The Charlotte Chronicles

by Jen Frederick

  “Not once.”

  I shake my head at his ruthless control. I throw my arms over my head and stretch, knowing that the arching motion pushes my breasts upward. His gaze roves over me with intense concentration.

  “I touched myself regularly. I’d think of you, of us together, and I’d need to touch myself.”

  “You’ll have to tell me what you prefer,” is his husky response. “Your touch or mine.” He enters me slowly this time. A hiss leaks from his lips as he watches his shaft spear into my delicate flesh. I push against the mattress, trying to swallow him faster, have him thrust harder.

  “Don't move, baby. Please. Give me a sec.” His chest heaves like bellows at a forge. His fingers bite into my hips, so deep that there will be impressions tomorrow which I can’t wait to see. Those marks will be a heady reminder of how drunk on lust he is at this moment.

  He reaches between us and pinches the base of his penis, shuts his eyes tight and takes deep measured breaths. My body reacts to the invasion of his thrusts. I don’t do it on purpose, but I clench around him.

  His eyes flick open. “Don’t move,” he says again through clenched teeth.

  “Can’t help it,” I say and undulate beneath him. I really can’t. I need him deep inside me. I want to feel the deliciously heavy drag of his swollen flesh against my sensitive nerves. I want him to fuck me blind.

  I must have said it out loud.

  “Goddamn your filthy mouth will be the death of me,” he groans. He reaches one arm under my back, holding me tight against his hard push. Leaning forward, he captures a hard nipple in his mouth and sucks hard. Those pulls draw from my belly. No, deeper. The tension between my legs meets the coils of want he’s creating with his kisses, his touches, his thick, deep strokes.

  This is it. Here in this moment with him so deep inside my body, his love surrounding me, I can’t hold on to reality for one single more instant. The explosions overtake me, leaking out of my eyes, escaping my throat in guttural animalistic pants, vibrating from my center outward as he thrusts fast and hard, retreating and invading time and again until the warm flood of his ejaculate fills me up.

  Even then he doesn’t stop moving. Even as I turn into a quivering heap, shaking from the pleasure. Even as I nearly levitate off the bed when he claims my mouth and reaches between us to press his hard thumb against my clit.

  “Holy shit.” He laughs when he comes down to earth.

  Holy shit indeed.

  “I love you,” I whisper into his sweat dampened skin. “So much. There aren’t even words that really explain how much I love you.”

  “I will never leave you again. I love you too much.” His lips press against my shoulder and then my neck and then my mouth to seal his promise.

  Epilogue

  Dear Son,

  I remember the first time I heard your heartbeat. Your mom was only eight weeks along when we went into the clinic to confirm our positive at-home test. They hooked up the ultrasound at our insistence, and we heard the whump whump whump of your strong heart.

  My own heart stopped. Here you were, my first born, swimming around in your mom’s belly no bigger than a peanut. Conception is one of those amazing things that is hard to comprehend. My seed. Her egg. You!

  Impossible.

  Now you’re fifteen, which seems even more impossible.

  Do you know how proud I am to be your old man? Very. You wear the Jackson name well.

  You watch out for your younger brother and never complain when little Grace uses you as her personal trampoline. You help your mom without asking and still want to play catch with me.

  You’ve already learned that kindness can be a way of life and that loving someone makes you stronger and not weaker. These are important lessons that it takes others a whole life to learn.

  That other boys don’t understand the way you are choosing to live your life doesn’t make your choices wrong. It only makes them different.

  I wish I’d been more like you. When I woke up and realized your mom was the one for me, I’d already squandered that first time on someone whose face I don’t even remember now. If there’s ever a thing I regretted, and I don’t regret much, it’s that she wasn’t my first.

  A boy gives his body away to anyone. It takes a man to abstain. These suckers who are hassling you are envious of your fortitude, your strength.

  You’re worth a hell of a lot, and I’m glad you realize it. Waiting because you want to find the right one to share that momentous time in your life is not only admirable but an action that shouts leadership.

  Like I said. I’m proud to be your dad. Proud that you’re a Jackson. Don’t let those other shitstains get you down.

  Love,

  Dad

  * * *

  A rustle at the door catches my attention. Four-year-old Grace is peeking through her hands at me. She spreads her tiny fingers as far as they can go as she runs toward me.

  After having our two boys in quick succession, Charlotte and I thought we were done, but Grace came along when the boys were ten and eleven. She’s a ray of sunshine, and I can’t even envision my life before she came along.

  I cuddle her on my lap as she shows me her fingers. “I washed my hands after I pottied.”

  “Good girl.”

  She wipes the droplets of what I hope is water on my shirt.

  “Grammy and Grandpa are napping,” she announces. “They were playing with us outside, but after Grandpa tickled Grammy, they were too tired to play. Grandpa said it was time for a nap, and they disappeared.”

  Out of my office window I see the two boys playing football with their cousins. My parents are sitting on a swinging bench watching the game, so it must be Bo and AnnMarie who have snuck off for an afternoon quickie.

  “Your parents are insatiable.” I don’t need to look up to know Charlotte has walked in. The slightly uneven tread signals her arrival.

  “What’s insaysible?” Grace asks.

  Of course she does. “Sleepy. Very sleepy,” I lie and kiss her forehead.

  “I’m not sleepy.” Worried that we’re going to make her nap, she jumps off my lap, runs to give her mother a hug, and then trots out as fast as her pudgy legs can carry her. She careens into the opposite wall, rights herself, and then clatters down the hall.

  “It’s a good thing your parents are just having sex and not trying to nap because your daughter makes more noise than a five piece band.”

  Charlotte laughs lightly and limps over to climb onto my lap. Her nose finds its way into my neck, and I shiver. Squeezing her waist, I draw her tighter against me. “I’m suddenly very tired. How about you?”

  “I could be convinced to take a nap,” she murmurs against my throat.

  “Good, let’s go.” I slide my arms under her body and stand up.

  “I can walk.” The protest is perfunctory so I ignore it.

  “That new leg of yours isn’t the right length?” I ask, jostling her in my arms. Charlotte’s been testing out a new biomechanical limb that is powered by the neurons in her brain. It’s amazingly lifelike. She can wiggle her toes and twist her ankle. Over time, she could even develop a stronger calf muscle—at least that’s the hope. But currently it doesn’t sound like it’s working right.

  “We’re still in the testing stage. I ordered a pair of stilettos. I can’t wait to try them out. What do you think?” She pokes me in the chest. “I’ll be wearing fuck me pumps for the first time.”

  “As if I need any encouragement,” I grunt. I’m still as randy as I was when I was seventeen. It takes very little to get me hard and even less to get me into bed. “I’m easy.”

  “Speaking of easy, did you find out what was bugging your eldest?” She reaches out to open our bedroom door.

  “That wasn’t easy,” I protest and throw her on the bed. I watch appreciatively as her breasts bounce. She wastes no time in shedding her clothes, so I sit back and enjoy the show.

  “Hunter?” she prompts.

&nbs
p; “What about him?” My eyes are glued to the light blue lace concoction she’s got covering her tits. The material is so sheer I can see her rosy nipples clearly. “This is hot. Did you just get this? I don’t remember seeing it before.”

  “Yes, it’s new. Don’t rip it,” she cautions.

  “I want to see the bottoms. Do they match?” I tug at the waistband of the simple knit skirt she’s wearing.

  “Of course they match, but you don’t get to see them until you tell me what happened with Hunter.”

  “Who?” I mumble absently, pulling harder on the elastic waist so I can get a better view of her panties. She slaps my hand away. Sighing, I decide to undress myself. “Hunter told a bunch of his friends that he wasn’t interested in losing his virginity until he’d found the right girl, and they decided to hassle him over it.”

  She gasps. “Those little fucking punks. I ought to beat them with my leg.”

  The vision of Charlotte whipping off her prosthetic and bashing a bunch of horny fifteen year olds strikes me as so funny, I topple over with laughter. “I’d pay a lot to see that,” I gasp.

  “This one is pretty heavy. It’d hurt.”

  “I bet,” I say wiping my eyes. “But shit, you don’t need to do it on account of Hunter’s hurt feelings because he doesn’t have any. He told me that he didn’t give a fuck—fudge—what his friends thought. I wrote him a letter to tell him I was proud of him. Going to tuck it under his pillow tonight.”

  Charlotte grabs my face and gives me a helluva kiss with a lot of tongue.

  “What was that for?” I’m short of breath again, but it’s not from laughing. She blows my mind. Sixteen years of marriage and three kids have not dampened my need for her one bit.

  “Your dad actions are so damn sexy.” She wiggles out of her skirt to display a pair of sheer lace panties with ribbon ties at the hip. “Come and get your reward.”

  I slink down the bed so I have a better view of her pussy. “Want to take this off?” I tap the leg.

  “Nah, let’s give her a work out. See if it can make it through one of my most important activities.”

  “Fucking?” I smirk.

  “Making love to my husband.”

  “Well, when you put it like that.” I open my mouth and suck her through the thin material. She spreads her thighs wide for me, opening herself to be devoured. I’ll never tire of hearing her call me her husband. It’s awesome.

  And it’s even more awesome to be kissing her pretty pussy. She tastes like a sweet, tart fruit and looks just as juicy. I pull on the ribbon ties and enjoy the spectacle of the wet fabric clinging to her lower lips. I peel them away to see her cunt in all its aroused glory.

  “What have you been thinking about, Charlotte?” I stroke a finger up one side of her swollen lips down the other. She trembles under my touch, under my gaze.

  “You, of course.”

  “What was I doing?”

  “You were fucking me.” Her eyes are lit up with happiness.

  I shove a finger inside her. She gasps but grinds down. Leaning forward, I take her mouth, sucking on her pouty lips, licking her saucy tongue. She moans—or maybe it’s me—and I feel the vibrations of our sounds of pleasure.

  I jack my fingers into her harder and faster while rubbing her clit with my thumb. She rides my hand, clinging to my shoulders and devouring me back. She comes around my hand, coating my fingers with her juice, jerking wildly in my arms. I swallow her cries and fumble with the button and zipper on my jeans so I can shove my aching cock inside her.

  She shoves my inept hand away and releases me. Still holding me, she guides me to her hot center. I die a little. I am revived a whole lot.

  Fucking, making love, it’s all the same with her.

  It’s me inside of her body, coming home where there’s nothing but love. We waited so long, fought so hard, because the prize was so goddamn worth it.

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  Also by Jen Frederick

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