8. CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER EIGHT
It’s been a few days since I accosted Mark on the couch while drunk, and neither of us has brought it up. I’m finding myself more and more in favor of taking things further between us. Making out with him is amazing, but we’ve reached the stage where it leaves both of us aroused to the point of discomfort. One evening while we’re watching a movie together, I struggle to find what I want to say. The movie’s half over before I find enough courage to broach the subject.
“So, um… I was thinking about maybe adjusting the parameters of what we consider acceptable touch.”
So much for courage.
The hands that have been stroking my back go still, and his eyes flick to mine. “How so?”
Here we go. Deep breath.
“Well, I’d say things are going… well.”
Smooth, Charlie, really smooth.
I wait until he nods.
“And I think it’s safe to say we’re both… um… aroused by what we’ve been doing.”
Why is this so hard to talk about?
Another nod.
“I think it’s also safe to say that if either of us were in the same situation with a different partner, we wouldn’t deny ourselves… um… pleasure. We’d go further.”
He frowns and nods a third time, though I don’t understand the frown.
Is he going to say anything at all?
“We’re only denying ourselves because we’re friends. And I’m not sure punishing ourselves is doing anything besides causing a lot of – sexual frustration.” My words tumble out in a rush.
A smile of amusement crosses his rugged features, but he still says nothing.
Not one damn word.
Humiliation washes over me as I realize I’m essentially begging for more while he's sitting there laughing at me. Tears sting my eyes. “Never mind. Forget I brought it up,” I mutter, turning away. I reach for the remote and turn up the volume on the television.
Mark takes the remote from my hand and mutes the sound. “What just happened? I thought we were talking.”
“No, we weren’t. I was talking. You never said a word. You just frowned and then looked like I said something really funny while I was baring my soul, which is quite humiliating, by the way. Thanks for that. Forget I said anything. I’ve changed my mind.”
My face burns, and I push off the couch to leave, but he grabs my arm. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“Forget it,” I repeat, trying to twist away, but he’s too strong.
“Will you let me explain? Then if you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”
I stop struggling. “Fine.”
“Will you look at me?”
I can’t. I’m too close to tears. There’s a lump in my throat, so I simply shake my head.
“Fine,” he says, curling his arms around me and pulling me onto his lap, my back to his chest. When he speaks again, his voice is low against my ear. “Charlie, I find you extremely arousing. I didn’t think I needed to tell you that. Just sitting this close to you makes me hard.” He shifts slightly, and his erection pushes against my backside. “I didn’t realize I was frowning. You said if we were with other people, we wouldn’t deny ourselves. I don’t like the thought of you being with anyone else. You’re mine.”
My eyes widen. Mark’s never said anything like that before.
“And as far as acting like you said something funny, that wasn’t it at all. I’m glad you’re sexually frustrated, too. I’d hate to think I’m the only one suffering. And yes, it’s selfish, just like me frowning at the thought of anyone else ever having you is selfish.” He nestles his lips just below my ear, nuzzling my neck, his breath hot. “Forgive me?”
I sigh and tilt my head in answer, giving him my neck to nibble and kiss. Shivers run down my spine as he complies with my unspoken request.
“So about these parameters,” he says, his warm breath tickling my skin. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “Not sex. Not yet, anyway. But more.”
“Pleasuring?” His lips graze my ear.
“M-maybe.” His hands skim down my sides to my hips before sliding back up and brushing the sides of my breasts, and I suck in a breath.
“Touching?”
I can only nod as his hands lightly cup my breasts through my clothes before closing over them, squeezing.
“Under clothes?”
“Yes,” I gasp. Long fingers splay across my bare stomach, moving slowly. Too slowly, and I arch toward his fingers. He chuckles softly in my ear as his hands slip beneath my bra, kneading and massaging. My nipples harden immediately as I strain into his touch. His head nudges mine and I turn my face to his. He captures my lips possessively, his tongue delving deep, and I whimper and arch back against his hardness. He groans.
“I want my mouth here,” he murmurs, rolling my nipples between his fingers.
I freeze, hesitant for the first time. “I – I’m scared to take off my shirt.”
He scoops me up suddenly, turning me to sit astride him, his mouth on mine, driving me wild. I wrap my arms around him, tracing the thick muscles of his back. He pulls away to focus his attention on my neck, trailing kisses down to the collar of my shirt. I cup the back of his head. “What scares you?” he asks, his lips against my skin.
“Scars,” I say breathlessly. His tongue dips beneath the neck of my shirt as I yank it lower to give him more access.
“I’ve seen your back,” he reminds me, returning to my mouth. Our kisses grow heated, and I moan. Electricity courses through my veins.
“But not my front. It’s scarred, too, and I –” I break off, swallowing hard.
His lips pause just above mine. “I don’t see your scars. I only see you. My beautiful Baby Girl.” He dips his head again, kissing me until I can’t think straight and my entire body throbs with need.
When he pulls away, I whimper, and he smiles, kissing me lightly. “Go put on shorts and a thin tee shirt. Nothing else. Then meet me in my room. I have an idea.”
“Wha- what?”
He leans forward, kissing me again. “Trust me,” he says, his hand cupping my ass and squeezing lightly.
I’m upstairs rummaging for one of my filmiest shirts when I hear his shower cut on. I cock my head at the sound. We’re getting in the shower? Dressed?
I bounce down the stairs a couple of minutes later, my hair in a messy bun. I’m wearing a white shirt and shorts that hug my ass. The shirt is thin enough that my hard nipples are clearly visible.
Mark’s in his bathroom, the door open, the shower on. His walker is shoved out of the way in the corner. He’s sitting on the shower bench, wearing only a pair of shorts. His bare chest and arms glisten, water droplets covering his muscled body.
Oh. My. God.
Broad shoulders. Bulging pecs. Thick biceps and forearms. The six-pack. Taut muscles veeing at an angle into the waistband of his shorts. Hard thighs.
My gaze lingers on his wet shorts. His pecs aren’t the only thing bulging.
If I were wearing panties, they’d be sopping wet. I’ve never wanted someone so badly in my entire life. Even though my head knows I’m not ready, my body screams for more.
Mark’s eyes roam possessively over my body, halting at my perky nipples. He utters something under his breath and runs his hand through his wet hair. Then he holds out his hand. “Come here, Baby Girl.”
I step inside the shower, closing the glass door behind me, and he reaches for one of the handheld shower heads. I gasp as he sprays me with warm water. My clothes instantly cling to me like a second skin. Then he returns the shower head to its mount, angling it so that it continues to spray toward us. “Can’t have you getting cold,” he murmurs, then pulls me toward him. He slides forward so he’s sitting on the edge of the bench before patting his lap. “Face me.”
I straddle him, and though we’re both clothed, our bodies fit snugly, my folds surrounding his hardness. He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes briefly. “The things you do to me, Charlie.”
My pulse throbs between my legs. “That goes both ways.”
He leans toward me, his lips pausing just above mine. “Do you trust me?”
I nod wordlessly.
“Our clothes will stay on, but you’ve been sexually frustrated long enough, Baby Girl, and I intend to rectify that.”
Before I have time to ponder what he means, his mouth finds mine with deep, languid kisses, like there’s nowhere he’d rather be than enjoying the taste of my lips. My hands leave his shoulders to roam his back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath my fingers. His hands cup my face, long fingers gentle on my neck, as he explores my mouth, learning every part of it like it’s the first time. I squirm against his erection, and he chuckles.
“Patience,” he whispers against my lips.
But I don’t want to be patient.
His mouth finds the hollow beneath my ear, nibbling and licking a scorching trail down my neck before nipping my collarbone. I moan, pressing my breasts into his hard chest.
“Up on your knees,” he murmurs, his hands lifting my hips up and away from his erection, and I groan in protest. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he promises.
Kneeling brings my breasts level with his face, and I understand this a split second before his mouth closes over my peaked nipple through my shirt. The tension between my legs skyrockets. One arm behind my ass holds me in place while his other hand works the opposite breast, squeezing, plucking my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. His suckling sends impulses directly to my core, making the ache between my legs more fierce. He swirls his tongue around my nipple before nipping it lightly with his teeth, and my moans echo off the bathroom walls. I weave my fingers through his damp hair as he moves his mouth to my other breast. My head drops back and my hips rock desperately against nothing as I whimper, my body taut with need.
When he moves his hand and mouth away from my breasts, I groan in frustration. He tilts my face to look at his, and his pale blue gaze sears into me. “I’ll take care of you, Baby Girl.” His hands grasp my hips as he pulls me back onto his lap, centering me so that his erection presses directly against my core. Strong hands grip my waist. “Lean back,” he murmurs, shifting the angle of my body, causing his thickness to press against my clit. I suck in a breath at the sensation, and he smiles slowly. “So fucking hot,” he murmurs, and then he helps me move, rubbing against his hard shaft.
“Ohhhh,” I gasp, arching my hips forward as I lean further back. I reach behind me and clutch his knees for balance, using them for leverage as I slide back and forth against him. The pressure inside me builds, but as it does, so does my desire to be closer to him.
I sit up, bringing us chest to chest, and this time, he’s the one to gasp as my breasts press into the hard planes of his chest. My mouth closes over his, and I moan against his mouth as I roll my hips, grinding against him. His hand slides into my hair, holding my head in place as he claims my mouth, his tongue keeping time with the movement of my hips.
I’m so close, right on that knife edge of agony and ecstasy, and I whimper.
Mark tears his mouth from mine and grips my hips firmly, pulling me harder against him as his pelvis arches into mine. My nails dig into his shoulders as I ride him. His mouth finds the curve of my throat. “That’s right, Baby Girl. Take what you need,” he growls against my neck.
I grind frantically against him, his thick shaft massaging me into a violent explosion of pleasure. I cry out, my head thrown back as he continues to drag me over his length, riding out the storm of sensations overwhelming me. Only when I collapse against him, breathing hard, does he release my hips and still beneath me as I slowly come back to earth.
Damn. That was white-hot.
Mark presses his lips into the top of my shoulder. “So fucking hot,” he murmurs again.
That’s when I remember he’s still rock hard. I shift my hips and roll against him. He lifts his head and grins. “Ready for round two?”
I smile. “You’re still on round one,” I say pointedly. “We need to rectify that sexual tension we were talking about earlier.”
He surprises me by shaking his head. “Not tonight,” he says.
“Why not?”
“Tonight was about you.”
“That’s not right,” I protest.
“Sure it is. Besides, I want to remember the sight of you coming apart in my arms when I fall asleep tonight.”
My cheeks grow warm as his eyes hold mine. “I wouldn’t have done that if I’d known –”
He silences me with a kiss that goes from light to deep in a millisecond. When we finally break apart, he lifts my chin to look into my eyes. “We’re not going to rush things, okay? Tonight was about you. Believe me, I enjoyed myself. I’m going to carry that memory forever.”
“Me, too,” I murmur, suddenly shy. I ease off his lap, not wanting to cause him any further sexual tension, avoiding looking at the massive bulge in his shorts.
He chuckles. “I’m going to need a really cold shower.”
“I feel guilty,” I confess.
He grins, his eyes twinkling. “Really? I’m feeling quite pleased with myself.”
I smile in spite of my embarrassment. “I see that.” I get to my feet. “I’m going to borrow a towel and find some dry clothes before the water gets too cold for me. I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”
Only when I dash upstairs in a towel do I let myself linger on the thoughts of what’s just happened.
Mark and I have definitely moved into the friends-with-benefits category.
Hearing Charlie peel off her wet clothes and knowing she’s naked on the other side of the shower wall does absolutely nothing to relieve my sexual tension. The steamy air still carries the scent of her arousal. When I’d pulled her off her knees and down onto my body, she’d been dripping wet, and not from the shower. The wet fabric had done nothing to hide her full breasts, bouncing up and down as she rode me through our clothes. And her orgasm… Jesus Christ. I could feel her pussy shuddering along my cock as she cried out my name.
So. Fucking. Hot.
I could strip out of these shorts and jack off – it would only take about ten seconds, she’s got me so wired – but I won’t. As stupid as it sounds, I’d rather wait until I’m balls-deep inside Charlie to come.
Because after tonight, I have zero doubt we’re going to get there.
So instead of relieving my own tension, I take an icy shower, realizing too late I neglected to bring dry clothes. I wrap a towel around my waist and awkwardly use the walker to hop to the door, a task made infinitely more difficult by trying to keep my towel on. I peek around the door, hoping Charlie’s not there so I can grab some shorts.
Naturally, she’s waiting in the bed for me.
I sigh. “Can you toss me a pair of shorts? I forgot to bring a dry pair.”
Her eyes twinkle. “You were a boy scout. Isn’t there some rule about being prepared?”
I wink at her. “I was too distracted by your breasts.”
She blushes and gets up to retrieve my shorts. When I’m dressed, I join her in the bed, spooning behind her as usual. My cock hardens again instantly, and since it’s nestled snugly against her ass, she notices.
“Are you sure –”
“I’m positive,” I say firmly. “We’re going to ignore him.”
She giggles. “Him? He’s his own entity?”
“Obviously. My brain thinks he should lie down and go to sleep. This is all his doing.”
She tosses an impish look over her shoulder and repeats my words back to me. “Really? I was just feeling quite pleased with myself.”
“You should. The mere thought of you makes him stand up and salute.”
“I do appreciate a good soldier,” she murmurs, twitching her ass against me.
Long after she’s fallen asleep, I’m still hard as a rock. Every time she moans softly in her sleep, I instantly remember our shower. When I roll onto my back to put some space between our bodies, she follows, throwing her shapely leg over my waist and pressing her luscious breasts into my chest, and I can’t stop recalling her breasts bouncing and her thighs squeezing my hips.
It takes every drop of my willpower to let her sleep instead of waking her up, but I do, and eventually I fall asleep.
Of course, I dream of Charlie, coming all around my cock, crying out my name.
I’ve admitted to myself and Linda, my psychiatrist, that I can’t handle hearing my gynecologist tell me I’ll never be able to carry a child. However, as Linda points out, there's a big difference between having difficulty conceiving and being infertile. She also reminds me that there are a plethora of options my doctor can offer to help improve the odds of conceiving, so I square my shoulders, put on my big girl panties, and make the appointment.
Even though both Tucker and Charlie have offered to go with me for moral support, I go to the office alone. This is something I need to face by myself.
Dr. Krakowskyvych – who insists her patients call her Dr. K – is a petite woman with dark hair and a matter-of-fact personality. I’ve seen her for my yearly pap smears and birth control since moving here, but this is the first time we’ve ever really discussed anything substantive.
I’m sitting on the paper-covered exam table dressed in a pink gown while she sits on her rolling stool, perusing my chart. “I understand you’d like to discuss your difficulty conceiving. Is that correct?”
“Yes. I’ve been off birth control since January, and even though we’re tracking my ovulation and trying on my peak days, it isn’t working.”
Dark eyes study me. “Seven months isn’t that long, and you’re only thirty-two. Let’s talk about why you’re worried.”
I take a deep breath and lace my fingers together. “Four years ago, while I was in the military, I was kidnapped and gang-raped for eleven days. By the time I was rescued and transferred to Walter Reed, I had an infection that had spread beyond my cervix and into my uterus. The gynecologist there did a D&C and treated the infection. She said there was significant uterine inflammation and that I might have difficulties in the future.”
Her face softens, and she rolls her stool close enough to lay a soft hand on mine. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, and for a split second, I see a flash of pain in her eyes. It disappears so quickly I think I must have imagined it, especially when she returns to the desk and rifles through some pamphlets.
“It’s not uncommon for women who have had pelvic inflammatory disease to have difficulty conceiving, but conception is certainly still possible. I’m going to do some bloodwork and a pelvic exam to look for any obvious causes. I’d also like to do an ultrasound to get a better look at your uterus and ovaries.” She hands me several pamphlets about fertility treatment options and stands. “I’ll give you a moment, and then my nurse and I will return and we’ll get started.”
Two hours later, I’m driving to the pharmacy with a prescription in hand for hormone injections.
My bloodwork and pelvic exam were fine. The ultrasound showed some scarring of my uterus, but otherwise, it looked fine, so we’re going to try ovulation induction, a fancy term for flooding my body with hormones. I’ll give myself injections to stimulate my ovaries to release multiple mature eggs each month instead of just one, thereby exponentially increasing my chances of conception.
Dr. K mentioned side effects from the shots – breast tenderness, nausea, irritability, fatigue, blah blah blah. I don’t care. I’ll gladly deal with it if it means a chance at a baby.
Those fuckers didn’t win. I’m not broken.
God, I hope this works.
It’s a workout day, which means after work, Lila, Tucker, Tom, and Maya gather here with Charlie and me. The girls hang out and cook dinner while the three of us do the caveman thing and work out. We aren’t being sexist – we all can and do cook. When we’re all here, though, Lila usually claims the role of head chef.
The food is great, the company is great, but I’m too distracted to pay attention to any of it. All I can think about is them leaving so I can drag Charlie off to my shower again. At the dinner table, while everyone is laughing and talking, I lay my hand on her thigh and draw slow circles with two fingers. I hear her sharp intake of breath and know she understands I’m imagining what I’d like to be doing between her legs.
She smiles before turning the tables on me, sliding her hand across my thigh to stroke my groin. In my shock, I knock over my water glass. There’s a rush as Lila jumps up before it splashes into her lap and Tucker snags a dish towel to mop up the mess. Charlie winks and squeezes my thigh before removing her hand.
I look forward to tormenting her for that later.
It’s nearly nine before the leftovers are put away, the dishes are done, and everyone’s finally cleared out. Charlie’s locking the front door when I come up behind her. She turns, and I flatten her against the door with my body. My left crutch tumbles to the floor as I cup her ass with my left hand, pulling her against me. I’m already hard from thinking about what I want to do to her. Her hands slide under my shirt to caress my back. Her touch licks over my heated body like flames. I kiss her aggressively, our mouths crashing together. When her hands slide to my ass, pulling me forward as she curls one long leg around my hip, I growl into her mouth.
I drag my lips from hers and brace my left arm against the door. “Go change and hurry back.”
She slips under my arm and retrieves my crutch for me before climbing the stairs. I watch the sway of her perfect ass as she goes. When she disappears from sight, I head to my room, ripping off my clothes and pulling on the thinnest pair of shorts I can find. I remember to take dry clothes with me this time, as well as snagging a couple of towels for inside the shower and two more for afterwards. Satisfied, I hop into the shower with my walker and turn on the water. When it’s warm, I douse myself, remembering Charlie’s hungry gaze last night.
She comes into my bathroom wearing skimpy shorts and a shirt so sheer it ought to be illegal. My cock surges at the sight. She stares at me, drinking in my body the same way I’m drinking in hers. She’s left her hair down tonight. Her green eyes almost glow in the dimly lit shower. I commit it all to memory – perky breasts, legs for days, and hips I want to grip as I bury myself inside her.
I smile slowly, holding out my hand to her as I did last night. She enters the shower without hesitating, pulling the door closed. I scoot to the edge of the bench as she points beside me. “What’s with the folded towels?”
“Your knees were red last night from kneeling on the bench.”
She blushes then, a gorgeous pink. “I didn’t notice,” she admits.
I noticed everything about her last night.
She straddles me immediately, keeping her body slightly above me and wrapping her arms around my neck. “Hi,” she says, suddenly shy.
I grin and move forward, my lips barely brushing hers. “Hi.” I distract her with my lips while reaching for the showerhead, spraying her clothes, and she gasps. “Too cold?” I murmur against her mouth.
“No.”
I return the showerhead to its holder, angling it to keep the warm mist splashing in our direction, then pull back to look at her. The wet cloth is so sheer, she’s almost naked before me.
Almost.
Rosy peaks stand out sharply as the fabric melts against her full breasts and flat stomach. Her shorts leave nothing to the imagination, clinging to her folds, molding to her ass.
“So beautiful,” I murmur, brushing her hair back. She bites her lip, and I can almost hear her internal dissent. “Fucking gorgeous.” I pull her to me and kiss her until she’s breathless, her fingers gripping my hair, her body pressed tightly to mine. She tastes like honey and mint and smells like summer, like coconut and sunshine, jasmine and ocean breezes. I trail hot kisses down her neck, and she clutches my shoulders, moaning as I suckle along her collarbone, grazing her with my teeth before rubbing my stubble against the curve of her throat. My hands slide down her body to cup her firm ass.
She kneels above me, surprising me, thrusting her breasts toward me, and I’m happy to oblige. I reach for them, massaging them through the filmy fabric, and she moans. My mouth closes over one rosy peak as my fingers find the other, sucking and tugging simultaneously. Her breath comes in gasps as I work her nipples mercilessly.
She pulls back suddenly, her hands gripping the hem of her shirt an instant before she peels it over her head, baring her breasts.
Fucking. Gorgeous.
My cock throbs a steady drumbeat, aching to be inside her.
Not tonight.
She pulls my head toward her chest, and I know she doesn’t want to think about her scars being exposed. Not a problem. I can distract her. And I do, caressing and tasting, teasing and licking, nuzzling and grazing them with my soft stubble until she’s ready to combust, and for that matter, so am I.
Only then do I ease her down onto my lap, adjusting her until my thick cock slides between her soaked folds. There’s fabric between us, but her heat and moisture are unmistakable, and the perfume of her arousal only makes me harder. My hands cup her perfect ass, sliding her back and forth over my cock, and she moans and bites her lip. She hangs onto my shoulders for balance, swirling her hips, rubbing her pussy all over my cock, and I groan, aching to be inside her. She spreads her legs wider, giving me better access. I can feel her entrance even through her clothes, and my hips arch against her of their own accord.
“Yes,” she moans, her fingers digging into me. I’m arching and thrusting, while she’s rolling her hips and grinding her clit against me. Pressure starts to build deep inside my body. I grip her hips tightly, watching her beautiful face. She’s panting with desire, biting her lip, one long moan after another escaping her as she rides me, her breasts bouncing. She opens her eyes then, green and glazed with desire, and she cups her breasts in her hands, pushing them toward my face. My cock surges against her core, and she holds my gaze as she rapidly approaches her peak.
I pull her down hard, grinding my pelvis against her, circling, and she comes undone. She lets go of her breasts, instead grabbing my hips and tucking my body even closer against hers. I’m teetering on the edge of control when she pushes her core firmly against me, crying out my name. Her mouth drops to my shoulder and she sinks her teeth in, gasping, her nails digging into my hips. Her pussy convulses so hard that even through our clothing, it grips my cock, and the sensation pushes me over the edge. I explode with a growl, my cock pulsating as the storm of pleasure rushes over me.
So much for waiting until I was balls-deep inside her.
My musky scent joins hers in the humid air.
So. Fucking. Embarrassing.
I feel like a fumbling teenager with zero control. I drop my head onto her shoulder. “Dammit,” I mutter, my chest heaving.
She raises her head. “What?”
I gesture toward my groin, and she looks confused. “I enjoyed that more than I’d planned to,” I hedge.
She smiles. “That was the point.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have no intention of being the only one enjoying things,” she says pointedly, “so I took off my top.”
“For me?”
She grins. “I’ve seen my breasts before. You needed a push to make you let go.”
I’m speechless. Instead, I plunder her mouth, letting my body say what I can’t put into words. I can’t tell her how I feel, but I can show her.
I’ve never been happier in my life.
My trip to the VA in Pueblo to get ready for my osseointegration surgery is in a few days, and if all goes well, a few weeks after that, I’ll have the surgery. Normalcy is in my future – my near future.
After Charlie falls asleep, I let myself think about what I want after my surgery. Who I want. Forever.
The next morning, instead of taking my antidepressant, I shove the bottle into my night table drawer. I don’t need it anymore. I’m the furthest from depressed I’ve ever been. I have Charlie, and life is fucking awesome.
If I’ve ever complained in the past about Lila having PMS, whether honestly or in jest, I’d like to formally retract every word.
Seriously.
Whatever she had before was nothing compared to this.
Holy Mother of God.
She’s a damn roller coaster of emotions now. Anxious and then frustrated, weepy to instantly pissed, followed by horny as hell and insatiable, all in the space of an hour.
Everything I say is the wrong thing to say. Everything I do – well, you get the idea.
It’s okay. I’ll ride this out with her for as long as it takes.
But dear God, I hope these shots work.