: ̗̀➛ part three of the
one for the road series
SNOWFALL / CL16
in which two childhood friends reunite. a formula one driver wants to learn how to snowboard and it just so happens that the daughter of his mum's be...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
✧ ˚ · . CHAPTER NINETEEN . · ˚✧ ride the wave
🎶 often by the weeknd & slow down by chase atlantic 🌶️ warning!
val d'isere, winter 2023
Everything happened in a blur. One moment my lips were on Charles', and the next he had me pressed up against the wall of the elevator with his hands on my body, kissing me like he was a desert and I was a rainstorm. I couldn't say I didn't feel the same way: I was starving for him. Minutes felt like hours but in the best way possible, the kind where you wished you could pour an essence of this moment into a vial and keep it forever.
My hands tangled in Charles' hair, a moan escaping my lips at an especially rough grasp of my thighs, my leg hooking around his hips as they rolled against mine. His actions were surer than they had been nine years ago, less experimental. He seemed hungry and determined, and that had to be my new favourite combination on Charles.
His lips left mine to kiss down my neck, his hands sliding my satin skirt up to fold at my waist, and before I knew what was happening, his fingers were skimming the edge of my underwear. My head was spinning, my core wound tight with desire, nerves jumping at the sudden touch.
The moment the pads of his fingers brushed my most sensitive area through the lace, my knees wobbled, my head hitting the wall. How had we gotten here? How had I lost my mind enough to allow a man to spread my legs open in a public elevator? Of my mother's hotel, no less, where everybody knew my face and watched my every move?
Not to forget the fact that the man between my legs was a world famous Formula 1 driver.
My eyes rolled into the back of my head as the pressure of Charles' fingers on me increased. I could feel the anxiety in my stomach, the feeling that had stopped me from ever enjoying this with another person. I'd discussed it in therapy: the lack of ability to connect, to surrender to the feeling, to give up control. My therapist had said that that was why sex was such a bonding experience: it was an act of trust, of vulnerability.
Pushing an orgasm away was like building up a wall around your heart. It left me in control of the situation, and yet at this exact moment, that wall was crumbling. And it scared the shit out of me.
"Charles," I gasped, and the man between my legs immediately froze. My heart skipped a beat as his fingers moved away, the widening of his eyes expressing how afraid he was of crossing a boundary. As if we hadn't crossed that line the moment the elevator doors had dinged open. "That—" I nodded at his hips and his hand that now rested on the inside of my thigh, "isn't going to work. It won't work."
