There were too many close calls.
Too many near instances because I was greedy and wanted Charlotte every waking moment.
After the night at the hotel when we first had sex, I needed her every single fucking day. She has become my addiction like a drug I can’t get out of my system but need to survive.
Today is no different.
Samantha gave me this long spiel on how our dining room looked so drab, and shopping for new furniture plus accessories would make her happy. I argued for a hot minute to continue the charade and then gave in. It was difficult, given she’s been draining our bank account. Yet, the guilt ate away at me, so I said nothing. Finally, she mentioned driving to San Jose and making a strong point about her absence until late tonight. So, I knew we had time.
Charlotte is standing beside me in the small foyer inside my house. Still wearing her school uniform, she stops in her tracks until I grab her hand and lead her into the living room.
“Do you think anyone saw us?” she asks, worried as usual.
“No,” I mumble while kissing her neck. Her back is pressed against my chest, so I slide my hand beneath her school shirt, desperate to touch her.
She doesn’t say another word, allowing me to squeeze her perky tits while I harden against her. Charlotte arches her head back, but then her muscles stiffen just as I’m about to lift her skirt and fuck her bent over on the couch.
Her hands clutch mine, moving them away so she can distance herself.
“We can’t here.”
“Okay,” I answer calmly. “Then come to the bedroom.”
Charlotte turns to face me, raising her arms to fold them beneath her chest. She bares her teeth with bulging eyes to warn me she’s angry with my suggestion.
“In your bed?” she questions with grit. “The same bed you sleep in with your wife?”
With a small sigh escaping me, I try not to anger her further despite my annoyance over the same argument. No matter how many times I reassure her nothing is going on, she circles back to the same thing.
“C’mon, you know I don’t fuck her. I’ve told you that repeatedly.”
“Why should I believe you?” Charlotte draws her brows with a resenting stare. “You do sleep in the same bed with her? She does try to lean over and touch you. I’m sure she’s tried multiple times to get you to fuck her, and of course, you just want to shut her up.”
I run my hands through my hair, pinching my lips together with a clenched jaw.
“What the fuck, Charlotte? I’m sick of having this same argument. I promise you I don’t fuck her, end of the story.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sick of sneaking around and being the sidepiece,” she mutters.
It’s clear her being here has only soured her mood. It’s not the first time she’s visited my house, but the last time, it was under different circumstances.
It’s a Friday afternoon, and from what she said earlier, her dad won’t be home until late. I don’t want to risk being caught by her dad. Mark Mason wouldkillme on the spot. So, I do the next best thing.
“Let’s get out of here,” I tell her, grabbing my keys.
“Where are we going?”
“Will you stop asking questions and just trust me for once?”
Charlotte remains quiet, then follows me but stops shy of the liquor cabinet. She opens the glass door, removing a bottle of Patrón.
“Okay, let’s go,” she says with a grin.
A deep sigh escapes me, knowing we can get into big trouble if we’re caught and Charlotte has been drinking.
“Look, you’re underage and shouldn’t be drinking.”
She cocks her head with a stubborn gaze. “Yeah, and I shouldn’t be fucking my best friend's older brother either.”