Charlotte And Eric Ch 1

It was darker in the café than I remembered, but for the most part it was just as I recalled. I hadn’t been there for some time, but it was one of those places that almost seem to welcome you back of its own accord after you have been absent a while. The smells were familiar and nostalgic to me as well; the sour tang of beer and acrid cigarette smoke, and also the fainter scents of lemon and parsley coming from the kitchen. I smiled and took another sip of my wine. Oh, I had missed this place.

I leaned back in the chair watching the stage, and saw Eric step up to the keyboard. His eyes met mine briefly and I saw for a brief second an amused smile touch the corners of his mouth. He winked at me, sat down on the barstool he had appropriated for his use onstage, put down his cigarette on the edge of the keyboard and started to play. Even though I had seen him do it many times before, I was still shocked to see him treat his instrument so carelessly. I found myself wondering if he was so careless with all of his things, but I shook my head to clear the thought from my mind. As if he had heard the thought, Eric looked directly at me again, smiled knowingly, and started a rendition of “Lovers in a Dangerous Time”.

An hour or so passed that way, with me sipping at my wine and him onstage playing up his sexuality in my direction. By the time his set was finished I was so wet that I would have fucked almost any man there, but I decided to sit tight and see if he approached me. I didn’t know Eric too well, but unless I had been very mistaken the past few times I had caught his set at the café, there was a certain amount of sexual tension between us. I was determined to break that tension tonight.

He stepped down from the stage, and I tried to be discreet as I watched him mingle with the rest of the crowd, his distinct laugh carrying over to where I sat. I saw him laughing with a curvy blonde near the bar, and when she reached over and hugged him, I felt a sudden flash of jealousy. My expression must have betrayed my emotions, because I saw him look at me over her shoulder with that knowing smile again. I caught myself and forced a more neutral expression onto my face, but it was too late. He had definitely seen my anger, and I saw him speak to her briefly and squeeze her hand before heading in my direction. I looked away, but out of the corner of my eye I could see him practically swagger as he walked over to my table. He pulled out the chair beside mine, and seated himself next to me. God, he was arrogant. I hate arrogant people, but I wanted him more in that moment more than I had ever wanted anyone else. I wanted to fuck him so hard it would wipe that smirk off his face.

“So.” he said, not finishing the sentence but just trailing off. “So what?” I replied. I hated the way he made me feel- something about being near him just made me feel like such a bitch. I hated how attracted to him I was and I hated the urge to be as vicious as possible in order to hide that attraction. “So you’ve been watching me all night.” he said, looking at me over the pint of dark red ale he lifted to his lips. “Well, being onstage means that a lot of people are going to watch you. Isn’t it kind of an occupational hazard?” I said, steadfastly refusing to look him in the eye as I said it. That brought another hearty laugh from him. “That’s too bad. I was going to ask you if you’d like to come home with me and we’ll fuck like bunnies.”

I looked directly at him this time, amused myself now. “That’s quite the terminology.” He shrugged and butted out the end of his cigarette. “Do you pick up all your dates this way?” He chuckled and said “For the most part, yeah.” I couldn’t help but respect how honest and direct about his intentions he was, and we sat that way for a few long moments- me biting my lip and deliberating whether or not to follow through with what I really wanted to do, him lighting up another cigarette and downing the last of his ale.

I stood up, looked over to him and said “All right, then. Lead the way.” He laughed, and the smug expression on his face spoke volumes. I swear that look said, “I knew it all along” far more eloquently than any words could ever have conveyed the thought. My only desire when he looked at me that way was to wipe that smug expression off his face, to surprise him and make him feel he didn’t know me half so well as he thought.

He walked out of the café a few feet ahead of me, and I followed him out into the night. It was a clear, slightly cool night. I could feel my nipples hardening under the thin fabric of my dress. He stood just outside the door and waited for me to catch up to him, and once I stood beside him he started walking again. Now that I was totally alone with him and there were no pretences between us about what we were going to do, I felt awkward. He seemed to sense how discomfited I was, and he made small talk for a while before we both fell silent. As we walked, he put his arm around my back and across my shoulders. I could smell the scents I had noticed earlier in the café, but I could also detect his own scent underneath. My breathing deepened when he touched me, and I found it harder to walk. I found myself relieved when we reached his house and stepped inside.

It was dimly lit and I could smell candle wax, and fresh paint. Glancing around, I could see a few cans of paint on the floor next to a couch covered in an old paint-splattered sheet. There was a set of very steep stairs before me, with a heavy banister. He took my shawl from my shoulders and placed his palm on my cheek, caressing me and lifting my eyes to his. He kissed me then, his tongue gently searching for mine and his hands slipping into my hair, pulling me closer to him. My arms went around him and one of my hands found a place at the base of his spine, the other around his neck. He kissed the corner of my mouth then, and started to place little kisses along my jaw line, tracing the line down to my neck. He pulled back a little, and laughed softly. He put his hands on my shoulders then, turning me, and giving me a pat on the ass he said the first and only word he had spoken since we had come inside. “Upstairs.”

My knees weak from desire, I obeyed and went up the stairs. I felt a little self-conscious knowing he was able to look up my dress as he came up the stairs behind me, and knowing that he was most likely doing just that. I smiled a little to myself, and decided that it didn’t matter. Wouldn’t he be seeing far more than my legs and panties very soon?

When I reached the top of the stairs I stopped, unsure of where to go next. He pointed towards a doorway to the left and I entered a sparsely decorated bedroom. He had an Irish war drum hanging from one of the walls, and a guitar propped up against one corner, but the bed placed squarely in the centre of the room dominated the whole of the room. It was the only piece of furniture at all. He turned on the hallway light and left the door open, giving us enough light to see each other fairly clearly but without the harsh glare that the overhead light would have given. I turned around to look at him, and he smiled again, this time without a trace of the arrogance or smugness I had noted earlier. Now his expression was one of good humour and desire, and I decided I could actually like him this way. He kissed me again, more passionately than before, pushing me back gently until I found myself seated on the bed. His tongue tasted of smoke and ale. He sat down beside me and started to unbutton my dress, one button at a time, kneeling on the floor as he moved down the length of the dress. It was an excruciating experience, because the buttons went all the way from my neckline to the hem of the dress at my ankles. I wanted to just slip out of the dress and start stripping him, but I resisted the urge and allowed him to continue without interruption. When he had gotten each button undone, he sat on the bed again and slipped it from my shoulders. I kissed him again, and when he moved behind me, probably wanting to unfasten my bra, I pushed his hands away and shook my head. He looked at me, an amused and curious expression on his face, but waited patiently to see what I would do. I began to unbutton the buttons on his shirt, much the same way as he had done with mine, moving slowly lower and kneeling on the floor before him when I got to the bottom of his shirt. I unbuckled his belt and pushed it out of the way as I undid his fly, and I could feel that he was already very hard. I wanted so badly to see it and taste it, but he grabbed me by the chin and lifted my face upwards so that I was looking at him again. He shook his head and said “My turn again.”, then offered me a hand rising. I took it, rose up and then sat down on the bed again. This time when he reached behind me to unfasten the clasps on my bra I did not protest, and when he slipped the straps from my shoulders and freed my breasts he sighed, apparently pleased by what he saw. He caressed both of them, one in each hand, and kissed my neck again. This time, as he placed little kisses along my neck, he continued lower and lower until he reached my breasts. He put one in his mouth, sucking gently, pinching the other and twisting it gently, little shocks coursing down my spine as he did it. My hands roamed down his back and through his hair as he licked me, and I shivered when his tongue moved from my breasts and down my belly.

When he had made his way down to my waist and reached the top of my panties, he paused a moment before hooking his fingers under the waistband and pulling them down in a single, steady motion. His hands moved back up my legs slowly and I leaned back into the bed as his fingers moved closer to the centre of me. When he slid a finger inside me and stroked gently upwards, I moaned in response and tried to pull back, but he grabbed me by the hips and pulled me back towards him. Gripping my hips tightly to prevent my escape, he probed me with lips and tongue, teasing me as he tasted me. When his teeth grazed my clit I cried out and tried to pull away again, but he held me fast. I would not be able to get away until he’d had his fill. Biting my lip, I submitted to his attentions, knowing no amount of pleading with him would persuade him to stop until he was ready.

At last he stopped, and when he looked up at me I saw that smug look on his face again. My chest rose and fell rapidly, I was breathing very hard. That look made me so angry, but I wanted him so badly and I found myself feeling both torn and excited by the situation. He drove me crazy and I couldn’t stand him, but everything he did felt so good. He bent down again, supposedly to taste me again, but I took a handful of his hair and held his head where it was. He met my eyes, surprised. “Now.” I demanded, “It’s my turn.” I sat up and he lay down next to me. I leaned over his chest, and kissed him deeply, tasting myself on him now as well as the cigarettes and ale. He squeezed my breast when I kissed him, and when I slid my hands inside his open shirt to take it off he sat up enough to make it possible. I pulled down his pants and briefs, as he lifted his hips to help me. His cock was released from its confines, and I could not help but lick my lips at the thought of finally tasting it. It was not enormous, but it was impressively thick. I wrapped the fingers of my right hand around it and made a few firm strokes before leaning over to kiss the tip. I heard him sigh as I wrapped my lips around the head and slowly drew its length deep into my mouth. I moved slowly, very slowly, so as to torment him as long as possible. He let me suck him and tongue him teasingly for a few moments before he made a low growl deep in his throat and grabbed my head, forcing me down on him hard and fast. He guided me up and down on his cock at a much faster pace than I had been going, almost choking me with his demands. I let him move me, and when he started to thrust upwards into my mouth and moan, I found myself squirming a little. I didn’t know how much longer I could last before I would have to beg him to fuck me. My pussy ached longingly, wanting him to use me as roughly as possible. He finally pulled out of my mouth, and I looked up at him, gasping a little and trying to catch my breath. He was breathing almost as hard as I was, and he put his hands in my hair again and gently guided me up to his face, kissing me again. He took his hands from my hair and ran them down my sides, and when he reached my waist he firmly pushed me onto my back. He rolled over on top of me, kissing my neck, then biting it hard. I let out a little cry, and he then tenderly kissed the place he had bitten. I shivered.

I reached for him, and he grabbed my wrists and lifted them over my head. His smile was cruel as he took both of them in one of his hands and pressed them down hard onto the bed. I was nervous for a moment, wondering what he was going to do now and why he felt the need to hold me down, but I told myself that it was too late to start protesting now. I was here and I would take things as they came. With his free hand, he grabbed roughly for my pussy, shoving a finger inside and stroking upwards. I cried out again, but this time my cry was muted quickly by him forcing his mouth down onto mine again. He kissed me more demandingly than he had before, and my body’s quick response to his demands both shocked and thrilled me. I whimpered, and he pulled back, giving that little laugh again. He released my hands and pulled his finger out of me, only to guide his cock into me, watching my face as he did it. I grasped at his arms when he put his hands on the bed, leaning over me, finally moving back and forth inside me. I squeezed him tightly with my hands, at the same time tightening the muscles inside of me and squeezing him there as well. I arched up against him, crushing my breasts against his chest as he thrust into me. He seemed not to care whether or not the way he moved pleased me, but only about enjoying the experience for himself and finding his own release. I felt used, and I felt excited by the feeling of being used.

He leaned in closer to me, his lips brushing my ear. I heard him mutter “you little slut, you love to be treated like a fuck toy, don’t you?” and I whimpered as he thrust into me again, impossibly hard. It almost felt like he was using his cock as a weapon, stabbing me repeatedly. “You love it, don’t you?” he growled again. I could not speak, but only whimper in response. When I didn’t answer, he grabbed a handful of my hair and forced me to look into his eyes.

“Answer me, or I’ll stop. Say you love it.”

Biting my lip hard, I took a deep, shuddering breath and forced myself to manage one word. “Yes”, I said, my voice barely more than a whisper, and sounding foreign and strange to me.

“Say you love being treated like a fuck toy.” He continued to shove himself into me roughly while he spoke, and while the last thing I wanted at that moment was to have to reply, his threat of stopping was still fresh in my mind. Swallowing hard, I said what he wanted to hear.

“I love being treated like a fuck toy.”

He laughed, and pulled back a little. He stopped thrusting, and I moaned and squirmed under him, wanting more. I was fervently hoping he would not make me beg, but I knew that if he didn’t start again soon I would. I would beg, plead; say whatever he wanted me to say to make him fuck me some more. That smug smile was back, but at this point I found I just didn’t care about wiping that smug expression off his face. All I cared about was that he continued to fuck me the way he had been, all I wanted was the intense orgasm I sensed that I could have any moment. I felt it approaching the way you feel an oncoming storm long before the rain begins. Every inch of my skin was tingling, anticipating that release.

I whimpered again, and looked at him pleadingly, hoping he would understand that I wanted more without having to plead with him for it. He smiled again, and pulled his cock out of me. I moaned with frustration, and breathing heavily reached up for him. He pushed my hands away, and grabbed my ankles. I gasped as he lifted both my legs up, pinning my ankles to my shoulders and pushed himself into me again. I had never been penetrated so deeply, and I could not help but let out a sharp cry as he hit a place inside me that had never been touched before. The sensation was so intense that I bit my lip hard enough to bring tears from my eyes. He began moving faster, and varying the depth of each stroke so I never knew whether or not he would strike that deep, secret place at any given moment. Every time he hit it, I cried out again and I would feel my pussy spasm sharply.

My hips began to ache from being held in that unfamiliar pose, but I dared not ask him to change position. Every time he would thrust a little deeper I would have the most exquisite jolt of agony in my hips and the most intense shock of pleasure inside me. Just when I thought I could not possibly bear any more, he withdrew and released my ankles. I sat up on the bed, still aching for him and needing more, but wanting to catch my breath. I gasped, enjoying the simple feeling of breathing for a moment and trying not to think about the ache between my legs.

Eric rose from the bed and went to the closet. I watched him with interest, noting the way the muscles in his back moved when he reached into the closet and took something from a hanger. He turned around, two leather belts in his hand. I felt a prickle of mingled fear and anticipation as he walked back towards the bed. His cock was at half-mast, and I stared at it hungrily. I wanted to suck it again, and I stared at it, imagining how it would grow rock-hard again in my mouth. He snapped the leather belt in his hand, surprising me out of my reverie. I looked up, startled and a little nervous, and even a little embarrassed that I had been caught staring at him that way. The commanding look in his eyes thrilled me and I felt myself growing very wet again, and resisted the urge to wriggle. I shivered, the way he was scrutinizing me was unnerving and I was a little scared of him at that moment, but I also felt that greedy little pull inside my belly that always gets the best of me.

He sat down on the edge of the bed next to me, and reached for my cheek with his hand. I flinched, not knowing what it was he was planning to do to me. He looked a little surprised when I flinched, even a little hurt, and his expression changed. He smiled at me gently, caressing my cheek tenderly. All conceit and arrogance was gone from his visage and he said “I won’t do anything to you don’t want me to do, and I won’t hurt you. Do you trust me?”.

I bit my lip, and looked up into his eyes, saying nothing. I searched his face for any reason I could find to deny him, but I found none. My mind was telling me that whatever game he wanted to play, I really didn’t know him well enough to allow, but my body and my heart both said differently. He did not speak, but allowed me to watch his face carefully for any hint of malice, only returning my gaze with a calm, steady expression. I closed my eyes tight, searching inside myself for a moment, thinking, “you can say no”.

That thought, the knowledge that this was a choice and if I submitted to him it would be an act of my own free will was what finally freed me from any fear of him. I opened my eyes and met his, and nodded.

He needed no further reply. He smiled, and stood up. “Get on your hands and knees, then.”

I obeyed, wondering what it was he was going to do. I felt a momentary flash of worry when he moved in behind me and grasped my right arm by the wrist, but it was more brief than a bolt of lightning, immediately quelled by that pull of desire deep in my belly again. He wrapped one belt twice around my wrist and my right leg, binding them together, then cinched it tight. Before that could even properly register in my mind, he roughly seized my left wrist and did the same. I was bound and could not move much at all.