Chapter 87: Love and Games on the High Seas
Somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico
Why was it that drug dealers always seemed to have the coolest toys? Peter couldn't help but wonder this as his hands gripped the wheel of one of the sleekest and most luxurious speedboats he'd ever had the pleasure of borrowing. The boat's name, boldly painted in sharp, black letters across the side, read Coño Vagón—because of course, it did.
The vessel cut through the sparkling waters of the Gulf of Mexico with ease, its powerful engine humming beneath him like a well-fed predator. The morning sun gleamed off its polished surface, reflecting a golden glow across the waves. It was a beautiful Monday morning, and for the past two days, he and Char had been living it up, indulging in every ounce of luxury their newfound toy had to offer.
The weekend had started like most of their nights when they were out hunting. Char loved to play detective—sifting through the scum of the city, teasing information from them like pulling threads from a frayed rope. She didn't need violence to do it either; her sharp tongue and sharper instincts were all it took. It was a game to her, and Peter couldn't deny how much he enjoyed watching her work.
Their nights always ended the same way: with full bellies and a fresh breadcrumb for them to follow. For months, they'd been working their way up the ladder of a criminal organization, one thug at a time. Char had a knack for piecing together their muttered confessions, their panicked bargains, and their outright lies. Every scrap of information she gathered built the puzzle a little more until they had a clear view of the big picture.
Peter smirked, the memory of it vivid as he gripped the boat's wheel. They hadn't just stumbled onto this speedboat by chance. Oh no, this particular toy had been a prize—one of the perks of finally reaching the top of the food chain.
Eventually, the breadcrumbs had led them to the man at the top. These weren't street-level grunts with big mouths and loose wallets. These were the heavy hitters, the men who thought they were untouchable, operating from shadows too dark for most to penetrate. Peter had been itching to take them down, but Char had urged him to hold back. "Patience, cowboy," she'd said, her devilish grin promising trouble and fun in equal measure.
It had all come to a head on Saturday night. They had tracked their quarry to an upscale club in the heart of Houston, but something felt off. Instead of settling in to enjoy the night, the group was on the move, leaving in a hurry with their underlings in tow. Char smirked, raising an eyebrow, and that was all it took. They followed.
The men led them far from the bustling city, their route winding into quieter, more secluded areas. Eventually, they arrived at a pier, its edges softened by the mist rolling in from the water. It was far from prying eyes, a place where deals were made, and bodies were dumped. They had kept their distance, blending into the shadows as they watched and waited.
Watching a big-time drug deal unfold was always entertaining—like a gritty TV drama brought to life. Sometimes, if they were lucky, a double-cross would spice things up. Peter had to admit, it was always funny when the criminals started killing each other, saving him and Char the trouble.
But Saturday night's deal had surprisingly been on the up and up. No shouting, no guns drawn—just a clean exchange of cash for drugs. Watching the two sides inspect their respective hauls had been enlightening. One held 100 bricks of coke. That much powder was no joke; it was an empire in the making. The suitcase full of cash, though? That had piqued Peter's interest for reasons far removed from the business at hand.
He and Char had exchanged a sly smile, a silent acknowledgment between them. The time to make their move was fast approaching.
They'd emerged from the shadows like reapers, swift and merciless. The memory of it brought a grin to Peter's lips as he adjusted the throttle, his hand steady on the wheel. The first wave of underlings hadn't even managed to draw their weapons. He'd torn through them with almost surgical precision, their pitiful screams swallowed by the night. One had tried to run—thinking they could escape—but Char had been on him in a blink. He could still hear her sharp laugh as she grabbed him, a sound that turned into something far more feral after she'd bitten into his neck. The man's screams had ended in a gurgle.
The head honcho—the real prize, the man all their efforts had been building toward—had barely processed the carnage before Peter was on him. The leader's face was etched in Peter's memory, the way his expression shifted from shock to sheer terror as he grabbed him by the throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground and slamming him against the side of the boat. For one fleeting moment, their eyes locked, and Peter saw it: the man knew his time had come. As he brought the now-screaming man's neck to his mouth, he bit in forcefully, draining the bastard dry. The warm rush of blood, the man's weak, flailing hands—oh, that had been satisfying. Char had handled the others on the boat with just as much enthusiasm. Peter wished he hadn't been so distracted; her voice and the accompanying screams suggested she'd been thoroughly enjoying herself. God, he loved it when he was able to watch her work.
Some of the muscle had tried to put up a fight—emphasis on tried. One idiot had pulled a knife, slashing wildly, but he had disarmed the man with a single, bone-crushing twist of the wrist. Another thug managed to fire off a few rounds, desperate and shaking, but the bullets had been useless, bouncing harmlessly off his back as he drained the knife-wielding fool. Before the guy could even think about reloading, Char was on him. Her beautiful visage dripped with malice for daring to harm her husband, and it was the last thing that bastard ever saw.
When it was all over, the pier stood as a grim testament to their handiwork. Bodies lay crumpled where they'd fallen, lifeless and still, like discarded puppets with their strings cut. Beside him, Char had flashed that wicked grin of hers, her eyes gleaming with exhilaration. He couldn't help but chuckle at her exuberance. Cleaning up the world, one asshole at a time—it didn't get much better than this.
"Think we missed anything?" she'd asked, her grin widening as she casually licked a streak of blood from her arm with her tongue.
Peter smirked at the memory, his retort still sharp in his mind. "Not a chance. Just the snacks." He could still see the two muscle-bound lackeys tied and gagged near the stern, unconscious. "Figured we'd save them for later. Always nice to have a midmorning snack." His hand happily patted his belly as he chuckled to himself. They'd both been quite satisfying the next day, somewhere between the many rounds of his and Char's sweet, sweet loving.
Char had handled the cleanup, scrubbing down the boat with practiced ease, while he carried the hefty crate of coke to the rocky shore. It took a few minutes, but when the flames finally engulfed the wood and its contents, he felt a flicker of satisfaction. The acrid smoke curled into the night sky, carrying the stench of burning chemicals—a fitting end for such poison.
"Good riddance," he'd muttered, watching the fortune in drugs burn away.
When it was all done—the blood scrubbed away, the evidence wiped clean, and the bodies stashed in the hold for disposal later—they'd come to the same unspoken conclusion: it was time for a little R&R. Peter smirked thinking about the suitcase full of cash. With that much coke in play, the deal's price tag had been steep, but he knew the money was far better off in their hands than those assholes'.
Char had taken the helm that night, her excitement evident in the way she gripped the wheel and leaned into the wind as the boat sliced through the dark, still waters. The glow of the moon painted the waves in silver streaks, and the scent of salt hung heavy in the air. She'd been humming a low tune—the kind she always did when she was thrilled with how things had gone.
Peter could still feel her as clearly as if it were happening now—the satisfaction of wrapping his arms around Char from behind, leaning into her as she steered. Her laughter had floated on the sea breeze, light and unrestrained, as he pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck.
He could still hear her voice, playful and teasing as ever. "Admit it, Pete—I'm the best damn captain you've ever sailed with."
"Damn straight," he'd murmured, his lips grazing her skin. "Best partner, too."
Moments like that. Those were what made the endless nights worthwhile. It wasn't just the thrill of the hunt or the satisfaction of a job well done—it was being with Char. She turned eternity into their playground, and he loved every fucking minute of it.
Peter leaned back, his hand resting lazily on the wheel as the boat skimmed smoothly across the waves. The horizon stretched endlessly before him, but his attention was firmly fixed on the goddess sprawled out on the deck in front of him. Char, completely nude, bathed in the sunlight like she owned the damn sea. And maybe she did—because at that moment, she sure as hell owned him.
What a sight she was. Even after nearly a century together, she still had a way of making him feel like some awestruck kid seeing something forbidden and thrilling for the first time. His gaze trailed over her, lingering shamelessly on her curves, on the way her breasts caught the sunlight just right, sparkling like twin disco balls designed to drive him out of his mind. Her nipples—so responsive to his touch, whether from his hands, his tongue, or his teeth—seemed to tease him even from a distance. The thought of running his tongue over them sent a jolt of heat through him, imagining the way she'd arch her back, pressing herself into him, whispering his name in that breathy, needy way that always drove him wild.
Peter shifted slightly, adjusting himself as his swim trunks grew uncomfortably tight. Damn it. The sight of her stretched out like that, completely unbothered, knowing exactly the effect she had on him, was almost too much. She was pure perfection—the kind of beauty that made him thankful for his vampire eyes, allowing him to savor every flawless detail.
He smirked, shaking his head as the desire thrumming through him threatened to boil over. If they didn't start going at it again soon, he was going to have a serious problem on his hands—or more specifically, in his pants.
Glancing at the gas gauge, Peter knew their time on the high seas was nearing its end. The needle hovered just above a quarter tank, a clear reminder that they still needed to make it back to shore. Unless they fancied a long swim, it was time to start heading back sooner rather than later.
They'd already handled the messy details—dumping the bodies and every gun found onboard into the dark, unforgiving depths of the Gulf. The boat itself would meet a similar fate, as soon as they reached the mainland. They were keeping the cash.
The radar installed on the boat informed Peter that they were utterly alone—no other vessels for miles. This was it, their last chance for some fun before heading back to shore. Slowing the boat to a smooth stop, he shut off the engine, the silence broken only by the gentle lapping of water against the hull. A sly grin tugged at his lips as he made his way to the front deck, his eyes already fixed on his wife.
"Char, babe. I think we'll need to start heading back soon," he said, though his voice carried more admiration than urgency.
Standing over her, Peter took a moment to drink in the sight before him. Char lay sprawled across the deck, bathed in sunlight, her skin shimmering like polished marble. The only thing she wore was a pair of sunglasses she'd plucked from below deck, perched on her nose more for aesthetic flair than any real purpose. And damn, did she know how to pull it off.
His gaze lingered, unashamed, tracing the curve of her body. From her perfectly toned legs to the smooth plane of her stomach, she was a vision. And then there was her recently shaved pussy—still as flawless and smooth as a baby's bottom. God, he loved it when she did that.
Shaving hadn't been a thing back when they were human, but the first time Char had done it, a decade or so ago, it had been a revelation. It was so new and thrilling that Peter quickly discovered just how much he loved using his mouth to pleasure her down there. The memory alone sent a surge of heat through him, his mouth watering at the thought of tasting her again.
Char lifted her sunglasses back, peeking up at him with a lazy smirk. "What's the matter, Pete? Can't handle a little sunbathing?"
Peter chuckled, his voice low and rough. "I can handle it just fine. It's you I can't stop staring at, woman. You're too damn gorgeous for your own good."
Her laugh was soft, sultry, and completely unapologetic. "Lucky for you, I don't mind being ogled."
He crouched down beside her, his fingers brushing lightly against the inside of her thigh as he leaned in close. "Good. 'Cause I'm not stopping anytime soon."
Char stretched languidly, spreading her legs apart, knowing exactly what it did to him. She didn't have to look to know where Peter's eyes were—his gaze was locked low, tracing the intimate lines of her body with a hunger that made her smirk. But she couldn't resist sneaking a glance anyway, her eyes drawn to the unmistakable bulge straining against his swim trunks. A slow, wicked grin spread across her lips. He was hers, completely under her spell, but there was something so deliciously satisfying about pushing his buttons. After all, wasn't that half the fun?
Her thoughts drifted, the heat of the sun soaking into her sparkling skin as she considered their options. Both of them loved roleplaying—loved the unpredictability, the thrill of slipping into new personas and making their fantasies come alive. Scenarios flashed through her mind, one after another, each more enticing than the last. Her grin deepened, wicked and full of anticipation. They could spend hours, even the whole day, lost in each other if they got carried away. The thought sent a shiver of excitement down her spine.
Before they got started, though, she remembered something practical—a rare occurrence when Peter was looking at her the way he was. A text. She was expecting a message from a friend about meeting up in the next few days, and she figured she'd better check now before they got... distracted. "Hey," she said, her voice smooth as silk, "could you go check my phone for a sec? See if I've gotten any texts from Andrea?"
Peter didn't hesitate, nodding once before zipping below deck. His eagerness almost made her laugh. He was putty in her hands, and she loved every second of it.
As his footsteps disappeared, Char rolled onto her stomach, the deck warm against her skin. She stretched her arms over her head, arching her back just enough to show off the curve of her ass. She knew exactly what she was doing. The sun felt incredible, its rays dancing off her skin, making every inch of her sparkle like a million-faceted diamond.
Grinning to herself, she started to plan. Maybe she'd pretend to be fast asleep when Peter came back; he could wake her up in any way he deemed appropriate. And knowing Peter, she had a pretty good idea of how he'd do it. She wiggled her hips slightly, letting her tight, toned ass prepare for what awaited it as her excitement grew.
Her thoughts were interrupted, though, by a sharp yell from below deck. Peter's voice, laced with surprise, cut through the lazy rhythm of the waves, making Char's head snap up in attention.
"Holy shit!"
Peter's exclamation rang out from below deck, his tone more astonished than angry. Char's curiosity was immediately piqued. Whatever it was, it didn't sound bad, but it had definitely grabbed his attention. She rolled over lazily, their playful plans momentarily forgotten.
"What is it?" she called, propping herself up on her elbows as she watched him climb the steps. He emerged, engrossed in her phone, his fingers scrolling furiously, his brow furrowed in a mix of disbelief and amusement.
"You've had several texts from friends," Peter started, holding the phone aloft as if to emphasize the point. "All with very colorful headers, I might add. And I'd bet that suitcase full of cash below deck they're all about the same thing." He paused, his grin widening. "Somehow the world kept spinning without us while we've been out here enjoying ourselves. And the top news story? It's a real doozy."
Char cocked an eyebrow, intrigue sparking in her gaze. "Top story?"
Peter chuckled, shaking his head as his eyes skimmed yet another article. "It seems our dear friend Starshield has been busy—very busy." Finally tearing his gaze from the phone, he looked at her with that familiar, mischievous grin he always wore when he was particularly impressed with something he'd done. "You'll never guess what Bella managed to pull off yesterday."
Char's grin widened, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I beg to differ, cowboy. I think I know my friend pretty damn well. I bet I can guess exactly how she saved the day."
Peter's eyes locked onto hers, amusement flickering there as he leaned casually against the railing. "Oh, really? Is that so?" He arched an eyebrow, his smile spreading into a devilish smirk. "Would you care to put your money where your mouth is, darlin'? Because I say there's no way in hell you're getting this one. But hey, if you're feeling that confident, let's make it interesting."
Char tilted her head, intrigued, already relishing the playful challenge. "What did you have in mind?" she purred, her voice low and teasing. Wagers with Peter were always fun—and the stakes were usually deliciously naughty.
Peter's gaze slid over her, lingering unapologetically. He knew exactly what he wanted. "Alright," he began, his tone casual but his grin pure wickedness. "Here's the deal," he drawled, his voice low and teasing. "I'll give you five guesses. And I'll even help you out: what Bella accomplished was nothing short of spectacular. So don't waste your guesses on something lame, like rescuing some kid's kitten from a tree."
Char's eyebrow shot up, a playful challenge already brewing in her expression, but Peter wasn't done. His grin turned predatory as he added, "And when you lose—which you will, sweetheart—you'll drop to your knees and blow me right here, right now, on this deck."
Char threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, is that all?" She arched a brow, her eyes glittering with challenge. "Because I was planning on doing that anyway, cowboy. But when I win—and I will—you're going to spend the next hour with your face between my legs. Deal?"
Peter's smirk deepened, his eyes locked on her as she spread her legs wider, giving him an even more tantalizing view. Her left hand slid slowly down her body, and with deliberate ease, she traced her index finger up her slit, gliding over her glistening skin. His breath hitched, and she didn't miss the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips. She loved seeing him like this—completely captivated by her. She grinned, her voice dripping with confidence. "So, you ready to lose?"
Peter chuckled, shaking his head, his gaze never leaving hers. "Sweetheart, now that I know what the stakes are, I hope you win." His voice was husky and teasing as he leaned back slightly, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Alright, you're on. Let's hear it—what's your first guess?"
Char sat up as she began pondering the possibilities. Bella and her shield... what could she have done that had Peter making such a fuss? If he was this smug, it had to be something big, something completely out of this world.
Her grin widened as an idea struck. "Alright, I've got it… was there a massive fire, and Bella gathered up, like, thousands of gallons of water in her shield and floated it over the flames to put them out?"
Peter laughed, shaking his head, the sea breeze tousling his hair. "Not even close, darlin'. Is that really the best you've got?" He shot her a mock frown. "You might wanna start licking those lips now. I want them nice and moist for when you start deepthroating me."
Char grinned, the heat in her gaze unmistakable. She wouldn't deny she loved doing that. "Hold up there, cowboy. You're getting way too ahead of yourself. I'm not done yet."
She arched an eyebrow, pretending to think hard, though Peter's cock still lingered at the edges of her mind. "Alright, I've got it this time. So, there was a tornado, right? And a house was about to be ripped apart, but Bella threw up her shield just in time and saved the entire family inside."
Peter shook his head again, his grin widening. "Nope." He reached into his trunks and began stroking his dick with deliberate exaggeration. "Just getting it ready for you." His playful wink sent a jolt of heat straight through her.
Char huffed, sticking her tongue out at him. "You're enjoying this way too much, you know that."
"Damn straight I am." Peter chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he pulled his hand out and folded his arms over his chest. "But trust me, when you hear what she did, you're gonna lose it. Two guesses down, babe. Better make these next three count."
Char tapped her finger on her chin, her grin never wavering. "Alright, how about this? A helicopter malfunctioned and ended up dangling off the side of some skyscraper. The pilot fell out, plummeting to his death, but Bella flew up, catching him in midair, then grabbed the falling helicopter with her shield and carried them both back to safety on top of the building!"
Peter laughed, shaking his head. "Now you're just ripping off Superman!"
Char shrugged, completely unfazed. "Hey, I'm just trying to think of something worthy of that shield of hers." She smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Okay, what about this? There was a massive accident on a bridge. Cars were piled up everywhere, and a car—no, wait, a bus full of screaming kids—started teetering over the edge. Bella swooped in, stopped the bus from falling, and saved everyone."
Peter shook his head again, this time with an exaggerated sigh of mock sadness. "Sorry, babe." His tone dripped with smug satisfaction. "You better start getting ready to nibble on Mr. Goodbar."
Char's laughter spilled out before she could stop it. "Mr. Goodbar? Really? I think I liked it better yesterday when it was the Cockinator."
Peter grinned wickedly. "Hey, no whining. I didn't force you to make a bet you couldn't win. But because I'm such a generous man—and I love you—I'll give you a clue. What Bella did... it wasn't in the United States."
Char drummed her fingers against the deck of the boat, her expression turning thoughtful. "Not in the US…" she murmured, letting the words roll around in her mind. The last time they'd spoken to Bella, she'd still been in Italy, having just offed the Volturi. A feat Char couldn't help but grin about every time she thought of it—God, she would've loved to see that smug pack of assholes get what was coming to them. She still held out hope that that miserable prick Aro secretly recorded the throne room, and one day they'd all get to watch his demise on tape. Now that would be must-see TV.
But where was Bella now? A month had passed, and Char would have assumed Bella had made her way back to the States by now, but Peter was saying otherwise. Maybe Bella had stayed longer in Europe? Char's eyes narrowed as possibilities danced through her mind. Her mom still lived there, didn't she? Last she'd heard, Renée was living it up in Paris. A faint laugh escaped her. She doubted the Eiffel Tower had fallen over and Bella had heroically set it upright. But still, the mental image of Bella casually lifting the famous landmark with her shield brought a grin to her face.
"Alright," she began, drawing out the word for effect, "a volcano erupted in Iceland, spewing lava everywhere, and Bella flew in to stop the flow from consuming an entire town." Her smile lit up the moment, confidence radiating from her. "That's it! I got it right!"
Char caught the twinkle in Peter's eye—a mix of amusement and barely restrained smugness—as he leaned back, giving her a few exaggerated claps. "Nice try, sweetcheeks, but no dice."
Peter grinned, the kind of grin that made Char want to slap it off his face—or maybe do something else entirely. "What happened?" His voice was laced with mock disbelief. "I thought you said you knew Bella and could use some sort of osmosis shit to figure out her saving pattern."
Char rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked into a smirk despite herself. "You're a real pain in the ass, you know that, right."
"Oh, I know," Peter said, his grin widening as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts. "But I'm also a man of my word. You lost, so start sucking."
With an exaggerated flourish, he dropped his shorts to the deck, revealing himself in all his glory. He wasn't fully hard yet, but Char's eyes immediately drifted down, locking onto him. Peter didn't miss the way her smirk faltered for just a second, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as her gaze lingered.
Goddamn, she thought. Thick, long, and mouthwateringly perfect. Her mind flashed to all the ways she could make him squirm, excitement thrumming through her.
"Looks like someone's already enjoying the view," Peter quipped, his voice low and teasing as he caught her staring.
Char's smirk returned, sharper this time. "Cocky much?" she shot back, leaning back on her hands, her sparkling skin catching the sunlight. Reluctantly, she lifted her gaze from Pete's sparkling ding dong to meet his eyes. "Well? Aren't you going to tell me what Bella did?"
"Fuck no!" Peter exclaimed, his voice laced with mock outrage. "If I tell you, you're going to insist on reading about it immediately, and then you'll want to rush home to watch the damn video. Nope. Not happening. You lost fair and square. Start sucking."
Char's pout was instant, her lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated display of disappointment. "But I—"
"Ah, ah," Peter interrupted, wagging a finger at her, his grin sharp and teasing. "Don't even try it. Stop hamming it up. We both know you're not that sad." He stepped closer, his glittering cock catching the sunlight in a way that was almost obscene. "And besides, with your skills, let's be honest—I'll be lucky to last three minutes if you put your considerable talents to good use."
Char's frown twisted into a wicked grin, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Three minutes?" she repeated, arching an eyebrow as if the suggestion personally offended her. "What do you take me for—an amateur? I could have you spurting all over me in two flat, and that's only if I go slow."
Peter chuckled, the sound deep and full of amusement. "Big talk, darlin'. But you know what they say—actions speak louder than words." He shifted his hips forward, his cock bobbing toward her like an open invitation, his grin downright devilish. "So go on, prove it. Show me what you've got."
Char couldn't help but smile as she shifted onto her hands and knees, her sparkling skin catching the sunlight in a way she knew would drive Peter crazy. Slowly, she crawled toward him, savoring the way his gaze followed her every move, his desire practically radiating off him. Each sway of her hips was deliberate, confidence rolling through her like a wave. She locked eyes with him, heat pooling in her own as she reveled in the power of holding his attention completely.
Rising up on her knees, Char's tongue flicked out, teasing the tip of his growing erection. The touch was feather-light, but she could see the effect it had on him, his body tensing in response. She didn't stop there, letting her tongue trace a slow, deliberate path down the length of his shaft, applying just enough pressure to leave him trembling by the time she reached the base.
She pressed his cock against her cheek, the warmth of her sparkling skin brushing against him. The faint tremor in his posture told her all she needed to know. Lifting her gaze, her eyes locked onto his, her expression one of playful dominance. "Are you ready for me?" she murmured, her voice low and dripping with sensuality.
His stunned silence only added to her satisfaction. She smiled wickedly, reveling in the way he seemed utterly captivated by her every move.
Char kissed his cock softly, a series of light pecks that sent maddening jolts of sensation through him. Just as the teasing became unbearable, her lips shifted to his left ball, sucking firmly, almost possessively. Peter's breath hitched, his head falling back as a guttural groan escaped him. When she moved to the right, lavishing it with the same intense attention, he couldn't stop the ragged, "Oh, fuck," from slipping past his lips.
Her small hand wrapped around his base, her grip firm but perfectly controlled, tilting his cock upward. Peter's eyes widened, his chest tightening as he watched her press her lips against him. Her mouth formed a perfect, teasing 'O' before she slowly slid the head inside, her pace deliberate and torturously slow. Inch by inch, she took him in, her throat opening in a way that left him awestruck every damn time.
His jaw clenched as her lips finally reached the base, her nose brushing against him in a way that sent his senses spiraling. "Jesus Christ, Char," he rasped, his voice barely audible, every word drenched in raw need.
Char didn't reply—not with words. She pulled back just enough to create the most exquisite friction, her tongue swirling around him, her cheeks hollowing with the effort. Then she began to move, her head bobbing slowly at first, each pass of her lips sending jolts of raw pleasure shooting through him. Her free hand slid upward, cradling his balls, her fingers rolling them gently in her palm as she worked him over with maddening precision.
The pressure of her mouth was almost unbearable, a perfect blend of softness and suction that had his hips twitching involuntarily. A low hum vibrated through her throat, the sensation traveling like an electric shock straight to his core. "Fuck, Char," he groaned, his hands tangling in her hair, his grip tightening as she picked up speed. Her movements were fluid, relentless, each stroke of her lips driving him closer to the brink.
She didn't stop, didn't falter, her focus unyielding as she pulled him closer and closer to the edge. The warmth of her mouth, the pressure of her lips, the rhythmic bobbing of her head—it was all too much. His cock throbbed, every nerve alight with sensation, the slick heat of her tongue pushing him towards the edge. His body tensed, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as she moaned around him, the vibrations adding a sharp, unbearable intensity. The tight coil low in his stomach began to snap, the pleasure crashing through him with unrelenting force.
Peter couldn't hold back any longer. With a sharp, guttural cry, his release slammed into him like a tidal wave. His cock pulsed violently as he came, each surge of pleasure blinding and all-consuming. Char didn't falter. She clamped down, her lips sealing around him as she swallowed, her throat flexing around him with every desperate spurt. The sensation was overwhelming, the tight, wet heat of her mouth pulling him deeper into the storm. His body shuddered uncontrollably under her expert touch, the world around him fading until there was only her and the raw, electric ecstasy coursing through him.
His hips jerked involuntarily, each motion fueled by the lingering aftershocks rippling through him. His cock still throbbed with sensitivity, every nerve on fire, but Char held on. Her tongue teased him with deliberate flicks, coaxing every last drop with almost cruel precision. When she finally pulled back, her lips glistened, her smile triumphant as she met his dazed gaze. Her sparkling eyes locked onto his, radiating satisfaction and playful dominance, leaving him utterly breathless.
Peter let out a laugh, his head falling back as he struggled to pull himself together. "Christ, woman," he rasped, his voice still thick with the aftermath of his release. "If I had a pulse, that mouth of yours would've finished me off for good years ago."
Char's smirk deepened, her tongue sliding slowly over her lips as her gaze locked onto his. "Good thing you don't, then," she purred, her tone a mix of amusement and smug satisfaction. "Because eternity's a long time—and I'm not through with you yet. Not by a long shot."
A sly smile tugged at the corners of Char's mouth as she wrapped her fingers around Pete's temporarily spent cock. It twitched slightly in her hand, the sensitivity evident from her earlier efforts. Leaning in, she let her tongue drag slowly along the length, cleaning him off with lingering, sensual licks. Her gaze flicked up to his, her eyes sparkling with a mix of satisfaction and playful triumph. She'd been right, of course—he hadn't even lasted two minutes. Well, that's what he got for planting the idea in her head.
She chuckled softly, a mischievous glint flickering in her eyes as she thought of all the ways she could've made it last. If she'd wanted to, she could've taken her time, drawing it out in an exquisite torture—bringing him to the brink over and over until he was a pleading, begging for release. Oh well, maybe next time. With a final, lingering kiss to his tip, she leaned back, her tongue cleaning off the taste that lingered on her lips. Satisfied she'd held up her end of the bet, her tone shifted effortlessly, now carrying a playful edge of command. "Alright, spill. What did Bella do this time?" Genuine curiosity flared in her eyes, making them gleam with anticipation as she waited for his response.
She'd loved watching Bella's alter ego, Starshield, in action last month. In fact, she'd replayed those clips more times than she cared to admit. The precision of her movements, the raw power behind her every action, and the unshakable confidence Bella had exuded—it had been nothing short of mesmerizing. Each time Char watched, it sent a thrill coursing through her, equal parts awe and pride. Leaning in closer now, her sparkling eyes locked onto Peter's, the playful curve of her lips softening with genuine anticipation. Whatever Bella had done this time, Char could hardly wait to hear it.
Peter grinned as he tugged his shorts back up, the elastic snapping into place around his waist. If he stayed naked, he'd never make it through the story—Char's attention would definitely be elsewhere, not that he could blame her. "Alright, sweetheart," he began enthusiastically. "I've got to tell you—everything you guessed doesn't even come close to what Bella actually did. You ready for this?"
Char nodded, her wide-eyed curiosity pulling a chuckle from Peter. She sat cross-legged on the deck, her sparkling nude form utterly distracting. Leaning casually against the side of the boat, he savored the moment. "Okay, get this," he began, his tone laced with dramatic flair. "Yesterday, there was an explosion on the International Space Station. One of the astronauts got blown out into space—no tether, no way to get back. He was completely up shit's creek—until guess who decided to fly her non-sparkly little ass up into outer space and save him?"
Char's mouth fell open, her eyes widening. "No way."
"Oh, it gets better," Peter continued, relishing her reaction. "Our little lady grabbed the guy, dragged him back to the station—safe and sound—and apparently, they were so grateful, they gave her a full tour of the place. Starshield in space, babe. Even I couldn't make this shit up if I tried."
Char blinked, her jaw slack as she tried to process what Peter had just said. "Holy shit," she finally breathed, shaking her head in awe. "I wouldn't have guessed that in a million years."
"Told you." Peter grinned, savoring Char's stunned reaction with no small amount of satisfaction.
Char pushed herself off the deck and paced a few steps as her mind raced before she spun back toward him. "And you're telling me there's video of this? Like, actual footage?"
Peter couldn't tear his eyes away from Char as she paced, her sparkling, nude form commanding every ounce of his attention. The sway of her hips, the flex of her legs, the slight bounce of her breasts as she spun toward him... Every instinct screamed at him to grab her, bend her over, and start fucking her with everything he had. His jaw tightened as he forced himself to focus. When her words finally registered, he gave his head a sharp shake to clear it, crossing his arms firmly over his chest to keep them from reaching for her. "Yep," he said, his voice rougher than he intended. "I saw a few bits of it—it's all over the news."
Char spun back, planting her hands on her hips. "Well, what the hell are we still doing here, then? Let's go home and watch it on the big screen. There's no way I'm watching something that epic on my tiny-ass phone."
She smirked, easily catching the flicker of disappointment that crossed Peter's face. It was written all over him—he wasn't ready for their fun to end. Slowly, she stepped closer, her nipples nearly grazing his bare chest as she leaned in. Her voice dipped into a sultry whisper, "You were right to get that BJ first."
Grinning wickedly, she stepped back, her tone shifting once again. "After we watch, let's call Bella. I want to hear the full story straight from Starshield herself."
Peter frowned as Char turned away from him, bending down to pick up the bottoms of her new string bikini. The previous owners of the boat must have done a lot of entertaining; they'd stumbled upon an entire closet full of unused clothes, each piece more risqué than the last. Watching her now, he could tell she was keeping her face composed, but he knew she was fucking with him. The deliberate way she bent down, her ass perfectly angled, gave him an unobstructed view of... everything. He tried to steady his breathing as she tied the tiny strings into place, each movement slow and calculated, though she made it seem casual, almost routine. Char had always been an excellent actor. She moved as if this were just another mundane task, completely unbothered by the fact that she was robbing him of one of life's greatest pleasures.
Goddammit, Bella! This was all her fault. His jaw clenched as he stood there, knowing full well he should stop torturing himself and get the boat started. But his feet felt cemented to the deck, his gaze locked on Char. There was no tearing his eyes away.
The top came next. She slipped it on, looping the halter straps behind her neck and tying them off with an infuriating air of casual ease. Peter's breath caught as she straightened, her breasts rising with the motion, the flimsy fabric barely managing to contain them. Full and inviting, they were framed by wisps of cloth that seemed more like a suggestion than actual coverage. She looked like a goddess—pure, unfiltered temptation brought to life, wrapped in a bikini that seemed to mock the laws of physics. He shifted uncomfortably, his cock fully engorged again and pressing insistently against his shorts, the tightness almost unbearable. And judging by the look of indifference on Char's face, he wasn't getting any relief anytime soon.
Char turned to Peter, casually adjusting the fit of her top. She bit back a grin as her eyes caught him staring, his mouth hanging open, a glint of venom trailing from the corner of his lips. The sight nearly made her burst out laughing—it was rare to see him so unguarded. "You gonna stand there all day, cowboy, or are we heading back?" she teased, her tone light and playful.
Peter jerked his gaze away, swiping his hand across his mouth to wipe away any evidence of his hunger. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably. "Let's get this show on the road."
He took a steadying breath as he started the engine, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. Sadly, the boat would need to be scuttled. It was truly magnificent, but far too unique to go unnoticed by curious parties—whether that be the authorities or other criminals hunting for whoever they'd drained and dumped. Once that was done, they could head home and watch their friend soar into outer space. Never in a million years would he have guessed that the young woman they'd met a decade ago—the one who hadn't even known for sure if she was a vampire—would turn into a fucking superhero.
Peter and Charlotte sat on the couch, utterly transfixed, their mouths slightly agape as the footage played out in stunning high-definition on their massive flat screen. Bella moved through the void of space with an ease and grace that seemed almost otherworldly—even for a vampire. The scene looked like something ripped straight out of a blockbuster movie, yet it was real.
"Jesus Christ," Peter muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching as Bella carefully grabbed the astronaut. She made it look effortless, like she'd been flying through space her entire life.
Char didn't say a word; she couldn't believe what she was seeing. The only sounds in the room were the faint hum of the television and the chirp of crickets outside as twilight deepened into night.
After Bella escorted the astronaut safely back to the station, the camera shifted to the crew inside. Their faces lit up in pure astonishment as they welcomed her aboard. Watching Bella interact with the astronauts—her calm demeanor, her confident gestures—it was surreal. She wasn't just a vampire or their friend—she was, to the world, a real live superhero.
By the time the footage ended and Bella flew back to Earth, the landscape outside had been plunged into darkness, the sun long since dipped below the horizon. Peter leaned back and switched off the TV. The sudden silence in the room felt heavy, the reality of what they'd just witnessed sinking in.
Peter glanced at Char, who was staring at the now-blank screen, her eyes wide and her lips parted as if she were trying to find words. He cleared his throat, breaking the spell. "Well, I'll be damned."
Char turned to him, her face breaking into a wide grin that mirrored his. "I think we just watched history being made," she said, her voice tinged with awe. She pulled out her phone, her fingers already navigating to Bella's contact. "I have to call her."
Peter smirked, leaning back into the couch, his arms stretched along the backrest. "You think she's gonna let this go to her head?"
Char laughed softly, shaking her head. "If beating your ass in a fair fight didn't do it, I doubt anything will." She pressed the call button. The phone barely rang once before Bella's cheerful voice answered on speaker.
"Hey, Char. How are you?"
"Better now," Char replied, her smile audible in her tone. "Girl, we just watched the news. You can't deny it this time. You're a goddamn superhero." She laughed, certain Bella wouldn't be able to wiggle her way out of the truth this time.
Bella's laugh echoed through the speaker, light and full of amusement. "So, I'm guessing you and Peter caught my latest exploit. What'd you think?"
Peter leaned forward, grinning. "We're without words, little lady. That was some of the craziest shit we've ever seen. Who'd have thunk it—vampires in space?"
Bella's warm laughter rang out again, and Char couldn't help but grin, hearing the sheer joy radiating from her friend. But she had a more pressing matter to address, one that had been buzzing in her mind since Bella's little confession during her time on the station. "Alright, enough about your space heroics. Let's talk about that nugget you dropped to the crew." Char's tone turned sly, her grin widening. "So… a boyfriend? Spill. What's the deal? And for the love of all that's holy, tell me you're finally getting some."
Peter barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "That's what you want to ask Earth's mightiest defender?" he teased, leaning back against the couch.
Bella's voice came through the line, brimming with happiness that was impossible to miss. "His name's Edward," she began, her tone softening as she said his name. "And he's perfect, Char. I'm in love—real love—and, thank God, he feels the same way. And yes, to answer your other question, I'm most definitely getting some." Her voice took on a playful edge. "In fact, I fully intend to get some more as soon as I get back to him tomorrow morning."
Char squealed, the sound high-pitched and full of genuine delight. Over the years, she'd listened to Bella's countless sob stories, every tale of misadventure and missed chances. Her girl just couldn't seem to catch a break when it came to the love department. "Oh my God, tell me everything. Where did you meet him?"
"Well," Bella began, her tone carrying a hint of irony, "I met him in Volterra of all places—"
Peter's voice cut through like a blade, sharp and full of suspicion. "Hold up. I thought you said you dusted all those fuckers." His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his posture tense. He'd been relishing the idea of a Volturi-free eternity. If Bella had somehow shacked up with one of those assholes, that meant he'd be forced to deal with him for centuries to come—and he wasn't sure he had the patience for that.
"Calm down. Jeez." Bella shot back, faux exasperation dripping from her tone. "No. Those fuckers are gone." She paused, clearly savoring the drama of her reveal. "I mentioned Edward to you guys last time we talked. He's the one Aro had locked away in the dungeons for the last century."
Char swatted Peter lightly across the chest, her expression a mix of amusement and reprimand. Behave, she mouthed silently before turning her attention back to the phone. "The guy you broke out?"
Bella hummed in confirmation. "That's the one. While I was showing him what life's like today, we started falling for each other. Slowly at first, but it built as the weeks went by. We went on this little quest together, trying to track down the man who changed Edward. A Carlisle Cullen. Do either of you know him?"
"Old Doc Cullen?" Peter said, a grin stretching across his face as he stifled a laugh. "We've never met the man personally, but I've definitely heard of him and his little ragtag troop of Bambi munchers. He's like a cult leader or something, right?"
Through the speaker, Bella's laughter rang out, bright and genuine. "Well, yeah, he might be a bit of a cult leader," she admitted, her voice laced with amusement. "But he's also a very nice man—and so is his wife, Esme."
Peter raised an eyebrow at Char, mouthing, maybe they already got to her. Char smothered a laugh, giving him a playful shove.
Bella continued, "I left Edward with them in Washington when I went up into space. I'm actually in Cleveland right now, heading back to him. You caught me at the perfect time—I just finished a very relaxing meal. Believe it or not, flying up into space really works up an appetite."
Peter leaned back, crossing his arms, his grin sharpening. "Did it have two legs or four?" he quipped, earning a snort of laughter from Char beside him.
"Ha ha," Bella shot back, her tone dripping with exaggerated sarcasm. "You're hilarious, Pete." She let the mock annoyance hang in the air for a beat before adding, "And for the record, nobody's coming between me and my meals. Not now, not ever."
Char laughed, shaking her head before chiming back in. "Well, you be sure to bring Edward by sometime. Peter and I would love to meet him."
"Sure thing, Char," Bella replied before pausing. "Ahh… Did you hear what also happened after my little jaunt into space? It seems the President wants to meet me. He invited me to the White House and everything. I'm not sure what to do. Do you guys have any advice?"
Peter leaned forward, his grin widening. "Yes, Bella. Now this is very important, so listen up. I know you'll agree with me that most politicians are crooks, but you've got to refrain from eating the man. Just repeat after me: Don't drain the president. Don't drain the president."
On the other end of the line, Bella's laughter rang out. "Oh… Don't drain the president," she echoed, her tone dripping with mock solemnity. "I'm glad you made that distinction clear. Well, I think I can manage that one. I did vote for the man, and I happen to think he's doing a pretty decent job."
Peter smiled, winking at Char. "Well, looks like we're in agreement. I voted for him too."
Char shook her head, a grin tugging at her lips as she listened to her husband and Bella banter. "What Peter's not telling you," she interjected, her tone laced with amusement, "is that back in the '30s, he went on quite the tear, taking out all the crooked politicians during the Great Depression. I finally had to put my foot down before the Volturi started sniffing around. Whole parts of Texas were being wiped clean—there weren't any politicians left in some areas."
Peter smirked, leaning back into the couch, his mind drifting to memories of the good ol' days. "They had it coming," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
"Jeez, Peter." Bella's voice crackled through the speaker, equal parts disbelief and curiosity. "How the hell did you cover something like that up?"
"A rash of suicides," Peter answered nonchalantly. "It was the Great Depression, after all. People were already offing themselves left and right."
Char gave him a pointed look, her tone cutting through his nonchalance. "You still think you were in the right, don't you?"
Peter tilted his head, his grin widening just a fraction. "You bet your sweet ass I do. Those bastards were living it up while the rest of the country went into the crapper. They got exactly what they deserved."
"Well, I'll let you know when Edward and I can come and visit." Bella's voice carried that subtle lilt of longing, the kind that Char recognized immediately. It was the sound of someone eager to get back to their man. Char couldn't help but smile knowingly. New love—especially vampire love—was a force of nature, all-consuming and unrelenting in its pull. She understood it all too well.
Bella's voice interrupted her thoughts. "If I do end up meeting with the President, I'll suggest to Edward that we head your way after."
"Sounds like a plan," Char replied, her tone warm but understanding. She didn't want to keep Bella tied to the call longer than she needed to be. "Just keep us updated, okay? Talk to you soon."
Peter leaned forward, his grin as sharp as ever. "Yeah, you did good up there, little lady. Real good." His voice softened for just a moment before the teasing crept back in. "And bring Edward around. I promise not to bust his chops too much." He smirked, shooting Char a wink that seemed to say, only a little. Leaning back into the couch, he added with a touch of dry humor, "Good luck when you meet the second most powerful person in the world." He knew Bella wouldn't shy away from the path she was on. His knower might not work when she was around, but it had already told him enough to know what the future held.
"Later, guys," Bella said, her voice warm with affection before the call ended.
Peter watched Char click the end call button on her phone, her face still lit up with the warmth of her conversation with Bella. He could tell she was genuinely thrilled for their friend—her expression soft with anticipation at the thought of meeting this Edward. But while Char's mind might've been on Bella's newfound happiness, Peter's focus had narrowed to one very different goal.
Without a word, he dropped to his knees in front of the couch, his movements charged with barely contained energy. His hands reached for her feet first, his fingers working to remove her shoes with a tenderness that made Char smirk down at him.
"Planning something, cowboy?" she asked, amusement lacing her tone as she watched him with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, I'm planning alright," Peter drawled, his voice low, a teasing edge to his words as he slid off her shoes and set them aside.
Char didn't resist as Peter's hands moved to her jeans next, his fingers making quick work of the button and zipper. His gaze flicked upward, catching her eyes with an intensity that made her breath hitch. Slowly, deliberately, he tugged the denim down her legs, revealing inch after inch of her flawless skin. He relished every moment, his knuckles brushing against her thighs as he worked. The feel of her under his hands was electrifying, a charge that shot straight through him and made his cock ache with need.
When the jeans hit the floor, Peter didn't stop. His hands found the sides of her panties, his thumbs hooking into the delicate fabric. Char shifted slightly, lifting her hips just enough to let him slide them down. The moment they joined her jeans, Peter's gaze locked on the newly bared skin before him. His eyes roved over her, taking her in like a starving man presented with a feast.
Char leaned back into the couch, her arms draped casually along the backrest, her smile widening as she watched Peter's reaction. There was something so intoxicating about the way he looked at her, his focus so singular, so consuming.
Peter lifted her feet onto the sofa, spreading her legs gently until her center was completely exposed to him. His hands glided along the inside of her thighs as if unable to resist touching her. The warmth of her skin beneath his palms sent a shiver coursing through him, and he grinned up at her, his eyes glinting with mischief and unrestrained desire.
Char's laughter bubbled up, her tone playful but thick with anticipation. "Ahem," she said, her grin turning wicked. "Can I help you with something?"
"I feel I was shortchanged before on the boat," Peter murmured, his smirk wicked as his hands slid along her thighs. His voice was low, full of promise. "Just lean your head back and relax, babe. I think this is going to take a while."
Char's lips curled into a soft smile, her chest rising and falling with measured breaths as she watched him. There was something mesmerizing about the way Peter moved, his focus entirely on her as if nothing else in the world existed. His hands glided over her thighs, firm yet reverent, and the anticipation coiling in her belly grew taut.
Her eyes locked with his as he leaned in, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path up her center. The sensation sent a shiver rippling through her, her breath hitching audibly as her toes curled against the couch cushion. Peter didn't rush—he never did. Every lick was measured, as though he was savoring each reaction he coaxed from her.
Her lips parted, a soft exhale escaping as her body melted into his touch. There was a mastery in the way Peter handled her, a confidence born from knowing her so intimately, and she couldn't help but surrender to the moment. Tilting her head back, her hair spilled over the cushion as her eyes fluttered closed, giving in to the waves of pleasure."
Char's smile widened as she let out a shaky breath, anticipation coiling tighter within her with every passing second. From experience, she knew Peter wouldn't stop until he'd thoroughly ruined her in the best possible way. The warmth of his mouth, the pressure of his hands on her thighs, and the sheer devotion in his every action—it was all utterly intoxicating.
She let herself drift, her head resting against the back of the couch as the first sparks of pleasure began to spread through her. There was no hurry, no rush. Just Peter's unyielding dedication to making her come undone, over and over again.
I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. Peter and Charlotte certainly know how to have a good time. In the next chapter, we'll see Edward and Bella reunited. It's funny how, for them, it's only been two days, but for us, it's been weeks.
As always, I truly appreciate your comments. Wishing everyone a Happy New Year!