11 - Cuckqueaned by the Bookstore Owner #4
He began to move. I stayed there on my knees, holding Charlotte’s hand, feeling everything through her grip. Each thrust traveled through her body and into mine—the rhythm, the impact. When he hit somewhere deep, her fingers squeezed hard enough to hurt. When he slowed, her grip loosened.
“That’s it,” Charlotte breathed. “Just like that.”
I couldn’t tell if she was talking to him or to me. Maybe both. Maybe it didn’t matter.
Sam’s rhythm quickened. Charlotte’s hand clenched around mine, her breath coming faster.
I watched my husband’s face—his eyes closed, his jaw tight, that expression I knew so well.
The one he made when he was getting close.
He was giving it to her, and I was feeling it through her fingers, through the pulse of her body against my palm.
“So good,” Charlotte murmured. She turned her head to look at me, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “You’re being so good, honey. Watching like this. Holding my hand.”
Sam’s breathing changed. I knew that sound—the ragged edge that meant he was close. His rhythm became urgent, less controlled. Charlotte’s fingers crushed mine, her thighs tightening around his hips.
“Give it to me, sugar,” Charlotte said. “I want all of it.”
I watched my husband’s face as he came inside another woman. That expression I’d seen a thousand times—eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, every muscle tensed—given to someone else while I kneeled beside them, holding her hand.
He shuddered, buried deep. Charlotte made a sound of pure satisfaction, her body arching up to meet him, her grip on my fingers finally loosening. They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing together, while I waited on my knees.
Sam pulled out slowly and sat back on his heels, chest heaving, head bowed. He looked wrecked. Emptied.
Charlotte turned her head to look at me. That warm smile. Her thighs were still parted, and I could see the evidence of what they’d done—Sam’s cum glistening against her skin, beginning to slip out of her.
“Clean me up, honey,” she said.
The words went through me like a current. I leaned forward without thinking, without deciding, and lowered my mouth to her.
The taste hit me first—salt and musk, Charlotte and Sam mingled together. I’d never tasted my husband like this, secondhand, mixed with another woman. It should have disgusted me. It should have made me stop.
Instead I pressed deeper. My tongue worked to gather every trace of them, cleaning Charlotte the way she’d asked. Above me, I heard her sigh with pleasure.
“That’s it,” Charlotte murmured. “Take your time.”
Something was building in me. I hadn’t been touched all night—not once—but my body didn’t seem to care. Every stroke of my tongue, every sound Charlotte made, every moment of service sent another wave of heat through me. My thighs were pressed together so tight they ached.
I was soaked. Desperate. And no one was going to touch me.
“Such a good girl,” Charlotte said, her hand finding my hair again. “So devoted. So obedient.”
The words pushed me closer to something I didn’t understand. I was shaking now, my whole body trembling as I licked her clean. The taste of them. The surrender. The knowledge that I was on my knees, serving, while my husband watched.
“You were made for this,” Charlotte whispered. “Weren’t you, honey?”
I came.
No one touched me. No hand between my legs, no friction, nothing but my mouth on Charlotte and her voice in my ears.
My whole body seized, wave after wave crashing through me while I whimpered against her skin.
I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t control it, couldn’t do anything but shake apart on my knees on the bookshop floor.
Charlotte stroked my hair through all of it. “Good girl,” she said softly. “That’s my good girl.”
When the trembling finally stopped, I couldn’t move. My cheek rested against Charlotte’s inner thigh, my breath still coming in shallow gasps. The floor was hard beneath my knees. My jaw ached. My lips were swollen. I had never felt more wrung out in my life.
Charlotte sat up slowly, carefully, keeping one hand on my head. She looked down at me with an expression that made my chest tight—pride, maybe. Tenderness.
“Look at you,” she said softly. “You’re beautiful, Molly. Do you know that?”
I didn’t have words. I just looked up at her, still trembling, still trying to understand what had just happened to me.
“I’m so proud of you,” Charlotte continued. She cupped my face in both hands, tilted it up toward her. “You gave yourself over completely. That takes courage. That takes trust.” She smiled, that warm honey smile. “Not everyone can do what you just did.”
I rose unsteadily to my feet. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else. Sam was already moving, gathering his clothes, pulling on his boxers and pants. I stood there watching him, unsure what to do with my hands, my body, any of it.
“Stay right there, honey,” Charlotte said.
She walked across the shop, still naked, still wearing only her pearl earrings. She moved behind her desk and opened a drawer, pulling out something wrapped in brown paper. When she returned, she pressed it into my hands.
“I want you to have this,” she said.
I looked down at the package. Pulled back the paper just enough to see the spine. The Awakening. Kate Chopin. First edition.
“Think about tonight every time you look at it,” Charlotte said.
I nodded. My throat was too tight for words. “Thank you,” I managed.
Charlotte touched my face, her thumb brushing my cheekbone. “I’m expecting a first edition Great Gatsby by Friday. You and Sam should stop by.”
Sam was dressed now. He came up beside me and put his arm around my shoulders. “We’d love to,” he said. “Right, honey?”
They were both looking at me. Waiting.
I giggled. I didn’t know where it came from—somewhere deep, somewhere I didn’t recognize. A smile tugged at my lips, small but real.
“Yeah,” I said. “I would like to.”
I clutched the first edition to my chest.