The Lover's Children novel Chapter 38

MICHAEL

Charlotte obeys, opening her mouth. Emerald eyes roll up to meet mine, the green shade intense, almost iridescent. Grabbing both her wrists into one hand, I shove between her teeth then, easing in and out, enjoy the contrast of the deep red of my shaft rimmed by the pale rose of her lips.

I'm streaming, so withdrawing for a moment, I swipe myself over her mouth and face, leaving shiny stripes of pre-cum to glisten on her skin.

She’s getting noisier, always a good sign, and I strain to see what James is doing: nibbling on her clit, I think, finger-fucking her as he does so. Even if I didn’t want Charlotte’s mouth open, I doubt it would be closed as she twitches and whimpers.

The whimpers grow to moans. The twitching grows to shaking. She gasps and bucks, then with a shriek, spasms into orgasm…

That’ll do…

…

Fuck…

In under two seconds I go from controlled to inevitable. Balls tightening, groin tensing, I shoot, creaming into her still wailing mouth and over her tongue. A little cum escapes to dribble from the corner of her lips. Another shot… And a third…

… And I’m finished…

For now…

James glances up… “You done?”

“Yup.”

… then swipes over his mouth and chin. “You’re taking both of us, Charlotte.” As he rises, he’s already unzipping, releasing his cock. “Open wide.” He’s equally trigger-happy. Hands gripping into her hair, he pumps her. Less than a minute and, with a suppressed growl, he blows, withdrawing to spurt onto her face.

Done, he stands back, rezippering. “Nothing like a quickie when you’re in the mood.”

*****

GEORGIE

I check my watch.

Only fifteen minutes…

Maybe the traffic is bad…

The barman cocks a brow at my empty glass, and I push it across the counter for a refill. The door swings wide and I crane to see, but it’s not Borje. Only some stranger bringing the chill night air in with him.

You wouldn’t stand me up…

Would you?

Plenty of others have…

My arms goose and a frisson shivers through me. The strappy top I’m wearing looks good, showing off my shoulders and neckline, but perhaps wasn’t the best choice for the weather.

Sitting alone, bored and waiting, then worried and waiting, perhaps I drink more quickly than I should. I’ve almost emptied my glass again, and now my watch tells me Borje is thirty minutes overdue.

The door swings wide and Borje, flush-faced, hair tousled, all but sprints inside. “Georgie, I…”

“You're late.” I snap the words, then could bite off my own tongue…

He stalls, his face very bland, voice very calm. “My apologies, Georgie. I was held up at work. It's been a long day.”

I brandish my phone. “You might have messaged me.”

“I tried. But I was on the subway.”

As though on cue, the mobile vibes in my hand, then Pings. Incoming message…

sorry held up on my way

… and a timestamp from twenty minutes ago. Borje’s eyes ping pong between the phone and my face. His voice acid, “Believe me now?”

“Um… Yes. Sorry.” I swallow with a throat too dry. Swallow again: a gulp of my too-strong gin ‘n T…

Calm down…

The barman slides a bowl of peanuts between us. “Can I get you something, sir?”

Irritation ripples through Borje’s voice. “No, thank you. I…”

Something like panic rips at me. “Borje, I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn. I shouldn’t have. Please don’t walk out on me.”

“What makes you think I was planning to walk out?”

“We’re at a bar. You don’t want a drink.”

His eyes crinkle. “Ah, yes. I see how that would look.” Swiping a hand through his hair, he looks back to me, a smile ghosting at his lips. “What is it that brings out the temper in both of us? Georgie, I repeat, my apologies for being late. It was absolutely not my intention. Now… Perhaps could we start the evening over?”

How can I not smile? This beautiful man, asking for my company.

I want you…

And I think you want me…

I hope.

I hope…

“Perhaps we should.” I slide off my bar stool, tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Good evening, Borje. It’s lovely to see you.”

“Good evening, Georgie. And you’re looking lovely too.” He gestures to the door. “Shall we?”

“We’re not staying?”

“I simply asked you to meet me here. I didn’t want you standing out in the cold in case I… um… ran late.”

And feeling like the complete bitch I just showed myself to be, I follow him out.

*****

Double doors swing open, and a solo sax purrs its melody over the floor. Borje holds one door aside, standing back to let me through. “I hope you like my choice of venue. I enjoy music, but I also enjoy conversation. I don’t care for the places where the sound levels blast your eardrums and jellify your brain.”

“Sounds good to me.”

We’re booked in at the Blue Cat Club for the evening, a venue I know by reputation for live music, but have never visited. A server shows us to a table to the edge of the room, with a good view of the band, but not so close as to be deafened by the music.

Borje holds out my seat, sliding it behind me as I sit. “You like jazz?”