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“No, but you would be touching yourself. Getting yourself off. Moaning around my dick.”
She moaned now, he hoped in appreciation.
“And you would swallow everything, and then when you came up for air, I would flip you over on your back and drive into you so fucking hard, I would tear you up.”
“Is it a private beach?”
He laughed again.
“You want me to swallow?” she asked him. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“Tatum.”
“Come in my mouth, Charlie. Do it.”
She squeezed his balls again, licked a trail from the base of his dick to the crown, and then closed her lips around him. Charlie tipped his head again to watch her red lips around his shaft as she alternated sucking and licking his head. He cupped her head in his hand and rocked forward, chanting her name with lust but also as a warning.
If he pulled out of her mouth now, he would come all over her dress.
“Tatum!” He clenched his teeth together to bite off his shout as his body tensed and his excitement pulsed out of him. When she had sucked him dry, she flicked the tip of her tongue over his head again and climbed to her knees, leaving him to tuck his dick back inside his pants and zip up.
“How many times did we go up and down?” she asked him with an ornery grin. Charlie watched her ease her dress back down over her hips, sad to see the sweet view go.
“Are we going back to my place now?” He looped his fingers around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. “Oops. Fucked up your lipstick, babe.”
“Left a pretty red ring on your cock.” She shrugged.
“And is it my color?”
“How fast can you get us to your house? Because I just wanna take your cock back out and ride it right now.”
“Yeah? That might be push—”
They froze when her phone buzzed in the small clutch bag she’d put on the floor when she went down on him. Eyes wide with fear, she squatted to snatch it from the floor. Charlie’s stomach twisted a bit with nerves. Jesus. How the fuck did she feel? It could be Everleigh. Or one of his sisters. Suggesting a late night at the club.
He doubted it, though.
From the look on Tatum’s face, she did, too.
38
Charlie pushed the speedometer past the speed limit, burying the needle a couple of times when they hit straightaways on the highway. Neither of them had said a word since the phone call from the ER nurse had ended and Charlie took her hand and simply said, “let’s go.”
Her stomach had knotted in fear as the nurse asked to speak with Tatum Pettit. As the nurse told her she was calling because she was listed as next of kin for Sutton Pettit. The whole next of kin thing—the words made her want to vomit every time she heard them—scared the hell out of her. She’d held her breath waiting for the nurse to tell her Sutton was dead. That she’d been brought in by ambulance and was DOA. OD’d.
Tatum believed that when her little sister died it would be an overdose. Sometimes she wondered if it would be accidental or if Sutton ever thought about ending her life on purpose. She must have shivered or sobbed because Charlie reached for her hand again. Every few minutes, he would reach over the console and take her hand. Squeeze her fingers. She took a deep breath, too scared to cry—the tears would come later—and squeezed him back.
She had almost pushed him away earlier. Told him not to come. In fact, when she dropped her hand with her phone to her side, she’d turned to him with the words on the tip of her tongue. She had been ready to tell him thanks, it was fun, this is my life. Charlie—being Charlie—had probably seen it on her face. He shook his head, took her hand, and said let’s go.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered now.
The truck was silent, the hum of the tires on the pavement the only sound. The lack of noise made her restless. But music would make her angry. She knew from experience. Thankfully, after all the wondering, she knew now it wasn’t a terribly long drive.
All this time, Sutton had been living on some farm property just outside a small town called Columbus Junction, Iowa, population just over 1800. Bill Smith was listed as the property owner. The same Bill Smith Sutton had left Bryony with when she’d come to Tatum for money the last time. The same Bill Smith that had beaten the hell out of her sister and left her for dead.
Tatum didn’t know the whole story. The nurse had simply told her Sutton had been brought in by ambulance. She was in serious condition. Broken bones. Cuts and bruises. Probably concussed. Tatum had no idea if Bill used Sutton as a punching bag often or if something had set him off.
And worst of all, she had no idea if Bryony had seen what happened.
