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“This is about you, Angela. Not me,” he says shakily. “You’ll get my cock when you’re ready for it.”
He kneels between my legs again, and leans down, and starts licking my clit, gently at first, and then faster. He thrusts his fingers into my pussy once more, and works me in tandem.
“You’re going to come for me now, Angel. With my tongue on your clit, and my fingers in your wet, perfect cunt. Can you do that for me, gorgeous girl?”
“Yes,” I whimper. My legs on either side of his head start to shake, and I feel the orgasm building inside me.
“Come for me. Take what you need, Angel,” he says, and then his mouth is on me again.
Carter’s mouth and fingers feel so good, I can’t help but press my hands into his hair, and grind upwards into his mouth. He grunts in satisfaction, and picks up the pace. I start to come apart, the orgasm tearing through me, and then another, this one deeper and higher. Carter withdraws his fingers from my pussy and starts to strum my clit with his thumb, drawing another orgasm from me.
“You’re such a good girl,” he says, and continues to praise me as I come and come, telling me how perfect and beautiful I am. “You’re so pretty when you come, Angel. And your perfect pussy feels so good clenching around me.” He pumps his fingers into me again. “I could fuck you like this forever, watch my perfect girl come on my hand forever.”
“Carter,” I choke out. “Please, I?—
“Can you come one more time for me, Angel?”
“Yes,” I say, because I’m not crazy, and if this man wants to give me another orgasm, who am I to deny him? And in truth, I can tell my body isn’t sated yet, that I could come another ten times on his hands and mouth. “But I want to see you come, too. Please.”
He goes still again.
“I miss your cock,” I whisper.
“Fuck.”
Carter rises onto his knees, and pulls his boxer briefs down. His cock is hard and thick, and I whimper at the sight of it. He fists it, and starts to stroke it, groaning as he does. He reaches his other hand down between my legs once more, and starts to rub my clit, sending spirals of pleasure through me.
“Fuck, Angel, I want to be buried in your pussy right now,” Carter groans. “You’re so wet and tight. So fucking perfect. I could come just from looking at you like this.” He pumps hiscock harder, and all I can do is stare up at him. His strong thighs, corded with muscle. The planes of his taut stomach. His breaths coming heavier and harder.
I start to come, the orgasm rising and swelling and then breaking around me. I shudder and gasp as it tears through me, and above me, Carter starts to come as well. He jerks his cock hard, and his cum spurts across me, painting my stomach.
Carter collapses at my side and pulls me to him, tucking me in against his chest. “Such a good fucking girl,” he says gently. “Coming so many times for me. And you look good with my cum on you. So perfect.” He grabs a tissue from the bedside table and starts to clean me up, his hands gentle.
Fear spikes through me, sharp and sudden. I flail a bit, and Carter lets go of me. “Carter, what does this mean?” I ask.
“Shh, Angel. We will figure it out. Don’t worry.” He draws me back against him once more, and I let him, settling into his warmth and telling myself to breathe deeply and relax. “I’m not going anywhere. Not again,” he promises.
I’m not sure how much I believe him, but miraculously, it’s enough that I’m able to fall asleep, warm and content in his arms.
The morning dawnsclear and bright, and Carter and I wake up nestled in bed right next to one another. I can’t sleep well with someone holding me, so at some point I rolled away from him in the night, but we’re still close enough that I could reach out and touch him easily, and our calves are touching. Normally sleeping in bed with someone else makes me anxious and uneasy. But this is the second time I’ve fallen asleep next to Carter in as manydays. I turn over so that I’m facing him, my pillow right next to his, and I study his face in the morning light.
Eyes closed, breath slow and even—I haven’t had the chance to watch him sleep like this in years. His face is so much different now than it was back then. At twenty, he still had boyish charm, his face slim and soft. Now, his jaw is chiseled from stone, his cheekbones sharp, and his face is covered in a short beard.
I don’t know what to make of what we did last night. I don’t know if I should have let him get that close to me. He coaxed pleasure from my body like the past seven years of silence between us never even happened. But chemistry—sex—has never been the problem between us.
Sure, he called me a good girl last night, but is he going to stick around? Was last night just about sex?
My gut tells me it wasn’t, especially because Carter was so focused on my pleasure. I came a few times before he ever did, and I could tell he genuinely enjoyed pleasing me.
But my gut is also confused and twisted and unsure. I don’t know how to trust myself, because what I want is so muddled with fear and hope I can’t see things clearly. My gut always tells me to run, fast, before a man can break my heart. But my heart tells me to hold out for hope. My heart wants me to give them—to givehim—endless chances.
It’s why I kept trying to find a good man to date up until two years ago, around the time I moved back to Harborview. I’d push myself to work past the fear every time I’d meet someone new, and I’d hope and hope that it would work out. When it didn’t, I’d be left crushed, and kicking myself for not listening to my gut when it told me to run.
So it’s nearly impossible to keep myself from bolting out of bed, from packing my things and running to the docks and begging Archie to take me back early.
Instead, I get out of bed as quietly as I can and settle for making some coffee. We went to bed early last night and even though Carter spent like, an hour edging me and then making me come, we still got plenty of sleep. So for the first time in days, I feel rested, which goes a long way towards making me capable of handling things. Once you go days only getting a few hours of sleep, you realize how much of an armor being well rested truly is. How much a good night’s sleep protects us, steadies us, makes us confident and capable.
I make myself some coffee, and when I hear Carter stir in bed, I make him a mug of tea. Margery gave us a few more muffins, though these are lemon poppyseed, and I set them out on the table. It’s about as domestic as I’m going to get.
