The Charlotte Chronicles (Jackson Boys 1)

“Colin told me that SEALs can hold their breath for a very long time. Is that true?”

His nostrils flare, either in jealousy or excitement or both.

“Five minutes without exertion, at least. But the challenge is doing stuff while holding your breath, like tying a knot in the precise way your instructor wants or doing a series of underwater maneuvers. Stress makes you lose oxygen at a quicker pace, so you learn to regulate your heart rate, learn not to panic.”

“And your heart rate now? How is it?”

“You tell me.”

He places a hand on either side of my hips and stretches his neck forward. His face is so close I can hear him breathing, soft, steady and slow. But when I press my fingers against his pulse, it is beating rapidly. The blood pumps quickly under my touch which, in turns, causes my breath to hitch and accelerate.

“You’re stressed.”

“No, aroused,” he corrects me.

We are not touching at any point but my fingers against his neck, and it’s almost more arousing than having his hard body stretched across mine. Anticipation is stirring our appetites, and it’s intoxicating. I drop my hand and lean back so I can stare into his face, which is tight with want.

“Take off the rest of your clothes.”

His eyes widen in surprise. This isn’t the Charlotte he remembers. The only Charlotte he’s ever had his hands on was the young, sick Charlotte. She was followed by the desperate, needy one. I want him to see me as Charlotte the woman who runs her own life and is in charge of her own future as well as her own desires. My demands catch him off guard, but he’s not turned off. Not in the least.

His hands fumble at his waist, the least smooth move I’ve seen him execute. He was right. He is a machine and most of his actions are executed with nearly careless ease. Except now he’s excited. Very, very excited. And so am I.

He drops his pants to the floor, and his tight boxer briefs go with them. When he straightens, his penis is thick, long, and engorged. The head bobs eagerly in front of me, and there’s a pearl of moisture on the end. I lick my lips, and he releases an audible moan in response.

I can’t keep a wicked smile from curving the corners of my lips upward. I like being in control. I like it a lot.

“Place your hands behind your back.”

He gives me a questioning look. “But I thought I could—”

“Now,” I interrupt him. I know what he thought. He thought he’d come in here and overwhelm me with his mouth and tongue and fingers and all his moves. If he believes he is the only one who has built up a library full of fantasies, he is in for a big surprise. He slowly folds his hands behind his neck, his elbows pointing out toward the walls.

I slip off the bed and onto my knees. I run my hands over his ridged abdomen and down the tops of his muscular thighs. He shakes—shakes!—at my caress.

“Can you stand still?”

He nods.

“Do you promise not to touch me?”

“I want to—”

I interrupt. “I’m going to put my mouth on you and give you the greatest blow job you’ve ever experienced, but only if you don’t touch me.”

He opens his mouth and then closes it. Then opens it again. Then closes it. Again. Finally, he takes a deep breath and says, “No touching. Got it.”

With a smile, I congratulate him. “You’re catching on.”

I run my nose along the side of his erection, from the base where his heavy sac hangs down to the very tip that is wet with his ejaculate. I repeat the action on the other side, inhaling his masculine scent and reveling in the steel-hard silk.

“You’re very long,” I say throatily. “Do you think you’ve grown?”

“In the time you’ve started touching me or since I was eighteen? Because I swear the damn thing grew an inch the minute you said take off your clothes.” His voice is full of strangled laughter.

Steadying myself, I lean in for a taste. A light lick across the head causes him to jerk. Ten years ago, I barely knew what I was doing. I’ve spent those intervening years imagining Nathan in dozens of sexual positions. His head between my legs; mine between his. His body hovering over me. His front to my back. I’ve dreamt of this. My body has ached for it.

I open wide and take him as far as I can go. He cries out above me.

“Do you remember when you taught me this? How you introduced me to how it felt to have you in my mouth?”

His eyes widen in shocked memory. “Oh shit, Charlotte,” is all he can manage.

I use his thighs as leverage and begin a slow, steady rhythm. The hard length against my tongue is intoxicating and arousing. The sounds he’s making, the way he’s trembling under my touch is driving me crazy. And making me wet. So very wet.