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Charlie keeps up a steady, panting chant. “Fuck, so good. So good, fuck, yes.”
“Charlie, more?”
If he says no, I’m not sure what I’m going to do. Ineedhim to satisfy this ache that’s building. I can’t wait any longer.
He reaches up and circles my throat with his fingers. Not squeezing. Not cutting off my air. Just teasing, letting me feel that he could. It sends a spike of heat through my brain as well as through the passage fluttering and clamping around him.
“Charlie!”
“Down slow,” he growls.
I slide down him. Our hips still aren’t touching when he squeezes my throat. “Up.”
“Fuck!” This time it’s me that’s cursing, panting, shaking with how badly I need to swallow him up inside me.
“Down and hold. No bouncing,” he groans.
I lower myself and finally, finally, rest on his hips, our bodies fused.
He holds me there for a long moment, his gaze burning through my brain. I shudder at his deep penetration of my body and soul. There’s that instinctual need to shield myself, to protect that kernel of self. But under his hand, impaled on his body, I let it go. I let him in.
With a roar, Charlie rolls me over onto my back and pounds into me. He keeps one hand clamped at my throat, holding my head and shoulders down on the bed. The other hand spreads on my arse, his strong fingers digging in as he lifts me off the bed to meet each thrust. I wrap my legs around him and hang on for the ride.
Charlie’s so restrained I almost never feel his full strength, but now he unleashes it. His whole body works over me: his chest flexing, arms bunching, hips pumping. He spreads his muscular thighs on the bed and lifts so he’s powering down into me. My moans rise to whimpers and squeals I swear I’ve never made before.
“Charlie!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” he chants. “Give it to me. Wanna feel you all over me. Leave my mark deep in you. Fuck! We’re doing this every fucking day from now on, bean. Fuck-fuck-fuck!”
He rears back, slams into me, and squeezes my throat until I see stars. They explode over me, rain down on me, lighting me up until I’m one with them, one with Charlie, one with everything. He crashes down over me and crushes me to his chest.
“Air, Chaz,” I mutter.
“Do without,” he grunts, settling even more heavily onto me.
I hammer his arse with my heels.
Chapter9
The Troll-Hammer
He chuckles sleepily as he shifts to the side. I roll with him and he wraps himself around me.
“Still can’t breathe,” I grumble.
“Meh. Oxygen. So overrated,” he says. He’s still semi-hard in me, gliding a little in and out on our mingled wetness. He pulls my thigh over his and twines our sweaty bodies together. “You think we’re done but you’re wrong.”
“I think I’m more done than your grandma’s Sunday roast,” I say with a sigh, relaxing against him.
“I’m having my black cherry.”
I chuckle. “Good luck with that.”
He cups my nape with his big hand and tips my head back so he can kiss me: sleepy, sweet, butterfly kisses. Suuure ... he’s going to stay awake for round two. He’s just as knackered as I am.
He trails his fingers down my spine to cup my arse-cheek. “You don’t want it,” he mutters against my lips, between kisses. “Better tell me now.”
I return his kisses lazily, loving that I can kiss him now, as I’ve wanted to for years. I slide my fingers through his silky hair. He hasn’t cut it since we’ve come to school and it’s longer than he usually wears it, feathering over his eyes, curling around his ears. I toy with the sweaty curls at the back of his neck. “Wake me up when you’re ready to jump my arse,” I say around a yawn.
