Chapter Text
Jeffrey nudged the door shut behind them with the heel of his boot, the muted click echoing faintly in the narrow entryway, and placed her shoes that he had carried aside. The air inside was warm, holding the faint scent of coffee and something woodsy— cedar, maybe.
“Coat first,” he said gently, shifting her just enough so he could slide it from around her shoulders. He hung it neatly on a hook near the door before doing the same with his own, then, without missing a beat, adjusted his hold on her and carried her farther in.
Charlotte’s eyes flicked over what she could see from her vantage point—wood floors, low amber lighting from mismatched lamps, a battered but inviting sofa with a knitted throw carelessly draped across it. There were books stacked in uneven piles along the coffee table and by the wall, a record player with an open sleeve resting on top. It was warm in a way that was entirely him—unpretentious, lived-in, but with little details that told her he cared about his space.
“I approve,” she said softly, tilting her head up to catch his eye.
He grinned. “That’s good. I’m pretty sure you’d tell me if you didn’t.”
“Of course I would.”
He chuckled and carried her toward the sofa, lowering her carefully until she was sitting, her ankle propped gently on a folded cushion. Then he crouched in front of her, the same way he had on the street, only now with the luxury of proper light.
“Still tender?” he asked, his voice that deep, even tone had been making her shake and shiver all night.
“A little,” she admitted, her cheeks heating when she realised how willingly she let him tend to her. “I suppose I’ll allow you to continue playing the gallant hero.”
His eyes flicked up at her, amused. “Suppose you’ll allow it?”
“Yes,” she said, letting a faint smile tug at her lips. “But don’t get used to it. I’m not in the habit of letting anyone take care of me.”
His gaze lingered on her then —quiet, thoughtful— like he was remembering something. “I know,” he said, softer now. “That’s why I like it when you let me.”
Something in her chest tightened— half surprise, half something far warmer.
Jeffrey caught her small gasp, grinned and offered her a wink before he disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, his boots soft against the wood, and returned with a small towel, an ice pack, and a glass of water.
“Here,” he said, handing her the glass first. “Hydration. We’ve both had enough drinks to float a small boat.”
Charlotte took it, still watching him as he knelt again in front of her. He folded the towel neatly, resting it between her ankle and the ice pack before setting it gently in place. The first cold shock made her flinch, and his hand immediately steadied her calf.
“Easy,” he murmured, the word slow and low— half comfort, half command.
The sound of it slid right into her, warm in spite of the ice just as his touch was. She sipped her water just to distract herself, but it didn’t help much— not when he was this close.
“Better?” he asked without looking up, his palm still wrapped loosely around her ankle, thumb tracing idle, absent-minded circles over her skin.
“Yes,” she said softly.
His head lifted at that, eyes catching hers, and for a moment neither of them spoke. The air between them felt thick enough to lean on.
“Jeffrey,” she said finally, her voice just above a whisper. “You should stop looking at me like that.”
His mouth curved slowly. “Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to memorise me,” she replied before she could stop herself.
Something flickered in his expression— surprise, maybe, but also something deeper. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he adjusted the ice gently and then, instead of pulling back, leaned in.
“You’re not wrong,” he said quietly. “I like knowing the pieces no one else gets to see.”
Charlotte’s breath caught, the cold on her ankle a sharp contrast to the slow heat crawling up her body, her mind wandering wildly. Her tone deliberately steady even as her pulse betrayed her. “You keep talking like that, and I might—”
“Might what?” he asked, a hint of a challenge under the velvet in his voice.
“Might not make you work so hard for that kiss.”
His eyes darkened, just enough to make her wonder what would happen if she actually said the word now. As his gaze stayed locked on hers, his hand slid from her ankle to the side of her calf, warm against her skin, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate lines. He didn’t lean in —not yet— but his presence filled every inch between them, his voice lowering. “You say that like I’d mind the work,”
Charlotte’s lips curved despite herself. “You make it sound like a privilege.”
“It is.” His answer was so quiet she almost missed it. “You’re… not the kind of woman you get by accident.”
That earned him a flicker of her eyes away —just for a moment— before she returned her gaze to his.
The ice pack shifted as she moved her foot slightly, and his hand caught her ankle again, holding it steady.
“Say the word,” he said, voice thick with a restraint that matched her own. “And I’ll stop making you wait.”
Her pulse thrummed against her throat. Her hand tightened slightly on the edge of the couch cushion. She didn’t move away, didn’t even think about it— her body leaned toward his. Her free hand came up, fingers sliding into the back of his hair as she closed the last inch between them.
But before the kiss could land, Jeffrey pulled back only slightly, leaving her with a frown of confusion. He tsked, bearing a grin. “You need to say it, baby.” His hand moved just above her knee and gave her a firm squeeze. “C’mon, use your words.”
Charlotte felt frustration and slight humiliation wash over her body when her attempt was denied. And when he teased her, she started buzzing with need. “Jeffrey,” she breathed, her hand moved to his jaw, nails lightly scratching his beard. “Please…”
For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, humming as he enjoyed her touch. Then his dark eyes found hers again. “Please what, doll?” he drawled.
Her mouth went dry.
It was ridiculous— she’d been kissed before, plenty of times, and she’d never had to ask for it. But the way he was looking at her now… it wasn’t about him denying her, it was about him making her admit she wanted it. Really say it.
Her fingers tightened slightly at his jaw, feeling the bristle of his beard under her nails. “Please… kiss me,” she whispered, her voice low but steady enough to carry the weight behind it.
Something flickered in his eyes— satisfaction, yes, but also something warmer, deeper, like she’d just handed him something he hadn’t expected to want so badly.
“Good girl,” he growled, and then he was there, closing that last breath between them with a kiss.
Her breath caught at his words, the praise sliding into her like silk over bare skin, stroking places she’d never admit out loud. It wasn’t just the tone —low, rough, threaded with possession and far too knowing— it was the way it fed something deep and secret inside her, a fantasy she kept carefully locked away. She felt the heat spike low in her belly, making her composure fray.
The kiss was slow at first, deliberate, his lips fitting to hers with confidence. His hand stayed at her knee, thumb stroking lightly over the curve, before sliding higher along her thigh in a motion that wasn’t rushed but promised plenty of places he could take this.
Every stroke of his thumb on her thigh felt like he was writing his name there, and God help her, she wanted him to.
Charlotte let out a quiet, unguarded sound —almost a moan— against his mouth, her free hand sliding from his jaw into his hair, pulling him just that fraction closer. He followed her lead without hesitation, deepening the kiss until she could feel every warm exhale and taste the faint ghost of cheap beer still lingering on his tongue.
The ice pack was completely forgotten, resting in a damp patch on the couch beside them. The only coolness in the room was the faint brush of air across her skin when he shifted, his body pressing closer without pinning her— just enough that she could feel the solid heat of him, the shape of his thigh against hers.
When he finally broke for air, he didn’t move far. His forehead stayed pressed to hers, their noses brushing lightly. His voice, when it came, was low and rough. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”
Her lips curved against his, breathless and just a little smug despite the way her pulse was still tripping over itself. “You’re infuriating.”
“And you’re addictive,” he countered without missing a beat, stealing another kiss before she could fire back.
The second kiss was sharper, hungrier, like now that she’d given permission, he had no reason to hold anything back.
Charlotte felt her head tip back slightly as his mouth claimed hers again, his beard scraping softly against her skin, sending tiny shocks of sensation down her spine.
His hand that had been on her thigh slid further, cupping the side of her hip, fingers flexing as though he needed to anchor himself there. When he pulled back just far enough to speak, his breath fanned hot across her lips. “Still think it was a bad idea in the bar?”
She almost laughed. And if her pulse wasn’t hammering, if her breath wasn’t catching on every word, she might have had the composure to play coy. But instead, she gave him the truth, in that low, unsteady voice he seemed to like so much. “I think…” she began, her fingertips skimming the back of his neck, “the only bad idea would be stopping now.”
His answering sound was more like a growl than a laugh, and before she could blink, he kissed her again, deeper this time. The taste of him was warm and dizzying, a slow burn that spread from her lips down to her toes.
Jeffrey’s grip on her hip tightened, fingers digging in just enough to make her breath catch, and then his other hand slid up the back of her head. He caught hold of her ponytail and gave it a firm tug, tilting her head back in one smooth, unyielding motion.
He didn’t waste the opportunity.
His mouth descended to the curve of her neck, the first press of his lips slow, deliberate… followed by the warm, wet drag of his tongue along the sensitive line just beneath her ear.
Charlotte shivered outright, her hands tightening against his shoulders as he kissed, sucked, and licked a path lower, each touch a mix of need and claiming. Every time his mouth closed over her skin, he lingered just a beat too long, making her pulse kick harder, making her imagine exactly how that mouth would feel in between her legs.
Jeffrey’s mouth dragged lower, deliberate and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to map her skin.
His teeth grazed her collarbone, the sharp edge soothed by the wet flick of his tongue, and when he pulled back just enough to breathe against the mark he’d left, his voice was a rasp. “Every inch of you, Charlotte… I want it.”
Her chest rose sharply, a shiver running down her spine as he tugged gently at her blazer first and then her blouse second. She let him slip them from her shoulders, the fabrics sliding uselessly to the couch.
Hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat, over the swell of her chest, across her ribs. He nipped at her skin, each scrape of teeth followed by the soothing stroke of his tongue.
Her fingers fisted in the back of his shirt, tugging impatiently, until she finally pulled it over his head. The old flannel hit the floor in a heap. The second his shirt was gone, Charlotte couldn’t help staring. Broad chest, warm skin dusted with dark hair, the flex of muscle as he moved— every inch of him looked like it had been built for her hands. And she touched him like she’d earned it, palms skimming over his chest, fingertips tracing the bold lines of ink that wound over his arms.
Jeffrey caught her wrist, pressing a kiss into her palm before guiding her hand back to his skin, encouraging her. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice low and velvet-dark. “Touch me like you want me, sweetheart.”
Then his gaze dropped to the delicate white lace cupping her breasts, and his jaw tightened. The corner of his mouth curved as he slid a finger beneath the thin fabric, tugging it down just far enough to bare her nipples.
“Goddamn,” he rasped, leaning down until his breath fanned hot against her newly bare skin. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?”
Charlotte shivered as his lips found her, open-mouthed kisses claiming the soft curve above the lace. His teeth grazed lightly, a nip that made her back arch, and then he soothed the sting with the slow, wet drag of his tongue. She clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging in when his mouth closed firmly around her, sucking until she swore she’d lose her mind.
Her head tipped back, a low, unguarded sound breaking from her throat. He grinned against her chest, clearly pleased with himself, before dragging his mouth lower, kissing the valley between her breasts, biting at the edge of lace.
“You like that?” he murmured against her skin, his words vibrating into her. “The way I mark you up? The way I make you feel it, so later you’ll see yourself in the mirror and know it was me?”
Her only answer was the tremor in her breath, the way her body arched toward him like she couldn’t help it.
Jeffrey sucked her nipple into his mouth with a rough hunger, and the sharp cry that tore from her throat shocked even her. She clamped a hand over her own lips, mortified.
But he wasn’t having it. He caught her wrist, dragging it away, pinning it lightly against the couch cushion beside her head. His mouth never stopped, tongue circling, teeth scraping, lips pulling, until she writhed under him.
“Don’t you dare hide that from me,” he growled against her skin, hot and wet. “Every sound you make? That’s mine. I want it. I want all of it.”
Her thighs pressed together instinctively, her body betraying her, chasing relief. He noticed. Of course, he did. And it only drew a darker smile from him as he abandoned her breast and kissed a line of fire down her ribs, her stomach, everywhere his mouth could reach without moving her too far.
“You’re shaking, doll,” he murmured, his teeth grazing her hip through the fabric of her pants. “And I haven’t even touched you where you need me most.”
Her head fell back against the cushions, breathless, caught between humiliation and wild, aching want. “Jeffrey—”
“Say it again,” he demanded instantly. “Say my name when you’re begging. I want to hear how it sounds in that perfect mouth of yours.”
Her nails scraped down his shoulders, desperate. “Jeffrey.”
“Good girl.” His praise rumbled against her skin, and her entire body shivered. God help her, those words —those two little words— set something ablaze inside her.
He kissed his way back up, dragging his mouth across her stomach, her chest, her throat, until he was hovering over her again. His body pressed her deeper into the couch without crushing her, caging her in the safest, most dangerous way imaginable.
“You feel that?” he asked, his forehead resting against hers, his breath hot and ragged. His hips rolled just enough that she felt the solid evidence of what she was doing to him. “That’s what you do to me. No one else. Just you.”
Charlotte whimpered, the sound humiliating and liberating all at once. She hated how much she wanted him, how easily he pulled it out of her. And yet she loved it, the way he made her feel like giving in wasn’t weakness— it was inevitable.
His thumb stroked her cheekbone as his mouth captured hers again, this time deeper, harder, as if all his restraint had finally cracked. She met him with equal hunger, her tongue tangling with his, nails biting into his back, legs parting slightly beneath his weight.
Every kiss was filth and reverence wrapped together, like he couldn’t decide whether to worship her or ruin her— and maybe he wanted both.
She squirmed, trying to grind against him, desperate for friction. He shifted his hips just enough to tease her, letting her feel the thick length straining against his jeans press into her thigh, then pulling back the moment she tried to chase it.
“Please—” she gasped, her voice breaking on the word.
“Please what, baby?” His tone was cruel in how soft it was, that velvet drawl dripping over her like warm honey. His grip on her wrists tightened just slightly, holding her exactly where he wanted her. “Want my cock? Want me to fill that pretty mouth, or bend you over this couch, or— Fuck—” His hips rolled, grinding once against her thigh, his breath hot and ragged. “Do you even know what you want yet, Charlotte?”
Her cheeks burned scarlet, the humiliation of the question making her wetter, needier. “You—” she choked out. “I want you.”
That earned her a groan that sounded torn out of him. He released her wrists only to take her pants off and reveal her matching panties and the dampness on it.
“Fuck, baby,” he said, almost reverent, “You’re killing me. Sitting there looking like temptation made flesh.”
He hooked a finger in the edge of her panties, tugging them aside just enough to run his thumb over the slick heat waiting for him. The sound she made at the contact was raw, helpless, her body jerking up against his hand.
“Dripping,” he growled, dragging the pad of his thumb through her folds, smearing the wetness he found there. “You’re soaked for me, doll. You don’t even try to hide it. And you’re gonna tell me why.”
Her eyes fluttered shut, breath coming in stuttering gasps. “Because— Because you…” She swallowed hard, embarrassed, trembling under the weight of his stare.
“Because I what?” His thumb pressed harder, circling just above where she needed him most but refusing to give in. “Say it.”
She hated how much she wanted to give him the words, hated how his voice stripped her down until lying wasn’t even an option. “Because you make me feel like this,” she whispered, shaking. “Like I can’t— Can’t breathe unless you touch me.”
The growl that tore from his chest was feral, and then his mouth was on hers again, devouring, bruising, kissing her like he’d finally lost the thin grip on restraint. His fingers slipped lower, dipping inside her slick heat, and Charlotte’s cry shattered the quiet of the room.
“That’s it,” he breathed against her lips, pumping slow, deliberate strokes that made her thighs fall open wider. “Take my fingers, baby. Shit, you’re tight.”
Her body bucked against him, the words as much as the touch pulling her apart. He crooked his fingers just right, dragging over that spot inside her that made her entire body jolt, and when she whimpered his name, it was so broken he nearly lost it.
“Fuck,” he groaned, curling his fingers again, harder this time, watching her unravel. “That’s it. You give me every sound, every little shiver. You don’t hold back, you hear me? You let me hear how much you want it.”
Her back arched, head falling against the couch as he worked her relentlessly, his thumb finding her clit at last, circling, pressing, dragging her higher with ruthless precision. His tattoos flexed under her grip as she clutched at his arms, nails biting deep enough to sting, her thighs trembling on either side of his hips.
“So fucking wet for me…” he rasped, kissing her collarbone, down the slope of her breast, dragging his tongue over the sweat-damp valley between them. “Soaking my fingers like you’ve been waiting years for this.”
Charlotte whimpered, tugging at his hair, pushing him lower without words. Her face flushed hot with the admission her body made for her, hips rolling shamelessly against the rhythm of his hand.
He smirked, but there was a darkness in his eyes too— Like he was holding himself back by sheer will. He withdrew his fingers only long enough to shove her panties down her thighs, baring her fully to him. The lace tangled around her knees, a deliberate tether, keeping her just open enough for him to admire.
And then he dropped to his knees on the floor, between hers.
Charlotte’s breath hitched. She had pictured him bending her over, pictured him inside her the moment his mouth first covered hers. But this —him kneeling in front of her, palms spreading her thighs, gaze fixed between her legs like he was about to pray— it made her dizzy.
The first sweep of his tongue made her cry out, raw and unrestrained, fingers clutching tight in his hair. He groaned into her, licking a long, slow stripe from her entrance up to the aching bud of her clit, savouring like he meant it.
And God, he did. She was addictive— Better than the best drink, better than anything he’d ever let himself want. He buried his face against her, tongue flicking, lips sucking, dragging her hips down against his mouth. The taste of her coated his tongue, and he wanted to drown in it.
“Jeffrey— Oh, God—”
His fingers joined in again, sliding back into her slick heat, curling as his tongue circled her clit in merciless rhythm. Her thighs trembled around his head, her voice breaking into desperate pleas.
She was so close, her body coiling tight, every nerve lit. But just as the wave threatened to crest, just as she ground against him harder, chasing the high, he pulled back.
“Jeffrey!” Her cry was sharp, broken, more frustrated than she’d ever let herself sound before.
His mouth glistened as he looked up at her, beard wet with her arousal. He wiped his thumb over his mouth, smirking wickedly, though his chest rose and fell like he was seconds from snapping.
“You remember what you said back at the bar?” he asked, voice low, steady, though his cock strained painfully against his jeans. “That you wanted to see if I cared enough to keep earning you?”
Her breath stuttered. She nodded, though her eyes burned with frustrated need.
He leaned back in, kissing the inside of her thigh, dragging teeth over her skin until she gasped. His voice followed, rasping and raw against her flushed flesh. “I’m not here for the sport, Charlotte. I’ll prove it to you… even if it kills me not to bury myself inside you right now.”
His teeth sank lightly into her thigh, sucking a mark there as his fingers slipped back in, dragging over her spot until her head fell back against the couch.
“Damn,” Jeffrey groaned, voice hoarse with hunger. He leaned in, inhaling her scent, and a shiver wracked her spine. “I should’ve known you’d taste like this.” He left a trail of kisses until he reached her needy core. “I could live right here between your thighs, doll. Just you, your scent, your sounds—” His mouth latched back onto her clit, sucking, tongue circling ruthlessly.”
She shattered against him, nearly sobbing, the orgasm tearing through her without warning. But before it could crest fully, before she could topple into release, he pulled back again—ruthless, denying her the finish.
Her body shook, her voice breaking. “Please… Please, Jeffrey—”
He pressed his forehead to her thigh, panting, fighting his own restraint. If I get inside her now, with all this beer in me, I’ll disappoint her. No fucking way I let that happen.
Instead, he slipped two fingers back inside her, curling, pressing up hard as his tongue dragged quick circles over her clit.
“God— Jeffrey— Please,” she gasped.
Charlotte’s nails dug into his scalp, her hips canting helplessly against his mouth as if her body had given up listening to her pride. Each time he pulled her close, licked her deep, or curled those rough fingers inside her, she felt herself spiral closer to the edge she’d been dangling over since the second his lips touched hers.
“That’s it, baby.” He hummed against her clit, the vibration rolling through her core, and when he spoke, his voice was ragged but certain. “Let go. Give me the real you.”
His tongue worked in fast, merciless circles, each stroke dragging fire through her veins. His palm was flat against her lower abdomen as his fingers pumped into her, curling in a rhythm that matched the way his mouth sucked at her sensitive bud, relentless, patient, devastating.
“Good girl,” he growled suddenly, low and rough, just as he crooked his fingers deeper. The words detonated in her chest, feeding her darkness.
Her back arched violently off the couch, her thighs clamping around his head as her orgasm ripped through her. A cry tore from her throat—raw, unguarded, louder than she’d ever meant to be.
Jeffrey didn’t let up. He stayed with her, tongue locked on her clit, fingers driving her higher, riding her through the quake. Every sob, every twitch of her body, he dragged out, pulling more from her than she thought she had to give.
She collapsed against the cushions, trembling, drenched in sweat, her hand still tangled desperately in his hair. Her chest heaved, breathless, as aftershocks jolted through her.
Only then —only when her body had gone slack and sated beneath him— did Jeffrey ease back. He kissed her inner thigh, soft now, reverent, before sliding up her body and bracing himself over her.
His lips brushed her ear, voice dark and hoarse. “Told you, sweetheart. I’ll earn every inch of you. And I’ll prove it again tomorrow… and the day after… and the day after that.”