Russ (18+) | ✔

9

Russ

Dennis Grimes was an overall shit head, who did not deserve his job. From what I had seen, everything was being done by Johann and his superiors. He was just the face. The pale, chubby, wrinkly, face of the operation.

"Well I must say, you guys thought of everything," Dennis remarked as he looked over the notes I had gotten Charlotte to agree to before she fell asleep.

I woke her up to bathe her, but after that, she was out like a light, still drooling and not wanting me to touch her.

"I especially love clause six, 'Nicknames will not be given to genitalia. And sexual relations will be conducted solely for pleasure with no intent of procreation.' I'm guessing this was your idea?"

"Cut the crap, Dennis. Let's get this over with," I grumbled my reply.

"Alrighty. You have a fax machine, yes," he asked, pulling out his phone to take said photo.

"Yes," I hissed, jaw clenching in annoyance the longer I was around him.

The man's aura was pure douchebag.

"Okay. Go wake up Charlie."

I gritted my teeth in unwelcome anger. He hasn't called her by her name since I've met him.

"Charlotte," I hissed through my teeth, practically seething as I walked towards my bedroom.

There, in my bed, was my woman. My Charlotte. She lay naked, sleeping soundly as she was curled into the fetal position snoring softly.

I couldn't help the smile on my face as I went to wake her, brushing away the tangled curls that covered her face.

"Noooo," she moaned, turning so that her exposed backside faced me. Resisting the urge to ogle her when she hadn't the ability to cover herself, I couldn't stop myself from examining the small orchid tattoo on the small of her back.

I had seen it before, yet I'd never gotten the chance to look at it up close.

It was detailed, innately intricate, and extremely colorful. Almost as if the artist hadn't outlined it at all.

"Charlotte," I whispered, brushing my hand over the tattoo.

"Blue," she moaned, arching away from my hand.

Chuckling, I pulled her up into my arms where she stretched out like a feline.

"Seriously m'sore. I can't go again," she whined, curling into a ball, nuzzling her face into my shoulder.

"Charlotte Cecilia Woods, wake up," I murmured in her ear, standing with her on my arms.

She moaned, whatever words she said, muffled by my shoulder.

Rolling my eyes at her stubbornness, I stood with her in my arms and walked into my closet. "Charlotte Mercer wa—"

"That is so not funny," she whispered, voice still groggy, slipping out of my grasp, only to realize that she still needed my help to stand. Glaring at me as I slipped my arm around her waist, Charlotte pulled back slightly to laugh, "This is just for the cameras Russ. You know that, right? The sex is good or whatever, but when those six months are up, I'm gone!"

Right. Forcing my face to be void of any emotion, I nodded, forcing a smirk. Of course, she doesn't want to be with you idiot, she's been trying to make you less of a man whore.

"Doesn't make you any less mine, Candy," I remarked, lightly slapping the side of her ass cheek.

"Whatever. Do you have any clothes I can wear? Since you ruined my sweater?"

"You, ruined your sweater. I only aided in the process," I smirked, remembering her momentary disgust as I removed her sweater and washed her hair that had been drenched in her ejaculate.

"Yeah, yeah. We also need to get some of my stuff in here. I'll sleep in the guest room –well one of them anyway– and we'll just go to the each other's room when we're horny," she shrugged, lazily resting her weight against me.

"Or," I began, fighting back the anger that threatened to show in my tone. "You could stay in my bed, our bed."

Charlotte snorted, shoving at my chest. "Why do you keep doing that?"

As she asked the question, I picked up a clean navy blue t-shirt of mine that had been folded on the shelf.

"Doing what?" I asked as I pulled the shirt over her head, walking us further into the closet to grab her a pair of sweatpants and socks.

"Treating this like it's something it's not," she stated, leaning forward to rest her hands on the wall as I insisted on sliding the sweatpants up her legs.

From my position, kneeling behind her, I had an unobstructed view of her bare core and her firm ass cheeks. Unable to help myself, I gave her right cheek a little nip, laughing as she gasped and pushed her hips forward. Her tanned skin quickly turned a beautiful pink where I had bit her.

"What exactly is this," I asked, returning to our previous conversation as I finished pushing the sweatpants up, not without a bite to her left cheek.

"This is an agreement, oomf," she let out a small grunt as I allowed her to fall to the floor. Turning her over so that she was sitting on her bottom, I began putting her socks on.

I shook my head and smirked. "Candy baby, this is a relationship. And we must act accordingly.

"But we aren't really together. I mean, it's not like you actually want me," she shrugged, this time standing on her own, albeit a bit wobbly.

"Oh, baby you have no idea what I want."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Only then did I realize the weight of my words. I could tell Charlotte what was on my mind and risk her running for the hills, or say something so douchebaggy, that she takes even more convincing to reciprocate my feelings. I quickly decided to do something that was rather in between.

"It means that I really wouldn't mind having you in my bed, all the time. Just you," I responded huskily as I stood.

Holding out my hand, I waited for her to place hers in my grasp, and when she did, slowly with hesitation, I smirked, walking us into the kitchen.

Progress.

😊✌