—Shelly—
I must be fucking crazy. There must be something bad wrong with me because I can’t deny the pull I feel to this man. Charlie—Boogeyman...I love him...all of him. The dark and the ugly...those go along with the sweet and funny. Those parts all make him who he is—the man that I love. The man I want to be with. The man I will do anything to be with. I know if I told anyone our story they wouldn't understand. How could they? We have a mad crazy stupid fucking love but it’s ours.
After Charlie made love to me again and again over a period of two or three days, (I lost count), I called the detective in Nashville who was working on my missing person case and told him that I took off the day of the fire with my boyfriend and that I needed a break from the pressure of school. I don't know if he bought my story, but they called off the search and reported me found safe. I haven’t called my parents yet even though I know I should. I know that even though they don’t always show it, they love me and are worried.
I promised Charlie, I’ll call them first thing tomorrow. We have other pressing matters to take care of. He must face his club. I don't know what they will do to him, but he said he will pay the cost.
I’m scared for him even though he swears I don’t need to be.
“Stop squirming.” He holds me down as he works on tattooing his property patch as he calls it on my left arm. He wouldn't tell me what he was putting on me. Said it will be a surprise.
“I’m nervous.”
“Nuttin’ to worry ‘bout. I can take care of myself.”
The tattoo gun stops buzzing and he kisses my lips. He rubs the gel stuff on my fresh ink and covers it with a bandage.
“Seriously!” I whine.
“Yup.” He grins. “You’ll see it when the time's right.”
“Ugh.” I roll my eyes and hop off the kitchen counter.
Charlie grabs my face. “Don’t fuckin’ roll your eyes at me.”
“Don’t give me reason to,” I sass, and he shuts me up by shoving his tongue down my throat. His hands quickly roam to my backside as I work on undoing his zipper.
His erection juts out and I slide down to my knees, bringing his ripped jeans down with me.
I grip his thick cock and lick the head of his shaft, teasing him.
“Damn, princess,” he hisses as I lick my palm and then tighten my grip on him.
He rocks into my mouth and I take every inch until his tip hits the back of my throat. Back and forth, in and out, he slides his shaft through the opening of my mouth as I flatten my tongue and suck.
With his fingers laced in my hair, Charlie is relentless as he fucks my mouth, thrusting faster and faster as tears well up in my eyes from the pressure building as he swells, ready to cum down my throat. He pops out of my mouth and is jerking me up to my feet.
“Only way I am cumming is in that sweet pussy that belongs to me,” he growls as he spins me around. I brace my hands on the counter as he slides my shorts down my legs. He puts a palm to my stomach and lines up with my velvet heat, ready to fulfill his need.
My man rams into me knowing how rough I like it. His hand comes up and around my throat applying a pleasurable pressure. One that says he owns me. And he does. Charlie possesses me mind, body, and soul.
I’m his and he is mine.
Nothing or nobody will ever stand between us.
At least that is what I believe until his cell phone rings.
His hand leaves my throat and I watch as his fingers reach for his phone on the counter. He swipes his finger over the screen accepting the call.
“Just saw the news, brother.” The voice on the other end of the line drips with sarcasm. “Clubhouse. Church. Be there.” His tone is menacing, and I feel weak in the knees as the call ends.
Charlie doesn't say anything and goes back to taking what he wants.
I can’t stop the fear growing in the pit of my stomach.
“What's wrong. You were fucking slick as an oil spill a second ago and now you are as dry as the Sahara.”
“Ha. Ha,” I deadpan.
“Told you, sugar tits. Nuttin’ to worry ‘bout.” His hands come up and squeeze my breasts.
“Charlie, this is serious. I watched that biker show. This won’t be taken lightly.”
A deep laughter rumbles from his belly and he slips out of me, doubling over. “Baby, that show ain’t real life. Some of it yeah—it's like that but not everything is real and true. I got this. Now do you got me?”
“Yeah, Charlie...I got you.” I stalk toward him, and grab his hand, leading him to the bedroom.