His fingers brushed my lips again, and I captured them between my teeth. Snarling, he hooked them over my lower jaw. “Ask for it.”
I relaxed my mouth, and he took back his hand, coming up one step further so he stretched over me, his body grazing mine, driving me crazy with the need to feel its weight. He placed his lips at my ear. “Ask for it, sweet thing.”
I reached low between us, running my hand over the bulge in his jeans. He unbuttoned and unzipped them, and I slid my hand inside, wrapping my fingers around his cock. It was thick and hot and hard and fuck, I wanted it pounding into me. I wanted it enough to ask for it. “Fuck me,” I breathed, lifting my hips toward his. “Now.”
“I said ask.” He grabbed my wrist and stared me down. “And say please, like a good girl should.”
For a second I was torn between Will you please fuck off and Will you please fuck me, but I’d never wanted anyone more in my entire life. “Charlie. Will you please fuck me?”
He whipped his t-shirt over his head before pulling a condom from his back pocket. While he put it on, I ran my hands over his hot, tight stomach. Jesus Christ, you could serve a meal on his abs they were so hard.
And speaking of hard.
Charlie looped an arm around my back and pulled me down onto his cock. I was drenched and ready for it, but with that first deep thrust I realized I was still tender from last night. Knowing the pleasure would eclipse the pain, I clung to his neck, wrapping my legs around him to keep my lower back from slamming into the edge of the step. Relentlessly, he drove into me, and I buried my face in his shoulder, focusing on the lingering hum his tongue had left between my legs, letting it fray the edges of the pain. Soon I was moaning softly, digging my nails into his back, our bodies tangled and twisted as we struggled to stay on the stairs and not slide down. Finally, Charlie’s feet hit the ground, and he angled deeper, grabbing my ass with one hand. I gasped and bit down on his collarbone.
“Fuck yes.” Charlie’s voice had that deep, intense tone I adored, although less controlled now. “You were all I fucking thought about today. I had to get inside you again. I had to be right there,” he said, staying deep and holding me tight to his groin, his cock buried to the hilt. He circled his hips, grinding into me. “Right there. Right there…oh fuck.”
Apparently Charlie’s right there was the same as my right there because right as his body went stiff, I came hard, my insides clenching rhythmically around his throbbing cock.
Confession: I was getting a little attached to Charlie Dwyer. Or at least to sex with Charlie Dwyer.
But I was having a hard time separating the two.
While he used my downstairs bathroom, I used the upstairs one, wondering exactly how to handle this situation. We hadn’t spoken yet.
In my room, I pulled on a new pair of panties before hanging up my blouse and putting my jeans back in a drawer. I felt like being more comfortable, and if Charlie and I were going to eat leftovers, I definitely required looser pants. Pajamas were too intimate, so I settled for leggings and a big slouchy cream-colored sweater. Pulling it over my head, I considered my options.
A. Say nothing and plate up the turkey. Maybe we’d both be glad to just gloss right over the fact that we hadn’t lasted one day on the no-sex plan.
B. Get angry before he did. Blame him for starting this by showing up here and attacking me with his ridiculous hotness on a cold, lonely night.
C. Laugh it off. Guess it wasn’t out of our systems, huh? Now how about some real pie?
Yes, that was it. C, definitely.
By the time I got back downstairs, he was waiting in my kitchen.
With his coat on.
“You’re leaving?” I asked, thrown off guard.
“Don’t you want me to?”
“No. I mean—I brought leftovers home for you. Did you eat Thanksgiving dinner today?”
“Not really. By the time I got off work and went to see my granddad, he’d already eaten. We just played cards and hung out. I started to drive home to get something to eat but I drove here instead. I don’t even really know why.”
Oh hell. What was I supposed to say to that? Somehow this felt different than last night, when he’d retreated right away into his smart-mouth persona, teasing me and cracking jokes. I decided to keep it light and breezy. “Well, you must have been psychic because I was just picking up my phone to call you and invite you over for leftover turkey dinner. Of course, I was thinking of tomorrow night, but tonight works too.” While I was talking, I went to the cupboard and pulled out two big dinner plates.
“Didn’t you eat already?”
I shrugged, braving a shy smile at him. “I worked up some more appetite.”
He nodded slowly. “Me. Too.”
“Then take your coat off. I’ll fix us plates. Anything you don’t like?”
“Is there cilantro in the stuffing?” he asked, eyeballing the potted herbs on my windowsill, which were so thirsty they’d turned half yellow.
“No.”
He slipped his coat off and hung it over the back of a chair. “Then I’m good.”
“You don’t like cilantro?” I took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water.
He made a sour face. “No, it tastes like a sneeze.”
“It does not. You’re crazy.” I elbowed him out of the way and watered the herbs. “Here, little fellas. I’m sorry if I accidentally tried to kill you like I’ve killed all your cousins. Please don’t die.”