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Neither of us move for a moment, as I adjust to the length and feel of him. And then I lean back and start to ride him, in slow, long strokes. Carter tips his head back and closes his eyes, and I can tell he’s enjoying this, that he’s clinging on for dear life, trying to last.
“Is that good?” I ask.
“It feels fucking perfect. You’re so wet and tight for me, Angel. I love it.”
I blush under the praise, and move my hips faster, and he meets my thrusts with his own, fucking me hard and deep. He starts rubbing me gently with his fingers again, around and around as his cock thrusts into me from below. The dual sensation nearly sends me over the edge.
I start to come, grinding my hips into his hand and his cock, my moans and cries swallowed by the wind as the pleasure races through me. Carter groans as his own release barrels through him, his hips jerking wildly as he comes inside me.
I collapse against him, boneless and happy, utterly relaxed and spent. He rolls us over and wraps his arms and legs around me, cocooning me against his chest.
“It’s really fucking cold,” I say, shivering despite his warmth.
A laugh shakes his chest. “It really fucking is. I’m surprised my balls haven’t fallen off.”
“I’m sure we aren’t the first couple to fuck at Point Beach, and we won’t be the last.”
“Rating out of five?”
“Five stars for the sex. One star for the temperature.”
“Let’s get you home,” he tells me.
We dress quickly, pack up the art supplies and snacks, and head back up the beach and to the parking lot.
“Want to stay over?” he asks. “We don’t have to share the same bed if you don’t want to, but I thought a sleepover could be fun.”
“Definitely,” I say, and watch as another smile lights up his face.
33
ANGELA
I spendthe night at Carter’s house. We sleep in his bed, which is so enormous I don’t even feel like I’m sharing it with him, and my insomnia doesn’t bother me at all. When I wake up, it’s to soft rays of sunlight streaming into the window and the smell of coffee. I turn over, and through bleary eyes see that Carter has placed a mug of coffee on the nightstand.
“Amazing,” I croak.
I roll over to look at him, and see that he’s got his laptop balanced on his knees and is staring at it intently.
“Working already?”
“Nope,” he says. “Now that you’re up, work is done.”
“Carter, if you have to work on your thesis, I understand. I can go back to mine.” I sit up and scoot closer to him, coffee in hand.
“Work can wait. I want to spend time with you,” he says, drawing me into his side. “You look cute in the morning, Angel.”
“Thanks,” I say, “but I’m pretty sure I desperately need a shower.” And to brush my teeth, but I don’t mention that.
“You can use mine,” he says.
I gulp down more coffee, and then hop into the shower in the ensuite. The shower is made of marble and has no fewer thanfour different shower heads, so you can be pummeled with water from all directions. Carter’s family is wealthy. This shower, and the rest of the enormous house, speaks to that. Hell, his bedroom isn’t even the primary bedroom and it’s enormous. He told me it’s the one he’s had since he was a teenager.
As I wash my face and try to keep my hair from getting wet, I think about how weird it must be for him. To be living in the house he grew up in without his parents. And it’s such a luxurious space, but not one he really owns. I wonder if he’s ever thought of moving out. But I guess it’s convenient, close to school, and free. I can’t imagine that getting a PhD pays a lot.
I exfoliate with the nice body scrub he has in the shower and then use a fresh razor from a pack in the medicine cabinet to shave my legs. You know, just in case I get lucky.
I wrap myself in a towel and head back into the bedroom.
