Guilty as Sin - 19 (Patreon)

Happy Friday the 13th!

--------guilty as sin----------

Chapter Nineteen

Standing at the kitchen counter in Charlotte’s grandmother – in Elizabeth Thompson’s – cabin with the morning light streaming through the large window, bathing her in light, Sutton felt like an entirely new woman.

Which was silly and cliché and absurd and a million other things, but it didn’t stop it from being true.

She’d spent the last two days having the best sex of her fucking life.

Really, she’d thought she’d known was “good sex” was, especially after her having sex with a woman.

Well, she’d been wrong, and she now had the very satisfying proof of that.

All over her body, in fact.

When she’d woken up and walked down the stairs from the bedroom, she’d felt the evidence of just how deeply and completely Charlotte had fucked her last night. Literally until Sutton had felt like she’d been ready to cry or scream or simply collapse and tremble in the aftershocks for a little while.

She’d fallen asleep curled up next to Charlotte almost immediately afterwards. And this morning, when she’d woken and gone into the bathroom, she’d checked herself out in the mirror.

Even just looking at herself, she could see the difference.

Her hair had been a mess, her skin truly was glowing… and that wasn’t to mention the scratches she could see on her shoulders, as well as the red mark that Charlotte had left her with on the side of her neck.

Charlotte had left her with those marks.

Because Sutton had driven her just as wild, right to the same brink of insanity Charlotte had brought her to.

She took in a deep breath from the fresh, morning air coming in from the window that she’d opened. After that giant storm – and on-off showers yesterday as well – today was brand new. It was also a brand new month.

Officially Charlotte’s birthday.

She’d left Charlotte upstairs in bed, where she was dead to the world. Not that Sutton had wanted to wake her up, but she had accidentally tripped over one of the blankets they’d kicked to the floor, and Charlotte hadn’t roused. Hadn’t even stirred.

God, even the image of Charlotte in that bed would be lasered into Sutton’s mind for a long time, possibly forever.

The stark white comforter haphazardly having been pulled up, covering one of her legs and her ass, as she slept on her stomach. Leaving one of her other legs entirely visible as well as the soft, smooth skin of her back, and her tumble of soft – but mussed and messy from Sutton’s hands – hair spilling over the pillow.

She let out a soft little sigh, shaking her head as she started mixing the batter she’d made for pancakes. A little birthday breakfast in bed.

She’d tried – hard – not to get bogged down in the what-ifs or the what-comes-next thoughts. Especially since Saturday night, when they’d agreed to just take this weekend for what it was. Normally, that wasn’t Sutton’s forte. As an over-thinker, it went against her very nature.

But… everything about Charlotte Thompson went against her nature.

From her pragmatic view of taking on the world, to her rather callous and deeply impersonal view of sexual relationships, to the fact that she’d never even cuddled someone before?!

Nothing about Charlotte should be appealing to Sutton.

Well, other than her unreasonable attractiveness, which felt too obvious to even consider.

Because attraction didn’t equal, in any way, compatibility.

Sutton knew that; she’d been attracted to every man she’d ever dated, but they sure as hell weren’t good for her to be with in a relationship.

And yet, everything about Charlotte did appeal to her.

Pursing her lips, she shook her head. Nope, not going to get bogged down in all of that. Those were not the kind of thoughts that had driven her to drive to the cabin, to quit, to have sex with Charlotte in the first place.

And it was too late to take it back. She wouldn’t if she could.

Her phone rang, buzzing against the counter, jarring her out of her thoughts.

She paused mixing the batter, staring down at her screen. Not a call, technically, but a facetime. From Regan.

She hesitated, looking over her shoulder toward the stairs.

The cabin was still quiet, and seemingly Charlotte wasn’t yet awake…

When she didn’t answer and the call stopped, she let out a little breath of relief.

At least, until she actually focused on her screen – for the first time all morning, as she’d plugged it in when she’d come downstairs, after it had died some unknown time last night – and she saw the texts from Regan.

A lot of texts, starting nearly two hours ago.

Regan – 6:13A.M.I know that you wrote in your note that you were going to be away for a few days, so I let it go as long as I could

But that’s actually super fucking vague

And now it’s Monday and I’m getting concerned!!!

Emma is also concerned btw but she is trying to be considerate and not blow your shit up

As you know, I have no such qualms and will CONTINUE to blow your shit up for the both of us

Not even on behalf of just me and Emma

But on the behalf of your mom and dad and all of your siblings and the police that I will eventually be calling to find you etc etc

SUTTON VICTORIA SPENCER OMG

Even just a “hello I am okay and alive” message?????

I’ll take that

For now anyway

Jesus.

Sutton – 8:04A.M.Hello, I am okay and alive

Also, I left a note for you so you DIDN’T freak out…

Regan – 8:04A.M.YOU’RE AAAAAALLIIIIIVVVVVEEEEEEE

Yeah sure you left a note, but at this point I haven’t heard a peep from you in over 48 hours. How do I know you weren’t kidnapped and FORCED to leave that note?

Sutton – 8:05A.M.Yes, as that is something that happens often

Regan – 8:05A.M.Ummmmm your family has a ton of money. It’s not the craziest thing I’ve ever said

She breathed out a laugh.

Sutton – 8:05A.M.No, you’re right about that. You’ve said way crazier

So does this suffice as proof of life?

At least enough for Regan to stop blowing up her shit.

Sutton knew that she was going to be in for an interrogation of epic proportions when she returned home. But, that was a later problem.

Regan – 8:05A.M.Ummmm no……………..

At this point, that doesn’t cut it

I’m going to need live audio/visual evidence that you are okay and alive at this point

Obviously

Then her phone lit up again with a new facetime request.

With a sigh, she answered, keeping the phone very close to her face, doing her best not to show anything else around her.

Not that the Thompson cabin really had anything super personal in it; it really would pass as a very upscale rental in the Catskills.

But Regan was wily and far more observant than most people gave her credit for, and Sutton didn’t underestimate her best friend at all. If anyone would be able to pick up on something tiny in the background and make some conclusions, it would be Regan.

She summoned a smile, turning her face back and forth so Regan could see her from ear to ear. “Hello! You can see that I’m okay and alive. Is this sufficient?”

Regan’s dark hair was pulled into a messy ponytail that was slightly askew and she was wearing an off-the-shoulder short sleeved shirt, as she exploded with energy. “Sutton! You beautiful little raindrop, you are alive!”

“Raindrop?” Emma’s voice edged in, incredulously.

Regan turned her phone to show Emma on the screen. They were in Sutton and Regan’s apartment, sitting in Regan’s bed together. Emma was also in pajamas, wearing her glasses. At eight o’clock in the morning.

Because… they did that, now. They had sex. Regan and Emma, her best friends. Had sex and spent the night together.

Sutton was still not quite used to it, still found herself a little jarred by the reality, even when it was staring her right in the face.

But – she wasn’t unhappy about it. More than her own comfort with the situation, the reality was that Regan and Emma both seemed… happy. Like, really, really happy. Even just now, in her visual, they were leaning into one another and so comfortable together.

Maybe happier and more comfortable than Sutton had ever seen either of them, and that was jarring in and of itself. But in a good way. They both had that serene glow about them. Maybe it was also a sex glow; she didn’t know the details.

Regan looked at Emma on her end of the phone. “Raindrop, yeah. Just the first thing that popped into my head, because of the storms this weekend and all. Besides, I have to have an outlet somewhere for my silly pet names, since you don’t want to be on the receiving end of them all, babe.”

Emma slowly, consideringly nodded. “Yes, good call.”

Babe. Regan called Emma babe, and Emma was fine with it. In fact, judging by the small, pleased expression on her face, she liked it.

Absolutely. Wild.

Sutton cleared her throat. “So – are you convinced that I’m alive and not being held against my will?”

Regan returned her attention to her, lips pursing and pulling to the side in thought as she studied Sutton through the phone. “Hmm… maybe. What are you wearing?”

“Crossing a line,” Emma murmured.

In the past, she would have sounded judgy or reproachful at Regan.

Right now, she sounded exasperated but affectionate.

Regan rolled her eyes. “I mean, how am I to know what’s going on with you? You disappear mysteriously, haven’t communicated in days. We had a massive storm throughout the entire state the day you left. I’m worried!”

Sutton would give that to Regan, considering if Regan had done the same to her – packed a bag with basically no notice and no further information and disappeared for several days – she’d be very concerned. Maybe would even dip into Regan-territory levels.

“I promise that I’m okay,” she assured her, and even pulled the phone a little farther back to give that visible proof Regan had requested. She just had to trust that there was nothing in the background giving her away. “See?”

There was no weapon being trained on her, no one holding her here. She was wearing a very soft, worn-in green shirt Charlotte had given her and a pair of shorts that Sutton kept rolled at the waist.

She wondered if Regan could see the same reflection from Sutton that Sutton could see from her. The way Regan and Emma both were in some sort of afterglow. Regan had always had the uncanny ability to decipher when Sutton had spent the night with someone, not that Sutton believed she was difficult to read.

And Regan was studying her very intently through the phone.

“All right…” she mused, poking her bottom lip out in a pout, “I do see that you seem okay. But, Sutton, where are you?”

“Seconded on wanting to know that,” Emma chimed in.

Sutton’s breath caught in her throat. “I’m…”

How did she answer? Should she say she was somewhere for work, at the last minute? Even though she was very soon going to have to tell Regan she didn’t have a job anymore?! How would that work? Should she say she’d met someone and absconded with them for the weekend?

How did she get out of this and assuage her very nosy best friend’s concern while also maintaining Charlotte’s privacy? What was the best way?

“Sutton?” Charlotte’s voice drifted down the stairs behind her, followed by the soft sound of her footsteps.

Sutton snapped her head around, seeing only Charlotte’s bare legs on the stairs, before she quickly turned back to the phone, her heart racing. Angling so that Regan and Emma couldn’t see behind her, but both of them were already staring, wide-eyed.

Emma in genuine surprise, Regan in gleaming excitement, practically visibly vibrating from it.

“See, I’m fine! Bye!” Without any further preamble, she hung up and put her phone facedown on the counter.

Ohhhh boy. This was certainly going to come back and haunt her in the very near future.

She stayed where she stood at the counter, tightly closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. Even though they’d agreed to not think about anything else outside of right here, right now this weekend, she had to tell Charlotte about this call. It was the right thing to do.

Slowly, she turned around, prepared to do just that.

Only to swallow the words, her mind going completely blank.

Sutton had run back out to her car yesterday once the rain had abated and had grabbed the NYU sweatshirt she’d forgotten in the backseat. She’d worn it last night when they’d found a game of Scrabble on the bookshelf and had played by the firelight.

And then Charlotte had promptly tugged it off of her when they’d gone up to the bedroom, and Sutton hadn’t spotted it this morning.

“You,” she had to pause, to clear her throat. “You found my sweatshirt.”

Charlotte was walking across the room toward her, and she paused for a moment to look down at herself. “Yes. It was under one of the blankets on my side of the room.”

Charlotte’s side of the room.

That – that wasn’t necessarily what it would normally mean. Like, Charlotte didn’t even have a typical “side of the room” she preferred when she shared a bed, because Sutton now knew Charlotte had never done that. Also, this wasn’t either of their homes. This wasn’t, in any way, their real lives.

But it still made her stomach flutter.

And what made her stomach flutter even harder was that her sweatshirt was all Charlotte was wearing.

Sutton caught a flash of black underwear underneath as Charlotte continued walking toward her, but… that was it.

Her hair was all sexy and tumbled, and how did Charlotte manage that? Even though Sutton would bet she hadn’t actually brushed her hair, even though it was still messy, she looked the opposite of sloppy. She looked – she looked so fucking good.

Good in a way Sutton never got to see her before. Obviously never at work, never in public.

But even when she stayed in Charlotte’s guest room in D.C., she never saw Charlotte like this in the morning. Even taking away the post-sex aspect, Charlotte didn’t walk around in the apartment in the morning freshly rolled out of bed.

“Happy birthday,” she managed, taking far too long to get her wits about her.

“Thank you,” Charlotte returned, only coming to another stop when she was directly in front of Sutton. “I was disappointed to not find you in bed when I woke.”

“Oh,” Sutton breathed out, a sheepish smile on her lips as she gestured at the counter. “I thought I’d make you breakfast for your birthday.”

Charlotte didn’t look at the bowl of pancake batter. Didn’t even send it a glance.

Her eyes were focused only on Sutton, and they were dark and hungry in the way that Sutton had learned very acutely this weekend had nothing to do with food. That hunger was only for her.

So it didn’t surprise her in the least when Charlotte pushed up to her tiptoes at the same time that she reached up to wrap a hand around Sutton’s neck to pull her down, bringing their lips together.

At first, for just a second, it was slow. Coaxing. Like they were kissing to say good morning to one another.

Sutton’s hands landed on Charlotte’s hips, sliding underneath the sweatshirt – her sweatshirt, and that sent a jolt down her spine, landing between her legs – gripping her tightly. Charlotte liked that, she’d discovered. Charlotte really liked when Sutton wasn’t timid or questioning.

Which really helped Sutton not to feel that way, to reject that inclination.

Why should she question herself, when she knew Charlotte liked this? Why should she wonder about if she should follow these instincts when it seemed Charlotte wanted her to lean into them? And why should she, especially, when Sutton liked it just as much? When she felt such a thrill igniting through her veins by being this way. By leaning into it.

She dug her fingers into Charlotte’s hips a little harder, sliding her tongue against Charlotte’s bottom lip, reveling in the way Charlotte moaned into her mouth.

“I wanted this,” Charlotte panted against her lips, barely breaking from their kiss. “I wanted morning birthday sex.”

And then she kissed Sutton again, no longer slow and sleepy and gentle, but demanding and needy, leaning more heavily into Sutton. Straining against her.

And Sutton was more than ready to comply.

She spun them around, sliding her hands up to hold tight at Charlotte’s waist. She flexed her hands in warning, before hiking her up to place her on the countertop. Blindly, she shot her other hand out to shove the mixing bowl away, dimly hearing the whisk she’d been using clatter down… somewhere.

Charlotte’s hands tightened into fists of Sutton’s hair, her kiss growing needier. The way she nipped her teeth into Sutton’s bottom lip was a touch too hard, just out-of-control enough to drive Sutton to that place, that out of her mind with want place.

Because she was. She was out of her mind, intoxicated on Charlotte – all Charlotte, only Charlotte, for the last two days – and even if they hadn’t discussed it yet, their time in this cabin was drawing to an end very soon. Within hours.

Desperation clawed at her, demanding she make the most of it. Demanding she take Charlotte again – right now. Before anything of real life could come back into the picture, before anything could ruin this.

Streaking her hands down, scratching her nails as she went and feeling Charlotte shudder against her, she stroked down, under Charlotte’s thighs. Then she gripped and pulled them open even farther than they’d already been. Where they’d been slack a moment ago, Charlotte caught up in their kiss, Sutton tugged them wide apart, wide enough for her to press herself entirely against Charlotte.

“God. Yes. Yes, Sutton,” Charlotte murmured urgently into their kiss, wrapping her legs around Sutton’s waist and rocking as much as she could against Sutton from her perch on the counter.

The only space Sutton allowed for even a second was just enough to slide her own hand between them, maneuvering between her own hips and Charlotte’s lace-covered pussy.

She broke their kiss, leaning back just enough to look into Charlotte’s eyes as she stroked her fingers over Charlotte’s soaked underwear.

Up and down, pressing with enough pressure that she could feel how hard Charlotte’s clit was through the material.

Her own eyes were hungry to watch the way Charlotte’s eyes grew heavily lidded, the way she arched her back, the way she unashamedly rubbed herself against Sutton’s fingertips.

“Have you ever had morning birthday sex before?” She asked, unbidden.

She didn’t know where, exactly, the words came from. She hadn’t been consciously thinking about it. But she had thought, over and over again, what this might mean to Charlotte. Just how different was Sutton from the many women that had come before her?

“No,” Charlotte answered, the syllable ending on a whimper as she dug her nails sharply into Sutton’s shoulders. “Never.”

There was something so fucking sexy – the hottest thing, maybe – about when Charlotte lost all veneer. When she was no longer teasing and coy and all-knowing. Which was incredibly sexy in and of itself.

But this – when she was so needy and wanting, that there was a guttural, needy tone in her voice. Like she wasn’t thinking about anything else, other than what she needed. Which, in these moments, was Sutton.

She, herself, shuddered at the very thought, and she didn’t care about anything else.

She tugged Charlotte’s underwear to the side and slid two fingers in.

Moving slowly, the same speed Charlotte had used to fuck her that first night. So… damn… slow. Wanting Charlotte to feel every centimeter of her, until her fingers were seated completely inside of Charlotte’s heat. Until she felt Charlotte clenching all around her, felt her literally dripping down into the palm of her hand.

Charlotte groaned, the sound coming right from her chest, as she blinked her eyes open to stare at Sutton.

She could see the words – the demand – forming on Charlotte’s lips.

Fuck me.

And before Charlotte could ask for it, she did.

She fucked Charlotte deeply, intently, wanting to watch every reaction, every expression as they flashed over her face.

The way she bit at her lip as if to hold back a moan even though it didn’t work, when Sutton curled her fingers all the way inside of her.

The way her eyelids fluttered closed when Sutton grinded her palm against her clit with every thrust.

And Sutton wanted to see everything. She’d started wanting to prolong this, to take advantage of being able to have Charlotte like this, for as long as possible.

But now, that was eviscerated by the desire to watch every micro-expression, to catalogue every single sound of Charlotte coming for her. Coming for her and only her. Because Sutton was the only one to have her like this.

She slid her fingers deeply inside of Charlotte, almost trembling with need herself, as she brought her other hand down between them and rubbed over Charlotte’s throbbing clit with her fingertips.

“Ah – darling – I–” Charlotte’s eyes widened at the same time Sutton could feel with the fingers buried, unmoving, inside of her the way she started pulsing around her.

And then Charlotte’s eyes fluttered closed and she dropped her head back, exposing the long, smooth line of her throat. Her mouth dropped open, and she let out soft, unintelligible sounds as she fell into her orgasm.

All the while clutching at Sutton’s shoulders, keeping her close.

Sutton moved in even closer, pressing her lips to Charlotte’s neck. Breathing in and tasting her as she continued to flex her fingers both inside of Charlotte and on her clit, making her come for as long as possible.

She’d never, not in her entire life, been so caught up in someone else as she was in this moment. As she was right now, feeling Charlotte everywhere.

Eventually, the tension melted from Charlotte’s body. Her thighs went from firmly holding around Sutton’s waist to simply bracketing around her, her arms slid from around Sutton to drop to the counter.

Sutton let out a long, low breath, feeling like she was also coming back to herself, just the same as Charlotte, as she lifted her head and inched backwards, enough to comfortably slide her fingers out.

Charlotte’s face was flushed and her eyes were bright, and her lips were curled into a very satisfied smile. Her heart skipped a beat, because that look was entirely for her. All because of Sutton.

“Now,” she breathed out, “That is exactly what I was hoping for.”

***

Sutton did make them pancakes – though the whisk had unfortunately rolled to the floor and caused quite a mess – and she felt a quiet contentedness settle between them as they sat at the table outside on the deck for breakfast.

Charlotte had gone into the bathroom while she’d cooked and washed her face, brushed her hair, put on a pair of shorts; put herself together, really.

Still, Sutton couldn’t stop herself from looking at her across the table. Feeling greedy as she continued to steal glances, trying to memorize the way Charlotte looked right now.

Not only literally, physically, but… the way she looked when she was clearly not letting herself think about the future. Charlotte had said it herself; on the average day, she was constantly thinking about not only the repercussions of every decision, but also the repercussions to those repercussions.

Even if Charlotte didn’t think so, that kind of thinking put a weight on her shoulders. It would be impossible for it not to.

Sutton hadn’t known it was even possible to see Charlotte not weighted down like she typically was.

And she so very desperately didn’t want it to end.

Not only because she wanted to keep this version of Charlotte – this version of her who was willing to give in to the attraction they shared, who was willing to share vulnerabilities with Sutton – for herself, but because she wanted it for Charlotte. Which made Sutton feel all fluttery inside in and of itself.

“Are you going to eat your own pancakes or simply watch me devour mine?” Charlotte asked, arching Sutton a teasing look.

Caught, she only blushed a little bit. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she picked up her own fork… and cast another look at Charlotte. “I do get a lot of satisfaction from seeing you enjoy what I make you.”

The confession shouldn’t be surprising, because Sutton took it upon herself to make sure Charlotte was fed and hydrated constantly. Even when it wasn’t technically during the workday, like when she brought Charlotte breakfast she didn’t ask for.

“Rest assured, I enjoy everything you give me.”

Even though Charlotte’s words were playful, even though they could have been laden with sexual innuendo… they weren’t. They were genuine, and Charlotte wasn’t just referencing the many orgasms Sutton had given her this weekend.

And for the first time since she’d arrived on the doorstep of this cabin and announced that she was quitting, she felt a stab of regret through her.

She’d been so focused on knowing that she couldn’t keep circling around Charlotte, tortured by that ever-present desire, she hadn’t really had any time or energy to think about what it would entail.

Charlotte didn’t properly make time for meals. She never ate breakfast, and hardly asked for lunch either, even though she was always on the move and never took a break. She mainlined coffee like it was all she needed to sustain, and that was about it.

Charlotte was good at many things.

But she was also really good at keeping up habits that would eventually run herself right into the ground.

Who was going to make sure she did the small things, the way Sutton had over the last few months, as her career had really ramped up?

Her stomach churned and just like that, she wasn’t really all that hungry. Which, she was very well aware – was a little crazy.

“So, what is your favorite birthday memory?” She forced herself to ask, making herself stop going down that train of thought.

After all, Sutton was responsible for this. Sutton had come here. Sutton had been the one to decide she was quitting.

She couldn’t take it back now, just because there were repercussions she hadn’t completely thought through. And she wouldn’t take it back now; with how everything had happened between them in the last several weeks, this felt like an unavoidable ending.

Besides, she didn’t want to dampen the last of this time she had with Charlotte, the last of this freedom. The last of Charlotte-without-the-weight-of-the-world.

Charlotte pursed her lips in thought, offering a shrug as she chewed her pancake. “I don’t really have any stand-out birthdays.”

Okay, that was enough to grab Sutton’s attention. Absolutely aghast, she shook her head. “None?”

Charlotte didn’t seem nearly as bothered as Sutton was by this news. In fact, she seemed entirely unbothered, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. “It’s just a day, Sutton.”

“But it’s the day you came into existence.”

The amusement faded slightly from Charlotte’s expression, melting into something warm, as she gazed across at Sutton. “That’s very sweet.”

“It’s factually true,” she pointed out, because she wasn’t being sweet. Sutton often was sappy and sentimental and, thus, sweet, but this was just… reality.

Still, Charlotte stared at her with that look, the one that made Sutton’s heart skip a beat. Before she cleared her throat, and glanced away from Sutton, looking out at the landscape. “Yes, you’re right. And it’s not as though birthdays are entirely meaningless to my family; I’ve typically received gifts. Caleb often likes to arrange some sort of celebratory engagement.”

Sutton couldn’t help it; she felt so sad. Sad by that perfunctory tone Charlotte used, like, eh, not a big deal. She appreciated that there was Caleb, but… what about her parents? And “typically”? Did that mean there were times where Charlotte’s parents didn’t celebrate her birthday at all?

Charlotte perked up, then. “If pressed, I’d say that my favorite birthdays were any that my grandmother had time to be with me. And if she did have time, she would be.”

That look on her face, admiration and pure love, was very typical of Charlotte to wear when her grandmother was mentioned, and it worked to alleviate some of this sadness inside of Sutton.

“What about you?” Charlotte asked, after clearing her throat. Cleary ready to change the topic and shift it away from herself.

“What about me?”

That amusement returned to Charlotte’s expression, a light laugh falling from her lips. “What was your best birthday?”

“Ohhh.” Sutton had to take a moment, flicking through her memories.

And she felt a little guilty, even, because she had such an opposite answer from Charlotte.

Sutton was hard-pressed to think of a favorite birthday because the truth was that so many of her birthdays were positive ones, especially in her childhood. Her parents always made her feel very special, she always got to pick any activity she wanted to do for a birthday party, all of her siblings got her presents. All birthdays in the Spencer family were designed to make the guest of honor feel celebrated. Feel like their addition to their family was irreplaceable and joyous.

“Um… my most memorable one was when I turned eighteen. We had a party at my house – my family and friends from school – and it was, you know, normal and fun. Then we had a slumber party, and while all of our other friends slept, Regan and I snuck out.”

Charlotte let out an exaggerated gasp. “You snuck out?”

She rolled her eyes. “Under Regan’s influence.”

“And… where did you go?”

A smile played on her lips, as she leaned back in her chair. “She’d arranged for us to go to a tattoo place over an hour away, and she’d paid them in advance to stay open until after midnight.”

Charlotte set down her fork, staring with interest across the table at her. “While days ago this information would have driven me wild in wondering, I can now very confidently say that you do not have a tattoo…”

“You’re right,” Sutton agreed, rolling her eyes even harder than before. “Because not only was I definitely not ready to get one, but we never even got there. Because Regan didn’t account for the late-season snowstorm that hit us. We couldn’t even see through the windshield once we were on the highway, so we ended up spending the night parked on the side of the road in the car.”

Charlotte chuckled. And then it got louder, until she eventually covered her lips with her hand. “Sorry. I – what a way to turn eighteen.”

“Yeah,” she wryly muttered, but… all she felt was affection.

Besides, Charlotte’s laughter and the light, gleaming look on her face just made Sutton feel light in return.

“But I will never forget it. Classic Regan,” she murmured.

“It seems so,” Charlotte agreed, despite not really knowing Regan.

For a wild moment, Sutton imagined what it could be like if that was different. She tried to picture Regan and Charlotte interacting, how it would play out. And it was nearly impossible for her to visualize.

Then again, she would have said the same thing about Regan and Emma being together in a romantic relationship, and yet...

She was brought back to reality by the quiet sound of Charlotte’s phone vibrating against the table.

They both glanced down to look, though Sutton wouldn’t have had to. By the way Charlotte’s lips quirked into a small smile, she’d have known it was her grandmother.

“Do you mind if I take this?” Charlotte asked, reaching for her phone, but hesitating before actually picking it up.

“Of course not,” Sutton immediately returned, shaking her head. She gestured for Charlotte to answer, overreaching in her insistence to the point that she nearly shoved Charlotte’s phone forcibly into her grasp. “I’ll clean up breakfast.”

Charlotte’s thumb paused over her screen as she shot Sutton a frown. “You don’t have to do that. I–”

She waved her off. “It’s your birthday,” she firmly reminded Charlotte, breathing out an incredulous laugh. “You don’t do chores on your birthday.”

She could hear Charlotte’s soft chuckle – something amused, like she thought Sutton was cute but definitely realistic – as she stood from her chair. But… Charlotte deserved to have a day like this. She deserved to have a birthday where she wasn’t beholden to anyone or anything.

She deserved to have birthday sex in the morning, to have breakfast made for her, to not lift her hand toward cleaning a dish. She deserved to have a full day off from work, a day here at the cabin where the real world could just stop.

And Sutton was going to do her best to give it to her.

Well, for as long as they could.

She shot Charlotte a smile as she grabbed their plates, stacking everything carefully, as Charlotte answered her phone.

Even before Charlotte could say anything, Sutton could hear through the phone, “Happy birthday, my deal girl.”

The smile she’d already worn melted into something bigger. Soft, but… in a different way than she was with Sutton.

But it still made Sutton’s stomach flutter at the sight, and she breathed out a soft sigh as she made her way back inside.

She couldn’t hear Charlotte as she busied herself in the kitchen, but she could clearly see her from the window. She’d stood from the table and walked over to the railing, leaning casually against it, her profile on display to Sutton. Which, in her opinion, was utter perfection.

The way the late-morning sun washed over her, making her hair seem to shine. She was still wearing Sutton’s sweatshirt, and the pair of shorts she’d adorned were short enough that they barely peeked out from under the long hem of it.

Sutton spent several long moments simply… staring, the warm water from the sink soaking over the syrup-sticky dishes and her hands.

Charlotte seemed so relaxed in a way that she, frankly, couldn’t quite get used to. She wanted to, badly. For Charlotte’s sake most of all. But this Charlotte when they were living their everyday lives in the city didn’t exist, as far as Sutton had seen.

Could that change? Was that possible? Not all of the time, because she knew Charlotte’s ambitions and the way she saw the world. But… on occasion?

Could it change if they continued during their everyday lives in the city? Could there be any chance that – that having someone to lean on, someone to open up to and really be with at the end of the day would take some of that weight of the world from Charlotte?

Sutton supposed the bigger question, and the question that had to be posed first, was whether or not Charlotte would allow Sutton to be that person.

I don’t know that I can let you go.

She’d had those exact words playing over and over again in her mind since Charlotte had said them. The desperate tone in Charlotte’s voice, the way she sounded tortured by it.

Sutton hadn’t brought it up again, because she’d wanted to give Charlotte exactly what she’d said: the weekend. They’d both reveled in it.

But it was already late-morning, the last day of the weekend. And Sutton didn’t know what came next.

Blowing out a long, low breath, she turned her attention to vigorously scrubbing the dishes. Cleaning was always a great distraction from real-life-thoughts.

And when she was done with that, Charlotte was still outside on the phone. Now, her back was to Sutton, though, so she couldn’t really indulge in gazing at her in the same way.

There were other things she could do, things she’d have to do sooner rather than later. Like gather her clothing – her actual clothing, that she’d worn here – that had been laundered and had sat folded on the top of the bureau. She could change into her own clothing as well.

But she didn’t do that just yet. 

Putting her own clothing back on seemed like real recognition that they needed to figure out what they were doing, now. It felt like an admission that the weekend was really ending.

Instead, she reached for her own phone.

Dear lord.

She was not yet ready to look at the texts rolling in from Regan, but she quickly thumbed through them. Because there were many, to varying degrees of freaking out, it seemed. So, she had that to look forward to tonight.

There was one from which simply read: So. Wow.

Wow, indeed.

She was more than ready to drop her phone to the wayside when Charlotte opened the door and came inside. No longer on the phone, she also no longer seemed incredibly relaxed.

Sutton frowned, concern lacing through her. “Is everything okay with your grandmother?”

Charlotte slowly nodded. “Ah, yes. She’s very pleased that I’m taking advantage of coming here; she doesn’t get here nearly enough, but she’s never been able to let it go.”

“She shouldn’t,” Sutton agreed, glancing around. “This place is perfect.”

Charlotte hummed in agreement as she reached up and carded her hands through her hair. “I’m growing particularly fond of it this weekend.”

Sutton smiled up at her, her stomach tingling the way it did when Charlotte said sweet things like that. She was alarmed that she could get used to that far too quickly.

The small smile that played on Charlotte’s lips wasn’t quite carefree, though, and Sutton could – now – spot it a mile away.

“What is it?” She pressed, walking closer to Charlotte.

Charlotte lightly tapped her phone against her palm. “My grandmother is, actually, on her way here.”

Sutton froze one step away from Charlotte. “Here?” She pointed between them. “Like, here-here?”

“The only here I know of at this moment, yes,” Charlotte confirmed, her voice light but not quite easy-going. “She informed me that she will be here within the hour. There’s a place on the water that does an incredible lunch, and she managed to finagle her schedule to surprise me for my birthday before I have to head back to the city. She,” Charlotte gently cleared her throat, “She thought it would be nice for me to have a little company today.”

There was that same tightness, which Sutton now realized was born out of uncertainty and maybe… disappointment? But perhaps Sutton was reading into that.

And Charlotte would be feeling disappointment because –

“I suppose that means I should leave,” Sutton realized, speaking the words aloud as they dawned on her. Her own disappointment bit sharply through her.

It was silly, she knew that. After all, they were going to have to leave sooner rather than later anyway. And it wasn’t as though Charlotte was going to tell her grandmother – Elizabeth fucking Thompson – to turn around.

Objectively, it was incredibly sweet that Elizabeth had made the time to come here. That she’d clearly planned a little outing for Charlotte on her birthday. Sutton attempted to hold onto that, rather than feeling like she was losing something.

Logically, she knew that.

Illogically, she couldn’t help but feel a little badly that Elizabeth obviously had no clue Charlotte did, in fact, have company on her birthday already.

“I should probably gather my clothing, then,” she murmured, rolling her lips.

She thought they’d have a few more hours. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for her to have held onto.

Charlotte’s expression was a little tight, clearly conflicted. She reached out, landing her hand on Sutton’s wrist before she could move to go upstairs.

“You’re correct in assuming that I didn’t inform her that you were here with me,” Charlotte voiced, even though Sutton didn’t actually need the confirmation to have known.

“I didn’t imagine you would,” she said, and it was the truth. She hadn’t actually thought about it while Charlotte was on the phone, because it hadn’t really been relevant.

But in no world did she imagine Charlotte would pick up her call from her illustrious grandmother and blurt out that Sutton Spencer, you know, her assistant – as far as Elizabeth knew – had come to the cabin for a sex-weekend with her. Especially because Sutton already had a sinking, demoralizing suspicion that Elizabeth didn’t like her, from the very brief interactions they’d had.

Charlotte remained quiet, and Sutton knew at this exact moment that the ease of the weekend the forgetting about reality, was behind them.

“I really didn’t think you’d tell your grandmother I was here,” she repeated, drawing in a deep breath, as she brought herself to look Charlotte in the eye. “We haven’t even decided what we’re doing here, going forward.”

And what she wouldn’t say aloud was that she knew Charlotte’s grandmother’s approval meant everything to her. Charlotte had never said that in as many words, but Sutton had been by Charlotte’s side every day for months; she knew how highly Charlotte regarded her grandmother.

“But,” she started, searching Charlotte’s gaze with her own, worrying at her bottom lip before admitting, “It doesn’t really make me feel great.”

“Sutton…” Charlotte closed her eyes, taking in a breath as she reached up with the hand that wasn’t still touching Sutton, and rubbed her fingers over her eyes with visible stress.

“I’m not saying that I need you to publicly acknowledge anything between us,” Sutton stated, and did feel very certain about that, which bolstered her even further. “Because we don’t even know, really, what’s playing out between us.”

They hadn’t ever acted on anything romantic or sexual in their real lives; Sutton might want to believe in love and romance and happy endings, but she wasn’t that naïve.

“If you want to keep sleeping together, if you want something to be between us… I want that.” She had no problem being the first one to admit it.

Sometimes – often times, really – in order to receive vulnerability, you had to first be vulnerable. And with Charlotte, Sutton could certainly do that. She had a feeling Charlotte would probably need that from her.

“You… want that,” Charlotte stated, slowly. As if tasting the words on her tongue, as she dropped her hand to meet Sutton’s stare.

“Well, I didn’t drive here in the middle of a storm and quit my job for no reason,” she half-joked.

“I thought that reason was so we could finally have sex,” Charlotte mirrored her same tone, giving nothing else away.

“And, it was,” she agreed. “But, ideally – not so we can just have sex this weekend. I want to figure out what this could mean, for us. And I don’t need that to be public in any way,” she repeated, firmly.

She could see the – wow – the nerves in Charlotte’s eyes. The skepticism, the uncertainty, the concern.

“I don’t,” she repeated, reaching out and laying her hand over Charlotte’s, gently. “But I do need not to be hidden from even the people closest from you. If your grandmother and Caleb know that you’re a lesbian, why would you also need to hide me from them?”

She felt like that was very reasonable.

Especially because, “I’ve been a dirty little secret, before. With Kyle.”

Even talking about it made her feel that gnawing, residual guilt and shame, and always served to awaken that voice in the back of her head, telling her she wasn’t good enough.

Charlotte’s eyes were wide, and she slid her hand down to grip at Sutton’s. “You are not my dirty little secret. Sutton, my needing to be private – to be… secretive – has nothing to do with you. I truly hope you know that.”

She squeezed Charlotte’s hand back, nodding. “I do.”

And she really did. She knew this wasn’t about her for Charlotte, not the way things had been with Kyle.

Still, though, she shook her head. “But I can’t feel like that, again. I – I won’t,” her voice shook slightly, but she rolled her shoulders back and held firm. She couldn’t allow herself to feel like she was something to be ashamed of, even if it was for Charlotte. “So… if you want to keep doing this?” She gestured between them. “If you really don’t want to let me go?”

She echoed Charlotte’s words back to her, feeling them land at all of those soft, yearning places inside of her. Just the way they’d landed the other night.

“Then we can keep everything private, buttoned-up, to the public. To everyone that doesn’t know about your sexuality. Even if it’s for you and your career, I certainly don’t need that kind of scrutiny in my life, either.” That much Sutton was also very sure about.

Charlotte’s eyes were wide and so very unsure, in a way Sutton couldn’t really come to terms with. In a way that was so very un-Charlotte. In a way that nestled right in her chest, making her feel so soft.

With that feeling, she took a deep breath. “I don’t need you to respond right this instant. I know that… that our lives are very different, in terms of what we want. What we thought we want. And I – I mean, I didn’t even come here knowing that was how I felt.”

There was absolutely no part of her that had managed such future-facing, logical thoughts when she’d arrived here a couple of days ago.

And she’d had no idea what was going to happen with Charlotte when she’d arrived. She , genuinely, hadn’t believed that this weekend would have played out the way it had.

But she found that the resolve inside of her settled. Right now, that was where she was at. She wanted to keep doing this with Charlotte, and she didn’t need or want publicity. But she couldn’t be a secret. Privacy and secrecy were two different things.

With that, she gently squeezed Charlotte’s hand, preparing to break the contact.

If Elizabeth would be here in less than an hour, Sutton didn’t really have all that much time. “Less than an hour” could mean twenty minutes.

But Charlotte gripped her hand tightly, not letting go. She used the hold to tug Sutton in, having her take that final step closer. As she did, Charlotte was already reaching for her, cupping her jaw and pushing up onto her tiptoes to capture Sutton’s lips with hers.

She gave into it easily, dropping her free hand to Charlotte’s waist, settling into the gentle curve there. Gripping her, memorizing the feeling of Charlotte against her.

She met Charlotte beat for beat, mirroring the same hunger in their kiss.

No matter what, she wanted this kiss.

If they were going to continue, then this was how she wanted to end the weekend.

And if this was going to be all it was, then she needed to have this kiss etched into the memory of her senses.

She swore she could taste Charlotte’s turmoil, could feel it vibrating through her body as she pressed herself against Sutton.

Wrapping her arm around Charlotte’s waist, she held her close, keeping her there. And she gentled their kiss, sighing into Charlotte’s mouth. This was how she wanted it to be. Slow and explorative and maybe a little bittersweet.

Perhaps it was Charlotte’s birthday, but Sutton figured she could allow Sutton to control the tempo of this kiss.

The way Charlotte hummed into her mouth made Sutton shiver. So, she didn’t really mind, then.

Before time could get away from them – well, even more than it already had, because her mind felt a little foggy and she certainly had no frame of reference for how long they’d been making out against the kitchen wall – Sutton leaned back, breaking their kiss.

Charlotte’s lips were damp and a little swollen and Sutton pulsed at the sight, this insatiable need working through her.

“I do want you to know,” she started, her voice hoarse, as she gently slid her hand up and toyed with the ends of Charlotte’s hair. “No matter what you decide, I don’t regret anything this weekend.”

She could never see or speak to Charlotte again, and she wouldn’t regret this. She’d probably have moments of doubting herself, calling herself an idiot for quitting and changing everything. But… no, she couldn’t regret it.

Getting to be the only person in the world to have experienced Charlotte this way? No regrets.

She could feel Charlotte’s deep inhale, her chest pushing heavily into Sutton’s, and the look in her eyes was so emotional… for a moment, Sutton wondered if Charlotte was going to cry.

Which seemed absurd, because Charlotte didn’t cry.

Well, no, Sutton was sure she cried – right? Didn’t everyone? – but… Charlotte hadn’t shown that part of herself to Sutton. She was positive Charlotte didn’t show that part of herself to anyone, maybe not even herself.

And she wanted to believe Charlotte wasn’t going to cry, because she wanted to believe this wasn’t going to be the end of this.

Charlotte blinked a few times, before slowly exhaling. And then she pulled away from Sutton, clearing her throat. “I don’t have any regrets, either, darling. I… I truly don’t.”

***

Sutton wasn’t sure if she was dreading walking into her apartment or looking forward to it more.

Because after the highs and lows of this weekend, she felt so strongly that she had to talk about it. And now, Regan knew. So… that was a good thing.

But she knew she’d have to work through Regan’s theatrics before they could get to the genuine conversation part, so.

Regan didn’t wait for her to open the apartment door herself. Instead, she threw it open.

Sutton startled back. “Were you laying in wait?!” She demanded, clapping a hand over her racing heart.

“Obviously!” Regan shot back. She reached out and grabbed Sutton’s small bag – Charlotte had procured it for her clothing – and tugged her inside. “Come, come! We can’t really have this chat while we’re in the hallway, can we?”

Sutton groaned, allowing Regan to draw her in.

She met Emma’s eyes over Regan’s shoulder. “I’m going to take this to mean you haven’t managed to get to a calm place yet?” She asked, dryly.

Emma held up her hands. “Look, in all fairness to Regan on this one – I’m not even really sure how to be totally calm about this. Best I can do is offer that it’s not really my business who you’re having sex with.”

“Except that it’s your boss!” Regan interjected, gesticulating wildly. “And that it’s Charlotte fucking Thompson!” To Regan’s credit even though they were in their own apartment with the door closed, she only whisper-screamed Charlotte’s name.

Emma’s lips curled into an exasperated but utterly smitten smile. “Yeah, neither of those things makes it our business,” she pointed out.

Regan whirled around to face her. “Okay, gorgeous, but don’t act like you aren’t dying to know the details.”

Sutton really needed to get a grasp on this new reality, where Regan called Emma “gorgeous” and Emma blushed slightly, but was so very clearly pleased. It was still doing a number on her brain.

“I… do,” Emma conceded.

Regan leapt from where she was gripping Sutton’s arm to stand next to Emma, hopping to her tiptoes to kiss her cheek. “Thank you for the honesty while we peer pressure Sutton.”

“Oh, brother,” she muttered.

Then she froze, excitement shooting through her as she felt her phone vibrate with a text in her pocket.

She hadn’t heard from Charlotte since she’d left the cabin, but that had been hours ago. She’d hit some traffic coming back to the city, and had then returned the car to the parking garage, before making her way home.

There was a good chance Charlotte’s lunch with Elizabeth was over.

But it wasn’t Charlotte.

It was her mother.

Mom – 3:01P.M.Just wanted to let you know we’ve made dinner reservations for the night we arrive next week! I’ve also texted Regan to let her know. I’m looking forward to this dinner at Senator Armstrong’s much more than I typically am. See you soon, honey

Oh, god.

Oh, no.

Regan also gasped, looking down at her own phone.

“Um… redheaded sunshine? What are you going to tell your parents regarding why you don’t work for Charlotte when they come to town? Aren’t the four of you supposed to all be at the same work thing?”

Sutton still didn’t have regrets about the weekend.

But… she supposed, perhaps, she could have thought it through a bit more.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.