The Art of Me (The All of Me Book 1)

by S. J. Blaze

  I gasp and he takes advantage of my parted lips to sear me with another passionate kiss. His tongue caresses mine as he moans into my mouth. The vibrations and his taste meld into a Coen sensory overload and I love every minute, his revelation melting me further into him. He continues his rhythmic grinding and I feel the heat spreading through my body centering on my pulsing clit. His grinding motion increases the electric current humming through my body, charging my every cell. I’m on fire, lost in his icy storm.

  “Charlie, I fucking love you!” he exclaims fervently, while his hand slides up my ribs and his thumb glides over the bottom of my breast, I can’t stop the moan from echoing in his mouth. He pulls back to meet me, his eyes heavy and dilated.

  “I won’t let you go. I don’t give a shit if we’re engaged as long as we’re together. I don’t even care where we live. I’m not gonna lie.” He circles his pelvis against my core and I moan at the new movement. “I want you to have my name. I want my mark on you, love. We can go straight to the marriage, fuck the engagement and wedding shit. I just want you…I want this, love.”

  He leans down and continues tormenting me. His kisses have turned forceful and he nibbles across my lips and down my jaw. His tongue darts out creating wet lines and curls against the long column of my neck. I can feel the yummy scruffy grating against the moist trail he leaves behind. He nibbles gently then whines, “More.” Grabbing my shirt at the base he slowly pulls it up my body, his hands scoring a dangerous path along the way. He locks his eyes with mine as he pushes it over my head and off me.

  He moans. “Oh, Jesus love.” He looks down at my pierced nipples then plucks at the hardened nubs. “Please tell me a female did this.” He leans forward and sucks the golden ring into his mouth. The pulling sensation merging with his hot mouth is insane. I arch into him begging for more as the writhing meows keep generating from somewhere in my being. “So fucking good,” he whispers into me.

  “I..I, it…was a gggirl.” I lick my lips. I’ve never felt this…this skin on skin. I’ve never been this bared to anyone. He takes full advantage and continues his tongue thrashing on one breast while his hand pulls and twists the other. The sensations are bathing me in heat and ice and wet and dry. I can’t tell where or what. I just know it’s all so fucking good.

  “Coen.” I can feel the coiling building, my lower areas completely engulfed in flames. I rock up against him to increase the pressure and friction, my thin yoga pants receiving quite the workout.

  He continues biting, sucking, and that incessant rocking. “Oh, god. Please don’t ssstop.” The building pressure is volatile and demanding. He rises further above me, jerking his hips into me forcibly, and plows my mouth with everything he has. He needs me as much as I do him, in this moment.

  “I’ll never stop, love. You’re mine to please, mine to love, mine to fucking worship. Only mine. Nobody will ever touch you again. I love you, Charlie, more than anything.” His voice breaks with his movements.

  He reaches down and pulls his cock out of his boxers, sliding the material down. Holy shit! I start to freeze up.

  “Just need to mark you, love. I need to own you.” The heat coming from his rather impressive cock is insanely pleasing. Now each time he rubs my clit through my pants, everything intensifies. I glance down my body to see his beautiful shaft. The veins look so thick under the thin angry skin. It looks so hard, so strong, and strangely authoritative. He grabs my ass and traces over to my upper thigh pulling my leg up. I scream. This position is much more potent, I can’t last much longer.

  “Hang on, love. I won’t let you fall alone, together, baby. For fucking ever, love, together.”

  Having faith in his every word, I grab harder onto his lower back pushing him into me. Cutting into him with my chewed up nails, I feel his muscles flexing and clenching, and the building only escalates.

  “Jesus, now Charlie.” He bites my neck and I lose all sense of time, space, and reality. Nothing. Else. Exists. The coiling pressure releases me and I spiral out of control into drunken oblivion. The electric currents combust and I explode all around Coen. Everything tingles and ignites and I’m aflame. I can’t find my fingers as they cleave to Coen praying that he won’t let me float away. He screams my name over and over again, grunting how much he loves me. Then we both slide down from our heavenly grace and cling to each other. I shake with the spent energy.

  Coen’s arms gave out at some point and he rests his full weight on me now. His moist hair brushes my cheek as he places tender kisses on my now scoured sensitive neck. I feel the warmth left behind from his cum and I like it. It does feel like he marked me, like I am his. His strong chest smothers my soft. His hard pelvis is firmly rooted to my own and my legs limp with exhaustion.

  I lightly scratch my nails up and down Coen’s back as we regain our footing. I feel as if I’ve just given a huge piece of myself to him and I’m incredibly vulnerable and bare. I don’t know how people do this with randoms.

  We connected. We merged on a different plane, a different realm, maybe. I’ve never felt this.

  “Am I hurting you, love?” he whispers while licking the shell of my ear. His hot breath potentially in route to reignite the dying flame.

  “No,” I say with a huge smile on my face. He feels heavenly exactly where he is.

  He pulls himself onto his elbows, resting next to my head, and smiles back at me. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.” His eyes are glowing orbs. “I want to put this smile on your face every day,” he whispers while his fingers softly circle my swollen lips. “I want you dripping with passion for me, aching for only me, every fucking day and every night you belong to me. I’ll give you this.” His voice drops an octave. “I’ll give you anything to be mine.”

  He kisses me with his finger still on my bottom lip, pulling it down. Then he grinds into me again and moans. “Shit.” He scoots back and sets his forehead on my chin. “You’re too potent, love. I have to pull back.” He chuckles as he rises to his knees and delights in what he sees while looking down at me.

  His fingers slip into my mouth. “Suck,” he whispers. I open my mouth and wrap my tongue around his fingers as they enter. I suck them in deeper until they’re fully saturated. I’ve never sucked anything, other than a lollipop or Popsicle, so I close my eyes and imagine that. Only I taste his salty Coen flavor.

  He moans and pulls his fingers out, then trails them down my chin, down my neck, through the valley of my breasts, and into the remaining cum on my stomach. He draws two C’s there and then picks up his fingers and brings them back to my lips. My brows furrow and my eyes narrow. I don’t know about this part. He sees my indecision and murmurs a soft encouragement. “Taste me, love. Everything I am is yours.”

  Fortified with his words, I open and allow him to slide his fingers across my tongue and into my mouth. Sealing my lips, I suck in his juices, cataloging the new flavor and texture. This is Coen. This is mine. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back with a groan.

  “It’s too late for us, love. We’re forever. Destiny has marked you as mine, and now you see that she has made me yours.” Astonishingly enough, I am beginning to understand what he means.

  Though I’ve never been one to have faith in destiny, through Coen’s eyes, I suddenly believe almost anything.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  After showering separately, we enjoyed a relaxed breakfast and spent the rest of the morning and afternoon cuddling. My thoughts drifted to Bullet and Harley several times. I wanted to text him. Tell him to give her a big kiss from her auntie. But I doubt he’ll ever speak to me again. I can imagine Harley’s face when Bull pulls up and she sees I’m not there. I wonder what lie he’ll tell her. Maybe he’ll be cruel and tell her I don’t care for her anymore. That would break her little heart. The thought alone breaks mine.

  I wonder if he took Trig or Gun with him. I bet Gunner wouldn’t tell me. He’d try to spare me.

  How fucked up that I’m thinking about Bullet when I’m wi
th Coen. That has to be cheating on some level.

  Later that night, we order in. With dinner set out on the table and our forks fully in motion, Coen plans our week and soon we are readying for the day to end.

  He had Davis bring over a few complete suits and his toiletries. I know this is simply a logical move on Coen’s part. He’s made it clear that he’ll be staying the night. But the thought of his clothes next to mine in my closet, in my world, well that’s sexy. Though I think it’s mainly to give me the illusion of more control. Who knows if I have any at this point, but I’m down with the delusions for now. He was rather cross when I told him about my upcoming fight, perhaps it’s time for a little Charlie History 101 lesson.

  “Hey babe,” I call out from the bed. It’s after ten and I’m ready for our little talk and then sleep. He went into the living room twenty minutes ago for a work call. Even from here, I hear him yelling every few minutes, which sounds like an aggressive discussion. With no response, I get up to check on him.

  Padding across the condo, I watch as his hand tugs at his hair. He’s sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows on knees. He looks miserable.

  “I told you, I don’t fucking care!” he replies to the caller, appalled. “You ever do this shit again and I’ll leave you.” His head still bowed, I can see the straining of his muscles on his forearms and neck. He wants to attack. “You think I give a shit about money.” He laughs darkly then growls. “You can’t touch my trust or my fucking shares. No…No. You hurt my girl again and I’ll cut you off.” He nods in response to whatever is being said. “Hand it over to that arrogant old prick, then.” More hair pulling. “Fine, but she’s part of the package. Better get fucking used to it.” He nods some more and then sighs. “Okay. Tomorrow.” Then he clicks off the phone, drops it on the table, and rips deeper into his hair. He’s going to be bald in no time at this pace.

  I clear my throat prompting him to look up in surprise. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. You’ve been gone a while and I was getting concerned.”

  “Sorry, love. Got caught on a call.” Standing up, he rubs his face a few times, then grabs his phone and wraps me in his arms. “You sleepy?” I smile for him and nod while he ushers me to the bed.

  Instead of assuming the nightly positions, we lie side by side facing each other. “You want to talk about it?”

  “No, it was my father. I questioned him about the Boston Globe leak and I found the culprit.” He sighs and closes his eyes. I want to cheer him up.

  “Mother and I had a bit of a brawl yesterday. I wanted to shut her up, so I told her we were married.” I say this casually but I know he’ll eat it up. He snaps his eyes open, the excitement bubbling behind them.

  “Married?” he asks with a smirk. “Should I ask where and when we had our faux nuptials?” At least he’s smiling again.

  “I told her that we took the yacht and sailed to the Bahamas.”

  “Hmm, I love the Bahamas. This could work.” He waggles his brow. “What else?”

  “I sort of mentioned that Mick Jagger was a friend of your dad’s and that he called in Johnny Depp to party.” I bite the side of my lip. Saying it all out loud it sounds completely farfetched. The fact that mother believed it, says so much about her parenting skills.

  He bursts out laughing. “And she believed you?” I nod, picking up on his good mood. His laughter is contagious. “Oh, that woman!”

  I let him enjoy that ride before I hit him with another.

  “You ready for a little Charlie history bedtime story?” I ask shyly. I don’t like to discuss my past.

  Nobody knows everything, only bits and pieces, and even those parts are vague.

  He looks concerned and starts to tense. I lean onto my back and wave him over. The only way I can do this is to not see his reactions. He scoots closer to me and I pull his head down onto my chest. I comb my fingers through his now curly and gel-free hair.

  “If you wanted another round with the big man…” He grinds his front into my upper thighs. “All you had to do was ask. I’d love to oblige.” He grabs the top of my tank top and pulls down to expose my right breast. Then he sucks most of my breast into his mouth.

  “Quit it!” I can’t help but laugh. “I’m trying to have a heart to heart.” Pulling up my top, I grab onto his lower jaw in one hand squishing his lips together in a guppy-like pout. “No play. Coen listen.” He grunts in response and I shake his head up and down. “Good boy.” I wink at him.

  “Okay.” I put his head back and begin petting it, both to relax him and myself. “So, remember how you came to me before the tour?” He nods against me. “You know, about the UF thing.” I wait as he slowly nods again. “Well, um, what I want to tell you is what happened after the…the, uh, after. What happened after.” I exhale after spitting that last part out. Shit, this is harder than I thought.

  He looks over at me. “You don’t have to tell me any of this, love.” He arches up, gently kissing my lips slowly.

  I shake my head and rub my fingers through his scruffy yummy along his jaw line. “I do! I need you to understand.”

  He thins his lips and quietly takes his original position.

  “Ok, so bear with me here. I’ve never spoken about this.” He squeezes me, reassuring me to go on.

  “Anyway, when I was finally released from the hospital, I was still very broken. I mean physically and with my internal injuries. I was scheduled to be in physical therapy for the next few months and was basically cemented to a wheelchair.” I clear my voice and try to shake off the images cycling through.

  “But those injuries paled in comparison to what really weighed me down. I lost my faith in humanity, and worse, I lost faith in myself. I thought I could be invisible. That if I stayed the course and didn’t rock the boat, I could skate by untarnished. Well, that wasn’t the case. I was naïve and weak, and so fucking pathetic. I look back and I hate that girl.”

  And I really truly do. I don’t even think of us as the same person sometimes. She was Charlie prototype, and I am Charlie 2.0. I continue strumming my fingers through Coen’s beautiful golden locks. It’s connecting me here and not there.

  “Quite the wakeup call, right? Anyway, mother, being the dear that she is, didn’t know what to do with me. I was afraid to leave the house, afraid to let anyone near me, and she would glare at me with this strange mix of despise and pity.” I chuckle sadly remembering her face when she would look at me. She pitied me, rather than aching for her daughter’s innocence being ripped away. Rather than angered at my assailants, she pitied me. I mean who would love me now, right?

  “After about three months of my parents throwing me onto therapist after therapist, they sort of gave up. I wasn’t eating and lost all of my baby fat. My hair had been shaved short, thanks to the stitches, and there was nothing in my eyes. I would look in the mirror and didn’t recognize the stranger looking back. They sent me to Israel to stay with family. My cousin was heavily involved with…well, let’s just say that he had connections and I was deemed useful. As a minor, I couldn’t legally get paid without my parent’s involvement, so I traded for two things. The first, was some type of under the counter financial compensation, and the second, was training.” He tenses and I try to reassure him with more stroking.

  “I was scheduled to start Harvard the fall after graduation, but after the incident, they allowed me to postpone to the following year. That gave me roughly a year in Israel. I mastered several fighting styles, including Krav Maga, and I trained in other fields. When I finally arrived in Boston, I was now sixteen and stronger than ever. But I had to keep it up. I researched underground MMA fighting and learned about Tank. Once I stepped foot in his gym I knew that I was where I needed to be.” I take a deep breath.

  “Tank furthered my MMA education. I learned about boxing and wrestling and various MMA styled grapples and holds. He mentored me and helped make me stronger. I can’t be weak again. I can’t get back to that place. I need this, Coen. I need it!” I sta
te that last part firmly. I want him to understand, to relate, and then to encourage and support me.

  I can’t believe all that came out. I’ve never shared, and even when I was forced to see a therapist when I was younger, I would vaguely skim the details or makeup rainbow stories.

  Coen takes several minutes to absorb what I said in silence. I continue stroking his hair and the feeling of his weight and heat bring me solace. He grounds me.

  He finally lifts his head and looks at me and thankfully, there isn’t pity nor anger there. He shifts his body over mine and drags himself higher so our eyes connect intimately. Hands softly stroke my hair and he kisses my lips gently. I almost don’t feel the pressure there.

  “I love you.” His voice is hoarse, like he’s been fighting tears. He nods as if agreeing to something and then kisses me harder. “Thank you, Charlie.”

  More kissing follows and it quickly turns passionate. Tongue and teeth. It’s rough and needy and I’m not sure if this is about him trying to please me or Coen trying to comfort himself. With my clothes still on he kisses, licks, nibbles, and bites down my body. He pulls up my shirt and I feel his nose rubbing up and down my scar. His staggered breath against my stomach and yummy scruffy trailing behind.

  “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again, love. You have to believe that. If you want to spar, then I won’t stop you. But I don’t think I can handle another fight.” He takes a deep breath, and on the exhale I feel the moisture welding to my skin.

  “It killed me the first time, and now, well, you’re my whole life.” He leans his forehead on my ribs and his hands grip my hips on each side. I know he is trying to convey the strength I feel in them to me, but he still doesn’t get it. My intentions are forsaken.

  He continues his ministrations as his hands smooth up my sides lifting my shirt above my breasts. He slowly slides down my body spreading my legs as he goes. Since sleeping with Coen I’ve switched my nightly outfit to a tank top and old boxers. Coen is a mini-furnace.