Jen Frederick's Blog, page 13

Charlotte Chronicles, Part XLVIII

“This is the perfect house Charlotte. Thank you for helping,” Charlotte’s client says. Her name is Peyton, like the legend Walter P, although that’s probably not who she’s named after.

“My pleasure,” Charlotte says but her voice is muffled because her face is stuck in the belly of Peyton’s baby. An urge to pick her up and take her back to the hotel so we can start baby making rocks me. Literally. I stick my fists in my pockets and pretend I’m intentionally moving back and forth on my heels when really I’ve had a Teutonic shift in my world view.

“So man, I have to admit I don’t know your team,” Peyton’s husband says apologetically.

“No team. I’m in the Navy.”

Having assumed I’m neither famous nor rich, he dismisses me and turns to run his eyes over Charlotte. My pockets are doing double duty now. Keeping me from hauling Charlotte away from here and preventing me from decking her client. It’s a wild guess, but I bet she wouldn’t approve of that. Although…if he keeps staring at her legs he’s going to have a hard time seeing the batters after I gouge both of his eyes out.

“Ohh, a military man,” Peyton stage whispers. Her husband shoots her an annoyed glance. I wink at them just to piss off the husband even more. “How does he look in uniform?”

“I don’t know, do you Nate?” Charlotte gives me a hungry look that causes my shorts to get a bit tight and the baseball player next to me to swallow his tongue. After that long appreciative perusal, I’m not irritated with the guy next to me because I’m the one who’s going to be in Charlotte’s bed tonight. Not him.

“I look like a man in uniform.”

“Nate’s actually a Navy Seal.” The words pop out unexpectedly of Charlotte’s mouth. I raise an eyebrow at her. I don’t care what these random civilians think of me. The wife’s expression says that she’d like to see me out of uniform and the player is recalibrating his quick dismissal.

Then, because he’s an asshole, he asks the stupid question. “So how many ways do you know how to kill a man?”

“Too many and not enough,” I answer tersely.

Charlotte recognizes that I need to get out of here and quickly finishes her business. Watching Charlotte smooth ruffled feathers and close her deals shows me a different side of her, one unfamiliar but no less attractive. Various family members have told me that she’d begun to build an exciting and successful business. She’d come a long way from Cancergirl—the one that I was afraid couldn’t walk down the hall by herself, the one who I hid in the boy’s locker room at high school.

Mom had told me that demand for Charlotte’s business is so high she can’t keep up with all the requests. I get it. If I was a young athlete with no family going to a new territory, I’d want some bright young thing smoothing out all my details. It’s like having a hot wife without any of the responsibilities. But the women like her or at least Peyton does. And she doesn’t look at Christian with anything other than the fond regard you have for someone paying you five figures to help you move.

I’m anxious to get her alone.

A beep of my cell phone signals an incoming text message. I tip my head toward Charlotte but she waves me off. I smile to myself. We’ve already started our nonverbal communicating, as if there wasn’t years of separation.

The message is from Cab.

Bring your girl to Flannery’s. That’s an order from your LT.

Did you get a promotion when I wasn’t looking?

No, but I’m sitting next to LT.

Incoming picture.

Sure enough Cab is sitting next to LT with two big beers on the table in front of them. Fraternizing with officers is usually frowned upon but not on the Teams. We’re encouraged to be up in each other’s business constantly. It’s how the unit operates as one.

You’ll be drunk by the time we get there. I could bring a clown and you’d hit on it thinking it was her.

We’re golfing! This is the seventh inning stretch! … Wait, LT says it’s 9 hole break. Ha! Golfing is dirty! Anyway don’t bring the clown. You know I’m afraid of them.

“What’s making you smile?” Charlotte taps me on the arm. Beyond her the realtor is getting into his car and Peyton and Christian have moved toward the house.

“We done here?”

“Yes.”

I take her hand and we walk toward my jeep. “The guys want to meet you.” I tilt the phone her way so she can read my messages.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I’m afraid their version of welcoming might cause you to run away.”

She scoffs. “I work with athletes. I’ve been in locker rooms before. It can’t be worse than that.”

“But you’ve never seen another naked man, right?” The thought of her around a bunch of unclothed athletes bothers me.

Her face turns away but not before I see a smile she tries to hide. “Of course not Nate. Yours is the only body I’ve ever seen without clothes.”

I can’t tell if she’s serious but I’m accepting it as true or I’ll have to do something like give her a ring of hickies so that everyone knows she’s off limits.

“Before I throw you to the wolves, want to come and see my digs? Maybe check out of the hotel and save a few dollars?”

The reference to saving is an in joke and she grins saucily. We both know that even if she didn’t have her job, she had her trust fund just like I had mine. Freedom Funds, our parents co owned hedge fund, had made both her family and mine very rich. Charlotte’s dad had made a mint in construction too so she probably never had to work a day if she didn’t want to.

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

“According to my government issued timepiece, it’s been about four hours since I last kissed you.”

She reaches up and runs her fingers lightly across my forehead. “Is that right?”

Drawing her into my arms, I lean back against the jeep. “That’s right.”

In the middle of this posh San Diego suburb, I pull her tight against me and kiss her. My jaw isn’t so freshly shaven but she rubs against me as if the burn feels good. Our tongues clash against each other and soon I want to strip her clothes off and lay her down on the soft grass, uncaring what the residents might think. I break it off before I lose all control.

Panting roughly in her ear, I tell her, “We need to get going before I’m arrested for lewd and indecent conduct. Navy frowns upon that.”

A smug satisfaction fills me at her glazed expression and I help her into the Jeep. As we drive toward her hotel, I hold her hand against my thigh, not wanting to have any break in our connection. “I didn’t know you were proud of me,” I comment recalling how she quickly corrected Christian’s impression of me as a no name sailor.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I thought you might be resentful because it took me away from you.”

“It wasn’t your job that took you away from me,” she says quietly.

And she’s right. The mood is less passionate and more somber when we arrive at the hotel. I try to lighten it up by describing my ratty bachelor pad. “It’s in an apartment building with a bunch of other sailors and Marines. Cab doesn’t understand why I haven’t moved away.”

“Why haven’t you?” she asks as she carefully stows away all of her clothes and sundry items. She’s as neat as a sailor.

“It’s not like I spend a lot of time there.”

“Still, it’s not like you couldn’t afford something better.”

“I don’t like to flaunt the family money. It’s not really mine. I didn’t earn it other than by being born and a lot of the other guys don’t come from money. It’s why so many SEALs sell their stories when they’re out. That and they want to be famous.”

From her skeptical expression, I can tell she doesn’t fully buy into my excuse but I don’t have a better one.

“No matter. Take me to your  lonely bachelor apartment and make love to me in your virgin bed,” she declares zipping her suitcase shut.

I grab it from her. “Is it still virginal if I’ve beat off to pictures of you?”

“It’s pure as the driven snow until you take me there and pleasure me in all the ways that you have fantasized about.”

I break a lot of laws getting to my apartment. Halfway there, though, she kills my erection.

“I live in Dallas now, near Nick.”

Nick. God, the poor bastard. I’ll need to call him and so will Charlotte. “That’s right. Weren’t you living with him for a while?”

She nods. “For a few months after he first moved there. We didn’t know how long he’d need me and then, after a while, I became a really easy excuse for why he couldn’t bring women home.”

“He said you were his girlfriend?”

“No. His sister,” she grins. “But after the third woman showed up in a trench coat and heels, I moved out.”

We shared a laugh but when I pull into the parking lot of my building, Charlotte grabs my arm before I can jump out.

“I can stay a couple of days but then I have to go back and take care of another client. My life is in Dallas, Nate.” The turmoil of our uncertain future is clear in her eyes.

“I’ll fly to Dallas for the rest of my leave. We can head up to Chicago and see the parents too.”

“What are we going to tell everyone?”

“Stay there,” I order. I can’t do this sitting in the Jeep. I need to be able to see her straight on.

“This whole situation is emotionally confusing for me,” she says.

I round the front of the Jeep and then haul her out. I hadn’t planned on doing this right now. There were better, more romantic ways but I can’t wait another minute. The box in my pocket I picked up before I sent the letter might burn a hole through the cotton.

Ignoring the every increasing male eye pinned on the spectacle I am making, I grip her shoulders. “I love you Charlotte. I want us to be together. I’ll do anything it takes to keep us together. I want you to come to see where I live. I want to see where you live. I want to meet your friends. I want you to meet my friends. I want our families to know we are together. I don’t want Nick to feel that he is in the middle of a bad divorce.”

“So you know it has been a strain on him.” She’s wide eyed wondering where I’m going with my crazy rambling.

“Of course I knew.  Half the reason he can’t settle down is because I’ve screwed him up so bad. All he sees is his big brother turning his back on something wonderful and how much pain it has cost both of us. He’ll take the hits on the field but doesn’t want suffer them off of it.” I hadn’t just pushed Charlotte away but I’d placed a wedge between our families, harmed my brother, and made my own life miserable.

I bend down on one knee, in the middle of the parking lot, next to my dirty jeep surrounded by salty military men and women.

I take her hand in mine. “Charlotte Randolph, since the moment I held you when you were an infant and I was two, I knew that we were destined to be together. I fought that destiny but no longer. Living without you is merely existing. And it’s impossible. I’ve tried it for so long. I’m only half a person. You are so courageous having fought for your life, and then for me. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve another chance. But you’ve told me you’ve loved me, that you always have, that you always will so I can’t turn away even if I should.

I am here before you, on my knees, to not only beg you to forgive me but to allow me to show you how much I love you for the rest of my life. Will you please marry me.”

Her shocking blue eyes, the blue the color of the pure ocean, of the clearest sky, fill with water and spill silently down her cheeks.

I don’t so much hear her response as feel it inside me, as my entire body vibrates with her choked and shaking, “yes!”

I sweep her up and crush her mouth to mine. Around us are laughter and cheers and people taking pictures that will be the source of mocking for years to come. But I don’t care.

I run up the stairs, still holding her, still kissing her. I somehow manage to fall into my apartment and into the bedroom. We rip at each other’s clothes, our mouths feverishly attacking one another until we are skin to skin. She takes me in her hand and guides me to her hot wet center that I’ve come to identify as home.

Her eyes are wide and her body is welcoming. I take a moment to appreciate the vision. The strands of her wheat colored hair and spread across the navy blue of my sheets. She’s an angel spread for my enjoyment.

I bracelet her two wrists in one hand and pin them above her head, stretching her body to accommodate me in every aspect.

Her head thrashes as she moans my name. “Nathan, please.” She strains against me. Her legs widen and the heels of her feet press hard against my ass. “I never imagined we would be together again.”

“I know, baby. Push your hands here,” I whisper into her skin. I press her palms against the headboard so I free my own hands. One I use to brace myself and the other to reach under her bowed back. “I can’t go slow and I can’t go easy.”

She nods, “I want you. Take me hard.”

Rearing to my knees, I fold her legs up and thrust into her with as much finesses as a juvenile. I have barely any rhythm and almost no conscious thought. I am only blood and nerves. My focus is narrowed down to the pinpoints of sensation that are electrified by each slam into her body.

Forward and retreat.

Forward and retreat.

We are animals, recklessly straining for pleasure. Beneath me, her body jerks with each deep thrust. I’m abusing her, but I can’t stop. The way she’s locked around my body, I don’t believe she’d let me stop.

“Fucking come with me now,” I roar as the familiar tension starts to coil inside me. Licking my thumb, I press the dampened tip on her sensitive clit. She screams in response and her cunt grips me like a vise. We wind tighter and tighter together until I feel her release shake her body.

I power forward, hips jerking and then I’m coming. My hot seed jets inside her, coating her walls. That’s right, I think, that’s my seed marking my territory inside your sweet body.

After the storm is past and we lie in a pile of destroyed sheets, abandoned clothes, and sweaty limbs, I press kisses all over her bare skin. There’s the hollow of her throat that I’ve not paid enough attention to or the valley between her breasts that call for my touch. I haven’t completed charted the rises and dips in her back or the location of each beauty mark. Even her toes are sexy. I want to suck and lick every part of her again and again.

“You’re going to have to marry me now,” I say.

“Why is that?” She says lazily tracing my back with her fingernails.

“Because Mom will force you to make an honest man out of me. You can’t expect me to keep sleeping with you without the protection of marital vows.” I fall to my back and clasp a hand over my heart.

She pounces on me, her fingers digging into my hard muscled sides. When I don’t laugh from her tickling, she pushes her lower lip out. “I have serious doubts about how this is going to all work out if you aren’t ticklish.”

“I can pretend for you.”

Her face grows sober. “Don’t ever pretend. Let’s always be real with each other.”

“Always.”

The post Charlotte Chronicles, Part XLVIII appeared first on Jen Frederick.

Charlotte Chronicles Part XLVII

Nathan


“Is there a family joining us?” Charlotte asks. Her voice is husky from sleep. As she raises her arms to stretch, the oversized robe she donned gapes in the front revealing the edges of her delicate collarbones and the soft inner flesh of her breasts. Beyond her is the bed that we spent the better part of the afternoon, all of the evening and some pre dawn hours destroying. And I’m still ready for another round.


Trying to distract myself, I assess the room service cart just delivered. There are six silver domed plates full of steak, waffles, bacon, three different types of eggs, fruit and oatmeal. Seems reasonable.


“I see only enough for me,” I joke. “Unless the family is the size of mice, I think everyone but you and I are going to go hungry. Come on and sit down.”


I pat the sofa cushion beside me where I’m sprawled wearing nothing but a towel that has loosened at the side. She settles under my arm without argument or complaint. It’s not easy eating one handed but I’m not taking my arm off of her. Part of me is unconvinced she’s real and that the whole night was just one fucking vivid dream.


“What do you have going on today?” I ask.


“I’m finishing up with a client. We’re closing the sale on a house and then the mother and I are meeting with the principal of the new school.” She leans forward and takes a bite of the omelette.


“School’s already in session?” I ask. It’s July. “No, but I want to make sure that the transition is smooth. That’s what I’m hired to do.”


I know about her job because I grilled Nick constantly about it but there’s something domestic and comforting hearing her explain.


“Let me come with you. I’ll be your assistant.”


The request causes her to fumble with her coffee mug. After a noticeable hesitation, she says, “Is shore leave like some kind of vacation?”


Her uncertainty is disturbing and my hand tightens around her shoulder unconsciously. She’s forgiven me, but she’s not forgotten and her heart isn’t fully mine. If it was, she wouldn’t pause for a second to invite me along. She’s okay with fucking me; but she’s not convinced she wants me in every part of her life. I see it in the stiffening of her body and how she shrinks in my embrace.


I close my eyes for a minute and stifle my impatience. Did I really think one letter and several orgasms were going to make all the past years of heartache disappear? Apparently I did. Of course she’s skittish.  My past history with Charlotte is abandonment and pain. Failing is refusing to keep trying. I’d failed her before. Not anymore. I had to prove myself though—be a man of actions, not just words.


The key here is to stay close and become so deeply embedded into her skin that she won’t be able to walk away from me. But I have to play it close to my vest. If I come on too strong, she might flee


“Yes. Some of the guys will go fishing or spend time with their families.”


“And what would you do on past shore leaves?”


“Go fishing or visit my family.”


She flinches because my family should have included her. It did once.


“You’ll have to put on clothes.”


“I can do that.” I will do anything.


“Do you have a suit? Or is your entire closet uniforms and beach bum outfits?”


I try to keep the tone light. “It’s like you’ve seen my closet.”


I realize my error before the last word leaves my mouth. That she doesn’t know what my apartment looks like let alone the interior of my closet, everything I say is just a reminder of how I’d cut her out. Of course she hasn’t seen my closet. Of course she doesn’t know what I do on shore leave. Maybe sticking close is a mistake of epic proportions. Everything out of my mouth is salt in a wound.


After some internal struggle, she gives me a small smile and tucks a few strands of hair behind her head. “To the mall and then a few errands.”


I curl my hand around the back of her neck. “As long as I’m with you, I’ll wear a clown suit if I have to.”   My lips meet hers tenderly and as her lips part, I press her into the cushions. I hadn’t intended to take her there on the sofa with the eggs and coffee growing cold, but I can’t resist. When we’re connected like this, I feel invincible. Nothing and no one can separate us. Not even me. With a fumbling hand, I loosen the tie around her waist. “Charlotte, you are so beautiful.”


Her breath catches and her eyes grow luminous as I trail the backs of my fingers over the rise of her breast, to her stomach and then lower. At my touch, her thighs clench together in aroused discomfort. I waste no time in spreading her legs and delving between them. She’s swollen, tender and wet.


“I think I’m too sore,” she whispers with regret.


“Not for what I have in mind.” I hook one of her slender legs over the back of the sofa and lower to me knees. My tongue strokes over the engorged lips.


“Okay, maybe I can endure.” Her words are a joke but her voice is thready and weak.


As I apply myself, her words become short, huffed out moans. When I add one finger and then another, those moans turns to pleas to make her come.


“I love this Charlotte. I love being down here. I want to eat this for breakfast every morning.” I tongue her harder in small circular strokes. Every tiny inch of her flushed and engorged skin is explored. I hold her down as she writhes underneath me.


“I need more,” she cries. Her non pinned leg wraps around my hip and tries to pull me closer.


My dick tells me to give her more and suddenly resistance is stupid. Pushing her thigh up higher, I take myself in one hand. “You sure you want this Charlotte?”


She licks her lips and nods.


“Yes. Right now. I need you inside me.”


I don’t need to be asked twice.


###


“You’re staring again,” Charlotte complains. Her mouth is slightly open and she’s applying mascara to her eyelashes. It’s true. I can’t stop staring at her.


It’s all new to me from the way she brushes her teeth with an electric toothbrush to the complicated blow drying of her hair with a big round brush only to end up with perfectly straight strands. Watching her dress herself is almost as erotic as undressing her. Her panties are pulled up her legs and smoothed over her sweet ass. Her delicate lace bra cups her tits and pushes them together, creating a small, delicious valley that I’d like to tongue repeatedly while she straddles me.


Unfortunately, she dons her robe again which covers her bare skin and the skimpy pieces of lace. But before I can argue, she starts applying make up which I find fascinating.


It’s like watching a behind the scenes documentary of a magic show. Not that Charlotte isn’t gorgeous without the makeup. She definitely could be naked constantly around me and I’d be happy.


“I didn’t realize so much work went into not looking like you wore makeup.” I observe from my perch on the edge of the tub. I’m trying to maintain some distance because every time I’m within about three feet of her, I get hard. Her body needs a rest. I might break something if I keep pounding her.


“Oh yes, the infamous natural look. I saw that report online where something like nine out of ten men like women without makeup followed by men voting a girl wearing makeup as more attractive than one without.”


“Why do you listen to anything we say?”


She drops her tube into a bag full of dozens of other sticks and tubes and bottles. “I have no idea.”


Out in the room, she shrugs off her robe and pulls on the blouse, skirt and jacket. I like that I’m the only man to have seen her this way, in this intimate setting. The other dicks in the world only get to see the Charlotte dressed in her work uniform. I get to see naked, aroused, fucking sexy as hell, Charlotte.


“How come you have to wear a suit?” In Southern California shorts and t-shirts are considered formal attire.


“My clients like it. It helps for them to take me seriously. For some of them, the only people who wear suits are the guys who sign their checks. The suit conveys that I know what I’m doing and smart enough to handle their problems.”


“Like a uniform.”


“Exactly.” Her smile of approval makes me feel like I answered all the question on Jeopardy correct.


When we arrive on the first floor, I start herding Charlotte down toward the lot where my Rubicon is parked. As the dark blue Jeep comes into view, I turn on my heel and usher her back toward the lobby entrance.


“What’s wrong?” she asks.


“I think we should take your car. What is it?”


“Honda Fit.” she says bewildered.


I nod to the valet in his ill fitting gold vest and a pair of cheap black pants. “We need her Honda Fit. Under Charlotte Randolph.”


As we wait she gives me a long perusal.


“What?” I ask finally.


“I’m trying to figure out if you’re going to fit in my rental. It’s kind of small.”


“I’ll be fine.” The Rubicon is completely stripped down. The doors are off and the soft top is gone. It’s great for off roading but it’s not the vehicle for Charlotte to travel around in with her nice clothes and her glossy hair. The image of my bare apartment and my even more bare refrigerator springs to mind. My vehicle, my apartment and even my clothes all scream single bachelor. The only saving grace is that everything is carefully cleaned and put away.


“Was the Jeep yours?”


She doesn’t miss a thing. When the valet arrives, she waves him off. “I don’t need it but here’s something for your trouble.”


Grabbing my arm, she drags me back to the parking lot and my Rubicon. “Is that your Jeep?”


I nod reluctantly. From her bag she produces a scarf which she ties around her hair. “I’m not a delicate flower, Nate.” She sounds disgruntled. “I can ride in your Jeep.”


I stare at her, sitting in my Jeep looking prettier than a picture, until she bangs on the windshield with impatience. With a wide ass grin, I round the front and climb into the driver’s seat. “Just admiring the view,” I murmur and lean over to kiss off some of her lipstick. “The mall first?”


She shakes her head. “No, let’s just get going. You drive a stripped down utility vehicle and wear cargo shorts and flip flops. That’s who you are and I’m fine with it. I’m not forcing you into a uniform on your vacation.”


The Jeep’s engine throttles noisily as I shoot out of the parking lot. “You weren’t forcing me into anything,” I say.


“We’re both different people today than we were years ago. If we’re going to make this work then we have to accept that and work with those differences. The car you drive, the clothes you wear—those things are the least of our worries.”


“Sounds ominous,” I try to be lighthearted but she’s right. After a mile or so of silence, I ask about the her well dressed companion from yesterday. “Tell me about Colin. He looks familiar.”


Despite my attempt at studied nonchalance, the request comes out more like an order. She raises on eyebrow as if to say she doesn’t have to tell me shit or maybe the expression is saying that if I had been more present in her life, I’d know exactly who Colin is.


“I met Colin in Switzerland. He had cancer treatment at the same time. We’ve kept in touch.” Her words aren’t meant to be accusatory but like my earlier references, they are


My mood darkens immediately. The least favorite period in my life were those months Charlotte was away from Chicago. I prefer to shut those memories out as if that time didn’t exist. Revisiting the past was painful enough when I wrote the letter.  Colin from Switzerland is an enemy as is any other person who might try to keep us apart. I will find out everything there is to know about him and then eliminate any possible dangers.


“He’s not a threat you know.” She reaches across the center console and touches my arm. I force my tense muscles to relax. “He’s a good friend. He…provided a male perspective of things when I was busy being lost in my own head.”


“Intellectually I get them but I can’t deny seeing you with him, seeing you touch him makes me crazy. I don’t like you being around other dicks. I have about a dozen insane utterances I’m keeping to myself so that you don’t jump out of the Jeep.” 


“When you meet him it will be different,” she assures me. “He’s a great guy and I think the two of you will get along.”


Like hell we will. Unless you never utter his name again, I’m going to hate the dickbag. Out loud, I pretend to agree. “Sure, can’t wait.”


Apparently despite the long absence, Charlotte can read me better than anyone. She smirks and then laughs outright. At least she’s laughing. I grab her hand and place it on my thigh, as much for my benefit as it is for her. I need the constant contact.


We drive down a lane of expensive houses filled with equally expensive green lawns where the drought bans make watering lawns prohibitively expensive. She gestures for me to stop at one imposing structure. “Who’d you say this was again?”


“Baseball player. If you have a kid who can play all the sports, baseball is the most lucrative and longest lasting career,” she answers.


Before she can climb out of the Jeep, I grab her wrist. “I regret not being there when you needed me. I dislike that this Colin guy was but I’ll deal with it.”


With a small shrug, she says, “Our past is what it is. Nothing we can do is going to change it. I’d rather look forward, wouldn’t you?”


She hops out before I can reach her and I’m left straggling behind. A bony blonde woman with a shit ton of make up runs up to Charlotte and hugs her. A lanky guy who I vaguely recognize from ESPN channel follows behind carrying an equally blonde headed baby. Charlotte holds out her arms and plucks the baby from the dad’s arms. My stomach clenches at the sight and I grow half hard. I can hear Cub standing beside me mocking me.


It’s time to pack it up when you get a woodie staring at a Normal Rockwell painting. You’ve lost your edge, gone around the bend–whatever you want to call it–but stick a fork in you because you’re done.


So what? I want that. The family, the house, the kid. I want all of it with Charlotte. She’s right. Looking backward isn’t going to erase the past but we can make our tomorrow exactly as we once imagined it could be.

The post Charlotte Chronicles Part XLVII appeared first on Jen Frederick.

Charlotte Chronicles XLVI

Charlotte

I stand with the door open waiting for him. The elevator is around the corner, out of my sight line, but the faint mechanical noise as it stops on the floor and the ping that signals the doors are opening. I pretend I can hear his footsteps but the plush carpet is swallowing them. I devour him with my eyes, allowing myself to fully appreciate Nate’s adult form. He fills up the hall space, sucks all the oxygen from the building. I’ve certainly stopped breathing.

“You shouldn’t be out here Charlotte,” he says as he approaches. His voice has deepened and has a gravelly timbre to it that makes my insides flutter in response.

“Is it dangerous?”

“Very.” He doesn’t stop at the doorway but scoops me into his arms and strides into the hotel room as if he owns it. The door slams shut behind him and in the next moment I’m sandwiched between the smooth wood at my back and Nate blanketing my front. “Last chance to say no.”

His mouth is a whisker width from mine.

“This is your last chance.”

He nods somberly and sets me on my feet. I begin to protest but he’s not leaving. He falls to his knees and presses his face against my belly. “I know it is.” The words are almost too softly spoken to hear but I feel them. I feel his regret and sincerity. Nate needs absolution that only I can give him. I move away from the door and cross the room to settle on the end of the bed.

He watches me but does not rise. It’s as if he is afraid that if he does anything wrong, I’ll reject him.

If we hadn’t grown up together, if I hadn’t known what a genuinely good person he was, if I hadn’t felt the genuine torment in between the spaces of the words he wrote, maybe he would be right.

But we’ve spent too long apart and I’m ready to move forward even if he’s afraid.

“Would you do something for me?” I ask.

“Anything” is his immediate answer.

“Come over here and let me look at you.” I lean back on my two arms, allowing my loose fitting nightshirt to fall around me. It’s not the sexiest of bedroom attire but it’s a t-shirt of his. He’s always liked it when I wore his clothes. “And take off your shirt while you’re at it.”

He rises immediately and walks toward me, stalks me more like it. His shirt comes off in the way that men do—one hand at the back of his neck and then over his head. The reveal is delicious. His arms are muscular and veiny and his abs are every bit magazine cover perfect without any need for photoshop. Over the right shoulder are tendrils of a tattoo that cover his upper right back. The only mark on him other than the scars evidencing his time in a military. My mind takes a million photographs so that I can pull these out when we aren’t together. He stops about a foot from my bent legs.

I motion for him to turn around. He puts his hands on his hips as if to say really Charlotte but this is my show. He pirouettes, slowly, his arms stretched wide. I swear he could almost touch the walls, his wing span is so wide.

“Colin told me that SEALs can hold their breath for a very long time. Is that true?”

His nostrils flare, either in jealousy or excitement or both.

“Five minutes without exertion, at least. But it’s doing stuff while holding your breath like tying a knot in the precise way your instructor wants or doing a series of underwater maneuvers. Stress makes you lose oxygen at a quicker pace so you learn to regulate your heart rate, learn not to panic.”

“And your heart rate now? How is it?”

“You tell me.”

He places a hand on either side of my hips and stretches his neck forward. His face is so close I can hear him breathing, soft, steady and slow. But when I press my fingers against his pulse it is beating rapidly. The blood pumps quickly under my touch which, in turns, causes my breath to hitch and accelerate.

“You’re stressed.”

“No, aroused,” he corrects me.

We are not touching at any point but my fingers against his neck and it’s almost more arousing than having his hard body stretched across mine. Anticipation is stirring our appetites and it’s intoxicating. I drop my hand and lean back so I can stare into at his face which is tight with want.

“Take off the rest of your clothes.”

His eyes widen in surprise. This isn’t the Charlotte he remembers. The only Charlotte he’s ever had his hands on was the young, sick Charlotte and followed by the desperate, needy one. I want him to see me as Charlotte the woman who runs her own life and is in charge of her own future as well as her own desires. My demands catch him off guard, but he’s not turned off. Not in the least.

His hands fumble at his waist, the least smooth move I’ve seen him execute. He was right. He is a machine and most of his actions are executed with nearly careless ease. Except now he’s excited. Very, very excited and so am I.

He drops his pants to the floor and his tight boxer briefs go with them. When he straightens, his penis is thick, long and engorged. The head bobs eagerly in front of me and there’s a pearl of moisture on the end. I lick my lips and he releases an audible moan in response.

I can’t keep a wicked smile from curving the corners of my lips upward. I like being in control. I like it a lot.

“Place your hands behind your back.”

He gives me a questioning look. “But I thought I could—“

“Now,” I interrupt him. I know what he thought. He thought he’d come in here and overwhelm me with his mouth and tongue and fingers and all his moves. If he believes he is the only one who has built up a library full of fantasies, he is in for a big surprise. He slowly folds his hands behind his neck, his elbows pointing out toward the walls.

I slip off the bed and onto my knees. I run my hands over his ridged abdomen down the tops of his muscular thighs. He shakes—shakes!—at my caress.

“Can you stand still?”

He nods.

“Do you promise not to touch me?”

“I want to—”

I interrupt. “I’m going to put my mouth on you and give you the greatest blow job you’ve ever experienced, but only if you don’t touch me.”

He opens his mouth and then closes it. Then opens it again. Then closes it. Again. Finally he takes a deep breath and says, “No touching. Got it.”

With a smile, I congratulate him. “You’re catching on.”

I run my nose along the side of his erection, from the base where his heavy sac hangs down to the very tip that is wet with his ejaculate. I repeat the action on the other side, inhaling his masculine scent and reveling in the steel hard silk.

“You’re very long,” I say throatily. “Do you think you’ve grown?”

“In the time you’ve started touching me or since I was eighteen? Because I swear the damn thing grew an inch the minute you said take off your clothes.” His voice is full of strangled laughter.

Steadying myself, I lean in for a taste. A light lick across the head causes him to jerk. Ten years ago, I barely knew what I was doing. I’ve had spent those intervening imaging Nathan in dozens of  sexual ways. His head between my legs; mine between his. His body hovering over me. His front to my back. I’ve dreamt of this. My body has ached for it.

I open wide and take him as far as I can go. He cries out above me.

“Do you remember when you taught me this? How you introduced me to how it felt to have you in my mouth?”

His eyes widen in shocked memory. “Oh shit Charlotte,” is all he can manage.

I use his thighs as leverage and begin a slow steady rhythm. The hard length against my tongue is intoxicating and arousing. The sounds he’s making, the way he’s trembling under my touch is driving me crazy. And making me wet. So very wet.

I squeeze my legs together, turned on by the hardness of his erection and the desperate gasps he makes when his head hits the back of my throat.

So lost in the pleasure, he forgets my orders and his hand drifts down to the crown of my head, pushing my long hair aside. I stop immediately and release him with a pop.

I look up and his eyes flick open. His gaze snaps to his hand and he lifts it immediately back into place behind his neck.

“Good soldier,” I murmur.

“It’s sailor,” he corrects me.

“What?

“I’m a sailor. Army has soldiers, Air Force—you know what. I don’t really care. Call me a soldier. Will you just put your mouth back on me?” he begs.

With a wicked smile, I fist the base of him and attack, hollowing my cheeks and sucking harder and faster than before. His sounds take on a rough edge and his legs become tense. Above me he spits out single syllable words as if breathing is an effort.

Charlotte.

Your mouth.

So good.

Fuck.

I can’t.

Don’t stop.

Yes. 

I’m coming. Shit, Charlotte. Now. I’m coming now.

He tries to jerk away but I follow him, drinking him down until every drop of him has slid down my throat. And with his seed spent, his knees give way. He crumples in front of me, collapsing onto his knees.

“Charlotte, your gift. It was too much,” he says.

“It was no gift,” I drawl and take his hand to press it between my legs. “I wanted to. I did it for me.” All my modesty and shyness is gone because I don’t fear him. I don’t fear his rejection. When he asked me the other night to tell him what I wanted, I was afraid. I’m not anymore.

I want him to know that I’m turned on by pleasing him, by being with him, by him loving me.

He stills at the evidence of my desire and then slowly rubs between my legs. A slow, dirty smile spreads over his face. “My turn.”

He cups my face and draws me in for a fierce kiss—uncaring that I still have the taste of him on my tongue. The way his lips press against mine—it’s as if he wants to breathe only if he is attached to me. He conveys so much need and love though his lips. His hands glide down my back and then with a sharp jerk, pulls me tight against him. My legs fold around his hips and his rises in one swift elegant move.

In another we are on the bed, the weight of his heavy body pressing me into the downy comforter and the soft mattress.

“Start counting, baby, because I’m going to show you exactly how long I can hold my breath.”

He moves down my body until his shoulders are pushing my legs wide apart, exposing my core to his gaze. He spends a long time taking me in long slow licks, exploring every part of me, sucking my inner thighs, my sex, the tender crease at my hip. His ministrations are endless as he brings me to the brink time and again. His turn, indeed.

He slides a condom on and pushes into me, the ruddy head of his cock stretching the swollen tissues. I move restlessly under him and he whispers sweet things to me.

Let me in. Relax.

Shh. Doesn’t this feel good?

Your pussy is so tight. So fucking tight. 

I let my legs fall open as he pushes into place, thrusting in deep until his cock is fully encased inside of me. He begins to move in smooth, even strokes. Into my hair, he continues his litany of praise.

God you’re beautiful.

You feel like heaven.

I don’t ever want to leave this place, this moment. 

I love you.

“Love you too,” I answer back, squeezing him tight inside me. “Always have. Always will.”

“I was a fool, baby. Such a goddamn fool.”

The broken words elicit the words he’s been waiting to hear. The ones that have been on the tip of my tongue since I read his letter. “I forgive you.”

His sure strokes stutter and his head falls to the comforter beside me. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

He repeats himself and begins to thrust harder, pulsing against me. His words are drawn out and guttural as if they’ve come from deep inside him, a well of need that is exploding.

A hand dips between us and his sure fingers find me, pressing down, circling and bringing me over the cliff and into the free fall of space called ecstasy. His hips jackhammer between my legs as he finds his own release. He flops on top of me, a mass of unmovable man. He makes a half hearted attempt to move but I clutch him tightly to me. I want to be crushed into the mattress. I want luxuriate in the weight of his body heavy against mine. I listen to his breathing and match him, breath for breath until it is as if we are one being, inhaling and exhaling together.

My nails lightly score his back, over his muscled traps and down the valley of his spine to the top of his firm buttocks and then up again.

“You keep doing that and I’m going to get hard again,” he mutters into my hair.

Deliberately I inhale just to enjoy the sensation of him sinking even deeper into me. “Is that a threat or a promise?” I tease.

“Promise.” With a regretful sigh he pushes off of me and settles by my side. “Charlotte Randolph, you’re all grown up.”

“I am.”

We lie entwined together, hugging each other close.

“It’s still my turn,” he says, cupping the back of my head and delving in for a kiss full of carnality and passion.

“You’ve bossed me around for years,” I protest. “Surely I have several turns left.”

He chuckles and kisses me again. In the post coital aftermath, thoughts of the trauma Nate had suffered but so casually swept aside creep in. Hugging him close as if I could ward off the past with my body.

“You do know you were a victim, right? She didn’t rape you but she violated you in ways that hurt your soul. And here’s the kicker. It, like rape, was about gaining power over you.” Unstated is that she did gain that power.

He halts the circular rub of my back. “It’s hard for me to accept that. Even then I was bigger and stronger than the girls. And stupid. Very stupid.”

“If I’d gone to a party, been drugged and put in the same situation would you have blamed me or expected me to blame myself for nine years? Would you have said, oh Charlotte, if only you hadn’t gone to the party, if only you’d drank less, if only you’d sat inside your house, not touching a lick of alcohol and not venturing outside the apartment, we would still be together. The separation would never have happened. Would you have placed that burden on me?”

Mutely he shakes his head.

“Then why on earth Nathan, do you blame yourself?”

His internal dilemma played on his face while he struggled for the words. “I don’t like admitting I’m weak and not in control.”

“It’s better to shoulder the blame?”

“Easier to cope with.”

I have no response and so say nothing. He hasn’t coped with it or rather his way of coping was shutting down. I can only hope that if we hit rough times in the future, he doesn’t turn away from me again, for my own good. 

He pushes my face up to his for another kiss and I melt under his attention but there’s a tiny part of my heart that I’m afraid to give, for my own good.

The post Charlotte Chronicles XLVI appeared first on Jen Frederick.

Charlotte Chronicles XLV

Nathan

“If this is stalking then I can see why women are creeped out. I’m creeped out.” Cab says.

We’re parked across the street from a restaurant where Charlotte is having lunch with her male friend. The one that Cabby called smooth and whom I am privately referring to as the fuckstick who is sitting too close to my girl.

“No one asked you to come with.” If he touches her arm again, I am getting out of this jeep and ripping his hand off.

“She knows you’re here. Women have this intuition.”

“Cabby is your whole world broken down into male and female categories?” I say impatiently.

He pauses for a minute. “Yes? Mostly because I think in sexual terms. Females have the pussy and we have the cock. That seems like a clear delineation.”

“There are other places to stick your dick and the fact you only know of you speaks to your bankrupt imagination.”

He’s unmoved. “So this is Charlotte? You hardly ever talk about her but I’ve heard plenty about your parents, famous athlete Nick, but this girl? You’ve said maybe twenty words, tops, in all the years I’ve known you.” I ignore him but that doesn’t stop him continuing. “You’re going to have to talk to get her back. Chicks like the talking. Consider me practice.”

He places his hands under his chin and flutters his eyelashes at me. If I don’t say something, I’m going to have endure a barrage of Cab-style complaints, questions, and theorizations. And he’s not wrong. I do need to explain myself but I don’t even know how to begin.

I lean my arm against the car door, not taking my eyes off of her. “Charlotte is the best part of my life. The best part of me. I grew up with her. She’s Nick’s best friend and was from the moment she was born mine. Mine to protect. Mine to love. Only I failed in that. When she was fifteen she was diagnosed with a form of cancer. There was a tumor growing in her head. She’d been vomiting and complaining of headaches. Her dad took her to the doctor who said she should have a CT. The CT showed this giant ball pressing against her brain stem. Another two weeks and she’d have been dead.”

“But she’s fine now. Very fine,” he murmurs the last part to himself, likely remembering the vision of windblown Charlotte on the Coronado beach.

I clench my fists. I can’t prevent people from looking. It’s going to drive me crazy but Cab is a good friend. I’ll have to talk to my dad about how he deals with this. “So she almost died but didn’t,” he prompts.

“She gets better, but she’s sick a lot. Her parents start talking about sending her away for treatment.”

“Away from Chicago? There’s better treatment than there?”

“Some of the best doctors are working in these posh resorts where you can do experimental shit without the government wagging its finger at you. There’s this clinic in Switzerland where all the rich people of the world send their kids to be treated. Mostly, though, it was to get Charlotte away from me.”

“Her parents disapproved?”

“Not for the reason you think. Charlotte was getting sicker. She wasn’t eating and she was tired, all the time. I thought—I don’t know what I thought actually—but I helped her hide the sickness and one day she collapsed at a party that I had brought her to. She was sent away afterwards.”

But not before I took her virginity. Not before I made her a thousand promises—none of which I’d kept.

Cab could only look at me with raised eyebrows. You dun fucked up boy his expression said.

I nod in agreement. “Everything I did after she left was make things worse for her. Her mom basically said that she couldn’t trust Charlotte with me and she was right because after Charlotte left, I started partying hard. Before I’d always been careful because I was semi conscious of the fact that they looked up to me. With Charlotte gone, I drank a lot and put myself in some shitty situations. I ended up getting on film with two other girls—seriously Cab?” I can see he wants to ask me details but my repressive look shuts him up. He pretends to zip his mouth shut. “The video was sent to Charlotte. She said she forgave me.” I shook my head. “She deserved someone better than me. I’d hoped she would forget me.”

Cab looks thoughtful. “But she wrote you letters for years. Those aren’t the actions of someone who has forgotten you.”

“I know,” I sigh. Charlotte and asshole are done with lunch. He’s signaling to the waitress for the check. “I tried not writing back. At first it was easy because we were in Basic and then there was a lot of training. I volunteered for the shitty posts and assignments no one wanted. I signed up for BUD/s. After I graduated from that there was more training and we’ve been in and out of one conflict after the other. I thought she’d stop but she never did. Not until the end.”

“What made her stop?”

“Shit.” I give a bitter laugh. “Suffering seven years of assholishness.”

“Her last letter was two years ago? Why pursue her now?”

“Remember the journalist we rescued in Iran six months ago?”

“Yeah,” Cabby fell silent. We’d found her in the desert rail thin, beaten on nearly every part of her body below the chin. The internal wounds weren’t visible, but we all knew they existed. “She broke Flip. He’s never been the same.”

Flip was a team member that moved on to DevGru, an elite counter terrorist joint task force. Cabby was right, though. Saving her turned him mean and hard and full of regret because he’d been on a team that tried and failed to rescue her six months earlier. If he went on to save a hundred more people, he’d still fault himself for failing that first time.

“I told her she was the bravest person I’d met. She pinned me to the side of the helicopter with those pale green eyes of hers and said that just getting up and facing tomorrow was the biggest act of bravery for many people and that it would be her hardest challenge. Surviving wasn’t brave, she said. It was living that was brave.”

“I tried to leave Charlotte alone but I can’t. I’m not good enough. Or I’m too damn selfish. I don’t even know how to begin making it up to her, but this half life I’ve been functioning with just isn’t worth it. I’m putting everything I have into winning her back. If I fail, at least I can comfort myself that I tried when I’m old and alone.”

I fall silent, exhausted from my confessions. The waitress brings out two cocktails and not the check as I’d thought.

Cab glares at them. “They’re having the longest lunch in mankind just to fuck with us.” He’s probably right. “I can tell you what I won’t be doing when I’m out.”

“What’s that?”

“Cop work. This is boring as hell and I’m even somewhat entertained by the soap opera of your life. It’s like Shakespeare threw up all over you.”

“Didn’t even know you read, Cab.”

“Don’t but I’ve dated chicks who’ve read and there’s the whole thing called movies.”

They linger over their drinks, completely trolling Cab and I. Finally, when it’s almost time for the dinner crowd to show up they climb into his fancy car again and speed off to Fashion Valley where I’d stop to look at wedding rings.

“In or out?”

I grunt. “Not shopping. We’ll wait.”

But Cab gets out of the Jeep anyway.

“Where are you going?” I call after him.

“I’m here. Might as well pick up some stuff.”

Cursing, I jump out and race to catch up. I don’t want to take the chance that he’s going to approach Charlotte and screw things up for me.

We go into a men’s store and Cab starts talking up a sales clerk while I stand at the door looking for Charlotte. Much to my surprise she comes barreling toward me, carrying a package and a fierce expression.

“Here, you want to see me again?”

I take the package. “You know I do.”

“You owe me nine years of letters. Get writing.”

She stomps off to where her friend is waiting for her, threads her arm through his elbow and they disappear into the crowd. I’m stunned motionless.

“What you got there?” Cab says.

I look in my hands. It’s a box of…stationary? She bought me a box of heavy paper edged in navy blue. And I start laughing. It’s either that or cry and SEALs do not cry.

I howl as Cab leads me out of the store, out of the outdoor shopping complex and I’m still howling when he shoves me into my Jeep. “You keep up that creepy ass laugh and I’m going to punch you in the face.”

Wiping away the moisture my laughter has generated in my eyes, I direct Cab home.

“You giving up on her?”

“Nope. She gave me an opening and I’m busting through.”

<<< >>>

Dear Charlotte,

Basic is about tearing you down until you’re in pieces and then they rebuild you into the machine they want you to be. The machine obeys orders without thinking. The machine can pick up and assemble its gun in under ten seconds. The machine can stay awake and be observant for more than forty-eight hours. The machine can trek twenty miles carrying a pack of one hundred and fifty pounds. A machine feels only for his fellow machines and no one else.

BUD/s training takes it even farther. BUD/s stands for Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training. SEAL is always in all caps or everyone on my side of the wall believes you are talking about the slimy flipper set. BUD/s is a six month course where older SEALs try to kill you. The easiest parts of training are when you’re underwater, with your hands and feet restrained while you pick something up with your teeth. It’s the easiest because no one is yelling that you’re a shitstain motherfucker who is letting your teammates down. They actually are yelling but you can’t hear them under the water. It’s when you break the surface, that their glorious words of encouragement pound into your head.

Strong men break down in BUD/s but not me. Not because I’m more brave or strong or capable than the guy standing next to me or the guy at the end of the line but because I’ve learned that focusing on the moment allows me to forget about the past. Under the water and bound like a pig is no big deal. Carrying a boat on my head? No problem. Lying on the beach with the tide crashing over my head, replicating the sensation of drowning repeatedly? A day with kittens. Thinking about you? More painful than a knife to the gut. So I don’t think about you. I push you aside. I’m weak, you see, so much weaker than you.

If I start thinking about you, I start missing you, then I want to leave. Not only do I want to leave, I want to abandon everyone here. Screw AWOL. who cares if I serve time in the brig so long as I can see you. But then the other memories creep in. The ones where I almost killed you by hiding your sickness from your parents. The ones where I was stupid and careless and drank too much while you were gone. The ones where I did kill your spirit by allowing myself to be videotaped with two girls.

In my sane moments, and I don’t have many of those, I know that others would refer to this as “victim blaming” but it’s not so much that those chicks violated me but that I allowed myself to be used as a weapon against you. That’s what gets me the most.

I know you were hurt and I didn’t respond right. I guess I’d hoped if I ignored it that it would go away. When I ran away to the Navy, I tried to bury my past by becoming the best sailor they could craft. Maybe I’ve achieved that. Maybe I haven’t. I don’t feel like a success because I’ll never be complete without you.

It killed me not to answer your letters. At first, I didn’t write because I thought you would move on, find someone else to make you happy but whenever your letters mentioned another male fondly, I went crazy in my head. Sorry about Paul. I’m sure he was a nice guy. I’m glad he helped you learn to weld. Sorry I used Nick to keep track of you.

I was so messed up Charlotte. And I can’t say that I’m not messed up now only that I can’t function without you.

What I realized a few months ago facing down another brave woman was that I didn’t give you enough credit. I was utterly and inexplicably selfish. But I sold myself on the idea that everything I did was for you. I completely bought into this lie. It became my life.

I stayed away for your sake.

I was silent for your sake.

I broke it off for your sake.

But really it was for me. I didn’t write back because it was easier to pretend like you and I didn’t have feelings and promises. I charged back in whenever I felt my position was threatened. When the time came for me to return to you, I lied to both of us that it was better for us to be apart.

I told myself that you needed protecting and that I had failed in that position. I couldn’t keep you from getting ill. I couldn’t keep you from moving to Switzerland. I couldn’t keep the girls off of me. I couldn’t do any of these things.Worse, when I became a sailor and then a SEAL I had more failures than successes. More people died than we saved. More people were killed than rescued. I was worthless as a protector. I was a machine, nothing more. Trained to aim, shoot, fire, reload. Again and again.

I told myself you deserved better than me because I was merely a bunch of broken bits called man. I underestimated your ability to love, your ability to cope. I took the decision from you. Made it for you like I was better, smarter, wiser.

I am none of those things.

Perhaps I knew this and hid fearing that you would see what kind of frail, jacked product you were getting in return.

This letter is a mess of words, a jumble of thoughts. Maybe there’s not a coherent sentence in the above paragraphs. There is only one thing you need to know. I have never stopped loving you. You have always been first in my heart even when my actions didn’t convey that message.

I come to you, on my knees, beseeching you for forgiveness to give me one more chance to show you that I am a man worthy of your heart. I will spend the rest of my days proving to you with my body, with my heart that I am the Nathan of the Charlotte and Nathan that we were meant to be.

Yours forever,

Nathan

<<< >>>

I’d promised myself at the Del that I’d shed my last tears over Nathan Jackson but as they fall on the heavy linen paper I had bought earlier today I make no effort to stop them. They aren’t really tears but a cleanse of my soul. Until I received this letter, slipped under the door of my hotel room at some point before Colin had driven me back from dinner.

As I read this letter, I realize that I am only the shell of a person with no heart or soul. I’d given everything to Nathan when I was a girl and he kept them. It’s why I’ve been so empty. But he is not only handing them back to me but he is giving me everything in return. Everything I had ever asked for and then some.

I picked up the phone.

“Yes?” His voice is low rumble resonating in my belly. There’s want and need and yes, love, swirling inside my body seeking an outlet.

“Yes,” I say tearily.

He exhales and the stream of air is so long and forceful that it is as if he had been holding his breath for days. “I want—“ he stops himself, clears his throat and begins again. “May I see you?”

“Yes.” This time my affirmation is a watery chuckle.

“When?”

The same urgency imbued in that one word courses through me as well.

“Are you sitting outside my hotel?”

“If I say yes, will you call the cops?”

“Only if you take too long to get up here.”

The post Charlotte Chronicles XLV appeared first on Jen Frederick.

Charlotte Chronicles XLIV

Nathan

“What do you think you’re doing?” Cab demands. He showed up at my doorstep thirty minutes ago and used his keys to come in when I refused to let him in. He’s watching me pack.

“I’m going after Charlotte.”

“The letter girl,” he said flatly.

Annoyed, I snap, “Will you stop calling her that. She has a name.”

“Really? Because for like years you’ve never said her name once to us. We’re your family man. Your brothers who have fought with you and all I know is that for a while you got a shitload of letters from Chicago, Switzerland and sometimes LA.”

LA. I never understood why she was ever in LA. Charlotte wasn’t a LA sort of girl.

“You took your letters and hoarded them like the fucking dragon in the Hobbit.”

“I didn’t want any of you mouth breathers jerking off to her. She’s not spank bank material.” I growl.

“Are you fucking kidding me? She’s top shelf span bank material! She’s like the porn star in the girl next door movies with her shiny hair and puppy dog eyes.”

I know he’s baiting me but shit I’d like to turn around and pummel him until whatever perverse images he’s created are drummed out of his head.

“You and everyone else need to excise her from your memory. She doesn’t exist for you in that fashion. She’s more pure than the virgin fucking Mary.”

“Does the Virgin Mary like to bite? Because those are one hell of a set of bites around the back of your neck.”

I clap my hand over the offending marks—not because I’m ashamed of them but because I want a reminder of how hot it was. After nine years, it was understandable that we’d have a good night but it wasn’t good, it was epic. All my fantasies had failed to prepare me for how explosive sex with Charlotte would be. Hot tight her pussy was. How sweet she tasted. How willing she was to do anything.

“Treat her like your sister and we won’t have problems,” I mutter rubbing the teeth marks. Did she bite me that time in the shower? Or was it when she was riding me on the chair? Maybe it was both.

“I can’t even talk about her?”

“No.”

“She’s got you wired tighter than a guitar string, son.”

Cab is disappointed. While I never took girls home with me, I had no problem playing wingman for him and I could see his disgruntlement at how his life would be changing.

“You might as well go to OTS since you’re leaving us single enlisted schmucks behind.”

“Officer Training School? Since when are only officers married? What about Toller, Wright, and Barovsky?”

“Exceptions, dude. You got to be an LT pay grade or above to afford the wife and kids.” I’ve kept my family money private.

Cab threw himself on the bed tipping over a pile of clothes. “How long are you going to be gone? You’re packing like you’re going on a six month mission.” He picked up a pair of shorts and tossed them up. I grabbed them out of the air, rolled them up and stuck them in my seabag.

Should I buy a set of luggage? I’d been so used to carry my gear around even when I visited my family but Charlotte might not like the reminder of what I’d been doing for the last nine years. Would she be able to be a seaman’s wife? Or worse a SEALs wife? We are gone a lot, either on training or missions. I won’t be able to talk about my work with her and I’d leave at a drop of a hat. The only positive was that unlike a lot of other military guys, I’ve been stationed at the same base since I got my Trident pounded into my chest.

SEALs were stationed either on the West Coast or East Coast unless they got transferred to Joint Task Force or some other ultra specialized special forces team. There’d been nibbles around the edges of my service to test my interest and I’d always turned away because I liked my brothers on the Team. I trust them implicitly even if we don’t all have the same outlook on life.

Although if Cabby had a Charlotte in his past, he’d be chasing her down like a gazelle on the plain. He just hasn’t met the one. “I’m going to spend however long it takes to convince her to take me back.”

“Maybe you outta have written her and she’d be standing on the dock willing to lay a bit wet one on you when you stepped off the ship.”

I ignored him and rolled up the rest of my clothes. I had a lot of work out gear, uniforms and jeans. Charlotte looked polished and so did her friend. They both could have been models on a building ad along the Magnificent Mile back in Chicago. I hadn’t ever looked like that even when I lived in my parents’ mutl million dollar townhome. My edges are rough and the time in service had only made them sharper and more jagged.

“Shit,” I scratched my head. “I’m going to have to shop. You think Elison’s sister would buy me some clothes.”

“Just wear your dress blues. You know the ladies cream their panties over the sight of a man in uniform.”

“Why should I taking advice from a guy who thinks dressing up is wearing something other than flips on his feet.”

“Do you know that they call them thongs in Australia? That girl I almost hooked up with the other night kept telling she was going to bring her thongs as in plural. Scared me silly and I left her at the bar. Bride told me the next day that she probably wanted to take her heels off and put on the flips. I turned her down because of a language problem. Fucking tragic as all hell. She had the nicest tits too.” Cabby holds up his hands as if remembering the feel of them. “I’m an idiot.”

“No argument from me.”

I pulled out my phone and texted Sam. She was a friend of my mom’s and had been married to a Marine for over twenty years. She’d help me.

What does Gray wear on a date?

Who is this? Just kidding, honey. Gray wears jeans!

“Sam says her husband wears jeans,” I flashed the phone face to Cabby.

“You’re asking a married woman for clothing advice? Shouldn’t you be asking a hot single chick?”

“Sam’s hot,” I said. As far as older women went, she’s a good looking broad. I flick up a picture of her and Gray and their brood and show that to Cabby.

“I remember her. Shit, yeah, she’s a MILF. Her husband is your Marine friend, right?”

“Right. Why not ask a married woman? You don’t ask the guy who’s still tracking his prey for advice on how to make your capture. You ask the guy who’s got the wall of stuff animal heads.”

Cabby mulls this over for a moment. “I guess that makes sense. So she says jeans. You got jeans. You got flips. T-shirts. If all else fails, pull out the damn ceremonial service uniform. Or stick your Trident pin on your chest.” The Trident is a gold pin that marks as us SEALs, elite warriors. For some women, that’s all that they need to see and they’re ready to go home with you.

“Charlotte isn’t going to be impressed by some pin or the fact I can hold my breath underwater for ten minutes.”

“Are you sure? Because the whole breath holding thing was why the Australia chick wanted in my pants. Technically I think she wanted me in her pants but one thing would lead to the other.”

“Cabby, while talking about your failed bedroom exploits might be entertaining for some, I’ve got shit to do.” I say stuffing the last of my crap into the bag. Hoisting it over my shoulder, I grab my keys and head for the front door.

“Why don’t you let me come with you. That way it doesn’t look like you’re stalking her.”

“Instead it looks like two guys are stalking her?” I ask incredulously. “No thanks.”

“Come on man. Help a brother out. I got shit all to do today,” he whines.

“Shore leave is killing you, isn’t it?” I say pausing at the door.

He groans and rubs a hand over his face. “You have no idea. I fucking hate it. Why can’t we go rafting in Colorado. I got a buddy up there who runs an adventure service—”

I open the door and walk out, not waiting for him to say another word. “Lock up when you’re done in there.”

He runs after me. “How about this? I’ll drop you off and take your Jeep back here. She’ll be forced to at least drive you home if she turns you down.”

Again is the unspoken word. I hesitate because that’s not a bad plan. “Fine, but drop me off and leave right away.” The last thing Charlotte needs is two of us on her doorstep when she’s already spooked.

“You don’t even want me to wait and see if she lets you in?”

“She’s at a hotel. You going to wait in the hallway to see if I get shot down again?”

“Nah, I don’t like those horror movies. Gives me nightmares,” he jokes.

Cabby spends some time detailing the lost girl from Australia on the ride over to the Del but I tune him out, watching the ocean bang up on the sand as we speed along the road. His voice blends with the road noise until it’s all one sound. When he pulls into the Del, I’m out the door like a flash.

“You’re welcome, shithead,” he yells after me. I flick him off but don’t stop moving forward. When I arrive on Charlotte’s floor, I take a moment to straighten my t-shirt. I should have put a collared shirt on at least. Fuck it. If she doesn’t like me in a t-shirt, she’s not going to like me wearing buttons. I knock on her door but it goes unanswered.

I pound on the door a few more times and then rattle the doorknob. “I’m going to stand outside until you let me in.”

“Sir. Sir!” A maid rounds her cleaning cart. “There’s no one there. It’s empty.”

“Empty?” My mind doesn’t process her words well.

She nods. “Si, the lady checked out today. Room is vacant.” She pulls a key card from her pocket and opens the door. “See.”

I do see. The room is completely empty and but for a coaster on the coffee table, it is hard to tell that anyone was staying here.

“Thanks.” I slip the maid a tip and run toward the elevator calling Cabby.

“I need a pick up.”

“She already turned you down?” He sounds impressed.

“She’s not here. She left.”

“I’m on my way.”

It takes Cabby ten minutes to turn around and pick me up.

“You look like someone is going to have a bad day,” he said when I hop into the passenger seat.

I grunt, not looking up from my phone. I’m waiting for Nick to call me back.

“Where are we going?” Cab asks.

“Not sure. Drive toward…La Jolla.” La Jolla is one of the wealthiest places along the coast. Charlotte’s used to living well and if she isn’t going to stay at the Del, then my guess is she’s headed to La Jolla.

My phone vibrates and I answer before the first ring fully plays. “Hey, Nick.”

“You owe me so hard,” he growls. “I had to talk to Lainey who hates me and thinks I’m a walking, talking penishead. Her description, not mine.”

Lainey is probably right. My brother is a dog with a capital D. I don’t know why and my parents aren’t very impressed with his inability to settle down but Nick’s been one to sample the world. As a pro quarterback, the world has offered itself to him too. I guess it’s a perfect match. Me? I’ve been a one woman man all of my life. “She give you the info?”

“No. So I was reduced to stealing her phone and reading her text messages.” His voice sounds weird. I can’t figure it out but I’m too worried about Charlotte to spend time deciphering his tone.

“So where is she?”

“I’m texting it to you. I can’t keep doing this for you so either close the deal or leave her alone because Lainey isn’t going to let me near her phone again.”

“Did you break it?”

“I threw it into the toilet and then had to fish it out to read it.”

Ah, that explained the weirdness.

“Thanks bro.”

“I’ll be thinking of how you can pay me off.”

“It’s yours, whatever you want.”

“Oh, really? Like the signed ball from Walter Peyton?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation.

He laughs. “I don’t want it then. I want what I can’t have. Isn’t that a pisser?”

He hangs up before I can ask what the hell that was all about.

“She’s at Tower23 off of Grand Avenue,” I inform Cab.

“ETA would be five minutes then. Want me to stick around?”

I twist my mouth and reluctantly agree. “Yeah, just in case my intel is wrong.”

But my intel isn’t wrong because as we pull into the hotel property, I see her crossing the street. She’s wearing a short sundress, so short I wonder if it’s just a shirt and she forgot her shorts in her hotel room. On her feet are straw colored shoes with thick wedges. Her legs seem endless and for a moment, I’m struck dumb by the vision of them wrapped around my waist.

“Goddamn,” Cab whistles. “I’ll be in my bunk.”

Fucking Cabby. I get out of the car before it rolls to a full stop. She sees me immediately and glares which doesn’t nothing to diminish her jaw dropping, knee bending beauty. I suck in a breath and hold it, trying to gather some control.

“What are you doing here?” She asks accusingly.

I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m here for you.”

She opens her mouth to spit out a response when we hear her name called. Relief wipes away her glare and she turns toward the voice.

I see some guy, looking expensive. His white shirt is unbuttoned down to his waist and underneath he’s wearing a wife beater. He makes shorts and sandals look like a magazine come to life on the street. His gaze flicks to me and then back to Charlotte’s drawn expression. And like a light switch, something shifts on for him. Holding out his arms, wide, he says in a loud, almost shout, “Charlotte Randolph as I live and breathe. How the hell are you? Jesus Christ, is it possible that you’ve gotten more beautiful?”

She turns slightly and in the small space she made in the movement, his arm slips in. As deftly as any SEAL, he cut me out. She moves into his embrace burrows her face into his chest as if she was freezing and he was her only source of warmth. Another two steps and they were int the street. He holds up his hand like a traffic cop and everyone obeys him. I’m slack jawed and frozen at this spectacle, just like the cars. I give myself a hard shake and put my feet in motion only to get my toes nearly run over by a passing car. Because he’s done holding traffic back. Before I could take another breath, they were in his sports car that was more expensive than the money the US government puts into making two SEALs.

“That was smoother than a SEAL at a bar full of Trident fuckers,” Cab observes.

“You should shut the fuck up.”

The post Charlotte Chronicles XLIV appeared first on Jen Frederick.

Charlotte Chronicles XLIII

Need to catch up? Here’s a link to Charlotte Chronicles from the beginning.

<<<>>>

Charlotte

“You had sex with him didn’t you?” Reese says with utter disgust. I should have never skyped him when I got to my new hotel room.

“How can you tell?”

“You have that relaxed post coital look to you. I cm recognize it anywhere. Even strangers. It’s my gift.”

“I don’t feel relaxed.” I complain. “I feel awful and super tense.”

“Was it bad? Sometimes those good looking guys are bad in bed. They hook up and never go return for feedback so they live in this blissful cloud of ignorance.” He waves a finger in a wide circle around his head which, I guess, is supposed to indicate a hovering cloud.

“I wish. It was so good. Too good,” I groan.

“Shit.”

Exactly. “He said he hadn’t touched another woman in nine years.”

“Holy fuck. Nine years?” Reese’s eyes are wide doughnuts. Disbelief drips from every word.

“I know. I couldn’t turn him down after he said that.”

He nods in agreement. “Did you believe him?”

“I don’t know.” I want to believe him but I’m afraid as well because if he has been true for all these years pushing him away might be a mistake. I didn’t tell Reese that Nate was insatiable and that he didn’t let me sleep more than an hour at a time before waking me with his fingers or his mouth somewhere on my body. “What do I do now? Can it be this good with someone else? I mean, I wish it had been awful. Then I could pat him on the back and say, gosh I’m sorry you didn’t write to me for nine years but hey I’m glad we’re friends again. Instead, it’s as if I’ve eaten the best thing ever and I need refills right away or I might die.”

“You’re not going to die, honey. Here’s the problem.You care about him which is affecting how you feel in the sack. I’m going to take back my prescriptions of three one night stands. I think that will only make you feel worse. You need to start dating, and by that I mean, sign up on a website and start searching for guys that hit every mark you’ve ever wanted. Someone who is close to their family. Someone who is busy with their own career so that they don’t mind the time you spend on yours but also someone who wants to build a future with you. Someone who makes you laugh and can communicate with you.”

“Like you only not gay.”

“Right, although we all know that I really can’t stand my family.”

“True.” Reese’s parents were conservatives who’ve never quite accepted he preferred boys over girls. “There’s actually someone I know fits that description perfectly and is not gay.”

“Who?”

“Colin Matthews.”

He sucks in a breath and follows this with a yell. “You know Colin fucking Matthews?”

I’m glad Reese is in his condo although it’s possible by the way he shouted it out that every one in his complex heard him. I wait until he settles down before admitting, “He’s my LA guy.”

“Charlotte Randolph, you have been holding out on me. How do you know all these fine specimens?”

“We were at the same treatment clinic in Switzerland as teenagers.”

He looks at me with chagrin and I shrug because that part of my life is over. I used to take a cocktail of drugs daily but I’ve been declared clean of the malignant cells for over five years.

“I had forgotten he had cancer. Yes, go do him. He sounds perfect. And he looks perfect.” Reese’s eyes get a far away look as if he’s imagining how perfect Colin Matthews might look without his clothes on. I’ve seen Colin in a swimsuit and his abs are movie star perfect.

“He’s pretty gorgeous and a super guy,” I admit.

Reese shakes his head. “Why aren’t you on the phone with him right now? I’m disconnecting because you’re wasting time talking to me.” He blows me a kiss and the screen goes blank.

Dumbfounded I stare at the black tablet screen. I can’t call Colin up and beg him to start dating me. I don’t even think I can ask him for a date. But I can call him and tell him I’ve fucked up. Later, though. I’m not ready for that conversation.

As I sink into my work, a text message alert sounds. I read the bubble before I register the name.

I’ve spent nine years running from you and your sweetness. Biggest mistake of my life. If it takes nine more years to convince you that I’m worth a second chance, I’ll consider those nine years well spent. I will do whatever it takes to get you back. Fair warning.

My heart stutters and may have even stopped. I call Colin immediately because otherwise? I’d be driving to Nate’s base and throwing myself at his feet.

“Hey Charlie.”

I can hear traffic on the street. He must be going somewhere.

“Are you going surfing?”

“Are you following me?” He says with laughing suspicion. My heart ache eases a little bit hearing his voice.

“No, I guessed. It sounds like you’re driving and since it’s fairly early in the morning, I thought you might be on the way to the beach to catch some waves.”

“You are a champion guesser because that’s exactly what I’m doing. In fact I’m pulling into the parking lot.” The traffic sounds dim as he exits the road and parks his vehicle in the quiet of the sandy beach. I’ve been with him a couple of times. I don’t surf, but I’m really great at lying under an umbrella reading a book while he catches waves.

“I’m in San Diego and I’d love to visit you. I’m finishing up a project and I thought I’d drive up,” I say.

“Actually I’d love an excuse to get out of LA right now,” he admits. He’s out of the car now. I hear the door open and close.

“Is it becoming stifling?” Colin flits from one flower to another, never settling. At one time, I thought he’d fallen in love. He’d called me and wanted me to come out and meet her but before I could make the arrangements he had texted me that it was over and he was coming to Chicago to see me. It was during that visit he’d made his first pass at me.

“Yes, someone said the L word to me the other day. I want you to know that I didn’t jump up immediately and flee but waited until the next morning like a good boy.”

“Wow, so generous of you.”

“It took everything I had to stay. I literally was counting the seconds. If there is a purgatory, I deserve to reduce my time there based on last night alone.”

I laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Incorrigible? Are you reading the dictionary?”

“Fuck you, Colin.”

“I’ve been trying to get in your pants for nearly a decade so yes, I accept this invitation.” When I don’t immediately lob back a joking refusal as is my habit, he strikes. “Charlie, are you actually giving me a green light?”

“You know that one girl you dated?” I duck his question.

He sighs. “Which one? There were so many.”

“The actress. Gen? I felt like she was the one for you.”

There are several beats of silence before Colin replies. “She broke my rule. The no publicity one. It’s the only one I have.”

“I know honey.” I can still hear the hurt even though he tries to pretend he is over it. “How can you be sure though?”

“She admitted it. I confronted her and she said is that what you think happened and I said yes. She stared at me and replied then that’s what happened and walked out. I changed the locks and had all of her stuff delivered.”

“Did she ever call you or try to teach out?”

“Who knows? I flew to Chicago to see you if you recall.”

“She seemed so real, so genuine. It’s hard to believe she leaked anything to the paps.”

“Why are we talking about this? Gen is old news.”

“I just wish one of us was happy.” Colin is a great guy and it pains me that he was hurt so badly by a girl who’d seemed perfect for him.

“I thought you were happy Charlotte? In fact, the last time I saw you I suggested we see how far our friendship could extend and you replied that you didn’t want to ruin anything because you were happy the way things were. And now you’re not happy?” He sounds amused instead of angry.

“Happiness is an elusive emotion. Maybe we shouldn’t pursue it. Maybe the thing we should run after is contentment.” I rub my head because this whole conversation is giving me a headache.

“Why did you call me?” He asks softly. “Did something happen?”

Then it hits me what I’m doing. I’m trying to use my dear friend Colin to chase away my need for Nathan. How could I behave like this? Colin doesn’t deserve this. No one does. I stiffen my spine. “I’m calling you because you are one of my oldest friends. I was feeling blue and needed to talk to someone I cared about. I wish we could love each other in a deeper, more physical way but I think we both know that we’re better off friends than lovers.”

“I guess this means no, you’re not going to drive up and give me the night of my life.”

“I think you’re still in love with Gen and I…I’m still screwed up over Nathan. I don’t want to lose your friendship. My relationship with you is one of the great things in my life.” I say.

“I hate to tell you this but if a friendship with a guy you see twice a year is one of the great things in your life, you have a pretty sucky life.” I don’t deny it. He exhales. “Did you see Nathan recently?”

“A few hours ago,” I admit. “I think you can guess what happened. You don’t need to tell me I was being stupid. I know it already.”

“I would be the last person to berate you,” Colin laughs ruefully. “If Gen showed up, I’d throw her down on the bed and fuck her silly. After I’d spend the next day drinking away my self loathing. Since you’re not going to forget your sorrows on my dick, why not go down to your hotel bar and get smashed. Once you’re too drunk to stand up, you’ll forget all about the asshole. It works for me.”

“What happens when the alcohol wears off?”

“Rinse and repeat, Charlie. Rinse and repeat.” He sounds so tired.

“Come down here. Spend the week with me. We’ll go sailing or hell, just lie on the beach together. And after you and I can go somewhere.We could fly to Japan and eat at that sushi restaurant in that documentary you made me watch,” I suggest impulsively. We need to get away from the source of our hurts and maybe if we were alone we could open ourselves up to finding something better than happiness. It would be less painful.

“If I do, I’m insisting on double beds. I don’t want you attacking me in the middle of the night because you’re lonely. I’m not a toy.”

He says this as a joke but I think half of him is serious. He’s tired of being treated like a toy by women and honestly I wonder if I’m Nathan’s toy. Something to pick up, play with and discard. Colin hangs up saying that he has a few things to take care of before he can drive down. He’ll text me in a couple of days. I make another list of all the things I need to do for Christian and his family and buckle down to do my work. I manage to keep Nate out of my thoughts for thirty minutes at a time which I figure is some kind of mild success. Work isn’t as numbing as alcohol but it’s probably better for me.

I work through dinner and it’s almost ten before I put away my phone and computer for the evening. When I crawl between the clean, crisp sheets, I nearly cry tears of relief that I’m not back at the Del in the room where Nate imprinted himself on every surface in the short time he was there.

But when I close my eyes, I can see him—and me. I can see me pressed up against the mirror in the bathroom, my hands making starfish prints as I brace myself against his thrusts. I can hear his harsh breathing, his commands to come, come now Charlotte. There was that passage of time that felt endless when he was between my legs, licking me softly and leisurely as if there wasn’t anything in this world that gave him more pleasure than helping me find my own. I touch myself but it’s useless. My body wants one thing–Nathan Jackson.

I’m on fire and the ache of want is so acute it’s like a knife in my chest. I’ve had multiple surgeries, chemo treatments, radiation but that’s nothing compared to what I feel now.

Time and distance had dulled my pain and that my desire and love for Nathan had actually started to ease only to be stoked into high, hot flames by his reappearance in my life.

He is both the poison and the antidote.

<<<>>>

Need to catch up? Here’s a link to Charlotte Chronicles from the beginning.

The post Charlotte Chronicles XLIII appeared first on Jen Frederick.

Undeclared News and Charlotte Chronicles XLII

Undeclared is FREE

For four years, Grace Sullivan wrote to a Marine she never met, and fell in love. But when his deployment ended, so did the letters. Ever since that day, Grace has been coasting, academically and emotionally. The one thing she’s decided? No way is Noah Jackson — or any man — ever going to break her heart again.

Noah has always known exactly what he wants out of life. Success. Stability. Control. That’s why he joined the Marines and that’s why he’s fighting his way — literally — through college. Now that he’s got the rest of his life on track, he has one last conquest: Grace Sullivan. But since he  was the one who stopped writing, he knows that winning her back will be his biggest battle yet.

 

Buy Links: Amazon | BN | Smashwords | Kobo | iBooks

Please share the good news with your friends. I’m hopeful that a whole new group of readers can fall in love with the Woodlands series.

Need to catch up? Here’s a link to Charlotte Chronicles from the beginning.

Charlotte

I’m so torn. I love him and yet…part of me hates him and hates that he’s making me want him. I’m pinned to the bed, not by his gaze or his hands, but my own fucked up desire for him. The mixed emotions turn to anger. If this is all he’s willing to give me and my body is begging for it, why not give in to him? Let him fuck me. Let him give me pleasure. If this is all we have, I’ll take it. This one time.

I curl my heel into his back, right above his tight bitable ass.

“Take me. If this is all you’ve got to give me, make it good. Make it so good I don’t remember the last nine years.”

His eyes widen and I think he may pull away but he doesn’t. He pushes the broad head of him into me and he feels so big I’m afraid he’ll split me in two. “I’ve dreamt about this moment,” he says thickly. “Fantasized about it so many times. Wanting it to be true so many times.”

Each word pierces me, a dagger in my heart. If only those words had been spoken in all those silent spaces years before. Now it’s salt on the wounds of my heart. The wounds that started like small little paper cuts only to deepen as each year passed and the bonds that tethered us together for so long grew thinner and thinner until they were weak like a single thread.

“Don’t talk,” I beg because I want to be able to close my eyes and revisit my own fantasies. The ones where Nathan comes to my door on his knees and pours out his soul. The ones where I join him and our tears of past regret but current joy mingle together.

Today, the only tears are mine and they are bittersweet.

Charlotte, Charlotte, he pleads, what is wrong?

“I’m just…torn…apart.”

“Let me love you. I’ll make it better.”

I give in because the sensation of him being inside me is overwhelming. It’s been years. And i’m dying for it. My body is trembling with desire. And my flesh easily gives way with each slow push forward until he’s finally seated. “God, Charlotte. God!” He stands at the end of the bed, his nostrils flaring his hands biting into my hips as he shakes with the effort of standing still. Every line of his body screams for him to pull out and plunge forward repeatedly until he spends himself but he wants to make it good for me.

I can see the fierce determination in his face, the internal struggle between his mind and body. He wants to fulfill my demand that it be so amazing that I’ll never forget it. His eyes are glazed over and I wonder what he’s seeing–whether it’s me or young Charlotte or the Charlotte he’s created in his mind in the years of our absence.

“I want you so bad; I’m afraid to move. It’ll be over in five seconds.” His chest heaves as he grapples for control. I wonder if he knows how sexy he is. If another person saw him right now, they’d fall over in shocked arousal. He’s a stallion–a perfect construct of muscle, bone and flesh. Every inch of him is defined. If he’d told me he’d been hewn from a rock in the sea, I’d believe him. There was nothing soft. Even his cock is diamond hard, splintering me.

His hands roam everywhere leaving behind a trail of raised hairs, goosebumps and shivering nerve endings.

Finally he moves and the slow drag along my oversensitive tissues causes me to arch my back off the bed. His head falls back and his eyes close only to snap open. “When I close my eyes, I see you in every position I’ve ever imagined. You sitting on my face. You riding me. You on your knees while I’m fucking you like an animal. You covered in soap and water as I eat you out and then fuck you against the tile. I’ve had you in my mind in every way possible and some not possible ones. I’ve dreamt of fucking you standing, sitting, bent over and raised up. I’ve fantasized it all but none of it. None. Of. It. came even close to what it feels like to be inside you.” He plunges forward and I cry out.

His words, the fullness of him in my empty places are making me wild.

My hands scramble for some purchase and I find the padded headboard. I place my palms flat against the cushioned fabric and he follows me forward. Like a pagan warrior, he kneels between my legs and pushes my thighs as far apart as they can go while he spears me with his heavy weapon. My traitorous body weeps around his, lubricating his every thrust.

“This body is mine,” he growls. “I love every inch of it and it belongs to me.”

I close my eyes, trying to shut out his possession but it winds around me, trying to repair the frayed bonds. It’s chaotic in my head now and he’s frenetic too. His thrusts become less rhythmic as his control is leaving him.

“Oh no, baby,” I hear him say, “You’re coming with me.”

His hard big thumb finds my clit, circling it, pinching it, until now I’m the one writhing in jerky motions beneath him. He’s wrenching my orgasm from me, ordering it. Maybe my body does belong to him because it’s building, low and small. It grows and grows until it is too big for me to contain. My feet arch and my fingernails dig into the headboard and I hear myself scream, long and loud. Above me he’s grunting and growling. I want him to follow him into bliss. His hips jack fiercely against me when suddenly he pulls out.

“No” I cry at the loss. Even though I’d come I wanted him in my body still.

“Look at me Charlotte,” he commands in a dark voice.

My eyes open in response and I see him, thick and red in his hand. He pulls on himself, once, twice in motions so rough I fear that he’s hurting himself. But no. It’s what he wants and his come spills all over me, striking my sex, my stomach and the valley between my breasts. It’s shockingly erotic.

“You are mine since the day you were born until the day we die together.” His eyes glitter at me but when his large hand lands on my belly, I can’t look away. He rubs his sperm into me, over my lower lips, all across my stomach and over my breasts. “You know this.” His hand comes up to cup my chin. “You know this.”

And then he kisses me and I’m devastated all over again.

<<<  >>>

It is nearly dawn when I finally gather enough strength to leave the bed. He’s sleeping, sprawled across two thirds of the bed, one large arm heavy across my chest and a leg entwined with mine. I wince at the soreness between my legs. My whole body aches as if I’d just endured a heavy workout after a long period of idleness. Even though I’m slow and quiet, even one movement wakes him. His head turns and he rolls onto his back, pulling me close to his body.

“We’ve three more to go,” he says. He’s referring to the six orgasms he’s given me. He’d have probably fulfilled his stated goal if I hadn’t passed out on him a couple of hours ago.

“I’m tired and sore.” Since he is awake, I make no attempts to be quiet. Instead I push away from him relieved he lets me go without an argument.

In the bathroom, I turn the water on and stare at the disheveled mess that is reflected in the mirror.  My hair is a matted mess. There might be a family of birds in there but I wouldn’t know because it’s so damned tangled.  There isn’t an inch of me that wasn’t touched by him last night. I hardly know what to think of the ache in my heart. Is it because he’s back or because I wish he’d go away?

I need my friends. I need Lainey, Reese, even Nick. I need perspective and time. I’m so confused. The shower helps. It’s hot and cleansing. I spend a long time under the water trying to figure out what to do. Reese is right. I’ve idolized Nate and worse, romanticized our past to such a degree that I’d been unable to move forward. Even if I was meant to be with Nate forever, I should have used our separation to meet other people.

Last night I wondered if he was looking at the old Charlotte or the new one but who is the new Charlotte? Because her heart is stuck somewhere in her sixteen year old body. I’ve done myself a disservice. I don’t need to go out and have multiple one night stands, but I do need to be open to meeting new people—to finding a love that would make adult Charlotte happy no matter what teen Charlotte thinks. Draped in a hotel bathrobe, I take a deep breath and open the door.

Nathan is still lying on the bed staring at the bathroom door. His expression is one of satisfaction.  Lazily his eyes follow me. “Come back to bed, baby. Let’s cuddle.”

His nonchalant attitude converts my unhappiness to anger. It’s as if he does believe that sex solved all of our problems. My panties are on the coffee table. I shudder and make a mental note to wipe that down with some bleach. I gather up the rest of my clothes and the two pieces of his clothing —t-shirt and cargo shorts. His clothes go on the chair and mine into the dirty laundry bag in the closet.

“Don’t call me baby. I’m not your baby.”

“You should go on the pill. That way we don’t have to do condoms.”

“Why don’t you get snipped if you want to have sex without protection so badly. That procedures reversible.”

He covers his groin as if I’m coming after him with a scissors to do outpatient surgery on the hotel room bed. “Fuck no.”

“Then you’ll have to keep using condoms. Actually I don’t care what you use,” I say pulling out my suitcase. I need to get out of here and into a different hotel room. Actually I need to get out of San Diego. “I’m not sleeping with you again. This was a mistake. Sex solves nothing. If sex was the answer, I would have slept with any number of guys. If anything, our marathon showed me I was starving for sex. I should have been having it for years that way I wouldn’t have been so vulnerable to your physical advances.”

“What?” He shouts and jack knifes off the bed. His smug look is gone. “This was us reconnecting.”

“No, Nathan, this is about our bodies finding well needed released. Reconnecting would be you telling me why we had to reconnect. Since you don’t feel like it is necessary why don’t you take yourself out of my hotel room. If I want to reconnect with you I’ll give you a call.”

I pick up his clothes and throw them at him. Shock fills his eyes followed by determination.

Jerkily he pulls his clothes on. “I’ve got to get back to base but I’m on two week shore leave starting tomorrow. You can run, Charlotte, but there is no where on this goddamn earth I can’t find you.”

“Creepy much? I’m pretty sure that comes right out of the stalker handbook.” I cross my arms and glare at him.

“What the hell? We spent the night making love. You came six times. You love me and I love you. We can work this out.”

“You want to work this out? Then start talking.” I drop into one of the two upholstered chairs in the room and cross my arms, waiting.

He starts pacing and I, the stupid twit that I am, follow his every move. I watch the muscles bunch under his tight t-shirt and the way the veins stand out on his thick forearms. I can feel myself softening inside because god. damn. He is fine.

“I know I don’t deserve you,” he begins. His voice is so low I can barely hear him. “That you’ve been with no one in the last nine years blows my mind. When some guys on the team get their Dear John letters or find out from a buddy back home that their girl is cheating on them, they go out and try to prove their virility by fucking everything that moves. Most of that time that’s paid flesh but sometimes its other service women–nurses, supply convoy members, helo pilots. That was how they dealt with loss. You could have done that but you didn’t even though I’d cut you out of my life. I may pretend like it was fidelity that kept you away from other men, but that’s probably presumptuous of me. I don’t know why you were alone but I’m not sorry.” He grimaces. “Maybe I am a creepy stalker because I should simply want you to be happy. You weren’t though, were you?”

I glare at him because he didn’t deserve my fidelity even though he got it.

“Say something,” he begs.

I snort, a humorless short laugh. “That’s what I said to you a million times in my mind. But you didn’t say anything and now you’re waxing on and on about my state of revirginization. Why don’t we talk about your supposed abstinence? A man like you going without since you were eighteen? Do you actually think I believe anything that you’re saying?”

“You should. It’s true.” He squeezes the back of his neck.

I sit for a long time waiting but when he adds nothing, I rise. “If that’s all you have, I think you should go. I’ll think about it and if I want to see you again, I’ll call.”

He crosses the carpet in two giant strides and pulls me against him. With his head in my neck, he pleads, “Charlotte, God, give me another chance. Let me love you again.”

I stand motionless doing everything I can to resist. He kisses my neck, the tender part behind my ear. He rubs my shoulders but still I don’t move. His lips move to my forehead and he traces the small constellation of freckles along my cheeks and the upper bridge of my nose. “I’ve never stopped loving you,” he whispers against my jaw.

“And now, after all these years you’re ready to be a couple?” I finally say.

“I want us to try, Charlotte baby, to be what it was we were born for.”

“I can’t. I’ve already been stupid for 9 years. I don’t want to be this stupid again. I couldn’t even look myself in the mirror this morning. You hurt me so much Nathan. I can’t even begin to tell you how painful it was, particularly toward the end.  I deserve better than what I got from you and I don’t believe you are the man who can deliver that better for me. Not any more.”

My quietly spoken words stagger him. I feel him stumble and then right himself. “You don’t mean that,” he insists.

“I don’t think I can trust you.”

“Will you let me try to change your mind?”

<<< >>>

Need to catch up? Here’s a link to Charlotte Chronicles from the beginning.

Enter the TAKING CONTROL giveaway for a chance to win a copy of the book and a Tiffany & Co. gemstone ring.

Tiny is getting a ring from Ian and so can you! Enter the TAKING CONTROL giveaway for a chance to win a copy of the book and a Tiffany & Co. gemstone ring.

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And check out this early peek at Ian’s proposal:

“You better give me a big rock and lots of flowers since you’re proposing to me while we’re naked.”

“I proposed to you when I first took you to the house on the Long Island Sound.”

“You didn’t propose. You said that you wanted me to be your wife and fill your big house with lots of little people.”

“That’s a proposal.”

“It was a demand.”

“It was a request couched as a demand.”

Her body is shaking with laughter. “You’ve been in charge for too long. That was no request.”

Charlotte Chronicles XLI

Need to catch up? Here’s a link to Charlotte Chronicles from the beginning.

Warning: Hot! click for more!

Nathan

“What are you doing here?” she spits at me. I stalk her until she crumples into a nearby sofa. Leaning forward, I place one arm on the back near her head.

“We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Really?” She scoffs. “You had nine years to say something. The time for talking is over. Get out.”

Her arms are folded at her side and she refuses to look at me.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me why you were on my beach.”

“Your beach,” she sputters but I interrupt her.

“The only people that come to that part of the beach on Coronado island are frog hogs, curious tourists, and wannabes. Which one are you?” I demand angrily. I want to rage at her that I’ve been faithful to her for nine years and she’s sleeping with some guy, sharing a hotel room with him, bringing him to my beach. Who is he? I want to howl.

“I should slap you right now,” she stands up, pushing my arm away. We’re about two inches apart now.

“For what? For not touching another woman in nine years? For thinking of you every minute of the day? For reading and re-reading your letters until they are almost worn through?” I want to shake her, kiss her, make love to her until we can’t move a finger.

She gapes at me in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

“I haven’t slept with, fucked, had a blow job, gone down on another woman, brought her off, had a hand job by anyone other than myself in nine years. That’s what I’m talking about. I haven’t had sex. Not the Bill Clinton kind and not any other kind with another woman since I slept with you when I was eighteen and you were sixteen. No one. That’s what I’m talking about. Can you say the same thing?”

“Yes, dammit, I can,” She shouts back. She claps a hand over her mouth but it’s too late. I don’t know who that guy is that walked out of the room and I don’t care now because he never had her. He’s never been inside her. He’s never  licked her sweet juice or touched her sweet pussy.

“You’re mine, Charlotte Jackson.” I pull her flush against me with one hand and drag her hand away from her mouth with the other. She says something but I don’t know what it is because my mouth is on hers. My tongue traces the seam of her lips demanding entrance.

She tastes of salt.

And home.

And forever.

Her lips part and I’m inside her. I’m licking every square centimeter from her teeth to the cheek to the sensitive roof. Her tongue rubs against the side of mine. I can feel her lips moving when it hits me. She’s kissing me back! I spear my fingers through her hair to angle her head so I can kiss her deeper…I want to embed myself in her senses so that she can’t remember anything but me.  We sink into the cushioned sofa until her whole body is pressed under mine. I can feel her from shoulder to thigh. Her hardened nipples jut into my pecs.

She kisses me and I’m thrown back to a time in my life where everything was innocent and sweet. When I’d taken her virginity and wished I’d saved my first time for her.

Her fingers run restlessly along my waistband as if she wants to touch me but is afraid. And I’m afraid. Afraid if I stop kissing her she’ll turn me away. I have to show her that she can’t live without me. I have to make her need me.

Slowly I push my way down her body, pressing my lips against the hollow of her throat and along the neck of her shirt. I wanted to take it slow. I knew I should. Then I heard her groan. Her legs pull up and her thighs tighten against my hips. I felt the slight pump of her pelvis against my stomach. I fell on her like a hungry beast.

She still had the shorts on that she’d been wearing at the beach. I ran a hand over the leg closest to the sofa back, enjoying the feel the delicate ankle up to the fleshy, creamy thigh. Her breathing hitched when my thumb crept under the shorts hem.

“Oh Nate, we shouldn’t,” she says but her movements make my thumb slip even higher until I’m touching the elastic of her panties. I pull up her shirt with my teeth and expose her smooth, flat belly to my hot gaze.

“Yes we should,” I say hoarsely and press my thumb against the dampened cotton. “Charlotte, baby, you are wet for me. Just from kissing. I know you’re aching down here.” I rub my thumb back and forth and the cotton gets even wetter. “Let me take care of this.”

“Nate…” she says hesitantly.

“After, baby, we can talk after.” I slid my thumb underneath the panties. My whole hand is under the hem now. My fingers are gripping her hip and my thumb is seeking heaven. “I can feel this little spot needs my attention. I’m going to make this up to you, baby, starting right now.”

With my free hand, I unfasten her shorts and pull them down her gorgeous thighs. She lifts her legs to help me. Whatever protestations she might have, they aren’t in control now. Her passion is driving her. She sits up and I help her remove her shirt and then mine.

When she reaches for my waistband, I stop her. “No, this is for you, baby. This first time is all you.”

I run my hands over her chest, down the sides and up to cup her breasts. “These are bigger than I remember,” I whisper reverently. Leaning over I press my face into the valley of her cleavage. “Softer.” I kiss the plump tops that aren’t covered by the satin of her bra. “More delicious.” I tug the cup down on one side and draw her nipple into my mouth, gentle at first and then harder until I hear her gasp and her fingers grip my head. Yeah, my baby likes it a little rough. I’d been so careful with her before because she was ill but now her cheeks were plump, she had a slight curve in her belly and I felt like I could do all the dirty, hot things I’d fantasized about.

I slip my fingers inside her panties, past the soft curls until I reach her plump wet sex.

“Nathan…” Her words are a plea not a protest.

I suck at her breasts, first one and then the other while my hand is busy reacquainting itself with the wet, tender flesh between her legs. I think of torture, of BUD/s training week when the Naval officers tried to kill us. I think of Somalia, Ghana, Iran. I count baseball statistics and all the times the Cubs have fucked up their chances for a pennant. I bring all of these to the forefront of my mind so I don’t come from the feel of her sex.

“Can you tell me how you like it?” I ask. She shakes her head wordlessly, flushing a violent shade of red. I grin at her and I can tell seeing me smile is almost—almost—as good as my fingers rubbing her pussy. My internal emotions are at war with each other. There’s regret for all the shit I put her through; resolve for how I’m going to make up for it; and craving to have her a million times and a million times more. “I’ll see for myself.”

I dip my head back to her breasts. Her thick, erect nipples are begging to be in my mouth. I slide my index finger inside and she clenches down as if I’m some foreign invader.  “Shhh,” I lean up and press my mouth against hers. “It’s just me. God, baby, you are so tight. It’s like our first time, doesn’t it?”

She nods and grabs my shoulders to press me down harder on top of her. I take her mouth, demand her tongue and as she kisses me, I press my finger all the way until my palm slaps against her outer sex. It’s all she needs and she’s coming, clenching me, squeezing me everywhere. Her hands dig into my skin and her breasts press against my chest as her back bows.

As she comes, I push another finger inside her, preparing her because she’s so tight I’m afraid I’ll hurt her. Our kiss has turned frantic and sloppy as she shakes around my fingers.

Rising up on my knees, I suck her liquid off my fingers. Her eyes widen in shock. “That’s one,” I say.

“One what?”

I lay my palm on her upper chest and drag it down to her stomach. Under my hand, she trembles.  “One orgasm. I owe you nine tonight. One for every year we’ve been apart. When I’m done, those years will be part of our past.”

“Orgasms aren’t going to make up for everything.”

“Let’s see what you have to say in the morning. Take your bra off,” I order as I move down her body. I’m desperate for the taste of her. I pull her panties down her legs and toss them on the table. Lowering myself to the floor, I kneel down between her legs. “Look at how beautiful you. Your pussy is so pink and swollen. It looks like an exotic fruit. I can’t wait to eat it.”

She makes a strangled noise and puts her hand between her legs to cover herself. “I don’t think—“

“You’re right.” I interrupt. “No thinking. Only feeling.”

I realize that I’m going to have to be on all night because if I stop once, doubts will creep on. Well, game on. I have the stamina of a warrior and this is my greatest battle I will ever face.

“I never ate you out enough when we were teenagers. Tonight you’re going to experience what it feels like to have a man between your legs.”

I dived in, sucking those juicy lips into my mouth and tonguing every inch of her. Whatever objections she had die on her tongue as she grabs my head. She’s starving for pleasure and I’m hungry to give it to her. I press her legs open, as far apart as she’ll let me. I lose myself between her legs. Her spicy aroma filling my head and the tangy sweet flavor of her arousal flooding my tongue. The rock hard appendage between my legs is begging to thrust into her. She’s going to feel so fucking fine.

I lap at her, spearing her with my tongue in rhythmic thrusts. Her breath is weak and shallow, coming in breathless pants above me. I peak up to see her head thrown back, her breasts are taut and bouncy as her hips pulse against my mouth. One of her hands is dug into the cushions, the nails scoring the fabric while the other is caught in my short hair urging me closer. Then I remember.She likes it a little rough. She probably is too shy or doesn’t realize what she enjoys. So I bite her tiny clit and she goes off like a rocket.

Her scream can probably be heard three doors down. I keep licking and nipping as she squirms and bucks under my mouth.

I stand up. My dick is so hard it hurts. I pull down my cargo shorts and her eyes widen at the site. I’m commando because I didn’t want to waste time after running and showering with stupid things like clothes. After I got Nick’s text that she was at the Del and I should hurry, I sped home, took the shortest shower possible and threw on the top two things in my dresser which was a PT shirt and a pair of ratty old shorts. I grab myself and give my cock a rough hard stroke and squeeze. “I’ve waited for you, baby. And I’d have waited for you forever. This cock only wants to be inside you. It only wants to feel your hand, your mouth, your pussy.”

“I—I don’t know what I want.” She’s flushed, aroused, and confused. That’s okay.

“I do. Your pussy wants this. I’m not using a condom, baby, because I’ve only been with you and you’ve only been with me.”

“But what about pregnancy.”

“You think I care about that?” My brows furrow together. “I want you pregnant. I want our baby in your belly. I want it all Charlotte.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says but she licks her lips like she’s hungry for the taste of me on her tongue. I squeeze my cock harder and pre cum seeps out the tip.

“Don’t deprive of something we both want. You know you want to feel me without a barrier.” I step out of my shorts and reach for her.  I’m not fucking Charlotte on a sofa after nine years of separation. “Where’s the bed?”

I carry her into the bedroom and throw her on top of the king sized bed. “You’re more beautiful than you’ve ever been, baby. I can’t stop looking at you.”

I push her legs apart and climb between them. “I’ll pull out,” I promise. “I want to see my cum on you anyway.”

“Don’t think that this solves anything,” she warns. “Just because I want to have sex with you doesn’t mean we’re in any kind of relationship.”

I smooth my hands down her inner thighs over the tops of her smooth knees. “Course not. Just means that you won’t be having sex with anyone else.” Ever again I finish in my head.

“For now,” she retorts stubbornly.

Forever. “Can we negotiate later when all my blood isn’t pooled in my cock? I need you, baby. I need to be inside you. Let me in.”

“As long as you acknowledge that me sleeping with you doesn’t mean I forgive you or that I’ve forgotten. You haven’t explained anything to me.”

“That’s fair,” I say dreading that conversation and hoping I can put it off for a long time or at least until I can cobble together something that approaches an explanation. I place my cock at the entrance of her sex, for a moment enjoying the sight of her flushed rosy flesh opening for my hard cock. “And baby we aren’t going to sleep a wink tonight.”

Need to catch up? Here’s a link to Charlotte Chronicles from the beginning.

 

My Apologies!

I’m so sorry your inbox was spammed this morning with nearly 13 posts of nonsense. I am in the process of creating a new webdesign to highlight the content and make it easy to read on all platforms. Unfortunately, in the testing, posts were created and sent out. It won’t happen again.

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Again, accept my apologies.

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