A/N: I hope the prior chapter didn't violate any major taboos—I am still new to this! It is strange writing Charlie with someone other than Monroe, but we all know she didn't spend those months on the road knitting. :) And her motives will become clearer soon. In this chapter, Charlie dreams of what will happen when she finally finds Monroe…

Charlie crept stealthily down the corridor of the boarding house where she'd found out Monroe was staying. His room was down at the very end; the door seemed to be lit with a soft glow. As she approached, her heart raced with anticipation. This was it. The moment she'd been waiting for. To finally see him face to face. A knife was clutched in her right hand with deadly purpose.

She tapped on the door, then fell back, coiled to spring. Monroe opened the door, and she crashed through it with a kick, knocking him back into the room. Charlie leapt for him, raising her knife high.

Monroe easily ducked away from her. He grabbed her knife arm as it slashed downward, then her other wrist, so he held her immobile before him. Roughly, he pulled her further into the room, kicking the door closed behind him. Then he stared down into her face. Charlie's breath caught at the sight of him. He was even more beautiful than she remembered. Dirtier, more rugged, his eyes haunted.

"Hello, Charlotte," he said smoothly, his face unreadable. "It's nice to see you."

Struggling against him futilely, Charlie spat, "Let me go. Let me go so I can finally END you." She tried to ignore the fact that being so close to him, smelling him, was making her forget why she'd ever hated him so much at all.

Monroe laughed darkly. "You're here to kill me? And this was your big plan? To jump me with a knife?" Slowly, he worked his hand up over hers, raising her knife to his throat, giving her enough play to thrust it forward.

"Go ahead," he urged with intensity. "Kill me." He leaned into the blade ever so slightly, until his flesh dented underneath it, and then a red line began to open up.

Charlie was motionless, unable to do it, but unwilling to pull back. She and Monroe's eyes locked in a heated battle for several long seconds, until he cracked a slight smile. Suddenly, he whipped the knife back and out of her hand, twirling her around so her back was pressed tight to his body.

He pressed the flat edge of the knife to her throat, and her breath quickened with panic. "Or maybe I should just finish this right here. Once and for all."

Tightly wrapped in Monroe's arms, Charlie could feel every inch of him against her. His hot breath on her hair. His firm muscles. And his hot, hard erection, pressed into her ass, no mistaking it. Unable to help herself, she pushed her hips back into him deliberately, savoring the feeling of his want for her.

His response was immediate. "Is that why you came here, Charlotte?" he murmured into her ear, the knife still in place. "To fuck me?" Monroe ground his hips back into hers, and she whimpered slightly with desire. Hearing her, he breathed in and out hard, running his free hand over her body. He dipped his hand down between her legs and rubbed her there wantonly. Charlie arched into him, careful not to move her neck.

Monroe dropped the knife to the floor with a clatter, now ministering to her body with both hands. "Say you want me, Charlotte." He ran his hands up over her breasts, kneading them, then bent down and kissed hotly along the side of her neck.

"I want you," she breathed. "Bass, I want you."

Suddenly, she was naked, lying in his bed, and Monroe was above her, naked too. He leaned down over her, kissing her hard, plunging his tongue into her mouth. Charlie twined her arms and legs around him, pulling him closer. She could feel his hard cock between them.

Monroe broke away from her and reached down, guiding her hand onto him. Charlie wrapped her hand around his cock, humming with pleasure at the thickness. Lightly, she ran her hand over his rock hardness, feeling her body respond, her sex tingling with arousal.

"Show me where you want me," Monroe commanded, staring down at her, eyes clouded with lust.

Opening her legs wider, she pushed her hips forward, lining him up with her entrance. Monroe took his time, entering slowly, then pulling almost all the way back out, then inside again, driving her wild. She tried to push up onto him, but he held back from her. "Bass… Bass, please," she begged, helpless.

Finally, God finally, he thrust into her completely, filling her all the way, stretching her. The friction was perfect, as she felt every long inch of him moving inside her. The sounds of their bodies moving together, their quick breaths, their sighs and groans of pleasure, were clear in the otherwise-silent room. Charlie felt her orgasm building, and she ached for her release, feeling like it had been building for months.

Monroe was getting close, too, moving inside her in a steady, quick rhythm, pulling her to him tight. "Do you want me to come inside you, Charlotte?" he asked, riding the ragged edge of his orgasm.

Nearly over the edge herself, more turned on than she had even known was possible, she cried out "yes," wanting to feel more of him, all of him, within her. Monroe captured her mouth into a deep kiss as he came, groaning onto her lips. At the feel of his completion, her climax overtook her, her nerve endings exploding in pleasure, her body losing control beneath him…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Charlie awoke with a start, her heart racing, heavy moisture pooled between her legs. Looking around the dark room, it took her a moment to remember where she was. She glanced over at Broderick's sleeping figure and remembered.

Her dream had left her completely aroused, unsatisfied. She had to come. Had to. Charlie worked her hand slowly down her stomach, over her mound, glancing over at Broderick to make sure he wasn't waking up. When she touched herself, her breath caught with relief, it felt so good. Her pussy and thighs were completely soaked with her juices. Dipping a finger into her center to capture the wetness there, she ran her fingers back up over her clit.

Closing her eyes, she tried to think of Broderick. Or that blonde bartender a few weeks back. Or anyone but Monroe. But her mind's vision of him above her, naked and gleaming, hot and ready, wouldn't go away. She rubbed herself more firmly, and finally gave in. Bass, placing her hand on his cock… Bass, plunging into her, fucking her desperately… Bass, coming for her, filling her…

Charlie's hand worked faster as she alternated between stroking her clit and slipping a finger inside. And then, an image not from her dream, but from her waking fantasies: Climbing on top of Bass, plunging down onto his cock needily, working her hips against him as he lay beneath her, eyes closed in ecstasy… Bass losing control for her as she rode him…

Charlie's abdominal muscles spasmed as she came, her hips bucking slightly, her brow knit in pleasure, her mouth opened in a silent cry, mouthing his name: Bass.

As she came down from her high, pleasure quickly turned into disgust with herself at what she'd just done. Had been doing almost every night. Touching herself, getting off to images of her most hated enemy, the man she'd made it her mission in life to kill. What was wrong with her?

Other men provided an adequate distraction while she was awake. But at night, her disloyal mind betrayed her, torturing her with feelings for Monroe that she'd never had for anyone. Images of him that were unlike anything she'd ever experienced. She sighed. Once she got to New Vegas and found him, everything would be alright, she told herself. Once she finally was with him.

Rolling her eyes, she corrected herself. Once she finally killed him.