by Haley Cass
Sutton’s eyebrows hitched in confusion as she licked her lips. Charlotte’s throat felt dry as she watched it.
“I didn’t . . . you were already the only one I wanted to – to have sex with,” she murmured, eyes locked on Charlotte’s, where she could read the raw honesty.
The groan in the back of Charlotte’s throat surprised herself but it felt so damn satisfying to hear those words. One of her hands came to grip at curved hips under Sutton’s shirt, while the other came up to slide into the soft hair that was still tied up in a bun. She used her grip to pull Sutton down as she surged up, her stomach twisting in anticipation.
Her mouth parted as soon as she made contact with Sutton’s, licking into her mouth, as she scratched her hand up and down Sutton’s side. Softly at first, the way she usually did, because she loved the way it made Sutton shudder lightly against her.
And then she let herself feel the still very present lingering jealousy in the pit of her stomach, and she scratched a little harder, her fingers leaving a mark on Sutton’s body as she sucked at her tongue.
She wanted, she wanted to feel Sutton against her fast and hard and right here against her kitchen wall. Wanted to make her come around her fingers, to feel her clenching for her, hear her crying out for her. Right here, right now.
Before she could check with Sutton, though – because this wasn’t what they’d done so far; she’d kept a leash on the more immediate needs like this with Sutton – she heard a low moan come from the back of Sutton’s throat as her hips jumped against Charlotte’s fingers, pushing against her own.
She quickly pushed back, pressing her hips to Sutton’s and then forcing her back against the wall. She stayed there, slotting her thigh as well as she could between Sutton’s, given that she was still wearing her dress and Sutton her jeans. For a moment, she regretted taking off her heels; she wanted to be taller now.
To be able to feel how hot she knew Sutton was for her already even between their clothes. To be able to give better friction for Sutton to grind against, not to mention how ridiculously hot the mental image was for her to imagine her fucking Sutton senseless while still in her dress and heels from work.
The thought alone made her groan into Sutton’s mouth, and in return, she felt Sutton whimper before her hips ground down against Charlotte as best as she could but it wasn’t enough. Not for either of them, and she pulled back, dragging her teeth over Sutton’s bottom lip as she went, relishing in the shiver she got in response.
Sutton’s hands moved, jumping to life, one digging into Charlotte’s waist. The other sliding under her hair and onto her neck in a possessive way that might leave a bit of a mark, and it shot another spark down Charlotte’s spine.
She ran her fingertips down over the soft skin of Sutton’s stomach, feeling the muscles jump under her before she stroked just above Sutton’s jeans. A mischievous smile tugged at her mouth when she heard the gasp Sutton let out and see the way Sutton’s head fell back against the wall.
Charlotte leaned in again, this time using her tongue to run along Sutton’s neck before she panted softly in her own need to take, “I want you,” she dropped her hand lower, tracing up the tight jeans covering Sutton’s inner thigh before pressing against the fabric covering her center. She rubbed, hard, her own breath coming out in quick, breathless pants along with Sutton’s, even as she used her body to press against Sutton’s, “Now. Not soft and slow, not stripped in your bed. I want to make you come right here, darling. Is that okay?”
She took her hand away, sliding up to hesitate over the button of the jeans, wanting nothing more than to slip inside but waiting . . .
Sutton nodded quickly; so fast that Charlotte might have been amused if she wasn’t so – fuck – turned on herself. Her eyes were heavily lidded as they fluttered open and caught Charlotte’s own, “I want – yes. Now.”
***
It was hours later, after they’d moved from the kitchen to the bedroom, after she’d made Sutton come again, and had the favor returned – twice, while also learning that Sutton not only enjoyed being taken hard and fast but she was also pretty amazing at giving it – that they laid in Sutton’s bed.
She thought it was past midnight, but she couldn’t be sure; from where she was lying on her side, she couldn’t see any sort of clock. And her body felt too nice to move. Too fucked, really. But her brain was kicking back into high gear.
She was too well-fucked to do anything but wonder aloud, “So, you watched the interview?”
The chuckle that Sutton let out from next to her was indolent, red hair finally free and loose – a waterfall along the sheets behind her as she faced Charlotte. “Of course you think about that right now.”
“Quite frankly, darling, I think it’s a bit impressive that you managed to stop me from thinking about it for hours,” she shot back, her own voice marginally more awake. Then again, sometimes that happened.
Sex was a stress relief for her, of course. And in this case, that had been so good she now felt somewhat wired. Like . . . she could take on the world. From the bed, anyway.
In an entirely amusing shy way, Sutton readjusted the blanket that rested over her torso, tucking her arm under it and against her chest. But Charlotte could tell in the way she did it that she was feeling pleased and proud, “That’s true. But yeah, I watched the interview. She was good. You’re better, though.”
Her words weren’t meant to be flattery; she could hear the honest, earnest tone that Sutton so often managed to have, and she didn’t know when she came to enjoy that so much – to almost rely on it – but she had.
“Thanks,” she whispered, before dark eyes narrowed, and she wondered for a moment if she should confide what she’d been thinking about Naomi earlier. Because it might be easier not to and to wait until tomorrow to talk about it with her team first, but . . . she wanted to know what Sutton thought. “I got the feeling while I was watching it that there’s something going on – behind the scenes. About me,” she clarified. “She just . . . you know Naomi. You know her. She was fairly decent, almost, about me, all things considered.”
And she hoped – God, she hoped – that it wasn’t her reading too much into anything. That her instincts were on track.
“I think you’re right,” Sutton murmured, her voice getting sluggish and drowsy in a way that made Charlotte want to grin, soft and slow right back.
And she did, even though it was a little brighter than soft and slow, because, “Really? You agree?” dark eyes were fully alight with interest now, her mind – despite having slowed and calmed in the last few hours, the echoing of Sutton and her moans and whimpers drowning out the stress of Naomi and her interview – fully functioning and thinking back to the interview once again.
Those big blue eyes blinked up at her slowly, looking somehow both serious with the conversation and adorably lethargic, “Yes? I mean, Naomi is – she’s not exactly someone who doesn’t have tricks up her sleeve. You’re smart to think something else might be going on; you’re – well, you,” she added with a quick uptick to soft, pink lips.
Charlotte smiled back at her, victoriously, with this inflating warmth in her chest at the knowledge that not only was she right to be worried, but that it was Sutton who agreed. She shifted a bit, her bare back pressing against a cool pillow as she looked up at the ceiling.
Her voice was quiet as it cut through the night air, “You have no idea how glad I am that you say that. I mean, I knew that there has to be something else going on, but without any way to prove it right now . . . it’s just nice to know that you agree. I’ve been going over it all day, but –” she cut herself off with a small sigh, sinking down into the pillow, “And this isn’t the best conversation to have right before bed, so maybe we can resume over coffee.”
She turned her head to look at Sutton, and instead of seeing sleepy eyes looking back at her, she was met with soft, deep, even breaths as the younger girl curled in on her side. It made Charlotte smile softly; this w
asn’t the first time that she’d seen Sutton sleeping.
Since they’d started this friends with benefits agreement, they’d stayed true to the rule where Sutton would spend the night at her place. Though she was sure now that Sutton wasn’t going to leave in tears or worried about Charlotte not wanting her, because that would be impossible, they still stuck with the rule.
And it really wasn’t bad when Sutton spent the night with her, despite having avoided any sleepovers with women at her apartment. She didn’t steal blankets or sprawl over the bed, and she didn’t really move all that much in her sleep or snore loudly. She generally fell asleep a little sooner than Charlotte did, but Charlotte was usually fairly soon after.
Plus, Sutton woke up even earlier than she did and slipped out of her bed seamlessly, made sure her coffeemaker was working, and went back to her own apartment before Charlotte was fully awake.
She was an unobtrusive morning guest and Charlotte appreciated that.
Dark eyes roamed soft and pretty sleeping features, the way Sutton’s chest rose and fell under her blanket, the way her fingers rested on the pillow under her head. Like she’d tried to stay up and listen to Charlotte but couldn’t stay awake.
Which was unbelievably sweet and very much Sutton, and that little rush of affection hit her again.
And even though they’d spent the night together, even though Charlotte had had “sleepovers” with Sutton now, this felt different somehow. It was different . . . because this was the first night that Charlotte was spending not in her own bed.
She’d had sex with women not in her bed – it was preferable that way, because then she could leave. She liked to leave after; their beds didn’t feel as comfortable as her own did to actually sleep in, she liked her own space, and waking up around her own things.
But here she was. In Sutton’s bed. Feeling warm and comfortable and like . . . she wouldn’t mind falling asleep here and waking up in the morning, despite not having her own things around her.
That thought, however, wasn’t warm and comfortable. In fact, it took the warmth right out of her, and instead, she sat farther up against the pillow. Her hand came up, running through her hair wincing as her fingers snagged on her curls, even as she shook her head at herself.
This was – it was normal. Despite the fact that she didn’t have many close friends, she did have at the very least Dean. And she’d spent a few nights at his place. Had felt . . . comfortable there. This was essentially the same thing, enjoying the warmth of Sutton’s bed and the subtle, enticing, now-familiar scent of her surrounding her in the blankets.
Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at Sutton, who was curled a little closer to Charlotte now. And – all she needed was some water. Just a glass of water, and then she would follow Rule 4, the sleepover rule, and leave in the morning, early and unobtrusive and happy to go back to her own bed. Alone.
Like usual.
Because sleeping in the soft, warm, comfortable, nice-smelling bed of your friends-with-benefits friend wasn’t anything strange. It shouldn’t make her feel freaked out at all.
She repeated that to herself as she slipped out of bed as quietly as she could. Her eyes adjusted enough in the dark room to find the sweater that Sutton had been wearing before she’d hurriedly tugged it off, and she pulled it over her head. Which, wearing her clothes also wasn’t strange. No, it wasn’t the same casual thing as wearing her jacket, but what was she supposed to do? Put her own dress back on just to go get some water?
No, she assured herself, because that wasn’t how these things were done.
She left Sutton’s door cracked as she made her way lightly down the hall and into the kitchen. Regan had gotten home a few hours ago; she’d knocked on Sutton’s door and made a comment about being safe and keeping the volume down, which had made Sutton blush and also shout back for her friend to mind her own business.
Which gave Charlotte even more motivation to stay quiet as she turned into the doorway to the kitchen. Because the last thing she needed at this moment was to run into Sutton’s best friend and roommate who disliked her enough already, while she was having slight internal worries about staying the night.
But this was one of the reasons Charlotte had been reluctant to do this in the first place. Because she was new at this, and Charlotte didn’t do well with new things, like spending the night in the bed of the woman who had thoroughly fucked her, even if she was friends with her.
And when she did find herself in unfamiliar situations, she liked to master them. Quickly and subtly, so that it could appear as effortless as possible. Which certainly didn’t entail leaving in the middle of –
“God!” the word left her in a shout, as loud as she could manage as her breath knocked out of her, when something – something small but solid – caught her in the stomach, so fast that she hadn’t seen it coming, especially in the darkened rooms.
The pain wasn’t blinding by any means, but she pressed her hand there instinctively, rubbing as she tried to blink enough to adjust when the light was thrown on. Her mind on high alert as she circled around to what the hell someone was supposed to do when this was happening, but she didn’t have more than a few seconds before the next attack.
She only caught a glimpse of dark brown hair before her arm was grasped, and she was pressed against the wall. An uncommon jolt of worry shot through her, mixed with the bruising force of the hand gripping her.
The brunette wasn’t Regan, she realized even before her vision had reacted enough for her to see clearly in the now brightly lit kitchen. No, it was someone several inches shorter, with hair cut short and a bit choppy, who was barefoot and wearing old sweatpants. She was shorter than Charlotte herself, but even when her other hand came up to push at her shoulder automatically trying to distance herself and get away, the girl’s slight frame didn’t move more than an inch.
Bewildered and surprised and doing her best not to panic, Charlotte pushed again, though the grip holding her only tightened as a foot wrapped around her ankle in a move she recognized from a self-defense class Caleb had gotten her to take. A move that told her that her assailant was preparing to throw her to the ground.
It had only been seconds, but Charlotte was already cursing herself for how long it took her to respond, and regardless of how quiet she’d been for the last minute or so to get into the kitchen, she shouted, “Get away from me, you lunatic!”
And she wondered, with glaring gray eyes looking up at her, what the fuck this was. Was this some sort of botched robbery? Barefoot thief? Escaped mental patient? Was –
The hallway light was flipped on within seconds and hurried footsteps ran down the hallway, before Charlotte turned to see Sutton – with only a sheet wrapped around her while tired but shocked eyes were now alert as she took in whatever this ridiculous situation was that was going on between Charlotte and the small attacker.
But instead of . . . anything that she could have thought might happen, Sutton didn’t look panicked as though she was being robbed or as though a mentally ill person had somehow broken in. Instead, she looked surprised and confused, recognition setting in on her face.
And the would-be robber, her aggressor, didn’t waver in her grip even as she shot Sutton a sharp smile.
An easy smile that didn’t look at all like she had just – was currently – assaulting Charlotte while she was only wearing Sutton’s long sweater in the middle of the night in her kitchen. A smile that definitely didn’t belong on someone’s face while they held her in an unrelenting grip, after they’d been lurking around in the dark, “Sutton! You had an intruder.”
Charlotte grit her teeth together in irritation now, all previous worry replaced with frustration, as she tried to pull her arm out of the tight hold. Because at least now she knew that this – this insane person knew Sutton somehow and that she wasn’t about to be murdered.
Sutton shook her head at herself before she narrowed her eyes, and that was most definitely an angry look, aimed at th
e girl. “The only intruder right now is you; get off of her!”
The short girl shrugged like this was an everyday occurrence, dropping her hand and stepping back from her. And for all Charlotte knew, this wasn’t the only time something like this had happened, because who in the world was that? Charlotte felt the urge to rub at her arm where the bruising grasp had been, but she resisted for now. At least until she was out of company with this . . . person. Not until she could be alone to show that it had actually been painful.
“What are you doing here, Alex?” Sutton’s voice was puzzled, and she looked a little disgruntled, before she looked to Charlotte, and she could see the worry written all over her face, “Are you okay?”
She waved her off, even though her heart was still pounding a bit in her chest from all of the . . . action, “I’m – yes, I’m quite all right,” she answered in a clipped tone, hoping that they both understood it was directed at the smaller girl.
Sutton seemed like she didn’t quite know where to look, before her eyes focused on something on the floor behind Charlotte, “Did you throw my peanut butter on the ground and then assault my – my friend?” She stumbled a bit at the words, her cheeks flushing, even as she sent a look at the younger girl.
A look that Charlotte had never seen on her face, one of familiar exasperation. She placed it in the moment that she darted her eyes to see that her assailant had thrown a jar of peanut butter, hitting her in the stomach, before grabbing her.
She almost wanted to laugh at . . . everything, only she was still trying to process it all.
And the brunette just shrugged before she bent to pick it up, “I mean, I wouldn’t have if it wasn’t that extra chunky kind that I hate. I wouldn’t have risked damaging a jar of smooth and creamy.”
It was that moment that Charlotte realized – she knew that name. Alex. And that dark hair, those eyes – the fact that this small girl was made of muscle. The younger Spencer sister, and she hardly managed to hold in her groan and maintain her composure.
