The Charlotte Chronicles (Jackson Boys 1)

His words, the fullness of him in my empty places are making me wild. My hands scramble for some purchase, and I find the padded headboard. I place my palms flat against the cushioned fabric, and he follows me forward. Like a pagan warrior, he kneels between my legs and pushes my thighs as far apart as they can go while he spears me with his heavy weapon. My traitorous body weeps around his, lubricating his every thrust.

“This body is mine,” he growls. “I love every inch of it, and it belongs to me.”

I close my eyes, trying to shut out his possession, but it winds around me, trying to repair the frayed bonds. It’s chaotic in my head now, and he’s frenetic too. His thrusts become less rhythmic as his control is leaving him.

“Oh no, baby,” I hear him say, “you’re coming with me.”

His hard, big thumb finds my clit, circling it, pinching it until now I’m the one writhing in jerky motions. He’s wrenching my orgasm from me, ordering it. Maybe my body does belong to him because it’s building, low and small. It grows and grows until it is too big for me to contain. My feet arch and my fingernails dig into the headboard and I hear myself scream, long and loud. Above me he’s grunting and growling. I want him to follow me into bliss. His hips jack fiercely against me when suddenly he pulls out.

“No,” I cry at the loss. Even though I’d come, I wanted him in my body still.

“Look at me, Charlotte,” he commands in a dark voice.

My eyes open in response, and I see him, thick and red in his hand. He pulls on himself, once, twice in motions so rough I fear that he’s hurting himself. But no. It’s what he wants, and his come spills all over me, striking my sex, my stomach and the valley between my breasts. It’s shockingly erotic.

“You are mine since the day you were born and until the day we die together.” His eyes glitter at me, but when his large hand lands on my belly, I can’t look away. He rubs his sperm into me, over my lower lips, all across my stomach, and over my breasts. “You know this.” His free hand comes up to cup my chin. “You know this.”

And then he kisses me, and I’m devastated all over again.

* * *

It is nearly dawn when I finally gather enough strength to leave the bed. He’s sleeping, sprawled across two-thirds of the bed, one large arm heavy across my chest and a leg entwined with mine. I wince at the soreness between my legs. My whole body aches as if I’ve just endured a heavy workout after a long period of idleness. Even though I’m slow and quiet, it only takes one movement to wake him. His head turns and he rolls onto his back, pulling me close to his body.

“We’ve three more to go,” he says. He’s referring to the six orgasms he’s given me. He’d have probably fulfilled his stated goal if I hadn’t passed out on him a couple of hours ago.

“I’m tired and sore.” Since he is awake, I make no attempts to be quiet. Instead I push away from him, relieved he lets me go without an argument.

In the bathroom, I turn the water on and stare at the disheveled mess that is reflected in the mirror. My hair is a matted mess. There might be a family of birds in there, but I wouldn’t know because it’s so damned tangled. There isn’t an inch of me that wasn’t touched by him last night. I hardly know what to think of the ache in my heart. Is it because he’s back or because I wish he’d go away?

I need my friends. I need Lainey, Reese, even Nick. I need perspective and time. I’m so confused. The shower helps. It’s hot and cleansing. I spend a long time under the water trying to figure out what to do. Reese is right. I’ve idolized Nate and, worse, romanticized our past to such a degree that I’ve been unable to move forward. Even if I was meant to be with Nate forever, I should have used our separation to meet other people.

Last night I wondered if he was looking at the old Charlotte or the new one, but who is the new Charlotte? Her heart is stuck somewhere in her sixteen-year-old body. I’ve done myself a disservice. I don’t need to go out and have multiple one night stands, but I do need to be open to meeting new people—to finding a love that would make adult Charlotte happy no matter what teen Charlotte thinks. Draped in a hotel bathrobe, I take a deep breath and open the door.

Nathan is still lying on the bed, staring at the bathroom door. His expression is one of satisfaction. Lazily, his eyes follow me. “Come back to bed, baby. Let’s cuddle.”