Page 134 of Never Kiss and Tell

Charlie smirks at me and slips his suit jacket off, tossing it on the chair in the corner of the room, along with my discarded dress. Then he removes his shirt and shoes, reaching for his beltbefore I stop him.

“Let me.”

I undo his pants and let them fall around his feet. Pulling his boxers down, his cock springs free, the thick vein on the underside protruding under the weight of his erection. He’s so hard it reaches toward his navel and my mouth waters to taste him.

I close the distance between us, slipping him past my lips and straight into my mouth with a brush of my tongue.

“Fuck, Bailey. I’ve been starved for you.”

He pulls me off him and lays me back against the pillows on the bed, sliding over me. The way he looks at me, like he’s memorizing every curve of my body, makes me think maybe I’m not giving myself enough credit. Maybe he cares more about me than I thought.

He moves down my torso, licking and sucking a path on his way. The lower he goes, the more the width of his shoulders presses my legs further apart. When he reaches my sex, his eyes lock with mine and with impatient fingers, he spreads me, lapping at my clit hungrily.

“Charlie,” I gasp, surging off the bed. His tongue latches on to my throbbing clit, sucking rhythmically, teasing me.

I roll my hips against his mouth shamelessly, chasing the pleasure only he can give me.

I writhe underneath him, crying out as the first waves of my orgasm take over and catapult me into pleasure.

“Oh, God,” I cry as the feeling spreads throughout my body, so intense that I lose all sense of reality for a moment.

Before I can gather my senses, Charlie rolls me back onto mystomach, aligns his cock at my entrance and spears inside me, filling me completely until I’m clutching the pillows below me in sweet agony.

“Please,” I whimper when he doesn’t stop pushing inside. The sensation of being too full brings both pleasure and pain as Charlie starts to move, rolling his hips into mine.

His lust is frantic, tangible as he quickly builds up a rhythm, fucking into me like I was made for him.

“Remember this, Bailey,” Charlie groans, fucking me so hard from behind that his groin slaps against my flesh, filling the room with dirty sounds. “Remember who makes you come so hard you can’t fucking breathe. Remember that the next time some prick puts his hands on you.”

“Charlie,” I gasp, when his fingers find my clit. He rolls it between his fingers and I come so fast and hard, I don’t have time to breathe.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, coming inside me with a groan. A pained growl rumbles through his chest, his head leaning against my shoulder. “Fuck, I’m desperate for you.”

He flips me over onto my back and sinks back into me, laying himself over me so his groin can brush over my clit with each stroke of his hips. He nuzzles into my hair, fucking me slow and easy.

My heart swells when he presses his lips against my cheek.

“Charlie, I—” I start. I have to tell him. I have to let him know how I feel.

“Shhh . . . baby . . . I know.”

The morning comes too fast. I wake to the sound of birds twenty minutes before the alarm is set to go off and stare at the ceiling. Five weeks of fun has finally come to an end and life is starting to trickle back in. Tomorrow I’ll wake up in my own bed, alone, surrounded by smells and sounds that I’ve forgotten about. I’m homesick, but not for California.

Charlie and I are quiet through the morning, taking a shower together where he washes my hair and then my body like I’m made of glass. I certainly feel like it, emotionally, anyway. A couple times I tear up, but I quickly turn my face to the water, so he won’t notice.

I guess there’s just some things you can’t change and this is one of them. The deal was five weeks. Drawing it out any longer would be suicide.

Neither of us eat breakfast. I don’t think I can stomach it. I check through my room one last time and make sure I got everything. It looks like I was never here, just how I wanted it. I cleaned the place top to bottom, even washing the bedding, though I’ve barely slept in the bed for the last couple of weeks.

Before I shut the bedroom door behind me, I take out the envelope I had stashed in the top of my bag and drop the flash drive inside, leaving it on top of the dresser with a heavy ache in my chest.

I finished writing my book earlier this week. I can’t stomach the thought of bringing it back with me — reading it when Iknow who it was written after. It will only serve as a gruesome reminder that Charlie will be here and I will be in California.

The airport is busy and alive with families coming down for vacation. By the time we make it to the lounge outside my gate, I just want to go back home, climb into bed and cuddle with Charlie until we fall asleep. He looks haggard. I wonder if he slept at all last night. We tore at each other for hours, kissing, touching. There wasn’t a moment where one part of him wasn’t in some part of me. Like he was branding himself into my skin. If the dark circles under his eyes aren’t enough to tell you how late it had been when we’d finally collapsed, the hickey just above his collar bone will.

“It’s time,” I murmur when they call my boarding. Neither of us stand for a second, like we can make time freeze if we just don’t move.

Finally, I concede though.

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