[Warning: This chapter contains Graphic Mature Content]
Suddenly, it hit me why Charles had said he hated my song that day.
Could it be because I'd admitted I'd written it for Niklas?
I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. My lips parted, the lyrics slipped out, and I kept my eyes open this time. I didn't want to be startled again like before.
Whenever I need you, you're out of touch.
The words you're telling me, they're rough.
No matter how many times I've tried to be tough.
I'll never be good enough.
...
Charles watched me closely the entire time, leaning against the sofa. I averted my gaze, focusing solely on recalling lyrics from long ago. Loss washed over me as the melancholic melody returned. When I finished, the room sank into silence.
I glanced at Charles for his reaction. In the depths of his silver eyes, I saw sadness mirroring the heaviness in my chest.
"What made you write that song?" he asked.
I hesitated, unsure if it was too personal. "My mother, and how she made me feel growing up," I admitted. "You?"
"Me?"
"You seemed affected. You must've experienced something similar."
He fell quiet, his gaze locked on mine. "My father," he said at last.
Something in my chest clenched at the way his eyes lowered as he said those simple words. "I'm very sorry," I murmured.
Then his hand came up, resting gently against my face.
My eyes widened.
He leaned closer.
"Don't be sorry," he said. The stormy silver of his eyes calmed to still water.
My shoulders trembled faintly.
His lips curved.
"Kaija," he murmured, "you're shaking."
Of course I was.
I wasn't used to seeing him this soft, this yearning. The alcohol burning through my veins wasn't helping.
He tilted his head, his thumb grazing my cheek, his eyes amused. "You're scared of me?"
"I'm not scared of you," I whispered. "I'm deciding whether I should kiss you first, or wait for you to kiss me."
He froze.
His eyes widened.
A heartbeat later, he leaned in.
That sweet and tangy taste of the wine was still lingering on his lips.
Unlike his usual icy composure, when he kissed, his lips turned into flame, his hand growing restless very quickly — hungry and demanding.
As he sucked on my lower lip, his hand slid up my back, lowering me against the sofa. His body came over mine, pressing me deeper into this relentless pursuit.
His other hand moved to my neck, seizing it, before sliding down my chest. His fingers dug into the flesh of my breast, kneading, squeezing.
There wasn't much I could do. Under the mercy of his hands and lips, my entire body loosened, gasping heavily for air.
I reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one.
"How impatient," he whispered playfully between kisses.
"It's you who's making me impatient," I replied, sucking on his lower lip.
The words seemed to excite him. He slid both hands under my sweater, his cold fingers gliding up the skin of my abdomen, pushing it up and off my body in one smooth motion.
Once the sweater was gone, his fingers easily found the front hook of my bra, snapping it open. Then his lips suddenly left mine. He straightened up, looking down at me lying bare before him, his face unreadable as his gaze unhurriedly swept over my exposed skin.
At this point, I wasn't even feeling shy anymore. The alcohol was doing its job.
I met his gaze, my tone turning playful. "Like what you see?"
"Very." His voice was now a guttural growl.
"Can you help me with the rest?"
His face stiffened, then his lips curved. "With pleasure."
The jeans left me in one decisive pull.
"I didn't know you could be this dangerous," he murmured, his hands sliding up the skin of my legs all the way to my hips.
"We're barely even starting," I said playfully, glancing down at him.
He gave me a playful smirk back.
From my point of view, Charles was now a lethally seductive creature, his silver gaze fixed on the area between my legs, his fingers poised under the strings of my panties. Still, he showed no intention of taking them off just yet.
"What are you waiting for?" I asked.
"For you to ask," he said, his fingers teasing against my skin.
I scowled. "Are you planning on driving me crazy?"
"I'm planning on even more."
With that, he pressed his lips against my private place, sucking gently, teasingly.
The thin fabric between his tongue and my flesh barely concealed the sensation, yet it did a wonderful job of testing my patience.
"This... this is torture," I gasped, digging my fingers into his soft hair, pressing him closer.
"Mm-hmm," he continued, totally unbothered by my struggles.
Actually, I bet he was thoroughly enjoying my response to the merciless assault of his tongue.
"Come on..." I begged. "Don't... don't do me like that."
"What should I do then?" He stopped, looking up at me, smirking.
"Take it off me," I blurted, no shame left at this point. "Suck me deeper."
The mischievous look on his face said it all.
That was exactly what he'd been waiting for.
Soon enough I was left with nothing but my own bare skin.
Before the sensitive skin on my private part could adjust to the cool air of the room, his warm breath pressed in.
My spine arched back, my legs spreading wider on instinct as the slick heat of his tongue swept from the bottom to the top of my pussy. Then his lips closed in, kissing and sucking gently, his tongue flicking against my sensitive spot.
Needless to say, I lost my mind. The room filled with nothing but my stifled moans and the wet sounds of his mouth against my skin.
Having experienced countless painful sessions with Niklas, the intense pleasure Charles was giving me was unimaginable, if not unbearable. I couldn't even tell if it was me leaking uncontrollably or him drenching me with saliva from his tongue. The wetness was unreal.
As if sensing I was about to shatter, Charles suddenly stopped.
Before I could gather my thoughts, his fingers slid inside.