Sweet Girl by Quell T. Fox
Charlotte
WeendupatJonathan’sbarforlunch.Whichisabar,andyesI’munderage,butduringthedayitservesfoodandeveryoneiswelcome.It’sonlyafternineintheeveningthatnooneundertwenty-oneisallowedinside.
Jonathan is already there when we show up, tending the bar. He’s dressed in a way that would bring me to my knees if I weren’t with my mother. Even with her beside me they’re trembling.
Tight fitted jeans and a button up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up. His hair is perfectly messy, sticking up every which way like it normally does.
“Come on, let’s go sit in our normal seats.” Mom ushers me to the right, but I keep my eyes on Jonathan. As if he can feel the heat of my stare, he looks up and winks. I duck my head down and rush after my mother. I find Mom in the corner, the same place we always sit when we come here, and I slide in next to her.
My phone dings and I check it, welcoming the distraction.
Izzy: Can’t deal with this family shit, I’m stressed! How are things going for you?
Me: Out for lunch. Call you later?
Izzy: Duh!
“Girls! So glad you could make it.” Jonathan slides into the opposite side of the booth, a huge grin on his face. I look everywhere but at him. It seems that my bravery diminishes when in front of him and my mother. I place my cell onto the table, face down. A habit I picked up from who knows where. “Any traffic?”
“No, the ride was fine,” my mother says.
The waitress comes over and takes our order, giving us extra attention since we’re the owner’s family. Or used to be family.
We sit in an awkward silence as we wait for the food, my cheeks hot the whole time. When the food comes, I quickly busy myself with it. The heated stare coming from Jonathan is almost too much to handle, and I have to constantly take sips of my water because my mouth is so dry. I worry my mother is going to notice, but she’s too busy eating and looking at her phone. Finally, once I’m about halfway finished, they start up some small talk, chatting like old friends and not ex-lovers.
“So,” Jonathan starts once the table is cleared and all that’s left are the two bottles of beer that he and my mom are drinking, and the glass of water I’ve yet to finish. “Charlotte, I want you to know this decision between your mother and I was mutual. We both decided this was for the best.”
I look up but can’t meet his eyes, I nod anyway.
“Things haven’t been the best for a while, we’ve slowly fallen apart from each other over time but we’re both okay with this. As long as your mother is happy, that’s all I care about.”
“Seems you’re taking this rather well,” I say, sipping from my water, finally taking the chance to look up at him under my lashes and I immediately wish I hadn’t. His presence is so overbearing, but in the best possible way. Looking at him only makes it worse. He is a weakness to me. And now that all obstacles in my way of having him have disappeared, it’s even worse.
He grins. “What can I say? Can’t complain about being single.” He winks at me and my stomach drops yet my pussy aches. I look to my right and see that my mother isn’t even looking at him, but down at her phone.
“Have you met him yet?”
My mom’s head pops up and I shake mine.
“I’m sure he’s a great guy. And how about his daughter? You’re going to have a sister, isn’t that exciting?” he asks but there is a hint of mischief laced in his tone.
“A sister?” I ask, shocked. I look to Mom. “You forgot to mention that part. You don’t even like kids,” I say defensively. But it’s the truth. She’s never been a fan of tiny humans.
“Of course I do!” she says with a laugh.
“You didn’t even want me,” I deadpan.
“Charlie,” she warns tiredly before looking back at her phone.
My mouth falls open and my eyes meet Jonathan’s. He purses his lips, giving me a deep stare. He looks as if he wants to say something, a flash of pity crossing his face, but my mother’s phone rings and the chance is lost.
“Hello? Yeah.” She looks down at her watch. “Uh, I can be there in an hour.”
I roll my eyes as she says goodbye and ends the call.
“Work?” I ask, feeling more angry than disappointed this time. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that she couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to come back in the first place. I could be at school doing something conducive to my future right now, like taking extra classes. But she said she missed me and wanted to spend time with me, yet… here she is, doing what she always does and working every chance she gets. Always unable to say no.
I can’t completely complain, I guess. I don’t need my mom, I just want to spend time with her. Clearly the hospital actually needs her, and it’s fine. I’ll get over it.
“Jonathan, are you able to bring Charlie home?” She looks from him to me. “If not, I’ll leave money for a cab.” She pulls her wallet out and Jonathan holds his hand out, shaking it.
“I’ll take her home, don’t worry.”
“Here, for the food.” She pulls out a twenty.
“Allison, really?”
“Fine.” She shoves it back into her wallet, tossing it into her purse. She gets up from her seat, leans over, pulling me in for a quick hug and kisses my head. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.” The words are barely a whisper. My gaze follows her out the door and once she’s out, it moves to Jonathan who is sitting with a small smirk on his face, leaning back into the dark red booth with his toned arms crossed over his chest.
“Have an eventful morning?” he asks.
My face heats the slightest.
“I did actually, how was yours?” I lean forward on the table, suddenly feeling more brave. He doesn’t frighten me and he doesn't make me nervous in the normal way. I crave him, want him. Need him. When I look at him, my body wants to melt into his. I want to know all the things he can do to me. Every last one of them.
How quickly can he make me come? How hard can he make me come? Can he do it with his cock alone?
“Not as fun as yours, since I’ve been here all morning. But I’d like to change that. Care to help?”
I lean back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest, biting on my cheek. “I’ll pass.”
He lets out a short laugh, leaning forward. His muscular forearms rest on the table. “Why do you have to be such a brat, Charlotte?”
“Because you like it.”
“You have no idea what I like.”
“I think I have an idea.”
“An idea? Perhaps. But that only scratches the surface. You have no idea what goes on in this head of mine. What visions and images of you live in here.”
I lean forward again, sliding my hands along the table, stopping them only an inch from his. I lean in, looking up at him from under my lashes. “Maybe you should show me.”
His eyes narrow the slightest.
“I plan to. And you’re going to enjoy every second of it. You belong to me. You were made for me,” he growls lowly. “Every little thing about you is perfection, Charlotte. The way you taste, the way you smell, it’s mine. Every little fucking thing is mine. I’m going to do things to you that you’ve never even dreamed about. But first…” he trails off, seeming to gather his thoughts or maybe just pull himself together. His control is slipping. I see it in the way his hand is clenching and how the vein in his neck is pumping just a little harder.
“First?” I ask, trying to keep my voice as confident as I can.
“First, we’re going to keep playing this game. Because I rather like it. I like how you tease me. It drives me fucking wild, to the point of insanity. I like knowing you’re thinking of me when you touch yourself and when you allow others to touch you.” He leans in a little closer. “The images of you riding Michael’s cock, knowing you were imagining it was me, makes me so fucking hard.”
A choking sound leaves my throat causing him to smirk. “Who said I was thinking of you?” I finally manage to say, though my words aren’t as strong as I wished they were.
“No one needs to say it, baby, I know.” He gets up from his seat and holds out his hand. “Come on, let’s get you home.
The tension is high on the car ride home, but that’s the most of it. We don’t speak, don’t say a word. It isn’t a long ride, thankfully. Because even though it wasn’t far, the air was stifling. When we pull up to the house I get out. “See you soon,” he says with a wink before I close the door. My face heats just a tiny bit as I spin and head into the house, hoping a cold shower will help me to cool down.