“DANCE YOUR BUTT OFF,” I tell Rusty, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.
She giggles.
“Then what will I sit on?” she says. “Dad, I need my butt.”
“Then don’t dance it all the way off,” I tease. “See you in an hour, kiddo.”
Before I’ve finished my sentence, she’s scampering through the door and into her dance studio, where she lines up with six other little girls, all wearing black leotards, pink tights, and high buns.
I’m very, very proud of my bun abilities. I’ve impressed many a dance mom by putting Rusty’s hair up in less time than it takes to say pirouette. I’ve even been hit on as a direct result of being able to twist a seven-year-old’s hair into that shape.
Not today, though. Today I nod at the dance moms and then I’m out the door of the studio in record time, walking toward Charlie’s apartment as fast as I can possibly go.
I want to be the only thing on her mind. I’ve been sending her innocent-but-teasing texts all day, imagining her pushing up her goggles, reaching for her phone, blushing when she reads it. I’ve spent the day wondering what she’s wearing underneath her coveralls, or if when it’s hot like this, she wears anything at all.
The thought of Charlie wearing nothing beneath her coveralls was a particularly disastrous one. I spent about ten minutes in cold storage after that, pretending that I was looking for a box of fresh Centennial hops that I know for a fact I never ordered.
I come to a red light on William Street. There are no cars coming, so I jaywalk. I’ve got my hands jammed in my pockets and I’m resolutely trying to remember the dance moves I’m supposed to help Rusty practice — plie, arabesque, sauté, which I could have sworn was a cooking term — but it’s not helping because now I’m just imagining a naked Charlie doing all those things, and it’s having the opposite of the intended effect.
I give up and just walk faster. I reach her building. I cut around back to where her staircase is. I take the steps two at a time, and at the top, in front of her door, I pause.
I take a deep breath. I brush my hair out of my eyes. I wonder, briefly, if I should have brought a breath mint, and then before I can even knock the door opens and she’s standing there.
Wearing nothing but a thin, brightly patterned robe, the neck open almost to her bellybutton, her damp curls in a high, messy bun.
“Oh good, it’s you,” she says lightly, her eyes laughing. “I dunno what I’d say if you were my landlord.”
The edges of the robe are barely covering the swell of her small breasts, her nipples tenting up the fabric, and I’m having a hard time thinking right now.
I step inside. I shut the door behind myself and lock it.
“I like your robe,” I say, finally looking her in the eyes.
I put one finger at the hollow of her throat, step closer to her as Charlie tilts her head up.
“Thanks,” she says, her voice breathy. “I just got out of the shower.”
I slide my finger down her chest, between her breasts, to her sternum, and Charlie exhales hard, puts her hands on my waist.
“And I didn’t get a shower text?” I ask, teasing. “No Hey, Daniel, I’m slippery and wet right now?”
“While you were with Rusty, not to mention the dance moms?” she says.
I move the edge of the robe over one nipple, then the other, and Charlie’s eyes flicker closed. They’re pink and pebbled, hard nubs tilted slightly upward. I flick my thumbs across both of them at the same time, sliding my fingers around her ribs.
“I can be discreet,” I say, letting my thumbs circle her nipples.
“I wouldn’t want to damage your standing in the dance mom community,” she murmurs, her breath hitching in her throat. “Mmmm.”
I’m so fucking hard right now. My jeans feel like a cage, my cock throbbing, pulsing, straining against the fabric because this is nearly all I’ve been thinking about for forty-eight hours.
“I’ll worry about my standing in the community,” I tell her. “You just worry about texting me shower updates.”
I lean down and kiss her, thumbs still on her nipples. She grabs my hips, her hands already under my shirt, pulling me in toward her. It’s a deep, hard kiss, and she moans softly into my mouth, grabs the waistband of my jeans, pulls me in, fingers an inch from my dick.
“Hey, Daniel,” she says, her voice low, her lips brushing mine as she speaks. “I’m slippery and wet right now.”
Fucking hell.
I untie the robe, shove it aside, capture her mouth with mine again as I slide my hand between her legs.
She’s not lying. She’s soaking wet, the tops of her thighs sticky, her lips swollen. The moment I touch her clit she makes a noise in her throat and bites my lip, her hand convulsively closing on the flesh of my side. If she didn’t have short fingernails, she’d leave marks.
“Jesus, Charlie,” I whisper, already sliding my fingers into her, like she’s drawing me in. There’s another little noise, one arm around my shoulders, her other hand suddenly squeezing my cock through my pants.
We’re not going to make it to her bedroom.
I push her backward, five steps, and she lands on her couch. I stand over her, fingers still in her, kiss her deeply, my thumb now on her clit. She tries to move but I grab one thigh, hold her in place.
Then I break the kiss. I plant my lips on her neck, her collarbone. I bite one nipple. I get on my knees between her legs, her breathing ragged, my mouth on her inner thigh, fingers still in her tight, slick channel, and I pull her down until she’s right in front of me.
I’m breathless, dizzy with desire, her scent filling my nostrils and driving me wild. I flick my tongue across her clit and her whole body jerks, her thighs clenching, so I do it again, then again.
Charlie grabs my hair in her fist and makes the best sound I’ve ever heard — a breathy sigh, a strangled moan, a wordless plea to lick her until she comes so hard her eyes roll back in her head.
I flatten my tongue, lick her again, harder, her hips move, and she tightens around my fingers so I do it again and again. I’m careful. Deliberate. I stroke her with my fingers in the same rhythm as I lick her, and I can feel her muscles flutter, tremble.
“Holy fuck, Daniel,” she whispers, her voice hushed, faraway. “God that feels good.”
I push her thighs further apart, bury my face in her even harder. Charlie overwhelms my senses, her hips rolling against me like she can’t control herself, her juices on my fingers, my palm, sweet in my mouth.
I don’t say anything. I lick her harder, faster. She flexes her toes against the floor, arches her back. I add a third finger and she squeezes me, trembling, gasping for air.
I never want to stop. I’m so hard I think my dick might simply turn to stone and fall off, and yet, I don’t want to stop. I want to stay here forever, Charlie grinding against me, buried in her while she gets closer and closer to her climax, whispering my name while she does.
I move, lick, coax, stroke. Charlie whimpers oh fucking please, every muscle in her body tense, ready, and I don’t stop. I want her to come undone. I need her like this, here, now.
“You’re gonna make me come,” she whispers, her chest heaving like she’s running a marathon. “Oh fuck, Daniel—”
I lick her harder, faster. I watch her throw her head back, a dent in her couch cushions, and just as she tenses, back arched, I put my lips around her clit and suck gently, fingers curling in her tight, slippery channel.
Charlie shouts, coming. Her pussy clenches so hard around my fingers that I can’t move for long moments, the bones of my knuckles grinding together as her hips lift off the couch, her feet flexed against the floor. She moans, no words, just one long animal sound.
I still don’t stop, pressure light but steady on her clit, face buried in her. I let her come in wave after wave. She rocks, shudders, gasps for air, and I feel every single tremor until finally, her waters are calm again.
The moment I pull my fingers out of her she leans forward, her mouth on mine, her tongue probing deep. I still taste like her, but she obviously doesn’t care so I kiss her deeply, rise to my feet.
Charlie just about tears my shirt off. Seconds later she’s got my pants undone, cock out, and she’s stroking it hard and fast and I have to steady myself against the back of her couch.
She tears my pants off. I collapse onto the couch, finally naked, pull her on top of me so she’s straddling my thighs, hand still stroking my cock as she’s on her knees, kissing me furiously, her hips rolling against me.
Both my hands are clutching her ass, round and firm, springy with muscle, and I pull her in until my cock is crushed between our bodies, her tits in my face.
I suck one nipple into my mouth, roll my tongue around it. Charlie moans, her hand tighter, and I suck on the other one until her breathing goes ragged again, then I find her mouth and we kiss hungrily, desperately.
“Condom,” I murmur, and she bites my lip softly. I can tell she’s laughing as her hand leaves my cock for a moment and then she’s got the foil packet in her teeth, ripping it open.
“Was that in your robe pocket?” I ask, pushing her back slightly.
She shrugs out of the robe in one fluid motion and it flutters to the floor.
“Of course,” she says, rolling the condom on. “I knew why you were coming, and I didn’t want to waste time.”
She kisses me deep, strokes me again.
“I’m a practical woman, Daniel,” she says, teasing. “Why do you think I was wearing just a robe?”
I pull her in again, lift her, my hands digging into her hips. She’s warm and ready, hands on my shoulders, curls half-falling out of her bun, and she reaches down and finds my cock and steadies it at her entrance.
This time she doesn’t say anything, just takes me in a single stroke. Her hands clench my shoulders hard enough to leave bruises as she envelopes me with a moan, her eyes going half-mast.
Fuck, it’s good. It’s better than good. She’s warm and tight, her muscles squeezing me as I push myself deeper, her hips moving as I bottom out, shifting inside her.
“God, I like this,” I whisper, her hips in my hands. We move together, her hips rolling against me, sliding me in and out, her inner architecture stroking me.
Charlie just nods. She’s got her forehead against mine, eyes closed, hands on my shoulders, the curls slipping from her bun, wild around our heads.
She moves faster. She grinds her hips against me while I’m buried deep inside her, rises onto her knees, plunges back down with an exhale that’s half-sigh, half-moan.
“That good?” she whispers, breathless. She does it again, pulling me all the way out and then sinking me deep into her slowly, deliberately. My fingers dig deeper into her hips with every stroke.
“Fuck yes,” I gasp. “Jesus, Charlie, this is perfect.”
She moves faster, harder. She grinds against me with every stroke, her eyelids fluttering as she moans and I move inside her, watching her face. We do it again and again until with every single thrust I’m hitting that spot inside her, the one that makes a breathy little oh come out of her mouth.
Finally, I let go of her hips, slide my hands up to her nipples again. We’re moving faster now, in a furious, desperate rhythm, and when I pinch both her nipples at once, Charlie lifts her head, leans it back, moans explosively.
“Lean back,” I tell her.
She looks at me, wild and breathless.
“I want to watch your tits bounce while you ride my cock,” I say, and Charlie gives me a slow, saucy smile.
“I didn’t know you’d talk this dirty,” she says, anchoring one hand and then the other on my thigh, arching backward.
I pull her back down my cock, and I can feel the jolt inside her body as I do, and she makes that oh noise again but it’s deeper, guttural.
“I didn’t know you’d fuck like this,” I say, and I’m trying to tease her but the words come out, ragged, breathless as our bodies come together again and I’m buried in her and she’s moaning, clenching, and I can barely take it.
Charlie doesn’t talk any more. She rides me faster, harder, her small breasts bouncing with every stroke, her glorious body on full display. I’ve got a perfect view of my cock disappearing into her over and over again, our bodies meeting roughly, savagely.
I find her clit again with my thumb, circle it slowly, in time with her movement and I’m rewarded by a long, low moan, her walls clamping tighter around me. I clench my teeth and gasp, self-control hanging by a thread.
“Daniel, I’m gonna come again,” she says, her voice a whisper, a moan. “Make me— oh fuck—”
I pull her down hard, slam myself into her as hard as I can. I see stars. The air feels like thorns against my skin.
“—oh fuck oh please Jesus Daniel—”
I do it again and again. I think the ceiling is cracking.
“—so fucking good Charlie—”
“—oh God oh God please, please, please—‘
Charlie comes like an earthquake, shaking and trembling and rattling, her head thrown back and her fingers digging into my legs. My vision goes white as she clenches around me but doesn’t stop riding, my thumb still on her clit, taking me in long, hard strokes.
I’m two seconds behind her. I’m a fucking feral animal, grabbing at her, hauling her in with all my might, coming and coming and burying myself in her and wanting to never surface.
I come so hard I forget where I am. I come so hard I forget who I am and only come to with my face in her neck, my arms around her. We’re both panting for breath, both sweaty, hard to tell where I end and she begins.
I lift my face and kiss her. She’s trembling. She pulls back, laughing softly, shakes her arms out, wraps them around me again. After another minute we manage to unwind from each other and Charlie collapses to the couch, limbs akimbo, a droplet of sweat slowly making its way down the hollow between her breasts.
I reach out and trace it with my thumb.
“Next time I’ll turn the AC up,” she says, flinging one leg over mine.
“I think I busted a nut,” I say. “Now I feel like I truly understand that saying.”
“That’s your pillow talk?” she teases, grinning. “We have the best sex of your life and afterward you want to talk about busting nuts?”
I slump further down on the couch, stroking her thigh. It feels like it’s a million degrees in here all of a sudden, and I’m pretty sure I’m also very sweaty.
I also think I might just melt into this couch out of sheer satisfaction, even though I know I’ve got about five minutes before I need to leave so I can be at Rusty’s ballet class at a respectable time.
“Presumptuous,” I say.
“Is it?” she muses.
“I didn’t say it was wrong,” I admit. “Just presumptuous.”
Charlie laughs, puts her arm through mine, leans against my shoulder.
“This is good,” she says. “Whatever it is.”
“I think we’re dating,” I say. “Is this dating?”
“Well, usually there are more dates,” Charlie says.
I look down at her, a smile tugging at her lips.
“This wasn’t a date?”
“This was more of a… sex appointment?” she says, thoughtfully.
“I’m not seeing the difference.”
“If it were a date, you’d have had to find a sitter, and we’d have spent a frustrated hour in a restaurant or something first,” she says.
“So we’re not dating, we’re sex appointing,” I say.
“While pretending that we’re engaged,” Charlie points out.
I glance down. The ring’s there, on her finger, glimmering away. I think she’s gotten used to it, because she isn’t constantly messing with it any more like she used to.
“Well, that was an incredible sex appointment,” I say, and kiss the top of her head. Charlie snorts.
“Do you have any openings on your calendar later this week?” she asks. The twist of her mouth says she’s making fun of me, not that I care.
“Well, Rusty’s got a piano lesson Thursday at five-fifteen,” I say. “Though that’s only forty-five minutes long.”
“We can make it work,” Charlie says instantly.
“And she’s with her mom this weekend,” I say. “Friday night until Sunday night, if you’re available.”
“I could make some time for you,” she teases.
I glance at the clock again. Now I’ve got two minutes before I need to be gone.
“C’mere,” I say, leaning down. I run my hand up the inside of her thigh, her skin soft and warm beneath my fingers. She tilts her head up and my lips find hers, her body splayed on the couch, naked and glorious.
It takes all my self-control to pull away from her, Charlie’s hand still on my face.
“Thanks for lying to a judge,” she murmurs. “It turned out pretty well.”
I kiss her again, quickly, then stand before I can be tempted further.
“You’re welcome,” I say, then sigh. I’m already running a minute late.
I hate running late.
“Be right back,” I say, and head for her bathroom.
“Daniel!” she calls.
“Yeah?”
“Make sure you wash your face so you don’t smell like vagina in front of the dance moms,” Charlie says. “Don’t go giving them ideas.”
I laugh, hand on the doorknob.
“I would never,” I say.
