Maybe we’re both terrified the answer is yes.
By Thursday evening, I just really want to spend the night with him. He’s only here for two more, and I don’t want him to leave without knowing how it feels to fall asleep with him in my arms.
We eat dinner at my house.
The drama we were watching plays in the background as I get on my knees for him, his joggers pooled around his ankles. It’s so fucking easy to wrap my hand around his cock, then lean down and get my mouth on him.
“Fuck.” He moans the word, fingers sliding into my hair as I start to suck him in earnest. It’s new still, this thing between us. Surely it shouldn’t be this comfortable, this natural already?
But it is.
It so fucking is, and I close my eyes, revelling in the way his grip tightens every time I take him deep. The breathy moans that fill the room as I worship his cock, pulling out every trick I have in my arsenal. I want him to remember this long after he leaves here. Want him to remember me. How good we are together.
Because we are.
Even after so little time together, we fit. And I know, Iknowthat if we had a little more time, then maybe we’d have a chance at something real. But two weeks isn’t long enough. I know that too. Doesn’t stop me from trying, though.
I groan as his hips rise off the sofa, thrusting into my mouth as his control slips. It hurts so good as he fucks my throat, and I shove my hand down my sleep pants, needing some fucking relief.
“Don’t... come... yet,” he pants, even as his cock stiffens in my mouth. I’m so close, but I do as he asks and grip the base of my cock as he shouts out my name and comes.
I deserve a medal for holding off after that.
He pulls his T-shirt up, baring his chest and stomach. “Come on me,” he whispers, eyes half-lidded as he watches me. “Do it.”
He looks so filthy lying there with his cock still out, wet from my mouth. The lights from the tree play across his skin, bathing him in colours, then shadow.
Like the hottest Christmas gift I’ve just unwrapped.
I’m already on edge. Seeing him splayed out like that almost tips me over it. All it takes is a couple of strokes and I’m doing as he asked. Painting his skin as my release crashes through me.
It takes me a second or two to get my breath back.
I look down at the mess I’ve made of him, then catch his eye.
He grins.
So do I, and then we’re laughing.
Being with Charlie is just so much fucking fun. I feel younger with him, carefree in a way I haven’t in years.
Maybe that’s what makes me ask him again. Makes me brave enough to say the word. “Stay.”
He reaches for my hands, twines our fingers, but I read the answer in his eyes. “I can’t.” Doesn’t stop him from pulling me down into a kiss that feels likeyes. Doesn’t stop me from kissing him back with everything I have.
But he still leaves at the end of the night, and I still let him.
I take consolation in the fact that I have his words to keep me company at night. Even if I don’t have Charlie. I’m almost three-quarters of the way through his book, and I have to believe that his ex never read it. If he had, he’d have realised how fucking talented Charlie is. He should’ve supported him regardless.
The words fly off the page and I can’t read them fast enough to find out what happens next.
But,Jesus Christ, it’s spooky as fuck.
The way he writes has a knack of drawing you in, making you experience every heart-pounding second that’s unfolding. At least that’s how it feels to me. I may be a little biased, but he’sgood.
We’ve not spoken about his book since Monday. I think he’s waiting for me to finish it. A part of me doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to give it back.
I settle in bed and reach for it, prepared to be both impressed, riveted, and a little bit scared.
