Page 28 of Bad Luck, Hard Love
A thousand thoughts race through my mind, battling logic and desire. My heart aches for her, I yearn to be the person who makes her feel safe. But the scars of her past are still fresh, and I can’t ignore the warning signs.
“Charlotte, I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’ve been through so much, and I don’t want to be just another man who hurts you.”
She leans into me, nestling her head against my chest. “I understand your hesitation, but sometimes, taking a leap of faith is the only way to heal. I want you to be that leap of faith.”
Her words send a wave of warmth through me, melting away my hesitance.
A moment of silence passes between us as we stand outside the hotel entrance, the hustle of Las Vegas fading into the background. With each passing second, our connection grows stronger, fueled by an undeniable chemistry that defies all reason.
Finally, I break the silence. “Let’s go to my room,” I say softly, entwining my fingers with hers.
With a smile that lights up her face, Charlotte squeezes my hand, and we head toward the elevator. The ride to my room feels like an eternity, filled with anticipation and nervous excitement. As the elevator doors open, we step into the dimly lit corridor, the sound of our footsteps echoing through the quiet hallway.
I slide the keycard into the slot, unlocking the door to my room. The moment we step inside, a surge of electricity courses through the air. The room is bathed in a soft glow filtering through the curtains casting a romantic ambience.
Charlotte’s eyes roam around the room, taking in every detail. Without uttering a word, she steps forward, presses upon her tiptoes, and her lips crash into mine. The force of her movements shifts my weight enough that it pushes me onto my heels. I start to draw my hands to her face, but I hesitate.
She notices, pulling away from me. “It’s okay,” she reassures me.
“I need guidelines, Charlotte. I want to touch you, but I don’t know where.”
She considers the question before she answers. “No hands on my neck.”
“Anything else?”
“Biting, and uh, nails.”
The thought of why she’d mention those specific things send a pang of rage deep into my belly. I shake off the thoughts of murdering this asshole and instead choose to focus on her. Making her feel good and understand that a man can bring her pleasure instead of pain is more important.
“You need to pick a safe word,” I speak firmly. This is a crucial conversation—one I have never had to have in previous relationships, but now feel it is necessary with her.
“What’s that?” she asks with genuine curiosity.
I take a deep breath and do my best to explain the concept. “It’s a way to establish clear boundaries and ensure consent between us. If you feel uncomfortable at any point or want to stop, all you do is say the safe word, and everything will come to a halt.”
Her expression softens with understanding as she nods, “Zip-line.”
“Of course, that’s what you’d pick. Zip-line it is.”
We both share a chuckle, lightening the mood and relieving some of the tension that has built up. It feels good to have this open conversation, to establish trust and boundaries before delving into something more intimate.
As we stand facing each other, the air between us is charged with anticipation. I reach out and gently trace my fingertips along Charlotte’s cheekbone. Her skin is soft as she leans into my touch, her body relaxing under it.
I take a step closer, closing the gap between us. My hand slips from her cheek, bypassing her neck and shoulders to fall to her hips. I draw her flush against me before I lean down to kiss her. Our lips meet again, this time much softer than before. The kiss is slow and sensual, a dance between our tongues that ignites a fire within me. With each passing second, the hunger within me grows. I want to explore every inch of Charlotte’s body to make her feel desired and cherished.
I pull away from her. Her lips are red and swollen, and her chest heaves.
“Sit on the edge of the bed,” I tell her.
Charlotte obeys, perching lightly, anticipation radiating from her every movement. I approach slowly, eyes locked on hers—so open, so captivating.
I stop just inches away. My hands hover over her thighs, trembling with a mix of nerves and longing.
“May I touch you?”
A soft smile graces Charlotte’s lips as she nods, permitting me to explore the depths of her pleasure. I let out a shaky breath, my fingers descending upon the warmth of her skin. They trace delicate patterns along her thighs, sending shivers of delight coursing through her body.
The hemline of her dress shifts as she squirms, inching higher until the edge of her panties peeks out from under the dark fabric.
