by Pratt, Lulu
Should I? Could I?
Aw, screw it. I’d regret not doing it in a week’s time.
With a sly, self-satisfied grin, I began to grind my ass against him, arching my back so that my ass lined up with Carter’s groin.
He let out a moan of frustration. “Don’t play with me if you don’t mean it, Phoebe.”
“Who said I didn’t mean it?”
His cock was rapidly hardening against my ass. “Girl, if you keep at this, I’m gonna have to jack myself off, else I won’t be able to sleep.”
Silly, silly boy.
“Why would you use your hand,” I said coyly, “when I’ve got a perfectly good mouth right here?”
CHAPTER 21
Carter
THERE WAS A rustling beneath the covers, and I realized with a start that Phoebe had slid down to somewhere around my thighs.
“You don’t have to—”
She ripped my underwear off, and I saw it shoot out from under the duvet, flying across the room and landing on a small table.
“Okay, so we’re doing this,” I murmured.
In the space of a single breath, she had her mouth on my inner thigh and one of her hands was playing with my balls. This was no amateur hour shit. Phoebe’s lips and fingers were practiced. I was impressed, but I also did not have the mental capacity to dwell on how impressed I was. Because at that moment, pretty much every one of my brain cells was focused on just how fucking good this all felt.
“Phoebe,” I sighed.
“Is something wrong?” she asked from between my legs, her voice muffled by the linens.
“No, no, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
After slowly working her way up, Phoebe at last laid her mouth upon the tip of my dick, and my whole body shuddered with pleasure. She opened her lips wider and took me inside her. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
Her hand wrapped around the base, and she began to move up and down, up and down, swiveling her closed fingers while her mouth followed suit. There were so many different directions of movement, so many different feelings all at once that I began to feel sex drunk.
“Whatever you’re doing,” I begged, “keep doing it.”
Phoebe began to pick up the speed, moving from slow, languid strokes to rapid head bobbing, pushing my cock deeper and deeper into her throat every time. I heard an uncomfortable noise from beneath the covers, and I whipped them off her body, frightened that perhaps she’d bit off more than she could chew. No pun intended.
“Phoebe, are you okay?”
She was crouched over my dick, her head still moving with a steady rhythm, the uncomfortable sounds not ceasing. Her brown hair hung over her eyes, obscuring them from my view.
“I’m fine,” she said at last, taking her mouth off me and parting her hair so that her eyes could meet mine. “Your dick is just… really big.”
I grinned. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No, definitely not a bad thing. Do you want me to stop?”
“Are you kidding?”
“I’ll take that as a ‘no.’”
With that, Phoebe dove back down onto my cock. I didn’t put the covers back on top of her. I was enjoying the image too much. A beautiful girl pleasuring me with gusto, like she got as much pleasure in the giving as I did in the receiving. Even her clothes were sexy. The way she wore her comfy PJs and still managed to give me head like a porn star was incredible.
Her mouth slowed down, and I took the opportunity to pull her hair back into a ponytail. Several of the strands had gotten wet from being caught around my cock. That was better. I could see her far more clearly, could see her spread those lips wide enough to hold all of me.
She looked up, brown eyes playful and sparkling. Evidently, the deacceleration of her lips was a little game, just to mess with me. I pressed the hand I was using to hold her hair on to the back of her head, and slowly pushed her further down onto my cock, until she had every last inch inside her mouth and throat. The tip of my dick pushed against the back of her throat, and I thought, This must be what heaven feels like.
“Is this okay?” I asked.
She couldn’t talk because I’d filled her up, but she lifted a hand off the bed and made a thumbs up gesture. With that go-ahead, I began to move my hips up and down, thrusting slowly, testing the waters.
“How’s this?”
Another thumbs up, this time more enthusiastic.
That was good enough for me.
In one powerful move, I sat Phoebe up, swung my legs over the edge of the bed and then carefully deposited her on the ground so that she was kneeling before me.
“You’re strong,” she gasped, astonished.
I stood up, straddling my feet to create a good base for myself, knowing that when I really got going, it’d become hard to stand.
Phoebe knew what I wanted. She put her mouth back on my cock, unmoving, waiting for me to take the lead, to show her how I liked it. I returned my hand to the back of her skull and all of a sudden, I was fucking Phoebe’s mouth.
She groaned around my cock, eyes drifting shut as she gripped my thighs for support. Even more than the feeling of my dick pounding against her esophagus, I loved watching her take me. She was excited, blissed out, happy. To see that we both wanted this… that was an enormous pleasure in and of itself.
“Phoebe,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m gonna come.”
She suctioned her lips around my cock — as much as she could, anyways — giving me the signal to press on, to reach my happy place. Okay, I thought. Deal.
It only took one, two, three strokes and — I orgasmed, pulling my cock out so that I could drip my cum on her outstretched tongue, which jutted out eagerly from her mouth as though she were preparing to lick a thick ice cream cone.
A gush of white splashed against the pink, and I was emptied. There was so much that some of it spilled out of her mouth, plopping onto her camisole and leaving little wet spots. She pulled her tongue back in and swallowed, which would’ve made me hard all over again if I had even a scrap of energy left in me. As it was, my refractory period was going to be at least an hour, if not a whole night.
“How was that?” Phoebe asked, concern tingeing her voice.
I pulled her up off the ground and into my arms before sitting back down on the bed, Phoebe curled in my lap.
“I think you already swallowed the answer,” I joked.
We both laughed. I pressed my forehead against hers, staring deep into her eyes. If I didn’t say it now, I never would.
“Phoebe,” I began, not really even sure of where to start. “Phoebe, listen, I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m only telling you this because you just gave me what was definitely the best head of my life, but — I think… no, I know… that there’s something real between us. And I know you’re leaving town soon, and I understand that this can’t go anywhere, but I just had to take a second and acknowledge that it was more than a one-night stand. That you mean more to me than that.”
She hesitated, and for one long moment, I was terrified that she was going to reject this statement, to counter and argue that we were, in fact, just a fling, that there was no emotions between us, that I had been so, so wrong.
Instead, she smiled. “I agree.” But then her smile drooped, and she sighed. “There’s nothing we can do about it, though.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
We were at an impasse. We both knew the truth, and we both knew there was nothing we could do about it. Saying our feelings hadn’t made it any better. In fact, it all just became harder. Shit.
“Sleep time?” I suggested, hoping to put some distance between me and my depressing thoughts, and hold Phoebe in my arms for as long as I could.
“Definitely.”
She crawled off my lap and back under the covers, and I scrunched in beside her, reforming our curved shape.
“Wait,” I whispered in her ear. “I didn’t make you come. Shall I?”
My fingers drifted down
to her pussy, but she replied, “I’m exhausted. Maybe in the morning?”
I nodded into her back, and just like that, all snuggled against one another, we fell asleep.
I was awakened, as per usual, by the blaring sound of my alarm clock. I slammed my hand down on its flat top, shutting off the piercing beeps before it could wake Phoebe. Well, that was the plan anyway, because when I glanced back over at her face, I saw she was reluctantly emerging from sleep.
Phoebe huffed, “Why is that thing so loud?”
“Sorry, sorry. I tried to get it off before you heard but…”
“It’s okay,” she sighed, rolling over to face me, eyes cracking open. “I had a good night’s sleep.”
“You snored like a bridge troll,” I chuckled.
She winced at this, then rolled away, onto her opposite side, her back facing me. “I know I snore, don’t laugh—”
Phoebe paused, mid-sentence.
“I was only kidding,” I said, hoping I hadn’t really hurt her feelings. No reply. “Phoebe, sincerely, I’m sorry.”
Turning to look at me, her face was transformed with fear. “Carter, do you smoke?” Her voice was shaking, and I wondered if I’d missed something.
“Uh, nope. Why?”
There was a movement, and then Phoebe sat up, the covers pooling at her waist as she rose to the height of the headboard. She was holding something in her hands, but with sleep still clouding my eyes, I couldn’t make out exactly what it was.
“Then why,” she continued, her chest rising and falling in her thin tank, “was there a match on my pillow?”
The image before my eyes sharpened. Between her index finger and thumb, Phoebe held a partially burnt match.
Oh God.
I jumped out of bed, moving so fast I didn’t even know what I was doing, my body carrying me before my mind could catch up.
“No, no no no,” I muttered, my eyes scanning the room. “It’s not possible, it can’t be.”
Henry.
“Stay right here,” I instructed her. “Don’t move.”
“Carter—”
I ran to Henry’s room and threw open the door.
He was already awake, as always, waiting for me to come in and for our day to begin.
“Daddy!”
My boy was safe. I breathed a sigh of relief. I rushed over to him, holding his face between my hands and inspecting him for any sign of damage. Thank God, I found none.
“Daddy, what’s wrong?” he asked innocently. Like they say, kids are always more perceptive than adults.
“Nothing, kiddo. Why don’t you go have your morning potty and brush your teeth?”
He catapulted out of bed, heading to the bathroom. I followed two steps behind him and, when he arrived at the bathroom, I slipped in first, pulling back the shower curtain, even looking behind the toilet, making sure the coast was clear.
Phew. That would buy me enough time.
“Phoebe!” I called into my room through the semi-closed door. “Could you come out here for a second?”
There was the sound of rustling, blankets being thrown, then Phoebe emerged.
“What is it?” she whispered, propping an elbow up against the door.
I positioned myself so that I could see into the bathroom with one eye and watch Phoebe with another. Henry was still in there, safe and happily washing his hands and reaching for his toothbrush.
In a low, even voice, making sure my words weren’t audible to Henry, I replied, “You need to get the fuck out of town.”
Phoebe went white. Well, whiter than she already was, anyways.
“Excuse me?” She was both aghast and pissed, but I didn’t have time to worry about that now. Feelings matter less than physical safety.
“You need to leave. Now.”
Her face went from white to red. “If you’ll recall, Carter, I can’t. That’s sort of why you came into the picture. And the part doesn’t come until, what, tomorrow? So, sorry, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”
I knew she was mad, I heard that, but I didn’t have time.
Meghan was coming.
No, correction.
Meghan was here.
And she would stop at nothing, especially if there was another woman around me. Phoebe had to get the hell out of town, far away from me, before it was too late. If she wouldn’t go willingly, I’d just have to push her.
“Stay away from me,” I snarled.
“Daddy?” Henry said from the bathroom.
“You haven’t brushed for two minutes,” I told him, before turning to Phoebe and hissing, “Meghan is here. That’s what that match is. It means she is here, in Rough and Ready, and she has been in my house, and could be right now.”
Phoebe swallowed, I guess having suspected as much. “It’s okay,” she said firmly. “I know she’s crazy, but there’s strength in numbers. I’m not gonna leave you now, not with such an unhinged person so close to you and Henry. It’s not safe. Besides, maybe the match doesn’t mean what you think it means.”
“You’re wrong. You’re wrong on all counts.” Phoebe just wasn’t getting it. “I’ve lived through this before, and I know when it’s coming.”
“Carter, please—”
“I cannot protect you both,” I spat out. “She is coming for me, yes, but she’s also coming for my son. And I have to focus on keeping him safe.”
“Yes, of course, I know, but I can help you.”
She was pleading now. Why did Phoebe need to make this harder than necessary? Couldn’t she understand I was just trying to defend everyone against Meghan, a mistake that I had allowed into my life, and for whom I took full responsibility? God, why was Phoebe making this so fucking difficult?
“Call a cab,” I told her. Henry’s tooth brushing had slowed. I didn’t have much time. “Get the fuck out of town while you still can.”
“We can be a team.”
I ignored this, averting my eyes from hers. She wasn’t getting it. I mean, how could she? Sure, I’d told her the whole story, but that had been in the past — it didn’t feel real. And I understood that, in her mind, a match on a pillow was weird, but it wasn’t a death sentence. She had not lived through my trauma, endured my pain. Phoebe was, fundamentally, a stranger to my truths, and no matter how much I told her, it is impossible to inform as well as lived experience.
Meghan had not successfully killed — yet. It was just dumb luck that I’d lived. I wasn’t willing to roll the dice a second time — not with my son, and not with Phoebe. We’d only met each other two days ago, and already, I knew that I did not want to live in a world where she was dead. Even if I never saw her again after she drove off, so be it. It’d be enough to just know that she was alive.
I thrust my cell phone into the palm of her hand. “Go to the cab contact in my phone, dial it, and call one for you and Jo-Beth back to wherever you’re going next, down the coast, wherever.”
“That’s expensive,” she balked, and then more pointedly, “I’d rather stay here.”
Jesus, why couldn’t she just go?
Digging into my pocket, I pulled out my wallet, got five twenties and shoved them into Phoebe’s palm, on top of the cell.
“Take these,” I said. “Go.”
Okay, judging by her face, the money had crossed a line. Her jaw set and her eyes squinted with disgust.
“I don’t need your fucking money, Carter.” Her voice was rising, and I knew that Henry would emerge any second. “I can’t be bought off. I know you are terrified by even the vague notion of letting somebody else in, that allowing another person to support you is petrifying, but two minds are better than one. I can be useful. I can help. If Meghan is here—”
“She is.”
“If she is, then use me. We’ll get out of town together, or we’ll go to the police.”
That was it. If Phoebe wasn’t getting the point, then I’d need to push her away. Fine, so be it. The words were like needles in my mouth, but I’d do what i
t took to get Phoebe to listen, or at least, to be so mad that she ditched. This wasn’t the man I wanted to be, but it was who Meghan had forced me to become.
“Henry comes first,” I said coldly. “You’re nobody, you’re a stranger who walked into town a couple of days ago. Phoebe, it’s been fun, really, but now you need to go, because if it comes to choosing between you and him, I will choose him every time, no questions asked. You don’t believe me that she’s coming? Okay, stick around and find out. But I won’t be here when she makes her presence known.”
Phoebe’s mouth fell open. “Who the fuck do you think you are, Carter? Obviously your son comes first, you don’t need to tell me that. I’m not Meghan — I’m not a monster. I understand that Henry is number one, but what I don’t understand is why you’re pretending like we’re strangers. Just last night you said otherwise. If you’re gonna lie, at least stick to the same lie. As someone once said, if you stick with the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.”
She was right. I had to lie better, more thoroughly, because Henry had set down his toothbrush and was about to come out of the bathroom.
“Truth?” I said. “The truth is that I just said what I had to in order to fuck you. And it worked, and now I’m over you. So get lost.”
Jesus, I’d been hurt by my own words before, but having to say that to Phoebe’s face… the pain was worse than I’d experienced in a long time. I felt a future of possibility, one I hadn’t even realized I’d been covertly imaging, vanish before my eyes. Once again, I’d ruined a good thing. And sure, it was in the name of keeping her safe, but what about the aftershocks on my heart?
Tears were welling in her eyes, thick droplets which she was bravely trying to choke back.
“That’s who you wanna be?” she whispered. “A guy controlled by fear? All right. Then I’ll leave you alone. Consider me gone. Just know that you can’t live a life like this. At some point, you need to let love in, Carter.”
With that, Phoebe whirled on her toes and stormed out the front door, slamming it shut behind her. Where she would go next, I had no idea. Hopefully far, far away from here.
I was certain that I would never see her again, but I didn’t have time to process the implications of that, because Henry was opening the door and shaking my leg with his hand.
