Chapter Sixteen
November 2nd, 1998
Marilyn
"Please, don't stop!" Charlotte begs as I thrust into her, her body writhing beneath mine.
She looks stunning, her limbs entwined around me as I hold her close. Every time with her feels like the best yet. After weeks apart, we've been making up for lost time in this fancy hotel room, courtesy of the label.
"Oh, fuck, Char, I'm gonna..." I gasp before succumbing to an intense orgasm that rocks us both.
Her cries of pleasure mingle with mine as we ride out the waves of ecstasy together.
As we catch our breath, I roll off her and discard the condom. "Fuck, babe, that was amazing," I murmur.
"It really was. I'm glad we had this time together before you all leave," she says softly.
Fuck, I hate being reminded of our impending separation. Tomorrow, we're off to Europe, and leaving her behind for the rest of her time off. It's not easy, but it's for the best. I don't want her dealing with jet lag from rushing back to the U.S.
To her credit, she hasn't complained about my decision. No tantrums or guilt trips. Just a hint of disappointment and understanding. It's the norm when we're apart.
I think part of her acceptance stems from my latest tattoo. She's been fixated on it since I got it – a twisted spider web on my hip with cryptic lettering in the center that only we can decipher. At the top sits a beautiful spider, a testament to her handiwork.
I may not get a woman's name inked on me, but a Charlotte's Web-themed tattoo? That's my way of showing devotion.
"We should probably get up and get ready," I suggest, breaking the silence of our post-coital haze.
She groans in protest. "Nooo."
"Come on, Stern has been waiting to grill you since the last time I was in the studio," I tease, tickling her playfully.
With a resigned sigh, she finally agrees, dragging herself out of bed.
Watching her move, her curves bathed in the morning light ignites a familiar hunger in me. When she looks over her shoulder and asks, "Take a shower with me?" I know there's only one answer.
Who am I to deny her? After all, I am the God of Fuck.
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In the shower, the steamy water cascades over our intertwined bodies, our hands exploring each other with a renewed sense of urgency. The warmth and closeness make the impending separation seem almost bearable.
"Will you miss me?" she asks softly, her eyes searching mine for reassurance.
"Every second," I reply, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "But we'll be together again soon. And when we are, it'll be like this all over again."
"Promise?" she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Promise," I vow, holding her tightly as the water pours over us, washing away the lingering traces of our earlier passion.
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Later, as we get dressed, I can't help but admire her in her outfit. She looks effortlessly stunning, as always. I pull on my own clothes, mentally preparing for the grilling I'm about to face from Howard Stern. But with Charlotte by my side, I feel ready to face anything.
"Ready to go?" I ask, extending my hand to her.
She takes it with a smile, and together, we head out into the bustling city, ready to face whatever comes our way.
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