Page 60 of Charlie Sunshine
He withdraws his fingers, and I groan against the empty feeling. I force my eyes open to watch him roll the condom down his dick. The latex is shiny and hugs his shaft tight, nestling down against the base. My legs shift restlessly as I watch him pour lube into his palm and fist his cock until it gleams sticky sweet in the moonlight.
I lift up as he pushes a pillow underneath my hips, the muscles in his arms bunching sexily. Then he sits back on his knees and spreads my legs over his upper thighs until my bum is close to his cock. I arch further into the position, and we both groan as his dick brushes my hole.
“Oh fuck,” I say.
He grimaces, his eyes fluttering shut as his cock pushes in for the first inch. He pauses, but I shake my head, my hair sticking to the sweat on my shoulders. “In one go,” I gasp. “I like it.”
He looks like he’s in pain as he pushes in. We both hiss out a breath as the slow, steady slide continues until he bottoms out, and his balls press against my backside.
“Oh shit,” he mutters. “Charlie—” He opens his eyes, and our gazes tangle together, our breaths coming faster and faster. He doesn’t finish what he was going to say, and I’d never be able to answer,because he withdraws his cock nearly all the way before shoving straight back in. I arch and give a choked scream.
“Alright?” he gasps.
“God yes, don’t stop,” I pant, fisting my hands in the sheets and undulating into his rhythm as he begins to thrust hard and deep. He changes the angle with an expert twist of his hips and grazes my prostate. My shout is loud in the quiet bedroom, and he grunts, falling forward to lie between my legs, arms braced against the sheets. I wind my legs around his waist, and he kisses me, separating only to gulp in air.
“Ohgod, it’s so fucking good,” he says through gritted teeth, and he buries his face in my shoulder, panting.
I sink my hands into his thick, wavy hair, the strands spilling like silk over my fingers. All the while, his battering thrusts continue to send hot pleasure through me.
I feel the tell-tale tingle as my balls draw up. “Misha, I’m going to come,” I say hoarsely.
He slings his hips faster, his eyes pinned between my legs where my hand is working my cock.
“Do it, Charlie,” he whispers.
Then, my body obeying his command, I shout as hot cream pulses over my hands, splattering my chest and neck. His nostrils flare as the scent fills the air, and then he arches, thrusting his hips and grunting low and sexily as he pushes one, two, three more times. Heat surges inside me, and he gives a long choked groan before he collapses.
I instantly wrap my arms around him, inhaling the scent of bergamot and sweat and come and feeling the tenderness in my arse. He kisses my neck, his breathing fast and heavy, and I smell the faint tang of whisky on his breath. He pulls out gently and falls to the side before nestling closer to me. His body gets heavier as sleep abruptly claims him. A chuckle escapes me as I lean in and remove the condom, tying it and throwing it in the bin near the bed. He doesn’t even stir at my touch.
I cuddle close and kiss his hair tenderly, running my hands down his muscled back. And then, as if they were inevitable, worries circle in my brain. I can still smell the whisky on his breath. How drunk washe? I didn’t see him have that much to drink, but I haven’t been with him all night. I’m sober and went into this clear-headed, albeit on a massive tide of lust. But what if Misha has done this on a pissed-up impulse? What if he wakes up tomorrow morning and blames me for not stopping us? What if he regrets everything?
I stare at the ceiling trying not to panic, but it’s so difficult. It’s going to be a long night.
ELEVEN
CHARLIE
The next morning, I find Bethany waiting by the library’s back door.
“Sorry I’m late,” I pant as I hurry towards her. “Have you been waiting for ages?”
She shakes her head. Her hair is dyed a deep purple today. I remember my grandma having that colour, but concern for my bollocks means I won’t mention it.
“I’ve only been here for ten minutes.” She holds up a cardboard cup. “Your coffee should still be warm.”
“Oh thank God,” I groan, pulling out the library keys and opening the door. “I haven’t had a cup yet. I’m gagging for it.”
“A fact that most of Haunt nightclub now knows,” she says primly. Then she spoils the effect by laughing loudly. “Oh, Charlie, your face.” She hands me my coffee and then pokes me in the ribs. “You obviously had a good night, you dirty stop-out. You smell like a polecat.”
I will not blush. I will not blush. I turn off the burglar alarm and gesture her in. “When did you last sniff a polecat?”
“When we went to London Zoo. Don’t you remember? The little enclosure that smelt bad and they kept popping out of holes.”
“That was the meerkats.”
“Oh.” She considers my words. “Oh well, that makes me look at the Compare the Market adverts a lot more favourably.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, back to your sex life, Charlie.”
“Shut up,” I mutter as I see Sue walking up to us.
