24. Charlotte

24

CHARLOTTE

A shiver of fear, laced with desire, runs through me at that. This is just sex—but the way he says it makes it sound like so much more than that. Like this means so much more than just the pleasure we can get from each other tonight. Like going to bed with him will mark me in some way, make me his—-and maybe even do the same to him.

But that intensity is part of what makes me want him. That need in his eyes is part of what’s turning me on, making me so wet that I squeeze my thighs together, aching for him to reach down and touch me. I want more than anyone else has ever given me, and it feels like Ivan is offering me that.

It feels like jumping off of a cliff blindfolded. But if I’m hand in hand with him, a part of me thinks I might like the rush of the fall.

I lick my lips nervously, nodding. “I want you,” I whisper, and there’s a flare of heat in his eyes as he grabs the back of his shirt, yanking it over his head in one smooth motion that makes my eyes fly open even wider than before.

I’ve never seen him shirtless before. He’s fucking gorgeous, chiseled with muscle that makes him look like he’s been carved from stone, his skin etched all over with dark tattoos, too many of them for me to focus for long and try to make out what they are. I see a siren, a sea monster, a dark bird, loops and swirls of designs covering his chest and arms, down over his hands, up to his collarbones and stopping there. Marring the swirls of black ink are the still-healing bruises on his ribs, fading to greenish yellow in the aftermath, but my eyes don’t linger there for long, either. Instead, I can’t help staring at the deep cuts of muscle leading down into his jeans, a stripe of dark blond hair running from his navel down to the button, all trails leading to the place I’m aching to see.

Ivan chuckles, a dark, hungry, almost wolfish sound, as he runs his thumb over the button of his jeans. “Impatient, aren’t you?” His voice has deepened, thickened, full of a lust that makes my skin prickle as he steps closer to the foot of the bed. “Your turn, Charlotte. Take off your top.”

There’s a command in his voice. I can feel the shift in the air, the turn from sweet and gentle to dominating, demanding. This is a different side to Ivan, and I suddenly understand what he meant when he asked if I was sure.

I could still stop this now, if I wanted to. But I can’t tell him this isn’t what I want—because the commanding tone of his voice, the way I can see him looking at me…this is all what I’ve fantasized about. What I wanted, when I realized at Masquerade that there were things I’d been missing out on all my life.

I reach down, undoing the first button of my shirt. Ivan’s gaze falls to my breasts, watching as I undo each button, that hungry look deepening with each sliver of skin that my shirt reveals. I go slowly, realizing as I do that I like teasing him. I like watching his jaw tighten as I take a little longer with each button, like seeing that muscle leap in his cheek as he lets out a sharp, impatient breath.

Reaching up, I push the sides of my shirt away, revealing the black cotton bra I have on underneath it. “It’s not very sexy,” I start to say apologetically, and before I can finish, Ivan is on the bed, his hands gripping my knees as he pushes my legs apart and leans over me.

“Never say that.” His hands slide up my thighs, pinning me to the bed, and my pulse leaps, a heady cocktail of fear, anticipation, and desire buzzing through my veins. “Anything you wear is sexy, Charlotte. Because it’s on you .”

“And what if I do say it?” I whisper, looking up at him, a dose of daring added to the mix. His eyes gleam, and his hands tighten on me, holding me in place in a way that’s clearly meant to show me just how easy it is for him.

“Do you like being punished, Charlotte?” he murmurs, raising an eyebrow. “Because I would like to punish you. If you disobey me, I would enjoy teaching you a lesson. Turning that pretty ass pink with my belt, just so I can look at it arched up in the air while I fuck you from behind.” His fingers press against my hipbones, his thumbs sweeping over my denim-clad thighs in an arc, so close to where I want to be touched and still so far away.

My breath catches in my throat. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I’ve never?—”

“I think there’s a lot you haven’t done.” His hands slide towards the button of my jeans, the look on his face is impatient, eager. “There’s a lot I can teach you.”

With one sharp motion, he flicks the button open with his thumb, yanking down the zipper. His fingers curl in the waist of my jeans and my panties together, dragging them down my hips and thighs in a smooth motion that bares me so quickly it takes my breath away. In seconds, I’m naked from the hips down, and Ivan loops his arms under my knees, spreading my legs wide so that I’m more exposed to him than I think I’ve ever been to anyone in my life.

My face flushes hot as I see him stare directly between my legs. “So wet,” he whispers, and my blush deepens. “Pretty and pink and swollen, all for me. You’re so ready, and I haven’t even started.”

He leans in, sliding down the bed as he presses my legs down to either side. “Keep them there just like this, milaya ,” he murmurs, and the way he says it sends pinpricks of heat over my skin, the roughness of his accent on the Russian endearment turning me on that much more. “Keep your legs open for me.”

My head drops back against the pillows, every inch of my body so sensitized with desire that when he touches me, a shudder of pleasure runs through me. His palms are warm on my inner thighs, sliding up, his thumbs brushing over my sensitive folds the moment before he spreads me open even more, revealing all of my most intimate flesh to his hungry gaze.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and then his tongue slides over me, and I forget how to breathe.

It feels so good. Wet and hot, long, slow strokes that seem to lick every inch of me with each pass, as he drags the flat of his tongue over my folds, my entrance, up to my clit, rubbing it over that sensitive, swollen point until I’m squirming and gasping underneath him. I reach down, dragging my fingers through his thick hair, and when I feel him groan against me, I realize that he likes it.

“Pull my hair, Charlotte,” he murmurs, rolling his eyes up to look at me as he drags his tongue over all my most sensitive spots again. “I like it rough, too. You don’t need to worry about hurting me, milaya . I’ll like whatever you do to me.”

It’s as if he’s turned another key in my inhibitions, with that. His mouth fastens on my clit, sucking at the swollen flesh as his tongue lashes over me, and I knot my hand in his hair, hips rocking against his mouth as I ride his tongue. The pleasure is overwhelming, pushing me to the edge, and as he sucks hard at my clit, my mouth drops open on a cry.

“Ivan! Ivan, I?—”

The orgasm hits me before I can finish. My hips buck upwards sharply, grinding on his face as I come hard, my nails digging into his scalp as I scream his name. It’s still pulsing through me when I feel him push two fingers inside of me roughly, curling them as he thrusts hard, still rolling his tongue over my clit until he pushes me into?—

I don’t know if it’s a second orgasm, or a continuation of the first. All I know is that I’ve never felt anything like it. I’ve never felt anything so good.

When I’m limp and gasping on the bed, my other hand knotted in the duvet, Ivan pulls back. His mouth is glistening with my wetness, his eyes dark with lust, and when he rises up on his knees, I can see the thick ridge of his cock pressing against his jeans. “Get that off,” he growls, motioning at my shirt and bra, and I can’t obey fast enough. My eyes are glued to the front of his jeans as I fall back naked against the pillows, watching as he yanks the button and zipper of his jeans open, shoving them and his underwear down his hips. His cock springs free, slapping against his abs as he strips the remainder of his clothing off, damp arousal pearling at the tip.

He’s huge. I felt him against me, but it looks bigger like this, jutting up between his hips, thick and veined and flushed. Ivan looks down at me, his expression almost feral as he moves forward, straddling my body as his hand wraps around his shaft.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he growls, his eyes raking over my bare breasts. He angles his cock down, dragging the smooth, swollen head down the valley of my cleavage, his pre-cum leaving a damp trail as he slides his cock between my breasts. I gasp, arousal flooding me, prickling every inch of my skin as he reaches down, mounding my breasts around the thick length of his cock as he thrusts hard against my chest.

I moan helplessly, unable to stop it. This is what I wanted, for a man I trusted to just take , to fuck me the way he wants to, to ravage my body for his pleasure without worrying about whether he should or not. I want to be used, to be fucked, to be allowed to do the same to the man I’m in bed with in return, and there’s no shame in Ivan’s face as he thrusts his cock between my breasts again, groaning at the sensation as his gaze flicks up to my mouth.

“I’ve wanted to fuck these pretty tits since I saw you in that blue dress the first night we went out,” he growls, his thumbs rolling over my nipples as he squeezes my breasts around his cock again. “But I want your mouth more. Are you going to open your mouth like a good girl, Charlotte, and let me put my cock in there?”

A shudder of pleasure runs through me, my hips arching at the filthy words, my pussy flooded with desire. I’m soaked, wetter than I knew it was possible to be, and I look up at him, nodding.

He lets go of my breasts, his cock still lying heavily against my chest as he reaches up, his thumb pressing against my lower lip. “Open up, milaya ,” he murmurs, pushing his thumb into my mouth. “I want to see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock. I want to feel how good your mouth is.”

I don’t actually know if it’s that good. I haven’t done this often, and never like this, on my back, with Ivan hovering over me as he angles his cock against my lips. But from the moment my lips touch the swollen head, my tongue flicking out to lap up the pre-cum pearling there, the sound Ivan makes is one of a man on the verge of coming before he’s ready to.

“God, I want to fill your pretty mouth up,” he growls, pushing the head between my lips. “I want to see my cum dripping out of your lips. But I want to come in your pussy tonight. So that will just have to wait.”

The promise of more, of all the things he has yet to do to me, makes me moan again, around the hot intrusion of his cock between my lips, sliding over my tongue as he pushes it deeper, the sound of his pleasure matching mine. He grips the headboard with one hand, the other letting go of his cock to stroke his knuckles down the side of my face, the expression on his one of taut pleasure and an affection that startles me.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “You take my cock so well. So pretty with your lips wrapped around it. Can I fuck your face, milaya ? See how far you can take me?”

He’s too thick for that. I’m sure of it. I should shake my head, tell him no, but instead, I find myself nodding, eyes wide and teary as Ivan moans with pleasure at my answer, both hands gripping the headboard now as he arches his hips upward, sliding his cock deeper into my throat as my head tips back.

And then he starts to thrust.

Slowly, shallowly, as if he’s well aware I’ve never done this before. But still, I feel myself gagging on each stroke, eyes watering, and I’m so wet, so turned on that I almost feel as if I could come without touching myself. I want to touch myself, and I reach down, my fingers sliding in the slick wetness dripping from my pussy as I find my clit and start to rub, matching the rhythm of Ivan fucking my mouth.

“Oh god. Fuck ,” he moans, hips rocking again. “That’s right. Make yourself come for me again. Come with my cock in your mouth. And then I’ll fuck you the way you need to be fucked.”

I moan something unintelligible around his cock, a god, please, yes that he can’t hear, but that I think he understands. The muscles in my thighs are tightening, that knot of pleasure in my belly unfurling, and I cry out around the thick length of Ivan’s cock in my mouth as I feel myself unraveling for a third time, the orgasm exploding through me as I come hard.

He jerks himself free of my mouth, his hand squeezing hard around his shaft as he slides down my body. “Fuck, I almost lost it,” he pants, his eyes wide and dark, and another jolt of pleasure arcs through me as I realize what he means.

The thought of him being so aroused that he almost lost control of his orgasm fuels mine, and I shudder again, moaning as he rips open a condom, rolling it down his length in a flash before he pushes my thighs wider, the head of his cock at my dripping, clenching entrance as he pushes into me.

“ God ,” he moans, gripping the headboard as he pushes the swollen tip inside. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, fucking hell —” He goes still for a moment, panting as I clench and flutter around him, the last echoes of my orgasm still rippling through me as the feeling of him filling me up already starts to prime me for another. “God, you have the best pussy I’ve ever fucking felt, Charlotte.”

I have no idea how that could be true, but the way he says it makes me believe him. I moan as he thrusts deeper, inch by inch, his cock filling me to the limit, even as wet as I am, even after three orgasms. With one last jerk of his hips, he seats himself deeply inside of me, looking down at me with lust-glazed eyes as he rocks his body against mine.

“You feel so good,” I whisper, and a shudder runs through him.

“So do you.” He reaches down, stroking a thumb over my cheek as he rocks against me again, and there’s a sudden moment of tenderness in all of the lust, a silence in the midst of the storm. I wrap my legs around his, locking him against me, lifting my hips so that we’re rocking together, and Ivan suddenly leans forward, his arm sweeping underneath me as he lifts me up and into his lap.

He runs his hand through my hair as he perches me on him, thrusting up into me with short, shallow strokes, his other arm around my waist holding me down on his cock so that every thrust makes me rub against him, his taut skin grinding against my clit. “You’re going to come on me again,” he murmurs, his hand cupping the back of my head as he starts to thrust harder. “Ride my cock like you rode me in the car, Charlotte. Come all over it while I’m buried inside of you, and then I’m going to fill you up. I’m waiting on you. Waiting to come, and god , I need to come so fucking bad?—”

He thrusts as he speaks, the words dripping like honey over my skin, sweet and sticky, his body stimulating mine with every stroke, driving me higher. I love the way he talks to me, the way he fucks me. I love everything about this, and I wrap my arms around his neck, my hands in his hair, kissing him with wild abandon as he drives us both to the edge.

I clench around him, tightening, and Ivan groans. “Right there. Yes. Fuck, baby, I’m going to come with you. Come for me, yes ?—”

His hands clutch at me as the orgasm hits, my back bowing as I grind down on him, my head falling back. I feel his mouth on my neck, my chest, the tops of my breasts as he thrusts into me hard, spilling me back onto the bed as he slams into me once more, and I feel him swell and throb as he holds himself there, coming with me as we both cling to each other.

He stays like that for a moment, panting as we both come down from the high, sweaty skin sticking to each other. He holds himself up on his elbows, enough not to crush me, but I can feel his chest heaving, and after a long moment, he rolls to one side, one hand pressed to his ribs.

“Are you okay?” I manage, looking over at him, and he nods.

“Even if I wasn’t, that would have been worth it.” He meets my eyes, that familiar cocky smirk on his lips, and I can’t help but smile back.

“That was the best sex I ever had,” I murmur, and his smirk widens.

“Good. That means you’ll want to see me again.”

I swat at his arm, letting my head fall back onto the bed. “I would have wanted to see you again, anyway.”

I push myself up, slowly, unsure of what to do next. I want to play it cool, to send Ivan home, to treat this as if it means nothing. But I know that’s not true. It did mean something. And what I want right now is to roll over and curl into him, and hold him until we both fall asleep.

“You can stay if you want,” I murmur, moving closer. Ivan looks over at me, his dark blond hair falling into his face, and I see a regretful expression there.

“I would love nothing more than to do that,” he says softly. “But I have to be up early. It’s probably better if I don’t.”

“I—yeah. Sure, of course.” I bite my lip, and I start to get up to go and shower, but Ivan grabs my arm, stopping me.

“It’s nothing to do with you, Charlotte.” He reaches up, pushing my hair back. “I want to stay. I really do. It’s just work, I promise. Next time, I’ll plan better.”

I want to believe him. God , with everything in me, I want to believe he’s telling the truth. “Okay,” I whisper. “I’m holding you to that.”

“Good.” He leans forward, giving me another kiss, before he reaches down to collect his clothes. “It won’t be long, I can promise you that. I already want you again.”

I can see that’s true, as he gets up and starts to dress. His cock is half-hard, swollen between his legs, and I see it twitch when he looks up at me, that wolfish, hungry expression still on his face.

“Soon, Charlotte.” He pulls on his shirt, coming around the bed to kiss me again, his lips lingering against mine for a long, warm moment. “I’ll text you.”

He grins at me, a promise in that smile and his dark blue eyes, and as I watch him go, I know I can’t keep pretending that this isn’t a real relationship much longer. Ivan is just waiting on me. I know that much—and all I have to do is let go of my other fantasies. Of the dark, hidden place where I can talk about all the things I think I want but that I’m afraid to ask for, with the man who calls himself Venom, who tells me all the things he wants to do to me in return.

If I want Ivan, I have to give that up. But after what just happened between us, I don’t think it will be that hard, after all. I think of the way he touched me, the things he did to me, and I have a sudden, sharp certainty that if I told him all of those fantasies, he wouldn’t look at me differently. He wouldn’t leave me because of it, or stop wanting me.

He’d have some of his own.