The Charlotte Chronicles (Jackson Boys 1)

With a serious face on, he holds me an arm’s width away. “Charlotte.”

“I already know,” I say. His surprise weakens his grip, and I dive in for another kiss. Nathan dodges me, and I end up with my lips on his ear. Fine. I haven’t spent much time here. I wiggle closer and run my tongue along the outer edge and down to his lobe. As I suck, he moans and his fingers clench on my butt.

Ohh.

He’s sensitive here. I smile to myself and store this knowledge away. He’s not able to speak until I pause to switch sides.

“Wait,” he pants out, “I have to—”

“What? That everyone at school thinks I’m pregnant because they know we’re having sex?”

He tenses and then lets out a breath, like he’s relieved. “Yeah. Who told you?”

“Greta texted me. Are you the father?”

“Who else?” He’s affronted that anyone else could have provided the sperm for my fake baby.

“Would you like that?”

“Yes,” he answers without a moment of hesitation.

His surety fills me with so much joy. We’ll have a family together someday. I can picture us now, taking our kid down to Navy Pier for the first time and riding the carousel.

“But not now,” I tease him.

He smirks and presses his lips against the base of my throat, which sends a bolt right between my legs. I tip my neck back to give him greater access.

“How many will we have?”

“Two? Ten? I don’t care,” he murmurs against the soft, vulnerable skin of my throat.

“Two. I’m the one having them.”

“Good for me.” He swings me up in his arms. “Let’s go practice.”

I fasten my mouth to his, licking the inside of his mouth so thoroughly I could recreate it from memory. His response is to pick me up and carry me across the hall. The sound of him kicking the door shut no doubt declares exactly what we’re doing inside his bedroom.

Alone, we become frenzied. I’m pulling his T-shirt off, and he’s got his hands at the buttons of my blouse. Somehow I find myself on my knees before him, pulling his jeans down. His erection is right at my face, and it occurs to me that I’ve never done this before. I’ve never wanted to do this before, but now, as his shorts jut out in front of me, it’s irresistible. Saliva pools under my tongue. Slowly I slide my hands up his thighs, the light, coarse hair unfamiliar under my hands. I didn’t get to touch him enough last night.

Above the waistband of his shorts, I see his abdomen contract. The surrounding air is thin, as if Nathan has sucked it all inside him. My fingers stop at the bottom of his boxer briefs, and he rocks back slightly on his heels.

“Do you want me to?” I ask, looking up at him through my lashes. His face shows strain, and his eyes glitter in the afternoon light.

“Only if you want to,” he answers hoarsely. At his side, his fingers are clenched like he wants to reach for me but is holding himself back.

“You’ll have to tell me what to do.” I slip my fingers over his shorts.

There’s a wet spot on the material where it looks like the tip of his head is, and it’s got me all kinds of curious. Grabbing his waistband, I pull down until his dick is released. It pops out and points straight up. There’s a drop of liquid on the end, which grows larger as I stare. In fact, I think his penis is also growing larger, or maybe it’s the angle because so close up, it looks huge. I dab my finger on the fluid and suck it off.

“Salty,” I say. “Not bad.”

“Shit, Charlotte,” he groans. “You’re killing me.”

I shrug. “I’m just surprised. Other girls say it’s gross.”

“You don’t have to do this.” But his actions say that he wants it bad. He’s nearly trembling with the effort to not grab my head between his hands. Despite the fact that I’m on my knees, I realize I have so much power over Nathan right now. Like he’d do anything I’d ask of him.

“I want to.” I stroke my finger over the dark red tip. It’s velvety soft. “I can’t stick the whole thing in my mouth though.”

There’s a big vein on the top, and I trace that from the top to the root. His dick bobs as if it knows what I’m saying, seeking more of my touch. With a choked laugh, he grabs the base and wraps a big fist around it. “Slide your lips down to the top of my hand.”

“Where do I put my hands?” I ask, wishing it was my hand around the base.

“Anywhere you want.”

“Here?” I place my hands against his rock hard thighs.

“Yes.” He pauses and then opens his hand to release himself. “Or you can hold on with both hands.”