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“Yeah, I am, I think. Could we talk?”
“Of course,” she says, her grin widening.
“Later, somewhere private, the others too.”
“Do you want to come to Arlo’s place?”
“No, how about Carson’s boat?” I suggest.
“What about my boat?” Carson asks from behind me.
My body tingles with excitement just from the sound of his voice, but I don’t turn to face him, not yet.
“Carrigan wants to talk to us all, she wondered if we could use your boat,” Tally says sweetly, a tinge of suspicious filling her voice.
“Is that what you want Carrigan?” Carson says, his voice low and gruff.
Inhaling sharply, I spin around to face him. “If that would be okay?”
His eyes rake over my hair and face, and one side of his mouth lifts up into a half smile. “Of course, you can have whatever you want, all you have to do is ask.”
My lips twitch up into a smile and I move without thought, launching myself at him and pressing my lips to his. Wrapping his arms around me, he binds me to him as he takes control of the kiss, devouring my lips, while his fingers tangle with my hair. Gripping me tightly, he holds me in place, showing me and anyone else who’s watching that I’m indisputably his.
“What the fuck?” I hear someone say, but we don’t even pause, kissing each other like we’ll never get another chance. Eventually Carson pulls away, not letting me go, but allowing me a tiny amount of room to breathe.
“Tally, I need to the key,” he snaps.
“What?” she asks slowly.
“The dark room, I need the key,” he says, not even trying to hide the need in his voice.
I try to turn to look at my sister but Carson claims my lips again stopping me.
“Thank you,” he says, barely tearing his mouth from mine long enough to speak, before he’s lifting me off the ground and we’re moving, his hands on the back of my thighs as he urges my legs around his waist.
Moments later we’re moving through the door to the dark room and my back hits the cushions of the couch as he follows me down, kissing me, his hands running over me like he never thought he’d get the chance to do it again.
“Carson,” I gasp, as his lips reach my neck, his teeth nipping at my skin.
“Are you mine Priss?” he demands.
“Carson.”
“I asked you a fucking question. Are you mine?” he snarls, saying each word slowly, between bites.
Am I his? I don’t even have to think about it, I’ve been his since the first time he called me Priss, from the first moment that he looked at me and saw who I could be. “Yes, yes,” I gasp.
Then we’re a blur of motion, fingers, lips, kisses, nips all mingled with my moans and cries and his groans of pleasure. He touches me like I’m special, like I’m important, like I’m his, and I worship him like he’s mine, like he’s the first, the last, and the only one in between and none of it’s a game, none of it’s a manipulation or a coercion. Everything between us is real and by the time we’re naked and panting, entwined together on the couch, nothing has ever felt more real and right and honest to me.
