Praise (Salacious Players’ Club)

Charlie

When I walk inside, my sister and mom are sitting on the couch. There are red blotches around Sophie’s nose and cheeks, a telltale sign that she’s been crying.

“Oh, Soph, I’m sorry,” I say, dropping onto the sofa next to her. It’s only 1:00 p.m. and already today has been exhausting. There’s still so much to process. Some creep told my dad about me at the club. My mom and dad both know about Emerson and the club and me being auctioned off—insert mortification. And the crème de la crème of the day had to be Emerson Grant proclaiming his love for me in front of everyone. Kind of hard to care about the other stuff when that plays over and over in my mind.

“It’s okay,” my sister mumbles as she rests her head against my shoulder. “I hope you’re not mad that I called Emerson.”

I lift my head and stare at her in surprise. “Mad? No, of course not. You did the right thing.”

“Did you see him slam Dad against the wall?” she asks, hiding her smile as she pinches her lips between her fingers.

Mom and I both laugh. “That was pretty cool,” Mom says.

“I’m sorry for not telling you…” I add, mostly to Mom, since Sophie sort of figured it out on her own. And I guess this might be a conversation more suitable in private, but I like the idea that we don’t keep secrets from each other. At least not anymore.

My mom rubs my knee as she says, “It’s okay, honey. It’s not like I couldn’t tell how old he was. I had my suspicions, but I trust you, Charlie. You’re a strong, smart girl, and I know you can take care of yourself.”

The emotion in my throat stings as I force myself to swallow and not cry. “Thanks, Mom.”

Then, she ruffles my sister’s hair. “And neither of you have to see him or face him until you’re ready. I’m sorry he scared you.”

“It’s okay,” Sophie mumbles.

“Is anyone else in the mood for PJs and movies? I think we need a lazy Saturday.”

“You’re the only one still in PJs,” Sophie says with a laugh.

“So go put yours on. I’m gonna cue up some comfort Disney on the TV and Mom will make the snacks.”

“Sounds good,” Mom replies, jumping up and heading to the kitchen.

Grabbing the blankets from the basket, I curl up next to my sister with my mom on the opposite side, and we escape reality for the next few hours, singing along to our favorite princess movies and trying to forget about today and all of its drama. As much as I want to just shower and go straight to Emerson’s, I need to just be with my family for a while. I need to know they’re okay.

About halfway through the second movie, there’s a knock at the front door. I peer back to see Beau’s shaggy brown hair through the curtains. I let out a heavy sigh. If he’s here to give me shit or talk about this any more, I’m really not in the mood.

“I’ll talk to him,” I say, standing with a sigh.

“Don’t take his shit,” my sister says with a bright smile, and my mother’s jaw falls open.

“Sophie! Watch your mouth.”

I’m still smiling as I open the door. Beau is staring at his feet before lifting his head to look at me.

“Hey,” I greet him, which he then replies with his own lazy, “Hey.”

Stepping onto the front porch, I close the door behind me. But he doesn’t talk right away, and I can tell he’s uncomfortable. If he wants to hate me or be mad at me, I’m willing to let go of our past and our friendship, but if Emerson and I are going to give this a try, I need Beau on my side.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quickly I almost don’t catch it.

“What?”

“For being a shitty boyfriend… I’m sorry,” he mutters. His hands are stuffed in his pockets as he averts his gaze from my face. “I never should have cheated on you, and I should have been nicer to you, and I should have known you were unhappy.”

Oh, sweet Jesus, please don’t let Beau be saying all of this in hopes of getting me back. I do not think I can handle that level of insanity.

“Thanks…” I say with uncertainty as I wait to see where this is going.

“I just want you to be happy, Charlie. You deserve to be happy.”

A huff escapes my lips. “Even if I’m with your dad?”

He lets out a loud sigh, and I can tell he’s struggling with this, but he still manages to nod. “Yeah. Even if you’re with my dad.”

“I hope you mean that.”

“After what I saw today… I don’t know I just…see things differently now. Like it’s the real thing. He obviously deserves you more than I do.”

The radiating sadness on his face draws me forward, and I take his warm, tan cheeks in my hands. “Stop beating yourself up, Beau. You’re loved and you’re young and you’ll be fine. You’re gonna find somebody who makes you feel good, someone as happy as you wish I was with you.”

Finally, his eyes lift and find mine. When I pull him into a hug, he relaxes against my body. “Is Sophie okay?” he mumbles into my shoulder.

“Yeah, she’s fine.”

“Good. I know she probably hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” I reply with a roll of my eyes.

“She just scowled at me through the window,” he says with a laugh, and I turn in time to see the curtain shutting. We both laugh for a minute before I turn toward him with a sad smile.

“Do you want to come in and watch Tangled with us?”

“Tempting…but no. I think I’m gonna head home. Besides, I just left my dad’s and I’m pretty sure he’s gonna call you or want to see you.” I don’t miss the look of disgust that flashes across his face.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he spent the last two hours telling me how much he loves you and isn’t going to wait for my permission to date you…openly.”

I freeze. “He said that?”

“Yep.”

No more hiding. No more lying to Beau or waiting for his approval. It’s real this time.

I must show my surprise because he just claps me on the shoulder as he says, “I’m gonna go then.”

“Bye, Beau,” I stammer.

Then he’s in his car and driving away, and I’m practically running to my shower. When I get out, I almost reach for my pencil skirt and blouse, but think better of it. When I go back to Emerson’s, I want to go as me. He has to take me as Charlie, if he wants me as Charlotte.

I’m shaking in my black Doc Martens as I knock lightly on Emerson’s front door. It feels like a step backward to be here as a guest. I’ve walked through this front door almost a hundred times over the last three months, but this feels almost like metaphorically starting over, redefining whatever this is. A second chance to do this right.

It doesn’t change the fact that I’m craving his nearness like I need it to survive. When he finally pulls open the door, I take in the sight of him, standing on the other side in the same blue slacks and tight gray shirt he had on earlier, but now it’s unbuttoned at the neck, revealing a patch of chest hair I know all too well.

Just being in his presence makes everything in the world feel right. That clusterfuck of a morning is a distant memory, swept away as we stand here and bask in the sight of each other. And while there are a hundred things to say, there is also nothing left to say, no words that will make this situation make sense beyond I want you, I need you, I love you. And that’s all that matters to me.

As if he can read my mind, he does exactly what I want him to do. Reaching a strong hand out, his grip latches onto the back of my neck, pulling me toward him until there isn’t an ounce of space between us. Then his mouth is on mine, his lips devouring my lips, and his tongue finding its way to mine until we are fused.

His kiss does not take or claim or steal anything that I’m not willfully giving. He grunts low and gravelly into my mouth as his other hand finds my lower back and molds me against his tall frame. The same hand creeps lower, squeezing my ass hard and making me yelp into his mouth as he lifts me, and I wrap myself around him.

He carries me inside, slamming the door behind him. He tries to make it up the stairs, but we are too desperate, and I’m clawing at his shirt as he sets me on the steps, kneeling in front of me.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he groans, digging his hand in my hair and grasping my scalp as his mouth trails down to my neck.

“I missed you so much,” I reply, pulling open the buttons of his shirt, so I can reach his skin because I need to feel him. And it doesn’t matter that we just saw each other last night and I felt his mouth on me less than twenty-four hours ago, because it wasn’t like this.

When I finally have his shirt undone, he quickly shrugs out of it, giving me the full, uncovered view of his body, and I wrap my hands around his waist, kissing my way down from his chest to his waist. There’s a low vibration through me from his groan as I lick my way across his stomach, teasing the area just above his belt.

“Get naked for me, Charlotte. I want to see my girl.” He takes me by the chin, lifting my face until I’m smiling up at him. His girl.

“Yes, Sir,” I reply sweetly. Then I move deftly to pull off my own shirt.

At the first sight of my breasts, he drops his hands from his belt and reaches for me, peppering my body with kisses and ravaging each side of my chest until I’m gasping for air.

“I want to take my time with you, Charlotte,” he murmurs against my skin. “But I can’t help myself when I see you. You make me fucking crazy. Now I just want to come, and I want to do it inside you.”

“Yes,” I gasp as I tear at the button on my black jeans. As soon as I have my zipper down, he grabs me by the waist.

“Turn over,” he commands, dropping me on my knees a few steps higher and tearing my pants down my legs almost violently. A loud gasp slips through my lips when I feel his mouth on my back, trailing his wet, warm kiss downward until he’s spearing me with his tongue, groaning against my sex hungrily. Lapping at my clit in a frenzied daze, he takes me to the edge of bliss before pulling away and shifting his own pants downward.

“You’re mine, Charlotte. This pussy is mine, understand?”

“Yes,” I shriek, pressing my hips backward, searching for him—his mouth, his hands, his cock, anything—but he holds me at bay. Turning back, I see him stroke himself languidly, staring at my exposed cunt with lust in his eyes.

“Tell me you’re mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” I gasp, clutching the wooden step between my fingers, turning my knuckles white. “I don’t want anyone but you. I’m yours and you’re mine. My…Sir,” I cry out.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, and without warning, he fills me, a hint of pain laced with pleasure. I scream while thrusting my hips backward, trying to take more, as much as I can get until I have all of him and he has all of me.

His hands land harshly against the stairs next to mine, and he covers my body, thrusting inside with each rough cant of his hips. The hot skin of his chest is against my back and his breath is in my ear. With every smack of his hips against my ass, I let out a breathy mewl of pleasure, mixed with his heavy grunts.

He’s fucking me fast and hard until we are moving as one toward our climax, and when I scream with my release, he groans and pounds into me one last time, my name on his lips as he comes.

Before I have the chance to collapse onto the steps, he pulls me upright. His cock slides out of me, cum dripping down my legs, as he turns me until I’m facing him.

“I love you, Charlie,” he whispers into my mouth, sealing his words with a languid kiss. And I bite onto his bottom lip, making him feel the intensity that’s boiling inside me.

When our mouths part, I lick the teeth marks on his bottom lip before whispering in return. “I love you too.”

And it’s all that needs to be said between us. No more dirty secrets or stolen moments, just this raw expression of everything we’ve felt over the last three months. Leaving the clothes we shed on the stairs, he carries me to his bed and makes good on his promise to take his time with me, knowing he finally has all the time in the world.