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Anna
The boat ride was definitely a hit today. I smile as I glance down at Connor, who drifted off to sleep the moment his head touched the pillow. I lean over and place a soft kiss on his forehead, then turn to see Carson. The heat radiating from his eyes as I brush past him sends a current of electricity through me. My cheeks flush, and my breath catches in my throat.
I hear him whispering goodnight to our son as I go into my room to get ready for bed. Carson’s offer echoing in my mind, I put on my cami and short set. I haven’t given him an answer, mostly because I don’t know how that change would affect Connor. A knot of worry tightens in my stomach. How would Connor react if I moved into the master bedroom with Carson?
I sigh, as I’ve never been in this situation before. I’ve never been into the dating scene. A guy did invite me out two years ago, and when I suggested we meet at Starbucks for coffee while my son was at school, he suddenly bailed. I shake my head at the memory. Being a single mom can certainly be a detriment to dating. Not that it ever bothered me before.
I’ve never met anyone else who has called to me like Carson does. He’s the only man I’ve ever truly been attracted to, but all these life changes are happening so fast.
I grimace as I know what I want to do. I crave the man’s touch. If it were up to just me, I’d happily be in Carson’s bed every night. But I have to consider my son… Maybe I should wait…
I hear the faint click of my bedroom doorknob being turned. I look up as Carson steps into my bedroom. At the lust-filled look in his eyes, it’s suddenly hard to breathe. He slowly reaches out and then hungrily kisses my lips. I press myself against him, feeling his arousal. It makes me ache. He straightens and looks directly into my eyes. Seeing his own desire mirrored in mine, he bends and picks me up in his arms. Turning, he carries me to his bedroom.
He kicks the door shut. At my worried glance over his shoulder, he states huskily, “Connor’s so dead to the world; even you screaming my name won’t wake him.”
He slowly sets me on my feet, letting me slide down his hard front. He steps back, and his eyes gleam down at me. He reaches out a finger and traces my white cotton camisole top. It’s modest, but you couldn’t tell from his gaze. He states in a soft whisper, “That night in the hallway, I could see the shadow of your nipples.”
His finger slips from the edge of my cami, circling each nipple in turn through the thin cotton. They harden to stiff peaks at his light touch, and a shiver courses through me.
His hand continues to travel down to my shorts, to the curly scalloped piping around the leg openings. He runs his finger underneath the fabric, lightly caressing my thighs. He traces the outside, and then his hand moves between my legs, nudging my thighs apart. His searching finger grazes the juncture where my leg and torso meet—so close yet not touching that part of me that aches to be filled.
He suddenly reaches down, picks me up by my waist, and places me on his bed. I’m at the edge of the mattress; my legs hang over the side. He lifts my hips to slide off my shorts; next, he takes off my top. He quickly divests himself of his clothes and then kneels between my knees.
I feel his hot breath on that most intimate part of me. I clutch the sheets with my hands in anticipation of his touch. I look up to see his eyes devouring me as I lay spread before him. Instinctively, I try to pull my legs together. But his hands stop me and instead spread my thighs even wider apart to make room for his broad frame as he edges closer. He leans down and gives me a long, slow lick, and my hips almost come off the bed in response.
I hear his soft chuckle as he lifts one of my legs and places it over his shoulder. My hands tighten their hold on the sheet as he bends down and begins to pleasure me with his mouth. I gasp as his teeth lightly graze my clit. I suddenly let out the breath I’ve been unconsciously holding as my body gives in to the sensations he ignites in me.
When he inserts a thick finger, I gasp at the feeling. “Oh,” I moan as he continues to prime me for what’s to come. He pushes in another finger, and I tighten my leg around his back, pulling him in closer. My hands reach down and fist in his hair. I’m shamelessly holding him in place as my body begins to clench in response to his actions. He crooks his fingers inside me, and I swear I see stars as my body clamps down hard around him. He continues to work me even through my orgasm.
As I lay there spent, still spayed out before him, I realize my hands are still clutching his hair. I slowly loosen my hold and see him grin in the dim light. He stands and grabs my waist as if I weigh nothing at all, moving me farther up the bed. My head is near the pillows.
He follows, sliding between my legs. As I feel the tip of his cock probing me, I open to him. He surges into me, filling me with his thick, turgid length. He’s big, and for a moment, I gasp because I’m still sore from the night before. He instantly stills. But I smile up at him, then reach up and kiss him. That’s all the incentive he needs as he increases his strokes.
As the momentum builds, he begins pounding into me as we find that age-old rhythm that takes us toward the finish line. I can feel my orgasm as it builds. That faint tingle. I feel his hand reach down, and he firmly thrums my swollen clit. My body instantly responds, and for the second time tonight, I clench helplessly around him. I shout into his shoulder as I come hard while in his arms.
I hear his hoarse shout as he follows my bliss. His body is heavy, but I welcome it. He slides his weight to the side but keeps an arm tight around me. I snuggle into his side. Exhausted, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.
When I open my eyes again, I’m in my own bed. The late morning sunlight streams through the window, and I realize with surprise that I’ve overslept. A smile spreads across my face as I realize Carson must have carried me back to my room. I slip on my robe and head for the bathroom, the sound of laughter filtering in from the living room.
Later, when I walk out my door, it sounds like cartoons are on. I hear Connor and Carson talking. “Cinamon Toast Crunch is okay. But let’s face it. Cap’n Crunch has been around since before I was your age,” Carson states.
Connor replies in an awed tone, “I didn’t know it was that old.”
I hear Carson snort with amusement. “Well, my cereal hasn’t changed, but I can’t say the same for cartoons. Why do they call him SquarePants?”
Connor explodes in a belly laugh, “I told you because he’s a sponge!”
Peeking around the corner, I see Carson sitting in front of the television. Connor is sprawled on the floor beside him, both with bowls of cereal in front of them. The sight warms my heart.
Hearing their mingled laughter, I hate to interrupt. They have so many of the same mannerisms that it makes me smile—like father, like son.
I reach for my phone, a mischievous glint in my eye. This moment deserves to be captured.
It’s Monday morning and I’m headed with Connor to his new school. “Did I already give you lunch money?”
“Nope. But Dad did,” he shrugs.
“Oh, good. We went over the list, but I still feel like I’ve forgotten something,” I say as I chew on my lip.
