Chapter 20 Charlie #2
“Shhh.” He shook his head, his curls brushing my forehead as he leaned down, his hands strong on my waist. “No, that’s where you’re wrong. There’s no mess here. You’re my wife. Let me worship every inch of you.”
I wanted this. Every fiber of my body wanted this. I was quite literally burning from desire, but we were walking on a very tight rope.
“If we did it just once . . .” I murmured, my voice trailing off as Austin’s hands met mine, our fingers entwining as we guided the dough from the bowl onto the counter.
“Tell me,” he murmured.
My fingers kept moving, rolling the dough into small balls. Normally, I’d be using my scooper, but there was no way I was ruining the moment by stepping away to grab it.
“If we did it once, maybe we’d get it out of our systems. Then we could go back to being friends.”
He slid out from behind me, coming to stand at my side. His hands mirrored mine, rolling the dough with slow precision before setting each piece onto the cookie sheet between us.
I paused, tilting my head back to look up at him. “Austin, I really want to get to know you as a friend. This matters to me. I can’t live with someone I barely know.”
He froze, the intensity in his gaze softening as if my words had pulled him back down to earth.
His breath hitched, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought, caught in whatever memories or doubts I’d stirred up.
Slowly, he leaned sideways, resting his forehead against my shoulder, breathing me in like he needed the contact to steady himself.
“I know. I feel the same.”
I looked down, my barely there satin strap offering little coverage. The counter edge dug into my hips, making the closeness almost too much to bear.
He straightened, and when he spoke again, his voice was firm. “No sex.”
I hesitated, turned toward him, and glanced up to see a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“No sex. No mess. We don’t need that to get . . . close. There’s so much more—”
But I’d stopped listening, my mind racing. Without sex, there would be no entanglements, no crossing into romantic territory. We could stay friends, roommates who helped each other out in more ways than one, without the messiness that dating would bring.
“Fuck it,” I whispered.
He slid his hand to the nape of my neck, and our mouths met in a collision of pent-up desire and need, a kiss full of passion, sealing what we couldn’t put into words.
I was obsessed with the way Austin Hart kissed me. It was passionate. It was effortless. It felt like his lips were meant for me.
“Get up on the counter,” he groaned as his hands went down to my ass, cupping to lift me up.
“Wait.” I turned around and pushed the cookie sheets to the other side of the counter, hoping they wouldn’t slide completely off. “I worked hard for that.”
He chuckled and lifted me up. “I’m definitely getting you some damn onesies, because if this is what you sleep in, I don’t know how long I can keep my promise.”
His fingers brushed my shoulder, flicking off the strap of my satin top, which slipped down my arm, revealing the curve of my chest.
My stomach fluttered; I’d always been self-conscious of my chest, curvier than the girls in my old social circles. My mom used to find clothes to minimize it, to make me look smaller.
Austin’s eyes never wavered, his fingers grazing the side of my body as he murmured, “You are so fucking beautiful.”
His hands moved with purpose, gliding up my sides as he tugged my top down, inch by inch, until my breast spilled free, my nipple exposed and achingly sensitive. His gaze lingered, dark and intense, before he leaned in, his breath hot against my skin.
“I’ve never met anyone as beautiful as you,” he murmured.
Austin caught my nipple between his lips, his tongue rolling over it slowly, deliberately, each stroke sending a wave of pleasure through me.
I arched into him, threading my fingers into his hair, urging him closer as he sucked and teased, his mouth warm and relentless.
My breath hitched, a moan slipping from my lips as he took his time, savoring me, tasting me, the heat between us building with each sensual movement.
His teeth grazed my nipple as he sucked, and I threw my head back, arching and shoving my hips toward him.
“You like that?”
I let out the most carnal moan. It was the least sexy thing that could’ve come out of my mouth, but it was primal, raw, and unfiltered.
“Yeah, you do. Just like that, Char.” His hand went to the other strap of my shirt, and he pulled it down, letting my other breast pop out.
“Look at you. Look at what you do to me,” he groaned and took a step back.
I glanced down at his cock, which was straining his sweatpants.
Sitting up straighter to balance myself, I pushed my breasts together, giving them a little jiggle, and Austin ran his hands through his hair.
“Fuck,” he moaned. “Spread your legs. Let me see how wet you are.”
I lifted my leg and set the heel of my foot on the cool granite beneath me. Only the thin, loose satin fabric of my shorts separated us.
“Can I touch you, Char?”
I nodded, my breath catching.
“Use your words,” he murmured, leaning in until his face was level with my dripping heat, his hands gripping the edge of the counter tightly as he waited, eyes locked on me.
“Fuck,” I cried, keeping my hands on my tits, rubbing my sensitive nipples.
“That’s it. Use those pretty words and tell me what you want.”
“I want you, Austin. You,” I cried, desperate for someone or something to touch me.
Austin slipped his fingers beneath the thin fabric of my shorts. His thumb found my clit, circling in teasing motions, and my body arched toward him again.
A deep, guttural moan escaped me as his fingers moved with exquisite precision, each stroke against my clit radiating waves of pleasure throughout my body. I pressed closer to him, unable to hold back as his lips brushed tantalizingly near my core, his eyes fixed on me.
“I’m going to have a taste now, alright?”
“Please,” I begged.
“Stay perfectly still. If you move, I’ll stop.”
His wet, hot mouth latched onto my clit, and it took every ounce of willpower not to cry, scream, and shove myself into his face. He’d slid my shorts to the side, baring me just enough for his tongue to work me over. I didn’t need him slow—I wanted to come.
His tongue teased over my clit. He took his time, tracing circles, then pressing against me before sucking gently, the pressure building and driving me wild.
The sounds he made, soft groans and messy, wet slurps, filled the air, and each one sent a rush of heat straight through me, making it impossible to stay still.
Without warning, he slipped a finger inside me, curling it expertly, drawing a sharp, breathless cry from my lips. He added a second, his movements deliberate, stroking that perfect spot deep within, his mouth never leaving my clit.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure, his lips brushing my skin as he spoke.
He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, his gaze heavy and intense before he dove back in, his tongue hot and relentless.
I arched into him, trying to keep myself steady, every nerve in my body alive under his touch. His fingers slowed, dragging out the pleasure as he kissed his way along my thigh, only to return to my clit, licking and sucking with that same messy hunger.
“I’ve got you.”
I could feel myself climbing higher, the tension coiling, ready to snap, but he must have sensed it, because he paused, his fingers still deep inside me.
“Beg for it,” he demanded.
“Please,” I cried. “Please. Austin. I need . . .”
He brought me right to the edge again, his hands firm on me, holding me in place as his mouth continued its slow, maddening rhythm. Every kiss, every stroke of his fingers pushed me closer, until I was helplessly at his mercy, waiting, trembling, and savoring every second.
“I need to come,” I cried out, on the very brink.
I reached out and grabbed his hair, pulling him into me. I fell back onto the counter, the cool granite defusing some of the bubbling heat emanating between us.
“One more finger, Char. You can do it.” Austin’s blue eyes locked with mine, and I rolled my head as he added a third finger into my soaking wet pussy.
His thumb pressed firmly against my clit, and my whole body ached to feel his cock inside me, to know the sensation of his thick length filling me, pushing deep. I held back, reminding myself there was a line we’d promised not to cross. This was for pleasure.
I closed my eyes, willing every thought, every doubt, to dissolve. I let myself sink into the moment, to feel everything without hesitation.
“You’re laid out for me, Char. I’m yours,” he murmured, his voice low and intense. “I am yours.”
Something raw laced his tone, but I didn’t dare look at him. His words lingered, a promise wrapped in a fleeting moment. But he couldn’t really be mine—this connection was only borrowed, temporary.
He slipped his fingers from inside me and gripped my hips as he tugged my shorts off, tossing them aside.
In an instant, his mouth was back on me, his tongue sliding over my slit, tasting me with a ferocious hunger.
Every shift in pressure sent jolts of pleasure through me, and my clit throbbed under his relentless attention.
“I’m going to come,” I cried out, breathless, my voice breaking with need. “I—”
My body unraveled, releasing, my orgasm tearing through me in powerful, shattering waves, leaving me panting.
Every inch of me burned with the afterglow as Austin’s name slipped from my lips, a desperate plea as I rode out the last tremors.
His mouth slowed, savoring me, grounding me, holding me steady in the aftermath.
I slumped against the counter, completely spent, my body warm and blissfully heavy.
“Austin,” I breathed, the word barely a whisper.
He slipped his hands under me, lifting me up and pulling me against his chest as he carried me upstairs, strong and sure.
“You did so good,” he murmured, his voice a deep, soothing rumble. “Thank you.”
I gazed up at him, watching the tenderness in his eyes as he carried me into my room. Past the bed, he brought me straight to my large clawfoot tub, setting me down with care.
He turned on the water, and I watched him in awe. Nobody ever went to these lengths to care for me.
“Austin,” I whispered. “I never . . .” My gaze drifted down to where his cock still strained against his sweatpants, hard and waiting.
He chuckled, brushing a hand over my cheek. “It’s okay, Char.”
The warm water filled the tub as he leaned over the edge, watching it rise.
“Come in with me,” I murmured, wanting him close, craving more of that closeness.
“I can’t do that. It would cross the line for us.”
The ache that bloomed inside me was deeper than disappointment; it was a hollow kind of emptiness that spread. I held his gaze, searching for something—anything—that might tell me he felt it too.
Austin stood and shook his head, regret heavy in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He turned and walked away, his steps quiet but absolute.
The soft click of the door as it closed behind him echoed in the room, sealing the space and amplifying the emptiness inside me.
The warmth I’d felt with him, a warmth I’d clung to, vanished all at once, leaving a chill that seeped into my bones, reminding me of how easily it all slipped away.
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold onto the pieces of what had felt so full just moments before, but it was useless. I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall, their warmth fading almost as quickly as it came, leaving me colder than ever.