Page 118 of Charlie

I can’t think of a retort, so I clamp my mouth shut, stiffening my body against the shiver that wraps around my torso.

Jack narrows his eyes at me, walks to the family room, and comes back with a fluffy blanket. He wraps it tightly around my shoulders, holding the ends at my neck.

"Your eyes remind me of the ocean," he murmurs, tracing my eyebrows with his thumb. I smile up at him, my heart in my throat. He splays his hand over my throat, the tips of his fingers on my jaw, and pushes my chin up, holding my gaze as he lowers his lips to mine. The kiss is tentative at first, leisurely exploring my lips before sliding his tongue over the seam of my mouth, asking me to open for him. He groans when I let him in, angling my head so he can deepen the kiss. We don't come up until we're both gasping for air, desperate for each other.

"Fuck," Jack breathes, pressing his forehead to mine. "I'm starting to think I planned all that for nothing. I don't know how we'll ever make it out of here when all I can think about is how your pussy will look when it’s stretched by my cock."

"Ah, ah ah!" I scold, pushing him away with a light touch on his shoulder, pretending his words didn’t just release a flood between my legs. "You can't get out of that surprise now that you've told me about it."

"Are you sure?" he asks, sliding his hand up my thigh, stopping just short of my weeping pussy. He squeezes my leg, massaging me, waiting for my answer. I’m not capable of a coherent response. I want him to take me to the bedroom and fuck my brains out, but we've been waiting a long time for this, and I want it to be perfect.

"I'm sure," I say finally, prying his hand away from my thigh. As he moves, his arm brushes against his cock, making it bob, the outline clear as day in those sinful gray joggers. All of my previous conviction flies out the window. I wrap my fingers around him, sliding my hand down his length.

"Charlie," Jack hisses, the warning in his voice unmistakable.

"Let me take care of that for you," I say, biting my lip and giving him my best puppy dog eyes.

"In you?" he asks, pulling my hand away and pressing his swollen cock between my thighs.

"In me," I say, pointing to my mouth, gasping as he rolls over my clit.

He nods once, and that's all the permission I need. I hop off the counter and drag a chair in from the family room. I push him onto it, feeling powerful as I stand over him, his gaze roaming over my body. I motion for him to lift his arms and pull off his shirt, moaning at the expanse of warm muscle that comes into view. He lunges forward, wrapping his arms around my hips and sucking one of my nipples into his mouth. He palms the back of my thighs and pulls me over him as he leans back, my legs hanging on either side of him, his cock nestled against my pussy. I swivel my hips with a groan, my heartbeat taking up residence in my clit.

"Jack," I protest, his name coming out more like a prayer than a protest.

"Say it again," he groans, grasping my hips and sliding me along his length. I jerk as his head rides over my clit, and he pauses there, pulsing against me until I have to climb off him before I cum again. I grab the jar of coconut oil from the cabinet by the oven and set it next to the chair. Kneeling between his spread legs, I hold his gaze as I lean down and nibble at the ridge of his cock through his pants.

"Charlotte," he warns, his hips jerking against my mouth.

"Yes?" I tease, hooking my fingers into his waistband. Folding his arms behind his head, he watches me with dark eyes. I pull down the front of his joggers inch by inch, the anticipation building until the only sound in the room is our labored breathing. My mouth is practically watering as I reveal the last of his thick shaft, the elastic of the waistband stretching over his head. He springs out, a deep groan tearing out of both of us as his length comes to rest against his thigh. I forgot how big he is. I want him so fucking badly. I want to feel him stretch me, use me, fuck me. I blow out a controlled breath through pursed lips, trying to get myself under control.

"You want me inside you, don't you?" he rasps, palming his cock and holding it in position. All I have to do is stand up and straddle him. He must see the indecision in my eyes because he starts stroking himself, flexing his hips each time his hand slides down his shaft. I whimper, fighting against my body's instincts.

I steel my shoulders. "My turn," I say, batting his hand away.

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckles, the sound sliding down my spine and stoking the fire in my core. I warm the oil in my hands, rubbing them together before sliding down his length in one firm stroke.

His head falls back, the sound that leaves his lips barely sounding human. He pulls his hips back and thrusts back up into my fist.

"You gave me an idea earlier," I whisper, smearing the oil from my other hand over my chest and breasts. Jack bites his lower lip as I shuffle as close as possible, settling him between my tits before enveloping him with slippery softness.

"Charlotte, I?—"

"Can't be gentle?" I finish, bending to give him a playful lick. "I've heard that somewhere before, and I'm pretty sure I told you I don't want you to be gentle." I slide my body down, keeping pressure on him, then slide back up until the head of his cock disappears between my breasts. He doesn't move other than the slightest rocking of his hips. I hold his gaze as I sink down again, biting my lip in concentration, trying to live up to his fantasy. He still holds back.

"For fuck's sake," I mutter, grabbing his hands and smashing them against my breasts, hoping it will be enough to breach his control.

"I won't fucking break, Jack."

He looks at me, vulnerable. "Are you sure you won't run when you see the real me, Sassenach?"

"I already know the real you. You're a teddy bear with a control fetish."

"Teddy bear, hm?" Jack says, his eyes darkening even more, his gaze dropping to his imprisoned cock. He thrusts hard, his jaw clenched, desperate need finally showing in his eyes. Another thrust and his hips stutter against me, his breathing ragged.

"Stand up," I say, the need to taste him gripping me around the throat.

"Charlotte—"

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