The Charlotte Chronicles (Jackson Boys 1)

“I promise.” How could I not promise? I’ll never want another person to touch me in this way. Never. But a fierce surge of possessiveness washes over me. “And you’ll never have another besides me?” I demand.

“Never,” he vows. “It will always be Nathan and Charlotte.”

16

Nathan

“Never,” I vow. “It will always be Nathan and Charlotte.”

Her lips looked shiny and big, puffed up from my attentions. I can barely breathe. Worse, I’m afraid I’m not going to last long enough to make it good for her. I lean down to kiss her again. I wish I had saved myself for her. I wish I had never kissed another girl, touched any breasts other than hers, slid my fingers inside any other female.

With each kiss and caress, I wipe away memories of everyone but her. When her clever tongue flicks across my lips and rubs against the side of mine, I’ve never tasted anything sweeter. The heady scent of her arousal and the faint peach fragrance from her lotion surrounds me. My hands mold her body, memorizing each curve and arch. I’m absorbing her essence so that I’ll carry her with me forever.

“I’m ready,” she says. Her words are punctuated by tiny pants that make my heart beat faster. In an effort to collect myself, I lean forward and lick her breasts again—first one and then the other until she’s convulsing around me again. I’m torn because I don’t want to pull my fingers from her hot, wet embrace, but I also want my dick inside her so badly. I worry that it might break off if I don’t get relief. I pump my fingers, and she tightens all around me.

“Oh please, Nathan.”

I don’t want her to beg me even though it sends an illicit thrill down my spine. Regretfully I pull my fingers out, and we both groan, one part dismay and one part pleasure.

“Shh,” I whisper and stretch out to grab a condom from under the pillow where I stashed it before I left this morning. She reaches down toward my stiff dick and I jerk away. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I can’t have you touch me.”

“Why? Am I not doing it right?” Her voice sounds plaintive.

“God no.” I grab her hands and place them on my chest. “I’m just a hair trigger away from embarrassing myself and making your first time a huge disappointment.”

“You’d never disappoint me.” Her fingers skim over my chest.

“I will if I don’t start thinking of something other than getting inside you,” I say ruefully. I pull her hands away from me and fold them between mine. Pressing a kiss on the backs of her fingers, I pull her hands over her head. Instinctively she arches her back, thrusting her breasts toward my mouth. Her rigid nipples are taunting me. And somehow she knows how tempting she is in this position because she undulates seductively.

Hurriedly, I grab a condom and sheath myself.

When I reach between her legs, she’s still wet. There are streaks of blood on my fingers, but rather than turning me off, the sight of it thrums like a drumbeat in my head. Only mine. This is the proof of how she’ll belong only to me. I hide my look of smug satisfaction by surreptitiously wiping my fingers along the side of my comforter.

With one hand bracing my body, I grab my dick and rub the head against her soft opening. She smiles tremulously at me when I slide slowly inside her. At the first contact, I nearly blow my load, and there’s a little devil that is urging me to plow her hard and fast. The heat of her body is setting me on fire. Squeezing my eyes shut, I concentrate on breathing slow and steady and the pressing need to rut like an animal eases off enough so I can gather a little self-control.

When I open my eyes, I see hers tight around the edges. This is painful for her, and I hesitate, thinking I should shove off because I can’t stand hurting her even the tiniest bit anymore. I used to get mad at her when I started thinking and feeling things I knew I shouldn’t be thinking or feeling, so I’d lash out with a sharp criticism. All I want now is to see her smile and make her laugh.

But she senses my reluctance and pulls me down. “It doesn’t hurt at all,” she lies.

“Don’t.” I shake my head. “Always tell me how you feel so I can make it better. It’s all I want—all I’ll ever want.”

Waiting for her body to adjust to mine is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. My legs are starting to shake, but I’ll stay in this position with just the tip inside for as long as it takes. When I feel her relax I push in a little more, and we do this dance of pausing and inching forward a little at a time until I’m fully seated. When I’m snug against her, her mouth forms a little circle as if she can’t believe we fit. But we’re a perfect match. She’s made for me and I for her.