
“Oh, why is that?”
“I’m really not interested in dating, Hannah,” she hears Riley sigh. “I’m not looking for a partner.”
It's like a punch to the gut. Okay. Riley doesn’t want to date. That’s okay. She isn’t looking for a partner. Big deal. Big fucking deal.
It takes about three seconds before Charlotte’s nausea worsens and she realizes it might be a big deal after all.
She scolds herself for not considering this before, for not asking about this before.
She can’t really blame Riley, can she? They never talk about dating—and why would they?
The thing between her and Riley had always been about her sexual exploration.
Not her romantic one. Not that she'd even be ready for that anyway. She’s just started to have sex with a woman, she doesn’t want to think about dating one yet. Especially not Riley. Stupid Riley.
Riley could fuck her into next week and never talk to her again, and she’d be fully in her own right. So why does the pressure in Charlotte’s throat rise so badly?
And why are her eyes getting wet?
“Excuse me,” she says, her voice rough, clearing her throat to cover up a sob. She pushes her way through the people standing around her, slams her champagne flute on the nearest table, and strides towards the exit. She needs air, and lots of it.
Finding her way to the main entrance, she almost breaks her neck walking down the stairs with her heels on, so she rips them off. Now barefoot, she walks down the path and off the grounds. She doesn’t know where she’s going, but she knows she has to keep walking.
She needs to get away, far away enough for nobody to find her. Somewhere she can be alone. Somewhere she can allow herself to break down.
She clenches her teeth; don’t cry, she tells herself. You can cry when you’re alone.
Fuck Riley. With her dumb stupid face.