Charlie moves back down her body, inching the sweater up toward her chest in the process, which unfortunately obscures herview of him as he takes a minute to suck and lick at her nipples before continuing downward. In a way, not seeing him is almost better, allowing her to focus on the sensation of his warm breath and his hot mouth and... oh god, yes, his wicked tongue. Because beneath how good it all feels, Gretchen is still terrified that all of this marks the end. That despite his willingness to overlook it right now, Charlie will ultimately be able to see how much she’s still holding back. What if he thinks she’s only doing this to win him over, and not because it’s truly what she wants with every fiber of her being? Once upon a time, Gretchen would have been okay with him thinking that, thinking whatever, as long as he gave in to her. But now she needs him to know that she’s in this for the right reasons. She needs to tell him that—
Oh god.His mouth is a fucking miracle, and his beard brushes deliciously against her inner thighs, and it’s like he’s slowly unraveling the ball of need low in her stomach while simultaneously getting it more and more tangled up in her feelings.
“Please, Charlie,” she hears herself beg. She isn’t sure if she wants him to stop or keep going. As the pleasure climbs, it feels unlikely she’ll survive either outcome.
Then one finger slides inside her, soon joined by a second. He isn’t exactly gentle as he moves faster in response to the sounds she makes, and Gretchen wonders if Charlie is aware of what he’s asking of her. Because it feels like he’s asking for not just her release, not just her honesty, but her whole heart too. And she wants more than anything to hand it over on a silver platter, let him examine it, and decide if it’s worthy.
He crooks his fingers and finds the right angle to reach the spot that sends electricity shooting through her limbs. It’s the exhilaration of cresting the hill on a roller coaster, almost too muchsensation but all of it thrilling. Yet she knows that this roller coaster is destined to crash instead of seamlessly pulling back into the station, and everything she’s held inside her for so long is going to release with the physical tension. It’ll spill out all at once—the loneliness, the guilt, the desire to be seen and wanted for who she truly is, and, most of all, the fear. The fear of not being enough, of being left, of Charlie never believing her about the curse—and she finds herself arching, twisting the sleeves of the sweater as she fights against the inevitable. He lifts his head, and his eyes latch onto hers over the bunched sweater, watching her inch ever closer to that precipice, as if he also suspects that they’re on the edge of something bigger than an everyday orgasm. Gretchen shuts her eyes, hoping that it will somehow save her.
His head dips back down, and she gasps, “Wait. No. Stop.”
Charlie immediately ceases and sits up. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I’m great. I just...”Don’t want to be alone anymore. Especially not in this.“I need to have you inside me.”
He hesitates for only a moment before he moves his way up her body and frees her from the sweater, leaving it tied to the headboard. His mouth falls on hers as he kisses her deeply, the taste of her honesty on his tongue kindling a newer, more intimate desire. His words are a whisper against the sensitive skin beneath her ear: “You’re sure?”
“Yes. I’m so sure. Please.”
Her eyes flutter open to find him watching her. “Okay. Wait here.”
When he returns with a box of condoms from his room, he kisses her again, hard, making her moan, before slipping out of his sweatpants. Gretchen takes in the delicious sight of Charlie’s naked body, all of the parts of him she’s dreamed about finallythere for her eyes to feast upon. He’s beautiful, with colorful art climbing up one arm, those willow leaves draped over his shoulder like a signal that this is a place where she can rest. And it hits her anew: This man, so strong and full of life, so stubborn and goddamndecent, is in grave danger. That rise and fall of his chest as he prowls over to her again? The thump of his pulse that she feels against her hand when she lays it on the side of his neck? Those things are so much more delicate than he understands.
She imagines the tanned skin beneath the bright colors of his tattoos transformed into blue-white clouds. He would be so miserable haunting this place. And he wouldn’t last a week with Everett as his sole companion, much less an eternity. For an absurd moment, she imagines them dividing the property down the middle with pretend duct tape, Charlie declaring that they’ll be keeping to their respective sides for the next several centuries.
She can’t let him come to harm. She has to do whatever it takes to make him believe her.
Except, she realizes suddenly, that this has never been about what she’s willing todo. It’s about what she’s willing to give up. Is she willing to lose everything to keep Charlie safe?
Yes.
She took a gamble on Lawrence and lost, but she understands now that it’s because he never truly saw Gretchen. He saw the person she pretended to be, and finding out that wasn’t who she was deep inside was a shock. But with Charlie... he spotted the real her beneath all of her strategic outer layers the moment they met. And yet he’s still here with her, touching her, wanting her.
Charlie positions himself behind her on the bed, running his rough hands over her body, raining kisses over her skin. His hard cock nudges against her as he guides her to her knees. Warm lipsrest on the spot between her neck and shoulder for a moment. “Are you sure?” he asks again. His voice is so gentle that it breaks Gretchen’s heart into slightly smaller pieces than it was already in.
She doesn’t know if he means about the sex, or about what she’s decided she’s going to do, but the answer is still the same: “Yes.” It’s as if he reads her mind or hears it in her tone how much more difficult this will be if she has to look him in the eye, so he eases her down onto her stomach, flat against the bed, parts her legs, and enters her from behind.
The slow, tight slide of him into her, the weight of his body pushing hers into the mattress, makes her reconsider for the briefest second. There’s a chance, of course, that he will stop, that he will leave, once she starts talking. He has every right to change his mind at any time, but she hopes with everything she’s got that he won’t. She would hate to lose the delicious sensation of Charlie Waybill inside of her so shortly after discovering it. But this is more important than her pleasure. It’s worth the risk. Something she wants to give him even more than she wants to give him her body.
“My name isn’t really Gretchen Acorn.”
She finishes the sentence just as he’s pulled halfway out. He stills.
“It’s Gretchen Eichorn. Legally, at least.”
No movement. Her heart races in panic.He’s going to stop. He’s going to leave me. And then this place. And then this mortal plane.Except he doesn’t stop. Charlie bends his head forward and kisses her shoulder. Once. Twice. And thrusts back in with enough force to send her an inch up the bed. The sensation of him so deep inside her paired with the friction of the knitted afghan against her bare skin makes her gasp.
Again, he stills. And it takes a moment for her to realize that he’s waiting for her. It’s a request for more.
“You were right about me from the beginning. I’m a fraud. A con woman. A bullshit artist.”
The answering thrust is even harder and she moans.Okay. So this is how they’re going to do this: She gives him information, he transforms her honesty into their mutual pleasure. It might feel transactional with someone else, but with Charlie it feels almost like absolution. Her reward for opening herself up fully to him at last is this physical validation that she’s done something good. Something right. He’s wordlessly praising her with his every movement. It is, without a doubt, the hottest, most intimate moment of her entire life.
So she gives him more.
“Back in DC, I pretended to talk to the dead in exchange for money.”
And more.
