Page 48 of The Rest is History

Elodie

C harlie lays me on the bed and crouches over me, nudging my legs apart so he can kneel between them, framing my face with his forearms. I inhale sharply at the view.

Tanned skin showcasing lean muscle. Dark hair looking perfectly just-fucked at my hands.

A lock falling over his forehead. Blue eyes glittering dangerously as they rake over my body.

I don’t think I could have lasted another minute without this man.

He dips his head and brushes his lips against mine.

‘So. Fucking. Perfect.’

‘You are too,’ I gasp. His erection hangs thick and heavy between us, coating my stomach with moisture and reminding me of the delights to come.

As if I could forget.

‘I need you to know, sweetheart’—he circles a nipple idly—‘that every second away from you was torture. Fucking torture. School. The palace. So I have a lot of lost time to make up for. Understand?’

He increases the pressure on my nipple, and an ache builds.

‘Yes,’ I whimper.

‘I had to survive without this.’

He takes my other nipple in his mouth and sucks. Hard. Oh, Jesus Christ. I buck.

‘And this.’

He rears up onto his knees and runs a finger up my inner thigh, before crouching so he can follow the trail with his tongue.

‘I couldn’t even taste you,’ he whispers. ‘That’s not fair. Is it?’

‘No,’ I practically moan.

‘All I could think about in those assemblies where I sat next to you was how good you’d taste. It’s all I can ever think about. Can you imagine what that does to a man?’

‘No… yes?’

‘It makes him fucking. Insane. ’ He pauses, and licks me with one long, perfect stroke, all the way from my entrance up to my clit.

Oh, holy fuck. Oh my God.

Charlie groans. ‘Fucking hell, El. God, I could live here.’ He manoeuvres himself lower onto his stomach for better access and touches his tongue to my flesh again.

It’s so good. He’s so damn good at this, and knowing how obsessed he is with this particular activity makes it far easier for me to relax and take his attention greedily.

Two fingers probe my entrance and push in hard. I inhale sharply as I adjust around them. His supple tongue weaves its way through my flesh, licking through folds and rolling around my clit with perfect pressure, and his fingers find a rhythm, thrusting and crooking.

He’s launched a ruthless sensory assault, and I’m utterly powerless to do anything but lie there and take it, my arms flung uselessly above my head as my primal responses take over and my nerve endings flood my body with indescribable pleasure.

‘I can’t last,’ I warn him breathlessly as I writhe. ‘It’s too good.’

He pulls his mouth away as he continues to finger fuck me. ‘You can last longer, sweetheart.’

‘I can’t,’ I whimper. ‘I don’t want to. Been too long. Please, Charlie. I need to come. Please.’

‘You know I can’t say no to you, don’t you?’ he growls, eyes practically all pupil as he makes eye contact across the length of my body. ‘Especially when you beg me like that, sweetheart.’

And then he dips his head again, and he’s back there, tongue flat and rough, lapping rhythmically exactly where I need it.

He reaches up and pinches my nipple hard, and I fall apart, my consciousness shattering into a million pieces as wave upon wave of pleasure rolls relentlessly over me.

I shudder through my orgasm, only vaguely aware that I’m crying out Charlie’s name and he’s gripping my breast in response before dragging his hand over the skin of my stomach.

Suddenly he’s up and flipping me over onto my front. I need him filling me up so badly. He slides a hand under me and tugs my bum up into the air. I’m a rag doll, limp with pleasure, still trembling and catching my breath as I stretch my arms out in front of me and brace.

‘Fuck, El.’ Charlie’s voice is rough. Urgent. ‘The things you do to me. You make me so fucking crazy. I’m doing that again later.’

I shiver with delight as he drags the crown of his dick through my sensitised flesh.

‘Look at you. Just look at you.’

And then he’s lining himself up with my entrance and pushing in, harder than I expect. I gasp at the shock and the delicious pleasure of him filling me up in exactly the way I need. ‘Oh my God .’

‘You can take it, sweetheart,’ he says, thrusting again, and Jesus, he’s so big. This angle makes him feel bigger. He’s deep inside me already and I know he’s not even all the way in yet, but his praise has me pushing back against him the next time he moves, and then he’s bottoming out in me.

‘Fuck,’ he grunts. ‘Fuck, El.’ He runs a hand up my back, over the bumps of my spine, kneading and squeezing my neck.

I twist around, pressing my cheek to the pillow so I can sneak a look.

God, this position is hot. Charlie’s other hand is gripping my hip, he’s up on his knees and his face is contorted with desire.

‘Ready?’ he grits out, and I get the sense that he may as well have said buckle up, baby .

‘Give it to me,’ I say, and he huffs out an anguished laugh, pulling out before driving forward.

Shit. My fingers scrabble at the sheets, and I press my cheek against the mattress. He pulls out. Thrusts back in. The pace is leisurely, but the intensity is punishing, and every drive fills me just beyond my comfort zone, forcing the very breath out of me as I struggle to accommodate him.

My consciousness narrows to Charlie hitting that spot deep inside me over and over and over with perfect aim. To the sounds of our ragged breaths and of flesh slapping against flesh. To his low, deep moans that build in sync with the force of his thrusts and the pressure inside my body.

He removes his hand from my neck and tightens both hands around my hips, holding me in place so he can fuck me more deeply.

I’m slick with sweat now and heavy with the weight of unreleased pleasure deep and low in my body, even as my centre grows tender from the unreserved pounding Charlie’s giving it.

I can feel his movements growing more desperate.

Less controlled. His hands slide up my waist before settling back on my hips, his fingers digging into my skin.

There’s something so primal and dirty and uncompromising about this position.

About being so completely in Charlie’s hands as he unleashes himself on my body.

And I surrender. To his passion. To this relentless onslaught. To being his. For the second time, I hurtle into a vortex where the world outside dulls and stills and I’m pure, heavenly sensation, rapture coursing through my veins, rendering me blind and inarticulate and useless.

It feels fucking amazing. Like being turned inside out by this man. Reborn.

As my body convulses and my most intimate muscles seize, he follows me over the edge with a shout of fuck that’s raw and triumphant and incredulous. He grips me hard as he releases everything he has inside of me, and then he’s collapsing on me, raining kisses down my back.

He slides out of me and pulls me in next to him, nose to nose, one muscular, hairy leg wrapped around my thighs like the best kind of vice. He presses his forehead to mine.

‘Fuck, sweetheart.’

His hand comes around my neck and strokes my skin. Featherlight.

‘Fuck indeed,’ I slur.

‘To think I was going to try to live without that.’

His fingers on my neck give me goosebumps.

‘That’s why you’re a stupid idiot. I knew we couldn’t live without it.’

‘Fair.’

‘I’m not letting you pull any more stunts, Charlie,’ I warn him. I trace a line down his neck. Between his pecs. ‘I love you, and you say you love me, so no more flipping out about whether you can make me happy.’

He grips my neck more tightly. ‘Happiness is about more than just orgasms, you know, El.’

I mock-frown. ‘You sure about that?’

That earns me a little smile, the sexiest creases bracketing his mouth. ‘You’re not getting rid of me, even if you are just using me for orgasms. I love you too much. There’s no going back now.’

‘No going back,’ I echo. That sounds really, really good. I press my lips gently to his and revel in the miracle that is this man.

This connection.

This moment, after all the shit he’s put us both through.

My stomach rumbles loudly, and he laughs against my mouth. ‘I’ll make us some supper shortly. Once my legs have stopped trembling.’

I sigh happily. ‘You’re literally perfect, you know?’

‘I’m far from that.’ He brushes his fingers along the nape of my neck, leaving a scattering of goosebumps in their wake. ‘But you love me, for some reason, and I’ll take that gift and spend every day making sure you don’t regret coming back for me.’

‘I’ll never regret it,’ I say, and he rolls me onto my back. I watch him through sleepy eyes—nothing like a couple of earth-shattering orgasms to wring a girl out—and marvel at the deliciousness of being here, in Charlie’s bed. Of being caged in by him.

‘I never want to leave your bed,’ I tell him.

‘Then don’t.’ He dips his head and kisses me so softly it makes my heart hurt. ‘Come and live with me.’

I gasp. ‘Charlie.’

Another kiss. ‘I know you want to help your sister. But if and when you decide she’s got this, I want as much of you as I can get. Especially if we won’t be working together anymore.’

I attempt to process what he’s saying. He’s offering up everything he has to me. A place in his wonderful home. As much of himself as he can give me. He closed himself off from me, and now he’s opening up like a flower in the sun and it’s beautiful.

‘I want that too,’ I tell him. ‘But—do you really mean that? It’s an amazingly generous offer, but we just got back together. Maybe you should think about it.’

‘It’s all I think about.’ His lips brush my nose. My cheek. My forehead. ‘All I fucking think about is how much light you brought into my world when I had you, and how this house feels like a mausoleum when you’re not here. It’s not generous. It’s selfish. I have three fantasies.’ He pauses.

‘Tell me.’

‘One.’ He traces featherlight circles on my neck. My chest. ‘You in this house with me. Just—a part of it, you know? Living here with me. Being here when I wake up. Doing nothing on Sundays.’

‘Like we used to be?’

‘Exactly. But… permanent. A fixture.’

‘Like a lamp?’

‘A very sexy lamp that requires constant feeding. And orgasms.’

I laugh. ‘And two?’

‘Two. Fucking you like I just did. Really letting you have it. I know I was rough just then, but God, that was weeks of tension. You blew my mind.’

‘I like these fantasies,’ I tell him. ‘And I loved how it was just then. You blew my mind too.’

‘Two’s probably more of an umbrella for every single filthy thing I’ve ever done to you and want to do to you.’

His eyes grow so dark. I smile seductively at him. ‘I’m here to serve.’

He shifts. ‘Say things like that and I won’t be getting out of bed to feed you for quite some time.’

‘Fine by me.’ I stroke his upper arm. ‘And three?’

He swallows. ‘The fantasy that fucks me up the most is you being pregnant.’

My breath catches. ‘Oh, my darling.’

‘You’re so beautiful with my child inside of you. Obviously, it’s the most dangerous fantasy I have because it can never happen.’

I aim for levity. ‘No cankles or pregnancy acne in your fantasies?’

He gives me a sad smile. ‘Nope. You’re radiant.’

‘Charlie.’ I choose my words carefully. ‘That could still happen, you know. Via sperm donor. But even if we were to go down other routes, you know you’d still be the most amazing dad? Providing sperm doesn’t a father make. Look at your brother with Bertie. Those two have the sweetest relationship.’

‘I know you’re right.’ He sighs. ‘That’s what Jack and Emmy said when they came over to talk some sense into me. But I’m afraid the weight of my inadequacies was too great for me to feel like I could ask you to consider me.’

I let my hands roam over his chest. ‘There is nothing inadequate about you, Charlie Vaughan. Nothing. You’re more than I could ever have dreamed of.’

He closes his eyes and touches his nose to mine. ‘On a happier note, what are your plans for the summer?’

‘Well, they were to weep into my espresso all summer alongside a bit of childcare, but I suppose I’ll have to change them now.’ I smile at him. ‘Any ideas?’

‘I think we can do better than weeping into your espresso.’ He pretends to think, his eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘How about smiling that beautiful smile of yours into an authentic espresso on the Amalfi coast?’

My jaw drops so quickly that he laughs.

‘Italy? Seriously?’

‘Why not? You and me, some good books, maybe a backgammon set. We find ourselves some flights to Naples and take a little road trip. Eat our body weight in carbs and sustain ourselves with excellent coffee. Clothing optional. You game?’

I wrap my arms around his neck in a leisurely hug, my summer lying before me in Technicolor. ‘I’m very, very game.’