by S. J. Blaze
I feel my boxers and undies being pulled down as his soft hands scrupulously navigate. When I feel the cool air caress my skin, I lock up. My every muscle tenses.
“Coen?” This is…more.
“Please Charlie, I need this. Just a taste, love.” His growl sounds more like a whine.
He opens his mouth and sucks in the area below my navel, scraping his teeth as he goes. Slowly his tongue darts out and he circles it several times and then dives in. His tongue loops into my navel ring and he pulls it vigorously into his mouth, sucking aggressively. I moan, this sensation new and exciting, and push his head further against me. Scoring his scalp as I wedge my fingers in his hair.
He releases my ring after a few more tongue spelunking exercises, then heads south. He nips at the skin just above my pubic bone with his perfect Coen teeth and then eases the sting with his perfect Coen tongue.
Strong hands dig under my thighs and grab hold of my giant globes, filling each hand near perfectly. They knead and mold and manipulate my body to their every whim. His nose digs into my pubic hair as he breathes me in. I’m not bald, just trimmed, and I’ve tried to keep up with the bikini lines, but shit, I’m a woman. I hope he likes that.
He must like it because I hear him moan and look down to see him grinding the bed. Oh goodness, that’s hot. With my legs spread, he has no barriers to his prime objective. He looks up and meets my eyes while hovering just above my vagina. I feel the heat emanating from him. His eyes are so heavy that icy blue is consumed in the black of night. He smirks and I watch as his tongue slowly darts out and barely licks from my perineum all the way to my clit. The touch is barely there and yet I’m quivering.
“Oh god,” escapes me. All logic is traveling at the speed of light to my center in the hopes of achieving another life altering orgasm. He chuckles and the rumbling brings me closer to the finish line. More please.
His hands on my ass push me further into his mouth as he takes hold of my clit and viciously sucks, his teeth grazing the sensitive pink flesh and creating a seismic wave. His firm tongue trails pointed lines back and forth from my opening to my clit and then his tongue slides slowly in. Flattening his tongue, he licks leisurely in and out pressuring the skin there. My fingers fall from his hair as I grab the pillow behind me and arch my back in a twisted bow, only held by the pillow and Coen.
I can’t stop the wild screams that keep traveling up my throat. My mind on hiatus all I feel is sinful guilty pleasure and I don’t want to stop. Soon the coiling returns and the build is reaching higher and higher. My muscles tighten in anticipation, my mouth open to the sky desperate for more air. Oh god, this man is killing me with pleasure.
I’m so close and the tremors are slowly gaining in intensity and length when everything freezes.
His finger is in me. Someone is in me. They are hurting me.
“Stop!” I scream with everything I have. I jerk and wrap my arms around my naked legs and rock.
They are going to hurt me. It hurts. Stop. Stop. They have come back. Please, stop. Stop. I keep rocking. Leave me alone. Stop. I can see their faces hovering above me. Laughing. They hit me. They hold me down. Pain everywhere. Make it stop. Please, stop. I keep rocking. Stop.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I come to in Coen’s rocking arms, wrapped in a bed sheet like a burrito across his lap. His head is down and he keeps muttering how sorry he is and to please come back to him. His voice is raspy and it all sounds broken and muted.
“Coen?” His head pops and I notice his eyes are red rimmed and his face flushed.
“Oh god, Charlie, I’m so sorry, love. Please baby.” He grabs my head and throws himself into the curve of my neck. I feel him shaking and then hear a whimper. “I’m so sorry.” The trails of moisture beading down my back are breaking my heart. He pulls back and looks deep into my eyes. He kisses me so hard, it’s bruising and filled with so much relief.
I pull back and gently cup his cheeks, dragging my thumb over the wet trails.
“I’m the one who’s sorry, Co. I, uh…I’m broken. They broke me.” I can barely get the words out when I feel my lower lip tremble and my eyes water. No matter how hard I try, I’ll always be that broken girl.
“Noooo,” he wails. “No, this. This is a process. Just don’t leave me, love. Don’t ever leave me like that again. You were in my arms, but you were gone.” He leans into my hand and kisses the other. “I won’t let you go. Quit those thoughts now. You can’t fucking give up on me. It’s too late!”
He repeats that last part over and over while sealing his head to mine. He continues his pacifying rocking motion until we both feel settled.
He picks me up and carries us to ‘his’ side of the bed. He sits down with me still in his arms and then lies down while positioning me atop of him. I don’t know if he fears I will run away or if he just needs to maintain physical contact. Either way, I’m glad I’m trapped here in his safe embrace.
Maybe he can save me? Maybe he can protect me from the bad guys out there? The realist in me doesn’t believe any of it, but there’s a small part of me, a growing part, that has jackhammered the stonewall around my heart and let Coen slide through the cracks, who thinks he might be the right guy for the job.
We lie in uncomfortable silence in the dark with only the sound of his too-fast beating heart to keep my thoughts from drifting bleaker. He’s still here. I cling tighter to him while wondering how much more he can take. I’ve punched him, I’ve wigged out, and I’ve shut him down more times than I should admit.
“I know I’m going to have to say it a thousand times, and I don’t fucking care. I’ll tell you every time you need to hear it. Every time you doubt, every time you question, every time you hesitate, I’ll tell you how much I love you!” His voice booms in the quiet darkness.
I squeeze him tighter to me. I wish I could say those words back. I know that’s what’s supposed to happen, I’ve seen enough Rom-Com to recognize. I know he needs to hear it. If not now, then soon. But the love part, that’s scary. I love Tank. I love the trio, though lately I’ve even questioned that. I love Malice. And maybe, in some fucked up way, I love my family. But this emotion I feel towards Coen, is different. He isn’t my best friend. He isn’t blood. I don’t know what he is so how can I know where he fits? Which category to assign? Which box to throw him into?
With my head swirling in images of love, I stop on one of Harley, her beautiful smile and stunning eyes. That’s pure love. I never felt that innocent complete love that you do with a parent. Or that of a child. But when I think of her and the way she looks at the world, how she loves with her whole self, never knowing anything but happiness and warmth, that is pure love. I can’t help but have a small case of envy. I wish I knew that feeling. To love completely with my whole self, not the filtered watered-down version that living has created.
I allow these thoughts to weigh me down and lull me into a restless sleep.
It’s still dark when I lean over and kiss Coen’s forehead while brushing the hair off his eyes.Without me in his arms, he has turned onto his stomach.
“Mmmmm,” he moans, and then reaches out for me. Realizing I’m not next to him, his eyes pop open and squint at me trying to see in the dark. “What’s going on? Come back to bed,” he whines.
“Sorry, babe, I’m in training. I have to get into work early to knock out my caseloads, then off to the gym. I didn’t want you to worry when you woke up and didn’t find me.” I lightly stroke his cheek and his eyes close on a moan. “Maybe we can have an early lunch later? If not, swing by after work, ok?”
He looks so sweet all curled up on my pillow, well the one I used to use before he became my pillow. He nods and pulls me down on him. I squeal in delight as he flips us over and is now hovering above me, his eyes suddenly bright and alert. He strokes my lips and then leans down for a swift taste. Minty, I’m sure.
“Thank you for sharing part of your story last night, love. It meant the world to me.” He kisses m
e a few more times. “I have a late meeting tonight but will join you in this very spot…” He rocks us side to side. “…later on. I need you in my arms.” He latches on to my lower lip sucking it harshly into his mouth and groaning. “Mmmm, before I forget, where’s the ring?”
Oh, I forgot it with Malice. I’m sure it’s fine and well, but let’s test Coen. “I’m really sorry, babe. I was so upset and wasn’t paying attention. It must have slipped off. I don’t know where it is. I’m sure it’s insured, though.”
He tenses and swallows audibly. “Um, I did have it insured.” He sits back on his haunches and bites his lip. Uh oh, maybe I pushed too far. He looks upset.
“I’m sure we can pick up another at Cartier. You said it wasn’t a commissioned piece.” I watch him closely as I sit up.
“Actually…” He scratches the back of his head, yanking on a few strands. “I had it cleaned and appraised there. The piece, the ring, it was um…it belonged to my mother. I brought it down to Florida, because, I’ve kept it close since I met you, Charlie. I knew I wanted us to be together.”
I throw myself in his arms and squash him with all my might. I kiss his cheeks and lips repeatedly. This guy is fucking crazy yet ridiculously sweet. “I’m sorry, Coen. I can’t wear it when I spar. Malice has it. I never lost it. I’m sorry, baby.” I keep peppering his face with kisses feeling like a total douche now.
He chuckles and exhales an ‘oh, thank god.’ He pushes me back weighing me down again. “Now, where were we?” He waggles his eyebrows as his eyes grow bigger. “Breakfast?” He licks up my neck and grinds himself against me. “Yummy, Charlie for breakfast is the best way to start my day. I am a growing boy.” He grinds harder to get his point across.
“Coen,” I giggle like a teenager. “I’ve got to go. I have a fully encumbered day ahead of me.” I push his head away from me and catch his eyes. “Be a good boy and maybe we can play later?”
He nods still smiling.
“Text me when you get to work, so I know you’re okay. Maybe you should have Malice drive you.” Back to bossy Coen mode already.
“I’m good, silly. Or I will be once you get off of me.” I push at his chest a few times to reiterate the point.
He reluctantly lets me up. Standing, I grab the oversized glasses on the nightstand and put them on. “Are those prescription?” he asks with furrowed brows.
“Nope,” I announce while popping my ‘p.’
“Why do you wear them?” He stands and pulls the frames from my face to scrutinize the offending piece of plastic.
“That’s a complicated answer.” I grab them back and with a sharp finger sliding up my nose, return them to their spot. “Bye, babe. Have a good day at work.” I smooch him a sloppy full impact kiss and walk out.
Our new routine begins. Me up early, changing the world one company at a time during the day, then hitting the gym for three hours and back to my place for a steaming hot shower and healthy dinner. Coen usually walks in the door around seven thirty, sometimes already haven eaten, and we chat, lounge around, or make out incisively.
I’m not sure how I feel about the new routine. It’s a definite upgrade from the last, but I’m still missing something. Tank has been a living savior. I worship that man’s skills. I feel myself strengthening, and the loose bits firming up. I sleep better now, too. I haven’t been using my pills as regularly as when I was at Coen’s.
Two weeks before Halloween, I get a Loaded Guns Alert (LGA) group text from Gunner. This is Gunner’s or any band member’s way of saying we need to get shit done, NOW! We never take an LGA lightly. And I’m not about to start just because Bullet and I are shitheads.
We’re scheduled to headline at BedHead on Halloween, so I’m guessing we’re due for some serious practice time. I think that’s what the LGA was sent out for. I show up at Gunner’s house straight from today’s workout. I’m a sweaty mess but stopped at a gas station for toiletries and a t-shirt. I’ll grab one of Gun’s boxers or something.
When I knock on his door, Trig is the one to greet me. “Hey, baby girl. Where ya been?” He pretends to send a few swift punches in the air. I notice he’s letting his beard grow in. Already, he looks so different.
“You gonna let me in or am I gonna freeze my ass out here?” I put my hands on my hips and give him my best stare down.
“Uh, oh, guys,” he screams into the room. “We’ve got a wild one here. Maybe she needs some reminding that real men don’t take that lip.” He arches his brow and then throws me over his shoulder. Fuck, what is it with these guys and letting me walk?
“I’m all sweaty, Trig. Put me down.”
He spanks my ass. “Nope, you’re due.”
Next thing I know, smack. Then another smack, followed by another fucking smack. Then someone eases up and plays bongos with my burning bum. I scream. “Put me down. I’ll take all three of you on at once. Try me motherfuckers.”
I hear Bullet laughing at my expense. “You kiss your pompous boyfriend Richie Rich with that mouth?”
Knowing that I’m stuck in this position while they freely mock me, I arch my body while rocking and then throw myself as hard as I can backwards. Trig lets me loose and I go flying, bouncing off the hardwood with my arms extended and then land surreptitiously. I stand to my full height and look around the room. All three men are standing nearby staring, my throbbing butt reminding me that they are indeed twats. Still holding the plastic bag in hand, I motion to the hall, “Shower,” then walk away to take one, ignoring their laughing at my expense.
Eased muscles, tender ass, clean Charlie, I hurry and dress. My hair is wrapped in a towel and my shirt covers to my upper thighs, but I forgot to grab Gun’s pants. Deciding it’s safer to dart across, I ditch the towel, crack open the door, and make a run for it. Right. Into. Bullet.
“What’s the rush, little lady?” He holds me at arm’s length and slowly looks down my body, licking his lips and arching one brow. “We need to have some words.”
He walks forward and I walk back. “Bull, I’m sorry for what happened at the shop,” I whisper still on high alert.
He takes another step towards me. “You’re gonna make it up to me.” Was that a question, a command, or maybe an assumption?
I shake my head. I’m with Coen and I don’t want to hurt him. Not that the idea of hurting Bull is at all pleasant. I step back and hit a hard wall. Damn, I’m trapped, again with this man.
We’re both barefoot and he purposely steps on my feet. But not in a painful way. His toes wiggle gently on mine. It feels like a light massage but kind of dirty.
He clears his throat and I look up into his amazing solar eclipsed eyes. The black orbs are surrounded by endless fiery light in fiercely epic shades. I wonder if constellations linger in their depth.
His hand goes low and cups my bare upper thigh, and then he glides up. He moans when he realizes there’s nothing underneath. He continues climbing until his hand is full of my burning bum. They hit me hard, plus all of Tank’s beatings. He groans and leans against me.
“Are you fucking him?” he asks in a low voice.
I shake my head and he nods with his lips pursed.
“He love you?” I nod, slowly once.
“You love him?” I shrug. I don’t feel like I love him but maybe I’m on that path.
He picks up my left hand, looking for the ring. He arches his twitchy brow when he sees it isn’t there. I’m not comfortable wearing it, although it has only been a week since the Coen/Charlie baby blowout, I refuse to wear it. Besides, he hasn’t asked. And I don’t think I’m ready to even entertain the thought of marriage yet.
“He’s forever?” Now both brows are down awaiting my answer.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, biting my lip. I think I just pulled the skin off there. Shit, I can taste the metallic flavoring coating my tongue.
He pulls my lip from under my teeth with his thumb, looks down at the small red dot, and then glides his thumb across it. I can see the red
streak as he puts his thumb in his mouth. Pulling his thumb out, he sucks his bottom lip followed by his top into his mouth, then quirks a smile.
“Mmmm, I love the way my baby girl tastes.”
I narrow my eyes, confounded in thought. What is he doing?
“How was Harley’s party?” I ask while widening my eyes. I want to throw him off.
He links his fingers at the top of his head and I can’t stop my eyes from centering in on the beautiful ink covering that generous sliver of skin exposed with his rising shirt. He clears his throat and I know I’m caught. I scan up and see how pleased he is with himself. But come on, he knows he’s beautiful. In a Stephan James beautiful type of way. Muscles, tatts, dazzling perfect smile. I mean, what was I thinking about again? Harley…right, back to Harley.
“It was good,” he replies cautiously.
“Bull, are you trying to cut me out?” I ask with a bit less gusto.
“I can’t.” His hands cup both sides of my face. “My baby Shooter girl.”
“Hey, did you climb in the shower with her? Leave her the fuck alone man,” Gun shouts from somewhere in the apartment.
“I wish.” He pecks my forehead and then another swiftly to my lips. Giving me a hard once over, he then strides away.
After pulling some of Gun’s sweat pants on, I meet the guys in the living room and we get down to music business. We discuss the lineup and rehearsal schedule until the show and things start to feel like old times.
Gun let us know that he has been speaking daily with our label. They love how our record sales are increasing. Not only that but we’re getting a real ‘we don’t give a shit’ image. With what happened in New York City with that radio DJ and then the circulation of me punching Bull in the face, word of LG is going strong. One of the clients at Bull and Lyle’s shop videoed the entire debacle, including what I said to Bullet afterwards. Apparently, the clip has a couple of million views and people want to know more about the band. It appears I’m getting a nasty reputation, too. I guess I’d rather be known as the ball-busting bitch than something else.
