Frenched Series Bundle (69 page)

He caught my elbow, yanking me back against him before I could get in the door. “Don’t count on that. The night is young.”

Yes, it was.

Two surprisingly interesting things happened the night I took Charlie to the ballet. Well, three if you count the blowjob, which I suppose wasn’t that surprising, although quite interesting. But that happened later. (Don’t worry, I’ll give details.)

The first thing was that Charlie kissed me. He’d kissed me before, of course, first in my kitchen doorway on Thanksgiving, then later on the stairs. And there was lots of kissing on the picnic blanket in front of the fire last weekend. Frantic, frenzied, fuck-me-now kissing that made the world spin faster and the floors tilt and set every cell in my body on fire.

But the kiss at Cliff Bell’s wasn’t that. It wasn’t that at all.

The restored speakeasy was dimly lit by wall sconces and lamps that all seemed to glow with the colors of firelight somehow—gold and orange and scarlet, but subdued, rather than bright. The club was crowded, no tables open, and just a single seat along the bar. I sat down, and Charlie stood beside me. We ordered drinks and listened to the live music, and the strangest feeling started to overtake me. Actually it was less a feeling than an awareness of things beginning to change between Charlie and me.

It began when I noticed how close he stood behind me, closer than the space between barstools demanded. His torso was warm against my back, and every time I pictured him in that gray suit, my heart tripped. Then there was the way he leaned in to whisper when he wanted to say something, some little comment about a song or a soloist or the art deco decor. He’d put a hand on my right shoulder and place his lips at my left ear, the soft brush of his breath on my skin sending a shiver down my arms. Eventually he just left his hand on that shoulder…then slid it down my arm…then slipped it beneath my arm to wrap around my waist. Surprised, I went still for a moment. This was not non-date behavior, was it? If he could, I could.

I placed my hand over his and turned my head, looking back at him over my left shoulder.
If he kisses me, this is a date.

He didn’t even hesitate. Pressing his lips to mine, he held them there, and a moment later I felt his fingers beneath my chin in the sweetest gesture I could have imagined. Actually, I couldn’t have imagined it. Not from Charlie.

But this kiss was nothing like our others. Nothing frenetic or rushed or overwrought. No spinning or tilting or crashing. No tongues or teeth clashing. In fact, I’m not even sure we breathed. This kiss had such a lovely stillness about it, a tenderness that had been missing, that I was scared a breath might break the spell. It was fragile and guileless and pure, something to be protected.

His lips were cool at first, chilled by the ice in his gin and tonic. Mine were too, from the crisp, bubbly champagne in my glass. But it took only seconds for our lips to grow warm, heated by touch, by thought, by feeling. My entire body grew warm, actually. My hand pressed his to my stomach, my toes curled inside my shoes, and heat prickled across my back inside my dress.

What on earth was this?

Applause for a song that ended broke out, and Charlie lifted his lips from mine. But just a few inches, and he kept his fingers beneath my chin.

I turned in my chair to face him, letting my head fall back. He kissed me once more, another slow, sweet lullaby of a kiss.
Something is happening
, I thought.
Something good.

So good that I didn’t want to examine it any closer, didn’t want to look behind the curtain. Whatever magic this was felt too good to last, so I was just going to enjoy it. A moment later, Charlie picked up his head.

“Ready to go?”

His kiss had been soft, but something else was in his eyes now. Something harder, edgier. Darker. Something that made my insides tremble and my panties wet. “Yes.”

Charlie paid the bill, and we left our drinks on the bar half-finished. Taking my hand, he pulled me quickly toward the door.

“Charlie,” I said breathlessly, once we’d rushed through the revolving door. “I have my car here.”

He didn’t stop moving though, and I could barely keep up in my heels. “Just come with me.”

We raced through the chilly dark to the lot where he was parked, and Charlie opened the passenger door for me. I slid into the front seat, glancing into the back and wondering if he was planning on parking in a dark alley and tossing me back there.

I’d have done it.

Charlie got in and started the car, tore out of the lot and swerved quickly around Grand Circus Park, turning onto Washington. I had to hold onto the dash, he was driving so fast. I wanted to know where he was taking me, but something told me not to ask.

In front of the Westin Book Cadillac, he looped around and pulled up to valet parking. The uniformed attendant opened my door and I stepped out, moving closer to the heaters above the glass entrance. My pulse raced as Charlie spoke to the valet and then strode toward me. He took my hand and pulled me into the hotel. “Wait here,” he said in the lobby, pointing to the elevators.

Oh, fuck. My legs jittered while I waited, watching him approach the reservations desk, chat briefly with the employee, and hand over his credit card.

Oh my God, oh my God. He’s really getting a room.

I’d gone on a few trips with boyfriends before, carefully planned trips up north or weekends in Chicago, but I’d never been so hot for someone or had someone so hot for me that we couldn’t even wait until we got home.
On a Thursday night!
I hadn’t finished my champagne, but my blood fizzed as if I’d drunk an entire bottle.

A few agonizing minutes later, he appeared again, stepping past me to punch the up arrow. He said nothing, just took my hand when the doors opened. Another couple stepped in when we did, and as the elevator rose, so did the tension. By the time we stepped out on the twenty-seventh floor, I was strung so tight, I thought one word, one look from Charlie could snap me. As we rushed down the hall, I unbuttoned my coat.

At our room, Charlie slipped the key card into the slot and held the door open for me. I stepped past him, but before I got three feet inside, he grabbed me around the waist so roughly I gasped, dropping my clutch. Holding me tight, he turned to face the door, which slammed shut, leaving us in total darkness.

He yanked my coat off, and a second later I was pushed up against the door, my cheek against the cool wood, Charlie’s chest against my back. Again, he kicked my heel out so my legs were spread, and I flattened my palms on the door. His hands slid up the front of my thighs, my hips, my ribs. As one covered my breast, the other moved down between my legs, gripping me hard. I felt his breath on the back of my neck. “You’re under my skin,” he said quietly. Two fingers worked my black lace thong aside and slid easily inside me. “What am I going to do about that?”

I stayed quiet, my breath coming in quick little bursts. But my hips moved instinctively, riding his hand, pushing back against his erection, which I could feel through his pants. I reached behind me for his zipper.

“Oh, no.” Immediately he took my hand and put it back where it was on the door. “You don’t get to use your hands unless I say so. In fact…” Removing his fingers from me, he untied the pink satin ribbon from around my waist. “I’ve been looking at your pretty little ribbon all night, imagining the ways I could use it.” He took both wrists and brought them behind my back, pulling my arms so tight my fingertips grasped the opposite elbow. I gasped as he twined the ribbon around my forearms. When the knot was secure, he leaned against me again, putting his lips at my ear, his hand back between my legs. “There. Much better. Now I know you’ll behave.” His voice was smooth and low, deceptively calm. A knife sheathed in velvet.

“Charlie,” I panted. “I want to taste you. Let me.”

“You want to taste me?”

“Yes. I’ll behave. I’ll do what you say.” I struggled against him and managed to turn around so I was facing him. “Please.”

Taking my face in his hands, he crushed his mouth to mine, his tongue slashing through my open lips. A complete contrast to the way he’d kissed me an hour ago, this kiss was demanding and aggressive, as if he needed to make up for the uncharacteristic tenderness. As if to remind me who he really was. He kissed me so deep and hard I could barely breathe, and when he unsealed his mouth from mine, I gasped for air.

But I had no time to recover.

Charlie’s hand closed in the back of my hair. “Get on your knees.”

Heart pumping madly, I dropped to my knees on the wood floor and he unbuttoned his suit coat and undid his pants. A second later, he rubbed the tip of his cock along my lips. I let them fall open, gently shaking my head back and forth. Then I licked it, slow and sweet, swirling my tongue over and around the smooth head. I looked up at him, and although he was shadowy in the dark, I could see the white of his cuffs, the pocket square, the shirt and tie.
God, he looks good in that suit. I want to rip it off him and lick every inch of his body.
The thought inspired me to work him a little harder.

“Yes,” he whispered, “just like that.” He moved his hand up and down the shaft while I sucked the tip. His other hand held the back of my head, loosening the pins holding my hair up. “You want more, sweet thing?”

I nodded, and he pulled my head toward his hips, feeding his cock into my mouth. I was a little nervous about this since I knew how big he was, and I had no control over how much he tried to shove in. But he went slowly at first, stopping when he hit the back of my throat and pulling out again. “More,” I whispered.

He did it again, and this time I leaned into it tried to take him deeper. “Oh, fuck,” he said, running his other hand over my jaw and throat. “That feels fucking amazing.”

I bobbed my head, alternating hard sucks with sweeps and strokes of my tongue, tilting my head this way and that. Since I couldn’t use my hands, the sucking slurping sound effects got pretty loud, and I might have been self-conscious about it, but Charlie seemed to enjoy them. “God, I love the way that sounds. I wish I could fucking see you, but there’s no way I’m taking my dick out of your sweet little mouth right now to turn on a light. You’re fucking incredible.”

I moaned softly, and he put both hands in my hair, thrusting gently between my lips.

Confession: I actually said a little prayer here, something along the lines of
Dear God, I hope you’re not watching this but I’d really, really be grateful if I could get through this without gagging or choking, and also it would be great if this was the best blowjob he ever gets in his entire life. OK thanks, go away now.

“Oh fuck. Yeah. Yeah, like that.” He curled his fingers into my tumbling up-do, pulling my hair as he held my head steady for his driving cock. I closed my eyes and tried to relax my throat and take him deeper, all the while keeping my lips and tongue wrapped tight and wet and hot around him. I was totally prepared for him to come in my mouth, so it shocked me when he yanked me to my feet and dragged me over to the foot of the bed. He pushed my upper body forward and rucked my dress up to my hips. As he fumbled with a condom, I pressed my cheek to the spread and gasped for air. A second later, he spoke low in my ear. “Open your legs, Homecoming Queen.”

He didn’t even bother removing my underwear, just moved the lace out of the way and shoved his cock inside me. I cried out at the first hard thrust, picking my head up. Charlie grabbed me by the hair again and held it tight, while the other hand reached between my legs and rubbed my clit hard and fast. I struggled to get my arms free, even though I knew I couldn’t, not because I wanted him to stop but because I wanted to press up on the bed, push back against him, take him deeper, even though he was already so deep it hurt.

I came first, his hand and cock working me into a frenzy, and he came a minute later, groaning louder than I’d ever heard him before and pulling my hair so hard I thought he might end up with a handful of it.

“Jesus.” He released my head and we gently tumbled forward onto our left sides on the bed, spooned and sweaty, my bound arms trapped between us.

“Jesus,” I echoed. I closed my eyes, opened and closed my overworked jaw a couple times. Then I looked down at my body. “We still have our clothes on. Like, every item. Right down to our shoes.”

Charlie’s laugh rumbled through his chest and mine. “Sorry. I only thought about getting your belt off. Speaking of which.” He worked the knot apart and freed my arms, which ached pleasantly when I brought them in front of me, shifting my position on the bed. But he stayed close, rubbing my right shoulder.

“Don’t be sorry,” I said. “My only regret is that I didn’t get to take that suit off one piece at a time. It looks so good on you.”

He kissed the back of my neck. “Next time.”

“Next time?” My heart skipped a beat. “When’s that?”

“I don’t know. What are you doing later?”

I giggled. “Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”

“Fuck work.”

“Remind me to take you to the ballet more often.”

He kissed my shoulder and braced himself up on one elbow. “It wasn’t the ballet.”

I rolled onto my back and looked up at him. My eyes had adjusted so that I could make out his features in the dark. “What was it?”