Page 76 of Lured By Shadows

So when Carter looked at me with that hot, uncomplicated hunger, I let myself enjoy it for what it was. Temporary, surface-level, and easy. Pretending I was wanted for my tits, my ass, or the way I ground against him instead of because I was my ma’s daughter gave me a sense of control, even if it was cheap.

Carter grabbed my skirt again, yanking it higher to expose my soaked thong, and my back arched automatically as his fingers brushed along my inner thighs. Even while my body reacted, a hollow feeling spread quietly through my chest. His hands carried enthusiasm without rhythm, rough fingers squeezing my ass while his thumb grazed my pussy lips through the soaked fabric like he was guessing his way through it. I stayed quiet, waiting to see if he’d eventually touch me properly, rub my clit the right way, and give me something strong enough to chase.

That never came. Not the kind of pleasure intense enough to silence my thoughts.

His cock nudged awkwardly against my entrance without enough pressure, his movements clumsy and overeager, and honestly, I’d known from the start this was probably how it would go. Whatever Carter offered barely existed beyond the moment.

Again, I recognized the type instantly. Boys taught by porn clips and locker room conversations, convinced sex started and ended with pounding and friction. Nobody ever explained to them that women needed pacing, pressure, anticipation, and attention, that orgasms came easier when someone actually paid attention to the body beneath them instead of chasing their own finish line.

And somehow, part of me still hoped he’d surprise me. Not because I cared about him. Because I wanted something tonight to feel worth it.

Instead, I got exactly what I expected.

I didn’t stop him or pull him away, though. Distraction didn’t need to be perfect. It just needed to be loud enough. So I let Carter chase his little victory while I held onto mine, convincing myself that if somebody else touched me first, maybe I could reclaim parts of myself Culver had already wrapped his hands around without even trying.

His cock nudged against me once, then again, uncertain, before he finally thrust forward hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. The pressure burned at first, making my eyes sting before it slowly evened into something tolerable. For a moment, I actually looked at him, taking in the broad line of his shoulders, the tension in his jaw, and the way his muscles strained with effort.

My hips rolled instinctively, trying to ease the stretch caused by his lack of foreplay or patience. That was exactly why I’d made myself cum before leaving the house. I already knew what kind of night this would be: a guy more obsessed with sex than actually being good at it.

The music downstairs throbbed faintly through the walls, distant and impersonal against the body moving above mine. Carter gripped my hips for leverage instead of intimacy, breath turning heavy while sweat gathered along his temple like he was trying to pass some invisible performance test. I moved with him anyway, letting the rhythm drag us somewhere blurry and forgettable.

He kept thrusting, quick and mechanical now. His hands squeezed my hips tightly enough to pull a gasp from me while he chased a pace only he seemed to understand.

Then suddenly, the head of his cock brushed against my G-spot.

A startled gasp tore from my throat, shock flaring hot through my spine. Carter froze instantly, eyes widening with pure animal pride like he’d personally discovered fire.

“Oi,” he said abruptly, dragging me out of the haze clouding my head. My eyes blinked open fully, focusing on his face hovering above me. Suspicion crept into his expression. “That feel good, love?”

His hand slid down my stomach before pressing firmly against my abdomen, and another breathy sound escaped me right away. The added pressure amplified everything in a way my body recognized instantly. My pussy clenched involuntarily around him, instinct betraying me faster than thought ever could.

“Mnn,” I murmured weakly, my voice thick with distraction and reluctant need.

He studied me through narrowed eyes while his thrusts slowed slightly.

“Atta girl,” he muttered, already sounding smug.

“Now,” I whispered, lifting myself enough to loop my arms around his neck and reclaim at least a little control, “are you gonna make me feel better, or are we just pretending tonight?”

His laugh came low and boyish, confidence swelling in a way he absolutely hadn’t earned.

“I don’t put it all on the table the first go,” he breathed proudly.

He pulled me closer until heat rolled off his skin in heavy waves. For a second, I thought he might actually kiss me. His gaze dipped toward my mouth, reckless and hungry, but right before it happened, I turned my head aside.

His lips brushed my neck instead.

“No,” I said flatly, leaving no room for argument.

His hips snapped forward harder, forcing another moan from me.

“Bad girl,” he groaned against my skin, like saying it made him threatening instead of inexperienced.

“That does nothing for me,” I replied dryly, threading my fingers through his hair anyway just to ground myself in something physical. My body betrayed me again, tightening around him instinctively while my thighs trembled from the friction. It was disturbingly easy to feel the split between my brain floating somewhere far away and my body still chasing sensation underneath him.

He shifted again, dragging my hips upward while thrusting deeper.

The angle punched the air from my lungs.