Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity Book 9) (13 page)

“Fuck, man, she can carry my balls around in her purse and take me shopping if she wanted to. I’d do anything with Charlie over season tickets. Especially after last season.”

“Wow.”

Les wasn’t impressed with Brent’s speechlessness. He needed answers. Trying not to sound as aggravated as he felt, he snapped, “I know. So what do I do?”

“You’ve made some moves and she’s pulled away?”

“Yeah. She seems receptive, but something’s holding her back. She says she doesn’t do relationships.”

“Then just do sex.” Les noticed a woman leading a man past him by a thin leather leash, and they disappeared into a room down the hallway. He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.

“I wish. She won’t do that either, because she says I won’t be happy with just sex.” Suddenly, Les was seeing odd things everywhere he looked, and it wasn’t just the dress-code. Man, LA was weird.

“How well she’s figured you out, man.”

Les let out an exasperated sigh just as he heard the sounds of leather smacking flesh from the door he was leaning against, couple with low moans of pleasure.

“Let her make the next move, then take over. Like if she kisses you, kiss her back for all it’s worth and let it lead to more. Make her realize how great you are in the sack. If she’s all about sex, with no relationships, let her think that’s all it is, then before you know it, she’ll be hooked.”

“I’m not sure I won’t end up the one that’s demolished if I do it that way.”

“Then forget about her. She’s not worth it.”

“Oh, she’s totally worth it.” Les had to force himself to focus on his friend’s words. They made sense to him, but the sudden dawning realization of the type of club he was in had him anxious to get back to Charlie to gauge her reaction.

“Then go for it.”

Les hung up the phone, not feeling any more enlightened. Making his way back to the table, he noticed more chains, cuffs, leather, and collars.

He slid back into his chair across from Charlie and leaned forward. A couple of empty drink glasses were on the table, and he wondered how drunk she was.

“I think this is a sex club,” he stage whispered to her, the smirk curving his lips fading when he saw her pale face. She looked at him wildly, her eyes unfocused. “How many drinks have you had, Sweetness?”

“Dunno. A few.”

Shit, he hadn’t been gone that long. Was she slamming them? “What’s wrong?”

“Let’s get out of here, please?”

He grabbed her hand and threw a wad of money on the table before dragging her out. They walked down the street, Charlie still clutching his hand, when he stopped and turned her toward him.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong with you?”

Her sweet blue eyes pierced his, and he felt the sadness from them pour into his body, washing him with sorrow he didn’t know the source of. Her baby blues grew glassy and shone with tears, and Les clutched at her face. “Tell me, Charlie. Please.”

She bit a quivering bottom lip and shook her head. “Everything, Les. Everything.” Blinking, she continued. “I need more alcohol.”

“I don’t think you do.”

She shook herself away from him and disappointment flooded his body. “Well, I may not, but I’m not going back conscious, so you’re either with me, or not.”

Well, he still wasn’t letting her drown whatever was bothering her alone, so he reluctantly followed her down the block to another dance club, where she went inside, paying the bouncer for both of them.

She was already bouncing to the beat of the music, and he was desperate to get the light shining back in her eyes, even if it was alcohol-fueled. “You feel like dancing?”

“Sure!”

If he couldn’t get her to open up to him, he’d at least watch her let go of her demons.

She pushed into a mass of sweaty bodies, and turned her back to him, wrapping his arms around her so she was flush against the front of his body, and then she started to move.

Christ, he was not going to survive tonight.

She entwined her fingers with his, and wrapped them around her body, leaving them on her stomach, directly under her breasts. Then she started writhing, rubbing her own palms along the outside of his thighs. The smell of her hair was intoxicating, a mixture of floral and fruity, and the feel of her ass as it rubbed against his ever-swelling cock was making the blood race south.

He tried to bounce along with her, managing to keep their bodies together, while his hands started roaming of their own accord. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, and he lowered his mouth to the smooth skin of her neck.

“You are so hot, Charlie,” he mumbled against the skin there, before laying a hot kiss on the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Her writhing increased and she pressed against him, letting out a small moan he felt vibrate through her body.

One hand was on her full breast, and he felt the pebble of her nipple through the thin fabric of the dress. She moaned again while his other hand moved southward, skimming her luscious thigh, tracing the hem of her skirt. She arched her back, pressing her ass into his groin, and then bent forward, touching the ground with her hands, still moving her body.

Holy shit.

If clothes were gone, he’d be buried inside her so fast, her head would spin.

His hands had a mind of their own and couldn’t resist roaming around to the amazing backside pressed against him. He squeezed the globes of flesh before grabbing her hips and pulling her toward him. Looking around through the glaze of lust he saw nobody was watching them, lost in their own worlds. One couple next to them looked like they were actually having sex. The woman was wearing a skirt and had both of her legs wrapped around the man’s waist, who seemed to be pumping in and out of her. Her face was buried in his shoulder, so he couldn’t see her expression, but the way her fingernails were digging into his back seemed a little obvious.

Uncomfortable with the temptation to touch her under her skirt, Les flipped her around so she was facing him, and pulled her body flush against his, burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair, satisfying himself with that instead. Almost immediately, Charlie began rubbing against him, her eyes closed, and Les forced his own hands to stay outside her clothes.

This was the most sexual dancing Les had ever experienced. Charlie straddled his thigh, and the warmth of her core rubbed against him. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped as he clutched her waist desperately. Her skirt had ridden up, and he watched her legs as they moved in her heels on either side of his legs.

Wishing he had her alone in their motel room, Les was helpless to do anything but rake his eyes up her body as it writhed and undulated against his.

She clutched at his belt loops, tugging on them as if her life depended on it, as her top half bowed away from him, giving him an exquisite view of her breasts, nipples puckered against the taut fabric. Her pulse pounded in the vein on her neck, and Les lowered his mouth to it, feeling her desire flow through her veins as she continued grinding against his leg.

Her eyes were closed, and he wondered where she was, if she was even with him. Was she so drunk she’d gone someplace inside her mind he’d never be able to reach? When her rhythm changed, Les realized she was chasing release, humping on his leg here on the dance floor, and the thought turned him on painfully. Helpless to do anything but watch, he saw her face contort into a mask of concentration. He pulled her back against him, feeling the crush of her breasts against his chest.

“Fuck, Charlie,” he whispered against her ear as her motions grew even more frantic. “I want to get you the hell out of here, right now.” Her hands were gripping his waist, and his went to her ass, clutching it against him. Her mouth opened against his shoulder and the heat of her breaths rivaled that on his thigh. When her thighs clamped around his, he felt her climax shudder through her as she bit into his shoulder. The pain was a superb rendition of her pleasure, and as she went limp in his arms, Les’s excitement grew at the evening’s prospects.

But first, he had to get her out of here.

Her arm snaked up his back, and he kissed her neck again before she yanked on his hair to kiss him fully on the mouth. She tasted of whiskey and coke, sweet and burning, and he realized just how drunk she was when she started working his belt right there on the dance floor.

He couldn’t do all that.

“Let’s go back to the motel room, Sweetness,” he gasped against her mouth.

She nodded, limp in his arms, and he led her out to the truck. Buckling her in, he stopped to study her. Her honey-blonde hair was tousled and her cheeks were flushed. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the orgasm, but the macho side of him chose to believe the latter. Although, when he heard her soft snoring on the ride to the motel, he realized it may have been the former.

He carried her into the motel room and laid her on the bed gently. Les locked himself in the bathroom and leaned on the sink, looking at himself hard in the mirror.

“What are you getting yourself into here, buddy? She’s made it clear she doesn’t want this with you.” That’s what her words said, anyway. Her body told him something completely different. He wasn’t one to go against a woman’s wishes, but she was sending him so many mixed signals, he wasn’t sure what to do. All he knew was that he wanted her. Badly.

She had a history though. Baggage he didn’t know about. The nightmares told him that much. And the guarded looks that flitted across her expressions at times. Although, the guardedness had been less and less the more time he spent with her, until that phone call today.

And what did she mean by she’d never spent this much time with anybody in years? Was she that much of a loner? He thought about that.

He supposed it could be true. He’d never really seen her with anybody, except her boyfriend, who was now her ex, thankfully. She lived all alone on that property she ran her business from, acres of pastures and sheds full of house pieces. If she had no family, she could be very much alone in the world.

Didn’t she need somebody? Didn’t
everybody
need somebody? He’d always believed, romantic sap that he was, that there was one person out there for everybody. He’d imagined himself finding his own special someone so many times, and he’d been burned in his quest so often, he’d almost begun to lose hope. But something about Charlie called to him—her independence, her strength, the vulnerability she hid so well.

It could have been fate that drove her up the road after his accident in west Texas. If so, that meant she was his someone, and he needed to fight to make her see it too. But how was he supposed to do that?

A whimper from the other room broke into his thoughts, and he realized she must be having another nightmare. He quickly strode into the other room and found her thrashing in her sheets. Remembering she didn’t like the motel’s bedding, he got her pillow and blanket from her things and set about making her more comfortable.

“It’s okay, Charlie. Another nightmare. It’ll be okay.” He rubbed her shoulders, and she seemed to quiet down, so he took the liberty of undressing her and himself before lying down next to her and pulling her into his arms. Her soft snores returned, and he lay there, tracing the tattoos on her arms, her armor.

He noticed faint scars under the pictures and colorful designs, and he studied them closer. They looked purposeful. He’d seen marks like them before, on the rescues at the Refuge. Had Charlie used to cut herself? Was that why she covered her skin with art? To cover the scars? There was so much more to this woman than he could probably ever know. He longed to eradicate her demons, if she’d only let him in.

Her scent wafted up to his nose, and he lay there, smelling her as she breathed deeply in her unconsciousness, her soft snores relaxing him. His thoughts continued on the same tract as before, reveling in the softness of her body against his own, wondering how he could stop the nightmares.

From Carla May’s Journal—August 1995—Age sixteen

My favorite day? The day The Man came to my room with movies and McDonalds. He’d brought me one of those kids’ meals with the toy. It was a little action figure of a raccoon or something like that. I’d never seen the movie, but The Man told me that if I kept on being one of his favorites, he might bring it to me when it came out on video. But that was a good day, mostly because of how The Man treated me, like he had when I was new. He told me how pretty I was, and brought me a new pair of shorts and some really cute sandals. It was summertime, and the house was always hot, no matter how low we set the air-conditioner.

The Man really was cute, and most of the time he took really good care of me. He was always making me feel special, whether it was bringing me an ice cream cone, or a new nail polish color, or even a joint. But this time, he came into my room and spent the whole day there with me, letting me rub his neck while we watched Speed. He sort of looked a little like Keanu Reeves, I think. His hair was dark like Keanu’s and so were his eyes, and he was sort of the same size, too.

He said he had a big job that only I could do, because I was his only girl he could trust. I was proud that he felt he could trust me that way. The thing that made this day so awesome was the cuddling. The Man sat up in bed with me and we just held each other all day while we watched movies. He put his arm around me and made me feel like I was really his girlfriend. It made me feel like I had when I was new, when he first took me from my shitty parents. It was awesome.