Page 74 of About Time

I proved that last night. Charlie crooks his finger at me and I fall to my knees. I’m not proud of myself, but I know now that I will never be able to resist that man. I think Clark just realized it a little bit faster than I did.

Sure, I could continue to work myself to death. It would likely be worse now, because Clark was the one who usually pulled me from this cycle to pop my head out and remember to be humanevery so often, instead of being a robot. If I could manage to repair my friendship, there would always be something in the way, a huge Charlie-shaped boulder.

Hell, Donovan rarely returns a text or email to me and he never made the mistake of falling in love with me. Charlie managed to destroy that friendship too.

The first drops of rain fall down, leaving dark spots on the wood. They mask the tears that flow down my cheeks. I’m not crying over the loss of my friend, either of them, but I should be. No, I’m far too self-centered for that. I’m crying because I realize Charlie isn’t the one that has fucked everything up. The ultimate responsibility falls on me. I’m the one who pursued him first. I’m the one who ran into this blindly and refused to see any of the glaring warning signs along the way. It’s my fault that I couldn’t manage my feelings and felt the need to run all the way to Florida to cope. Also, I’m the one who continues to let him in.

Waking up alone this morning was a wake-up call I guess. I stayed away from Harriston because I thought it was the only way to avoid falling right back into his bed. I missed years with my sister, helping my niece in her moment of crisis, and ruined my friendship with Donovan. I did all of that. If I’m going to be there for Wren and have any chance of convincing Donovan to stop hating me, I have to go home. Also, if I want to have a life that is about more than avoiding Charlie, I need to face this thing between us head on.

An idea starts to form, but then I hear my front door open back inside the house. I turn around and see the devil himself walking in with a drink carrier holding two coffees and a to-go bag.

“I thought you left,” I say as I come back inside.

He holds out a coffee. “Yeah, I’m not about to try and use your coffee maker.” He side-eyes my Keurig. “I don’t trust those fancy machines.”

I roll my eyes. “Some day you are going to have to get used to technology. That thing is so easy, even you couldn’t mess it up.”

He hands me a coffee, and I take a sip. Part of me is impressed that he actually remembers my coffee order, a white chocolate mocha with a dash of hazelnut. The other part of me is trying to smother the warm and fuzzy feelings it brings. I might not be able to fall out of love with him, but I won’t be diving head-first into the deep end of it either.

Charlie takes a couple of breakfast sandwiches out of the bag and sets them in front of the barstools. I guess we’re going to sit and eat together. Reluctantly I pull out a stool and take a seat.

Once he’s joined me he turns to me and takes a deep breath. None of these are good signs. I remind myself that I don’t want anything from him. This was fun, but it doesn’t have to mean anything. Actually, it can’t be anything.

I’ve heard Einstein once said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. That’s a pretty good explanation of how I keep opening my heart to Charlie and expecting him not to break it. I’m not a teenager anymore, nor am I in my twenties. I can’t keep making a young woman’s mistakes at this stage in my life.

“I wanted to talk more about what you said last night. I know you said this is just sex, but?—”

I start nodding frantically. “This doesn’t need to be a discussion. I get it, and you don’t have to worry about me having some kind of misunderstanding here. If you want to discuss rules, like no fucking without protection, I’m all ears, but otherwise you don’t need to worry. This time, I know that wanting my pussy doesn’t mean you want my heart.”

The storm clouds come inside to hang over his head. I swear the air temperature drops several degrees. He stands suddenly causing his chair to totter a bit before coming back to rest, still upright. “Is that all you think I’m good for? Making you come?”

“What do you want me to say, Charlie? Any time I let you into more than just my body you leave me shattered. Why would I want to continue to break myself against your rocks?”

He moves around behind me and I force myself to stay still. “If that’s the way you want it,” he whispers into my ear.

His fingers brush against my neck, lightly scratching the skin with his callouses, as he gathers my hair into a bunch down by my neck. Using it to guide me, he moves me around the corner where the counter is lower, and leans me over it.

“If this is the only thing I’m good for, I better give you a reason to let me stick around.”

Charlie’s free hand slides around my waist and down into my sleep shorts. His fingers move between my legs, and circle around my clit.

My fingers claw at the smooth granite counter, finding nothing to grasp on to. I can feel my body climbing toward the peak, and then he pulls his hand away.

I want to groan and complain about him leaving me hanging, but that isn’t how things work between us. He gets off on using me, and I like being used. I can’t explain it, and I worry that if I examine it too closely it will go away.

Charlie lets go of my hair and lifts my shirt over my head. Next, he pushes my shorts down. When they pool around my ankles he taps my leg. “Step out.”

I do as he says, and kick the shorts away. He pushes me back down to the surface of the counter. The cool stone makes my nipples tighten into hard points. His grip returns to my hair, and I can’t turn my head to look back at him. I become aware of what he’s doing when I hear the whoosh of his zipper.

I inhale and hold my breath as he pushes into me in one forceful thrust. The intrusion burns as my pussy works to stretch around his girth. My hips bounce off the edge of the counter every time he slams inside of me.

I love him like this, raw, uncontrolled, desperate for me. His fist in my hair pulls every time he pulls me back on his cock. Once again my body nears that delicious peak. My pussy flutters around his cock, and just as I’m about to shatter into a million stars, he pulls out.

He waits long enough for the feelings to dissipate before he starts fucking me again. Over and over he drives me to the brink and then stops.

Finally I break and groan my displeasure. He releases a dark chuckle. “Sucks when you get so close to getting what you want and it gets taken away, doesn’t it?”

Slowly, he pushes his cock back into me. He changes the angle, and he rubs against my G-Spot. Since he’s denied me over and over the sensations building inside of me now feel compounded to an extreme level.

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