The thought of Charlie wearing nothing beneath her coveralls was a particularly disastrous one. I spent about ten minutes in cold storage after that, pretending that I was looking for a box of fresh Centennial hops that I know for a fact I never ordered.
I come to a red light on William Street. There are no cars coming, so I jaywalk. I’ve got my hands jammed in my pockets and I’m resolutely trying to remember the dance moves I’m supposed to help Rusty practice — plie, arabesque, sauté, which I could have sworn was a cooking term — but it’s not helping because now I’m just imagining a naked Charlie doing all those things, and it’s having the opposite of the intended effect.
I give up and just walk faster. I reach her building. I cut around back to where her staircase is. I take the steps two at a time, and at the top, in front of her door, I pause.
I take a deep breath. I brush my hair out of my eyes. I wonder, briefly, if I should have brought a breath mint, and then before I can even knock the door opens and she’s standing there.
Wearing nothing but a thin, brightly patterned robe, the neck open almost to her bellybutton, her damp curls in a high, messy bun.
“Oh good, it’s you,” she says lightly, her eyes laughing. “I dunno what I’d say if you were my landlord.”
The edges of the robe are barely covering the swell of her small breasts, her nipples tenting up the fabric, and I’m having a hard time thinking right now.
I step inside. I shut the door behind myself and lock it.
“I like your robe,” I say, finally looking her in the eyes.
I put one finger at the hollow of her throat, step closer to her as Charlie tilts her head up.
“Thanks,” she says, her voice breathy. “I just got out of the shower.”
I slide my finger down her chest, between her breasts, to her sternum, and Charlie exhales hard, puts her hands on my waist.
“And I didn’t get a shower text?” I ask, teasing. “No Hey, Daniel, I’m slippery and wet right now?”
“While you were with Rusty, not to mention the dance moms?” she says.
I move the edge of the robe over one nipple, then the other, and Charlie’s eyes flicker closed. They’re pink and pebbled, hard nubs tilted slightly upward. I flick my thumbs across both of them at the same time, sliding my fingers around her ribs.
“I can be discreet,” I say, letting my thumbs circle her nipples.
“I wouldn’t want to damage your standing in the dance mom community,” she murmurs, her breath hitching in her throat. “Mmmm.”
I’m so fucking hard right now. My jeans feel like a cage, my cock throbbing, pulsing, straining against the fabric because this is nearly all I’ve been thinking about for forty-eight hours.
“I’ll worry about my standing in the community,” I tell her. “You just worry about texting me shower updates.”
I lean down and kiss her, thumbs still on her nipples. She grabs my hips, her hands already under my shirt, pulling me in toward her. It’s a deep, hard kiss, and she moans softly into my mouth, grabs the waistband of my jeans, pulls me in, fingers an inch from my dick.
“Hey, Daniel,” she says, her voice low, her lips brushing mine as she speaks. “I’m slippery and wet right now.”
Fucking hell.
I untie the robe, shove it aside, capture her mouth with mine again as I slide my hand between her legs.
She’s not lying. She’s soaking wet, the tops of her thighs sticky, her lips swollen. The moment I touch her clit she makes a noise in her throat and bites my lip, her hand convulsively closing on the flesh of my side. If she didn’t have short fingernails, she’d leave marks.
“Jesus, Charlie,” I whisper, already sliding my fingers into her, like she’s drawing me in. There’s another little noise, one arm around my shoulders, her other hand suddenly squeezing my cock through my pants.
We’re not going to make it to her bedroom.
I push her backward, five steps, and she lands on her couch. I stand over her, fingers still in her, kiss her deeply, my thumb now on her clit. She tries to move but I grab one thigh, hold her in place.
Then I break the kiss. I plant my lips on her neck, her collarbone. I bite one nipple. I get on my knees between her legs, her breathing ragged, my mouth on her inner thigh, fingers still in her tight, slick channel, and I pull her down until she’s right in front of me.
I’m breathless, dizzy with desire, her scent filling my nostrils and driving me wild. I flick my tongue across her clit and her whole body jerks, her thighs clenching, so I do it again, then again.