Objectify Me: A Fireworks Novella (The Fireworks Novellas) (10 page)

Chapter Fourteen – Charlotte.
 

I wake up to a blank computer screen and someone on an obnoxiously loud motorbike careening past my house. I press a key and the computer comes to life. The clock reads nine-thirty AM. I slept for nearly twelve hours! That’s incredible. Maybe all the sleep I’ve lost over the past month finally caught up with me.

For a second, as my finger hovers over the Facebook icon, I worry that talking to Levi last night might have been a dream. But my poor, overtired mind wouldn’t do that to me, would it?

I click. Facebook pops up, the message window open.

Sleep tight. Let’s talk tomorrow.

Love, Levi.

That’s about the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.

Okay
, I type.
I slept like a baby
.

I don’t expect him to answer. He’s probably gone to work, or the gym, or something responsible people do in the morning. I look down on my body. Responsible people don’t sleep in a garter and stockings, for example. I’m up and on my way to the bathroom to shower and begin my new life when my laptop beeps.

I have a surprise for you.

You do?
I type.
:-) What is it?

If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise. I need your address though.

Aw, he’s going to send me something? Like a letter or a card? That’s so old-fashioned and cute. I type in my address. Maybe that’s a bit reckless, but what can I say? It’s early. I need coffee. Coffee first. Then shower.

I head down to the kitchen, thankful that coffee is one of the groceries I have managed to keep in the house. The milk situation is less promising, but after a thorough search, I find some chocolate-flavored, powdered creamer that I must have bought when I was premenstrual. It does the trick. I sit at my little painted table, and the caffeine works its magic.

The way I figure it, I’ve got some decisions to make, some plans to lay out. After paying off my student loans and car, I have a few thousand dollars left, enough to last me a month or two if I’m frugal. So I need a job, obviously, and I need to decide if I want to go ahead and get more into debt to finish school, or if I should work until I have enough to pay for it upfront.

I could find another club to dance at – there are a couple in town that I hear are still decent – and probably earn enough money to go back to school part time. Now that I don’t have all dad’s expenses, it won’t be so tough to make ends meet. Heck, if I find the right club, I could live like a queen. I add up a few numbers in my head. Let’s say eight hundred a week, times four…that’s over three thousand a month. A thousand for rent. Another five hundred for bills and food. Still need to keep myself groomed if I’m going to dance, so about fifty for nails and waxing. Maybe a hundred for clothes and lingerie. That still leaves nearly fifteen hundred a month. Enough to pay for one course. I could save enough to graduate in a year.

Okay, maybe not like a queen exactly. Maybe more like a hardworking girl with ambition.

I slurp back the last of my coffee and look out at the neighbor’s cat skulking along their roof.

Do I really want to dance for another year? Do I really want to go looking for another club that is busy enough to make the dollars, but not so creepy that I catch some disease? I look at my fingernails – French manicure with sparkly pink tips. It doesn’t seem like that long ago I was scraping wood glue out of my nails with a screwdriver in shop class. Not sure how I got from there to here. I never thought I’d turn out to be such a
girl
.

I’m pondering all the steps it took to go from tomboy to boy toy when the doorbell rings. And stupidly, I get all excited. Maybe Levi sent me flowers! How cute would that be? No one has ever sent me flowers before.

I run down the hall, not worrying that I’m still wearing my kimono over stockings and lingerie. Let’s give the delivery boy a thrill – no one has to know.

I unlock the bolt, the deadbolts and the mainly decorative hook, and throw the door open.

Then I scream. And after that I start to cry.

Because Levi is standing there.

“Okay, wow. I’m sorry…” he says through the screen door. “I didn’t mean to…maybe I’ll just…”

“Oh my God, shut up. Shut up and get in here!”

I shove the screen door so hard I nearly knock him off the porch. Then I grab him by his shirt and drag him inside, slamming the door behind him.

He drops a small bag and we stare at each other for half a second before a kind of frenzy takes over and he’s carrying me suddenly down the hall, pushing through the door into Dusty’s room, which is completely empty.

He takes his mouth off mine long enough to ask, “Don’t you have a bed?”

“Next room,” I say into his mouth. I breathe him in, my fingers tightly wound into this wonderful new head of thick curls he has.

He backs out into the hallway and turns into my room where we fall onto the bed, narrowly avoiding crushing my laptop in the process.

“What are you doing here?”

He just kisses me, letting his lips and hands do the talking. My legs wrap around him, pressing our bodies together. His erection digs into me.

“I thought you didn’t like guns,” I say, shoving him beside me so I can undo his belt and pants.

“I’m just happy to see you.”

He pulls my kimono open and tears down my triangle bra, cupping my breasts in his hot hands. “God, why are you still wearing this? I’ve had a boner for twelve hours just thinking about it.”

“You need to seek medical assistance.”

He slides his hand into my panties. “
You’re
my medical assistance.” One finger slips down and glides into me and back out to rub my wetness over my clit.

I bite down on his lower lip and tear at his buttons and zipper. Finally, my hand finds its way around his cock. I grip it firmly, not sure I’ll ever actually let go.

Somehow, being connected like this—fingers to sex—calms the frenzy a bit. Our kisses become tender and searching as our fingers move possessively.

“Did you come all the way here for sex?” I ask.

“No.” He moves his lips across my cheek, over my ear, into my hair.

“What did you come here for?”

He moans as I tighten my grip. “I…uh…can we talk about that later?” I pull his pants down, and feel something crackle in one pocket. My fingers come out with a condom.

“You presumptuous little devil,” I say, tearing it open with my teeth. “Take your shirt off.”

He obeys, wriggling out of his shirt as I roll the condom on.

“Want to take my panties off?”

He flips me onto my back, pushing my knees apart. “No. No time.” He pulls the black lace to the side with one hand, gripping his cock with the other, nudging it into my opening. A second later, he’s inside me to the hilt. I gasp at the sudden sensation of fullness and pleasure.

We stop there for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. He reaches up and wipes the remaining tears from my cheeks with his thumb. And as we stare at each other, our eyes seem to speak in a language all their own.

I’m sorry
, my eyes say,
for not finding you sooner.

I should have come back months ago, to look for you.

There was a moment I thought you were dead.

I thought maybe you hated me.

I don’t hate you. I’m falling in love with you.

I’m falling in love with you, too.

While this is happening, Levi moves his hips, slowly, gently at first, but gaining intensity. Every nerve inside me lights up as his cock strokes my core. I lift my knees and wrap my legs around him, deepening our connection. And still our eyes never break contact. And with each thrust, each rush of pleasure, we knit ourselves together – our bodies, our minds, our hearts.

Levi lets out a low growl, and I know he’s losing control. Seeing that happen, seeing his face with such an ecstatic expression quickens my own response, and suddenly the burn of an approaching orgasm is blazing across my skin.

“Come with me,” I say. “I want to watch you come again.”

We both start to shake, unable to tear our eyes apart, watching as the tension crests and releases with convulsing waves.

“
God
…” he says. “
Charlotte
.”

I pull him down by his hair and capture his mouth, his breaths gasping as he comes down from the peak.

I hold him between my legs, my pussy twitching around his softening cock, and feel the muscles of his back and arms slowly relaxing.

“I should pull out,” he says. “The condom will fall off.”

I release him, letting him move backwards to deal with the condom. Then we lie next to each other, mesmerized by each other’s faces, our gazes still locked together.

“Your eyes are so beautiful,” he says.

“I was about to say the same about you.”

We breathe together for a moment. He kisses me, tender and soft.

“I have a plan,” he says.

“You do?”

“Yes. It’s a complicated plan with many steps, so you’ll have to listen carefully.”

“I see,” I say, propping myself up on my elbow. “Should I take notes?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary. Just listen.”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

He rolls onto his back and looks at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. “So, here’s what I think we should do. I think we should have a shower, maybe make out a bit in the shower—that’s optional. Then I think we should go out for breakfast or brunch or lunch or whatever, because I’m starving. Then we should come back here and take all our clothes off so we can have sex actually naked for a change.” He takes a breath.

“Good plan,” I say.

“I’m not done.” A little smile is growing on his face. “After the naked sex, we’ll probably need a nap—you especially. You’ll be worn out. About an hour will be enough, and that will take us to…what…?” he looks at his watch. “About three o’clock. So then we’ll go to a car dealer and sell that shitty car of yours. We’ll buy some luggage and pack all your stuff in it and take your keys to your landlord. Then we’ll go to the airport and I’ll buy you a ticket to come back to Seattle with me.” He bites his lip, not looking at me.

“What?” I’m not sure I heard him right.

“We don’t need to sell the car. We could get someone to drive it to Seattle. Also, there could be more sex in between packing and going to your landlord.”

“Levi…I…”

He sighs. And a few seconds tick by. I’m processing what he’s said, not rejecting it outright. But it’s a lot to take in. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. He did just fly across the country overnight to see me.

“Which parts of the plan don’t you like?” he says.

“We barely know each other, Levi.”

He rolls over to look at me, and I see the hurt in his eyes. But there’s something else in there – a fire, a determination that he’s shown me before. The moment before he first kissed me on Bourbon Street. The second before he took out that Russian. This is a man in control of his own destiny who’s looking back at me. It’s a different man than the tightly wound guy who refused to enjoy my lap dance.

“I
want
to know you,” he says. “We don’t have to live together or anything. That would be reckless. But I’ve been trying to meet girls, and I just keep thinking about you. Omar says it’s only about the sex, but I don’t think so. Do you?”

Most of the time, I
do
think for men, it’s all about the sex. Most of the time, I think that men judge women on how their cock feels about them, rather than how their heart feels, or their head. And that almost always ends badly. But with Levi, somehow I think his cock might be guiding him the right way. I think he
needs
a girl like me – someone a little wild, someone to put a little edge on his well-ordered life. And hell, I love to be needed. I’m only wondering if
I
need
him
.

Levi puts his hand on my face, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I’ve seen guys do that in movies, but no one has ever done it to me. “I can protect you, Charlotte,” he says.

And I want to say, “Protect me from what?” But instead, I just burst into tears again. Because there are so many things that no one has ever protected me from. Douchebag high school basketball players, creepy, handsy professors, disgusting frat boys, all those perverts at the club, Jack and his money-worshipping rigidity. Rick and his revolting beer breath.

Russian gangster pimps.

The truth is, I love showing off my body. I love sex – I love the way it makes me feel and the sense of power it gives me to open myself up to pleasure – to
his
pleasure and mine. But I don’t think I’ve ever found anyone who deserved to share that. Or even appreciated it. I’m fine with being a strong, independent woman out in the world. I can hunt and gather with the best of them. But maybe in the moments when I want to show that vulnerability, it would be nice to be in the comfort and safety of a man like Levi’s arms. The thought makes me cry even harder. Why did it take five months for me to remember his last name?