by Frankie Love
My cheeks heat up, my core awake. “You make me nervous.”
“Good. It’ll keep you on your toes.”
I close my eyes as he kisses my neck, as his hands run up my body, under my sweater. I inhale.
“You want this?” he asks.
“I need this,” I confess.
My words cause him to groan in pleasure as he runs his hands over my breasts, under my back. Unhooking my bra with such a seamless, fluid motion, I am reminded just how insane it is to be here, with him. Our mouths collide, the kisses intensifying as he massages my breasts.
My back arches and I press a hand to his strong, solid chest. I want him to be naked, against me. Inside me. I want my first time to be with Spencer Beckett and I want it now.
He tugs off his shirt and my fingers run over his corded muscles, his ladder of abs -- I breathe in his masculinity, feeling intoxicated with his strength. He unbuttons my jeans, pulls them off. My panties are white, and my body has never been touched, never looked at, not the way he looks at me now. A flutter of innocence washes over me.
“I want to taste you, Charlie.” He looks at me solemnly, with a seriousness that tells me his want for me is no joke.
“God,” I squeak out as he hooks the waistband of my panties with his thumbs, as he drags me to the edge of the bed, as he kneels before me, ready to make my pussy his.
I don’t care if he’s gone down on half the campus because right now his hands are on my thighs, spreading them apart. Right now his mouth plants kisses against my skin and all that matters is this.
His mouth is on me, His tongue swiping over my slick entrance. I’m wet for him and he knows it and when he looks up, into my eyes, I know he likes it.
“God, your pussy is so fucking sweet.”
I moan, half incredulous, half enamored, entirely melting for this man. He spreads my knees, his tongue running up and down my slit. I whimper as his mouth devours me, sucking against my tender folds with increasing need. His hands are warm, and they squeeze my ass, dragging me closer to his willing mouth.
“Oh Spence,” I moan, covering my face as a spell is cast over me. My body is spinning out of my control, inching toward a release only he can give. There is no denying that he knows how to work my body into submission. If he wants me to call him Sir, right now I would.
His fingers find my entrance, he eases one, then two inside me and I bite my lip, pleasure rocking through me. “You’re so tight, Charlie. So fucking tight.”
“It’s because I’ve never slept with someone,” I murmur as his tongue swirls against my tender clit.
He stops. The licking and sucking and delicate grind of his fingers against my G-spot.
“You’re a virgin?” His hand is still tight against my pussy and I don’t want him to move it. His eyes though are dark as he meets my gaze.
“I am,” I tell him, panting with want. I reach for his hand, eager for him to make me come.
“Charlie, I didn’t know.”
“That’s okay. I want this. You. Don’t stop.”
He removes his hand, pulling himself up on the bed, towering over me. I feel the thickness of his aching cock as he cradles me in his arm, brushing the hair from my face, looking deep into my eyes.
“I can’t fuck a virgin like this.”
“Like what?” I ask, not wanting this to end. “Today has been romantic. Roses. And Chinese and—”
He laughs. “And cleaning a library. Mops and brooms are very sexy.” He kisses my nose. “No wonder you were such a tease. My little Charlie Hayes is a virgin.”
It’s not the first time today that he’s called me his.
“You laying claim to me?” I ask, wrapping my legs around him. Pinning him to me. He’s not leaving me before he makes me come.
“I think I am.”
“Good,” I say. “Then don’t stop.”
“I can’t have your first time be like this.”
“But I may never get another chance to lose my virginity to the infamous Princeton Charming.”
He shakes his head, kissing my jaw, my collarbone, my breasts, my belly. He slides down to the floor. “Oh, you’ll get a chance all right. Tonight, though, you’re the only one who is getting off.”
I pout as his mouth begins to work my pussy all over again. “That’s not fair.”
“Says who?” he asks as his fingers slide into my wanting pussy. “From where I’m kneeling, this is more than fair. This is—”
But my moans cut him off. “Oh, Spence, oh, oh, yes, yes…” My body pulses with heat as he drops his mouth to me and begins to suck me off as I come, calling his name.
He bet that by the end of the day I’d be begging to get in his bed. He was certainly right about that. It makes me wonder as my back arches and my fingers run through his thick hair, just what else Spencer Beckett might be right about.
11
Spencer
We don’t leave my bed for hours. Her sweet pussy is so happy, and there is the most satisfied smile on her face that has me grinning like a goddamn fool. We tease and kiss and pinch and purr. I can’t think of when I’ve ever had foreplay like this. That lasts hours, where the climax consists of a woman tucked against my chest. Hell, my pants are still on.
And it was the best night I’ve had in a long ass time. In forever.
Being with Charlie is like floating away from my current reality. She lives somewhere else. Somewhere that is more real and more sincere.
“I need music to fall asleep,” she whispers, her hand on my chest.
“Oh, so you plan on spending the night?” I tease, reaching for my phone.
“You’re so bad,” she says, plucking my nipple.
“Ouch,” I say, taking her hand in mine, kissing her fingers. “Here, you pick what we’re listening to.”
I open my music app for her and she begins scrolling through my playlists. I don’t think she realizes just how unprecedented this is. I never, ever hand over my phone to a woman. But Charlie is different. It’s like I want her to see me, all of me. I want to know what she might do with that information.
“Did you stalk me or something?” she asks, propping her chin on her hand, looking up at me.
“What do you mean?”
“Like, our music tastes are eerily similar.”
“Really? I heard you had a thing for 90s R & B.”
She lifts her eyebrows. “So you were stalking.”
“Prescott might have mentioned something about your dance moves after I left the party.”
She bites back a smile. “Okay well, yes, Tatum and I have a thing for old school music, but it’s not my first love.” She turns my phone screen toward me. The playlist is called Songs For When I’m Lonely. “You made this?”
I laugh, groaning. “Shit, I forgot about that one.”
“Yeah right,” she says, pulling the songs up. “It says the last time you played this list was two days ago.”
“Fucking technology, revealing all my secrets.”
“I think it’s sexy,” she says as The Beatles’ “Eleanor Rigby,” begins to play. “I should really buy this album. It’s a good one.”
I push my insecurities down as the familiar music washes over us. Ah, look at all the lonely people. I swallow, my eyes meeting Charlie’s. I want her to see me, the way no one else ever does. I may be the goddamn golden boy on campus, but my life is not as effortless as it might appear. So much of it is a game, a show. And I wonder if Charlie sees a glimpse of that as the sad music fills my room. She doesn’t say a word, but she doesn’t need to, the music says it for us.
Charlie sets my phone on the bedside table, and I pull up the duvet over her shoulders, over mine. And wrap my arms around the most unlikely woman I’ve ever brought to my bed. She fits here, next to me.
But I know that the rest of my life is a different puzzle. I can’t for the life of me imagine her fitting in with my parents, my friends, my future.
I kiss her soft skin as she nestles against my
chest, her bare ass the most tempting thing I’ve ever denied myself. I don’t need any more tonight. Having her in my arms is more than enough - for now.
12
Charlie
“So, are you dating him?” Jill asks, sitting across from me at the coffee shop, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips as she tries to pry information out of me.
I shrug, my heart fluttering with nerves every time I think about Spencer and our one night together. “I don’t think he actually dates.”
And I really have no clue what Spencer is thinking, or if he’s even thinking about me at all. I’ve only seen him in passing and from a distance since he drove me back to my dorm three days ago. He’s sent texts, and we’ve had a dozen flirty phone calls, but he hasn’t mentioned seeing me again.
Maybe I scared him off with the whole virgin thing. I take a sip of my spiced pumpkin latte and try not to let it bother me.
He’s just a guy, Charlotte, I remind myself.
“But you had sex?” Jill asks a little too loudly, causing a few heads to turn.
“No. We just...did other things.”
She shakes her head. “You want me to believe you spent the whole night with the infamous Princeton Charming and you didn’t bang him?”
“He was a gentleman.” And he was. But her words have all sorts of insecurities floating around in my head. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him I was a virgin. But then, if this is the way he’s going to treat me, maybe it’s for the best that I didn’t have sex with him.
“Hey beautiful,” a deep voice says against my ear, and for a split second, I think it’s Spencer until Prescott moves around me and pulls up a chair, straddling it beside me.
“Uh, hi. What are you doing here?” I glance around wondering if Spencer is with him.
“Getting coffee. Just like everyone else.” He takes a sip from the white paper cup, then smiles at Jill. “You going to introduce me to your friend?”
“I’m Jill,” she offers before I can say anything, holding out her hand and giving him her best smile. “And you’re Prescott Addington. I read your paper on human rights and immigration law.”
He grunts. “Why? Were you having trouble sleeping?”
“It was really good. I disagree with you on—”
“That looks delicious,” Prescott interrupts, tearing off a piece of Jill’s half-eaten chocolate croissant and popping it in his mouth. “You mind grabbing me one?” He pulls out a twenty from his wallet and places it on the table in front of Jill, then asks me, “You want anything, Hayes?”
I shake my head, frowning at him.
When Jill stands and walks to the end of the long line, I turn on him, “She’s not your servant.”
He chuckles. “Unless you want to listen to her drone on about the 1951 Geneva convention, or whether prisoners should have the right to vote, I did you a favor.” He leans back and gives me a cocky grin. “And I came over to talk to you.”
“About what?” Suspicion has me pursing my lips at him.
“Tell me Beckett’s full of shit. That you didn’t let that dickhead into your pants.”
I’m pretty sure my face goes white, because I swear I feel all the blood leave me, and Prescott just shakes his head.
“Damn, you did. Thought you were smarter than that, Hayes.”
“Spencer told you that we...” I swallow over the lump that’s formed in my throat. “He said we had sex?”
Prescott shrugs. “Doesn’t matter anyway. You can tell the douchebag he still lost the bet.”
Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask, my brain screams, but I ask anyway, “What bet?”
“Shit.” His grin broadens, and I can tell he’s enjoying this. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But you did, which means you wanted me to know.”
He chuckles and pushes his chair back. “You’re a smart girl, Hayes. But you’re not in the same league as Spencer Beckett. You need to watch your back.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Nah, just a warning.” He winks before walking away.
“Where’d he go?” Jill returns a couple minutes later with a pastry, and she looks put out that the asshole is gone.
I roll my eyes at her. “I need to get to class.”
“But it doesn’t start for another forty minutes and you still haven’t given me any details about your night—”
“Because nothing happened, and nothing will happen. It was a lapse of judgment.” I push my chair back and stand, grabbing my bag.
“I swear, you’re holding onto that V-card with a white-knuckled grip.”
My phone rings. “I need to take this,” I say when I see my dad’s number on the screen. “Hey, Dad.” I walk out of the coffee shop, shivering as a cold wind blows around me.
“Hey baby girl.” He sounds tired. “How are you doing?”
“Good. Just heading to class.”
There’s a long silence on the other end.
“Everything okay, Dad?”
I hear him swallow hard. “If you haven’t cashed that check I gave you, I was hoping you could hold off.”
“Yeah. Of course.” I wasn’t planning on cashing the hundred dollars that he gave me at Thanksgiving anyway. “What’s going on?”
“Money is just a bit tight right now.”
“Is Mom okay?”
More silence.
“Dad?”
He sighs. “She’s had one of her flare-ups.”
I stop walking and try to hold back the emotions that creep into my chest, wanting to choke me. Every time she has one of these attacks she always loses another piece of herself. The last one put her in a wheelchair, unable to use her legs.
“I’ll come home—”
“No, sweetheart. There’s nothing you can do here.”
“But—”
“Charlie. I’ve got things under control. Just keep flying, baby girl.”
I feel tears prick my eyes, knowing I can’t tell him that I lost my job. That sometimes I question why I’m even here, struggling to keep my grades up, dealing with inconsequential drama like Spencer Beckett, when I should be home taking care of my mom.
Feeling numb, I head to my Advanced Legal Topics class, wondering how today could possibly get worse until I see Spencer standing at the entrance of the building I’m heading toward, Winslow standing with him, her lean body practically infused with his.
My heart sinks like a stone in my gut.
“Friends my ass,” I mutter under my breath, knowing if I’m going to get to my damn class I’m going to have to walk straight past them.
“Hey, Charlotte.” Tatum is running toward me, a big, goofy grin on his face when he catches up. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”
“No. Sorry.” Obviously our little disagreement from the weekend is forgotten, or he’s choosing to act like it didn’t happen. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
I turn to him, mostly so I don’t have to see Spencer and Winslow together.
“Are we still on for this afternoon?” Tatum asks.
“This afternoon?”
“You forgot.” He sighs. “You said you wanted to try that new Thai restaurant.”
“Right.” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. That was before I lost my job. When I actually had a few extra dollars to eat out. Now all I have is a rapidly decreasing bank account and a plane ticket that still needs to be bought. “Do you think we could go another time? I have a lot of studying to do.”
“Is this because of Beckett? Is he already controlling who you can hang out with?”
“No.” I shake my head. “And Spencer and I aren’t...anything.”
“I don’t know about that,” a familiar voice says before an arm drapes around my shoulder possessively.
Spencer. I think I forget to breathe.
It takes me a second to remember that I’m angry at him. I want to shrug off his arm, but I also don’t want to give Tatum any more reason to strike out at him. And the way his fa
ce has turned a shade of red and his fingers form into fists, I know it’s a real possibility.
I glance up at Spencer, and say casually, “I’m late for class.”
“I’ll walk you.” He gives me one of his smiles, the one that makes my stomach go all fluttery, but I see the questions in his eyes. He knows I’m upset.
Good.
“I’ll see you later, Charlotte.” Tatum walks away quickly, and I know nothing is ever going to be the same between us.
“If I was any other guy, I might be jealous of the way he hangs all over you.”
I shrug him off. “Good thing you’re not any other guy.”
“Hey.” He grabs my hand. “What’s wrong.”
“Um, let’s see.” I don’t want to sound jealous over seeing him with Winslow, or needy by demanding why he hasn’t tried to see me again. Instead, I focus on the one thing I have every right to be angry about. “Your douchebag friend paid me a little visit at the coffee shop this morning.”
“Prescott?” Spencer winces. “What did he say?”
“That even though you got in my pants on the weekend, you still lost the bet.”
“Shit. It’s not what you think.”
I laugh, but the sound is metallic in my ears as I pull my arm back. “I don’t care.”
“Prescott is an asshole.”
“Yeah. You’re right, he is. And he made it clear that I’m not in the same league as you.”
“He said that?” Anger tightens his features. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Whatever.” I shake my head and look away, catching Winslow watching us from across the lawn, surrounded by a gaggle of her clones. Each one looks ready to murder me.
Perfect.
“I have to get to class.” I sprint toward the old building, not looking back.
But when I sit down in a chair at the back of the lecture hall, I feel a warm body sit next to me. The way my own body reacts, I don’t need to look over to know it’s Spencer.
“Don’t run from me, Charlie.”
“Don’t follow me, Spencer,” I hiss back, ready to get up and move, but the professor comes into the room, and I know if I do I’ll make a scene.
