The Charlotte Chronicles

by Jen Frederick

  Somehow he is able to interpret this correctly, and he continues his attentions. He uses his lips, tongue, and even his teeth on first one and then the other breast. Inside my head and my body, I’ve lost all control. It’s as if I’m hurtling into space, and I’m out of my mind with joy and excitement. When he moves even lower, I suck in my breath. He places soft kisses all along the top of my jeans. They are wet kisses, and I can hear the sounds he’s making as well as feel the wet, warm trail he’s leaving across my abdomen.

  “Can I take these jeans off, Charlotte?” he asks, his voice gruff and tender.

  I squirm on the bed. “Yes, please. Please do.”

  His deft hands pop my button and lower my zipper. I’ve my nicest pair of panties on. They aren’t super sexy, but they have lace around the top and a small bow at the front. He releases a long, slow sigh—almost a moan—and the air from his body dances across my skin, alternatingly warming me and raising gooseflesh.

  The jeans come off and he’s between my legs again and he places his mouth directly over the center of my panties. “Oh my God,” I cry out at the sensation. His laugh is low and naughty.

  “No God here,” he says smugly, his lips against my inner thigh. “Only me, Nathan.”

  “Are you going to . . .” I ask breathlessly.

  “Yes,” he says, and he does. At first I am embarrassed, but after a few licks, I’m too caught up in the sensations he’s wringing to be self conscious. This is what he meant when he said he was going to make it so good for me. I can’t believe how amazing his mouth feels between my legs. And from the sounds he’s making, it’s evident to me he is enjoying this too, which makes me even more excited.

  And as he licks me and gently strokes me with his fingers, I close my eyes and let euphoria take me away. It’s one giant endless loop of pleasure and fierce happiness. When one of those fingers pushes inside of me, my eyes fly open.

  “Oh, Charlotte,” he moans, and the vibration rumbles through every part of my body. “I’m so glad that I’m your first. I know I shouldn’t care, but I do.” He climbs on top of the bed again so that he’s half draped over me, his heavy leg lying over one of mine and his head tucked close to my shoulder. All the while, he’s slowly gliding his finger in and out of me, until that feeling of tense ecstasy begins to build again. He doesn’t stop stroking me, not even after I’m crying out his name again and shaking like a leaf from the sensations that he’s eliciting with just his finger and his mouth.

  “I’m glad it’s you,” I say after my shuddering has stopped. He slides his finger out of me and disrobes quickly. My eyes widen at the sight of his erection. It’s at least four fingers in diameter and far, far longer than even his middle finger. I gulp and turn away so as to not become frightened. He sits me up and removes my shirt so I’m nude except for the panties he had pulled back up.

  He kisses me again, soft at first and then demanding—his hard length lying rigidly against the side of my hip. He dips his hand inside my panties again, and the fear that I had after seeing his penis is quickly forgotten under the onslaught of desire he stokes. This time he pushes two fingers inside, and soon I’m arching toward every touch.

  “Promise me it will always be me,” he says fiercely.

  “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.

  “Put your arms around my neck,” I tell her. “I’m going to move now. You’ll need something to hang on to.”

  She
does as I instruct, and by the slumberous gaze and the way her limbs have tightened all around me, I know she’s with me. I press my forehead against hers and watch her expressive eyes as I stroke in and out of her in slow, measured movements. Each drag along her tissues is the first of its kind, and the wonderment and delight is driving me out of my mind. I’ll never forget this moment.

  As the path becomes slicker and easier, I begin to speed up, and her thighs cling to my hips. I kiss her, sipping from her lips at first and then thrusting my tongue into her mouth as I’m thrusting between her legs. She moans and shudders under me. I can feel my orgasm building, and I need her to come before me. Her need before mine—always. I move my hips, altering my pattern and listening intently until I hear her breath hitch as I catch the right spot. Then I work that over and over until her moans turn to cries.

  “I’ve got you,” I whisper against her mouth.

  Dipping a hand between us, I circle and press her tender flesh until I can actually feel the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of her body as she comes. It’s the sign I’ve been waiting for, and all my control vanishes. Mindlessly I thrust into her as my own pleasure overtakes me. Her hips rise to meet mine and her nails dig into my shoulders. She’s taking everything I have and demanding more. I’m no longer gentle or caring because I’m beyond that. I’m in another plane where I’m controlled by my lust and desire for her, but her passionate cries in my ear tell me she’s there too. Finally I jet what seems like buckets of come into the condom, my body jerking against hers.

  I collapse on the bed and roll to the side, careful to remain inside her. I should immediately withdraw and take care of the condom, but I need to hold her. She’s shuddering against me, her whole body shaking with the bliss of our joining. I stroke her shoulders and press small kisses along her shoulder and neck, inhaling the scent of her hair and of us. I pull out, holding the base of the condom so there aren’t any leaks and tie it off. I toss it onto the T-shirt on the floor that I figure I’ll have to throw away after tonight.

  After we both catch our breaths, she speaks with deep satisfaction, “God, Nathan, I want to do this again a thousand times.”

  Grinning at her, I say, “Me too.”

  She runs her fingers through my hair and laughs, and the sound of it goes into my ears and straight into my dick. The sudden hardness against her soft skin causes her eyes to widen. “So soon?”

  “Yup.” My grin gets bigger. Hope she’s not too sore tomorrow.

  “Nathan.” She clutches at my shoulders, which are slippery from the sweat I’ve worked up loving every inch of her body. My name is a trembling whisper on her lips, and like every other word, sigh, and exclamation that has come out of her mouth, I tuck it into my memory bank, overwriting every other girl who has ever been with me before.

  Leaning down, I gently press my lips against hers and lose myself in her taste. Kissing her is more erotic and more moving than all the other times I’ve stuck my dick into someone’s body. I can’t envision wanting more than her, ever. I pull out another condom and roll it on. Her legs curve around me as I press inside once more.

  I hiss at the sensation of her tightening around me, hugging me so tautly that it’s hard to withdraw. Instinct takes over, and my hips begin thrusting against her harder and faster until I release all the tension that has pooled at the base of my spine. Replete with satisfaction, I collapse on her. She doesn’t even flinch at the heaviness of my body pressing her further into the mattress.

  “Sorry,” I mumble against the damp skin of her neck.

  “Mmmhmmm,” she says. Her hands trail over my shoulder blades and down, parallel to my spine. Despite having just enjoyed the hell out of her for the second time tonight, I feel myself harden, in response.

  “No,” she laughs. “I can’t. Not again.”

  “Just ignore me,” I say. Jesus, I’ve never been this horny. I should be satisfied, and I am, really. It’s just that everything about her turns me on right now. With what I feel is a superhuman effort, I push off from her body and tug the condom off carefully. In the bathroom, I wrap it in toilet paper and shove it to the bottom of the trash can along with the previous rubber victim.

  I gulp down two glasses of water from the sink and then fill the third one up for Charlotte.

  “Here,” I offer.

  She takes the glass with a grateful look and drains half of it before handing it back to me. I set it down on the nightstand.

  “Now what?” she asks.

  I glance at the clock. Our parents are likely to be home in a half hour. “Now we go to your room, and I lie like a nice boy on top of the covers while you’re underneath them.”

  “What’s the point of that?” She raises an eyebrow.

  “It makes us look good. Like we’re not fooling around, just spending innocent time together.”

  “My dad only thinks one of us is innocent.”

  I wink at her. “Me, right?”

  She tosses a pillow at me, but it falls far short. I pull on my discarded sweatpants and a T-shirt and gather up her clothes. Tossing them on the bed, I head to tell Nick where we’ll be going.

  “Over to Charlotte’s for the night,” I say. “Thirty minutes until the ‘rents are home.”

  I hear enough scuffling to recognize that Nick’s got another person in his room.

  “Who’s in there with him?” Charlotte whispers to me. Turning I see she’s dressed and her hair has lost that just-fucked look that I am starting to love. I suppose I’ll find long strands of dark hair in my brush tomorrow but rather than being irritated, I’m kind of looking forward to it. Not that I’m going to weave a friendship bracelet, but I like having things that Charlotte’s touched in my possession. I figure it will make our separation easier.

  “Don’t know.” I shrug. I take her hand and walk down the hall toward the service hallway. “Don’t care either.”

  There are a few girls in our building that Nick could be nailing, but I’m not going to guess which one. He’ll tell me in the morning. I wonder if Charlotte knows what a manwhore he is. Probably.

  “I wonder if it is Josie,” she muses. Yup, she knows all about Nick’s tendencies. We’re as close as one family, so secrets are hard to keep around here. Our newfound physical connection isn’t one we’ll be able to keep from our parents for long. I wonder how bad Uncle Bo will hurt me when he figures it out. He is my godfather, but I’m guessing he won’t go light on me.

  Maybe Dad will intervene and explain that it was inevitable, because it was. Our timeline just sped up because Charlotte got sick and now she’s leaving. I know I need to tell her about my plans before she goes, but I don’t want to ruin everything now. I’ll wait. I’ll tell her about the recruiter the day before she leaves. If she thinks about it, she’ll know that this is as inevitable as us getting together.

  “What kind of treatment are you going to get over there?” I ask as we climb into Charlotte’s bed.

  “Just chemo and radiation followed by intensive physical therapy.” She snuggles under the blankets, her thin body needing the extra heat that mine does not. “What’ll you do this summer?”

  This would be the time to tell her that I plan to enlist in the Navy right after she leaves so that I’ll be able to start boot camp immediately upon graduation. The Delayed Entry Program allows me to sign up before graduation and then request the earliest possible boot camp date. It’s the one secret I’ve kept from everyone except Nick, but I’ll need my dad’s signature on the papers since I’m seventeen. I know if I say this that she’ll beg me not to go, and I’ll cave because I’ve never been able to say no to Charlotte. Not ever. But if I enlist then I’m bound by a contract to the U.S. government to not only go to boot camp but stay in the military for four years. I’m hoping that contract is enough of defense against her.

  “I’m planning for our future,” I say.

  “I love you,” she whispers as I pull her against me, the blankets serving as a pretty damn effective barrier. I
can’t feel even one curve of her body through them.

  “Love you too,” I say and kiss her temple. As we fall asleep, my mind wanders to that scene in another old movie where the elf princess wanders through the forest, grief stricken because she outlived her king. That’s not going to be Charlotte and me, but the image persists and despite all the evening activity my sleep is restless.

  17

  Charlotte

  Nate is gone when I wake up. He was restless last night, but I pretended to sleep. Cowardly I guess. I was afraid he had regrets, and I didn’t want to hear them. I have no regrets. Sitting up, I enjoy the pull on my muscles. The muscles in my upper back are tight from clutching his shoulders, and between my legs I’m sore in places I didn’t realize got sore. My lips curve up in a sly smile. I feel so knowledgeable this morning. Like every risqué joke ever told finally makes sense.

  In the short time it takes to roll out of bed and pick up my phone from the nightstand, I’m already missing him. When Mom laid out exactly why going to this specialty clinic in Europe made sense, I bought into it totally. I’d only be gone for a short time. The boys wouldn’t feel responsible for me if I overextended myself. And, maybe most importantly to me, the strongest memory they have of me won’t be that I was a sick girl. Instead I’ll return, strong, healthy, and smart.

  The brain stem radiation and chemotherapy may result in the loss of gross and fine motor skills, they warned me. I was lucky I had stopped growing when the tumor appeared otherwise the treatment could have damaged developing organs. Gingerly, I cup the back of my head. Fluid is collecting there. We’re watching it, and by “we” I mean Mom, Dad, and my team of doctors. None of the Jacksons know. I don’t want them to. It’s rare for an older kid to get hydrocephaly or “water on the brain” and even rarer for it to develop months after the craniotomy.