by Loren, Celia
He moves his thumb to my clit and circles it against me as I inch to his base. Once I'm there, I circle my hips around and tilt my head back, trying to get used to the feeling of such a huge dick inside me. When I think I have a handle on the overwhelming sensation, I rise back up on my knees until just his tip is inside me, and then sink down again. He never lets up on my clit, and I feel an orgasm building quickly inside me. I move faster up and down, arching my lower back so he hits me right against my g-spot.
Suddenly I feel his hands around my waist. I open my eyes and look down at him just as he lifts me off him and tosses me face down on the bed next to him. Before I can adjust myself, he's on top of me, his legs pinning mine close together and his right hand working its way through my hair. I feel him gather it in his hand and then pull my strands tight, effectively pinning me in one spot with my back arched slightly toward him.
I'm breathing hard and am completely lost in anticipation. He doesn't keep me waiting long. I feel his dick slide down my ass and then press slowly into my slit, now especially tight with his legs holding mine together. He thrusts inside me. I lie absolutely still. It's all I can do with the position he has me in. I wouldn't normally consider myself a submissive person, but submitting to him in this moment feels so fucking right.
I cry out as his cock hits deep inside me. He doesn't waste any time, immediately picking up his rhythm and thrusting inside me faster and faster. I feel my body begin to unspool around him, as though, if he weren't holding me in one place I might explode. I feel his breath hot and heavy against my ear, and for some reason, that undoes me.
An orgasm rips through me from the base of my pelvis through every pore in my body. I shake under him as he pounds himself into release on top of me, sweaty and powerful. After a few finishing strokes, he stills, resting his entire body weight on me. I breathe in his smoky scent and enjoy the feeling of our sweat mingling together.
Abruptly, he pulls out of me and stands up. I raise myself on my elbows and look over my shoulder as a cool wave of air blows over my damp, naked body. He's staring at me with a look of I-don't-know-what... Again, I find him disturbingly impossible to read. I meet his gaze for a moment before he grabs his pants from the ground and pulls them on.
Just as I'm about to open my mouth to speak, he holds up a hand to stop me. "This can never happen again," he states flatly, and walks quickly out the door.
Chapter Thirteen
I stare straight ahead as Carter and I sit next to each other in the waiting room of the physical therapist's office. My leg bounces up and down on the floor. I notice and stop, but it starts up again of its own accord. I've never been so attracted to and so furious with someone in my life. Stubborn, sexy, Carter. Frustrating, controlling, hot as hell, Carter. And now we're practically glued to each other's sides thanks to my father's dictates.
I felt so stupid and vulnerable after he walked out on me the other night. True, I'm not sure what came over me in the first place to seduce him like that, but damn, it felt good. He can't deny that. Or can he? Maybe what is the best sex of my life is only fair to middling for him. I just can't help this pull I feel toward him, even now. I have to fix my gaze on the empty chair across from us to avoid ravishing him with my eyes.
"Carter Driscoll?" a young woman's voice calls out. I glance up to see a pretty redhead with a smattering of freckles across her adorably upturned nose. She glances at Carter and blushes, then looks confused and disappointed as she spots me.
"Yup," Carter answers, standing up. I follow him over.
"I'm Petra Ogilvy. I'll be helping you with your physical therapy," she introduces herself.
"I'm Lex. Future step-sister slash assistant," I say, thrusting my hand toward her.
"Oh, great!" she says, her countenance brightening. "Well, come on back." She escorts us into a big, open room with workout stations scattered throughout it. At each one, physical therapists are taking clients through their paces. She guides us to a pair of medicine balls and a workout bench. She and I take the balls, and Carter sits on the bench. "So, I have a set of exercises planned out that I can teach you today and you can work on at home with your sister's help." Neither of us bother to correct her. "But I just wanted to get a sense of how your leg is doing now. You just got the cast off two days ago, right?"
"Yeah. It feels sort of weak, like now and then it wants to buckle. Aches, sometimes."
"Have you been doing any physical activity?"
I quickly slap my hand over my mouth to hide my smile. "Some cardio," Carter states, his eyes darting warningly at me. "And some swimming."
"OK. You just might want to be careful to ramp up your activity gradually, so you don't stress the muscles and wind up tearing something. But why don't we get started?" She leads us over to a blue mat on the floor in a corner by the windows. "Carter, could you just roll your sweatpants up on your right leg over your knee?" He bends over and does so, revealing the red skin underneath. "Your doctor has given you a topical ointment I assume?"
"Yeah," Carter replies, succinct as ever.
"Let's start with some stretching," she says. "Why don't you lay down on your back here?" she says waving her arm to the mat. She kneels as he lies down and picks up his right foot. "So, Lex, I'm going to place his foot on my right shoulder here, and then keeping his knee straight, I'm going to press forward," she says. Carter winces slightly as she pushes against his leg, making it less than halfway toward his chest. I feel an uncomfortable burning sensation in my chest as I watch her pressed up against him. My eyes search Carter's face, but his gaze is fixed firmly on the ceiling. "Why don't you try on the left side?"
She moves away and I take up the same position, picking up Carter's left foot and placing it on my shoulder. I press forward, and his hip rotates easily. His hamstring muscles in this leg are much more flexible than those in his right. I continue to lean forward, finding myself bending over his chest until my eyes find his. I can see a beads of sweat forming along his brow, and he carefully sucks in a measured breath.
"Now, it's important to be able to feel his limits. You don't want to push him too far," Petra warns me.
"Oh, don't worry. He can take it," I reply lightly as I stare back at Carter. His mouth twitches, and I finally release him, moving slowly back and then laying his leg on the mat.
"Good," Petra says, though she sounds a bit unsure. "I think you've chosen a good helper here, Carter. I don't think she'll let you get away with anything."
"That sounds like an accurate assessment," Carter replies drily.
"OK, some more stretching, and then we'll move on to exercises," Petra says, clapping her hands together.
By the end of the afternoon, Carter has worked up quite a sweat. I make notes on the sheets of exercises complete with pictures that Petra has supplied, and fold them carefully inside the bag filled with exercise bags that she sends us home with. I might be royally pissed at Carter, but that doesn’t mean I'm going to be responsible for him having a permanent limp.
Carter drives us home, and I leave the garage and head for the boat house without a word. If I'm not physically torturing him, then I really have no desire to interact with him right now. I glance around my room, and with a sigh, pick up a folder from the top drawer of my desk. I've been putting it off for too long. I grab my sunglasses and cell phone and walk back down the steps toward the pool. At least I'll let my feet dangle in the water while I take care of some unpleasant business.
I stop short as I see Carter standing five feet from my door, waiting impassively. "What are you doing?" I grumble.
"Providing security."
"I'm at home!"
"If you could supply me with your schedule, that would be helpful."
"I don't have a schedule!" I snap at him, waiting for him to leave. But he just keeps on staring at me with that infuriatingly calm expression. "I'm going to sit by the pool and make some phone calls, OK?" I say with an exasperated sigh, and step around him toward the patio.
"Sounds great," he says, and follows me.
"I'd like some privacy," I snap over my shoulder.
"Got it."
I walk around the pool so I can get a view of the water and kick off my shoes. I glare at him as he pulls up a chair at a nearby table. Maybe I should just go back inside, but I don't want to give him the satisfaction of changing my behavior. I should just keep living my life and ignore him completely.
I lower my bare feet into the pool, open the folder, and lay it on the tiles next to me, running my fingers over the Duke emblem on the upper left corner of the papers. A bit self-consciously, I type the phone number into my cell, wondering if Carter is close enough to overhear my conversation.
Twenty-five minutes later, I hang up. Tears of frustration and embarrassment spring to my eyes and I wipe them off before they have a chance to make their way down my cheeks. Why did I leave college when I did? I have so much time to make up, and the administrator at Duke that I spoke to couldn't tell me for sure how many of my credits would transfer to other institutions.
I just can't see myself going back there. It holds too many memories, and at this point I think it would only feel like a step backward in time. I want to start anew somewhere else, but not if it means repeating a whole semester's worth of work. I'm so stupid. What did I ever see in James Mulholland, sculptor extraordinaire, that was worth throwing away my entire future? Every instinct I have, I should always do the opposite.
I stand up and kick the water droplets off my feet.
"Where are you going?" Carter asks as I walk around the edge of the pool.
"Nowhere. Absolutely nowhere."
Chapter Fourteen
After dinner, I roam around the hallways of the main house, feeling antsy but having nothing to do. I hear the sound of a TV from the den and walk toward it. When I stick my head in, I see the TV tuned to Sportscenter, and have to poke my head over the back of the couch to see Bree sprawled out across it.
"Sports fan?" I ask. She starts so violently that she almost rolls onto the floor.
"No." She glances up at the TV. "I mean, yeah, sort of. You know." She reaches for the remote and flicks off the TV, then sits up straight on the couch.
"...Right," I reply. I stand awkwardly at the entrance to the room for a moment before I decide to go in. I drop into the armchair and kick my feet up on the coffee table. "So Jack says you're a writer."
"Yeah," she says, blushing slightly. "I'm trying to own it a little more, being a writer. My boyfriend says that I should."
"Oh, you have a boyfriend?"
"Miles. I'm working on a novel right now, but I haven't let anyone read it yet."
"Not even him?"
"No...in a way, it would be even scarier for him to read it, because I care so much about what he thinks."
"I see what you mean."
"Hey, can I ask you...how's Carter's leg doing? I know you went to physical therapy with him today."
"Let me guess, he won't talk to you about it."
"So there is something wrong?"
"No, no. I just mean he seems like he doesn't really like opening up."
She laughs. "Yup, that's him. Usually he'll talk to me about stuff, but not this time. I don't want to make you feel weird if you don't feel comfortable sharing."
"No, I mean, I don't want you to worry. It seems like his leg is healing well. The doctors seem happy. We just went through some exercises that he's supposed to do at home."
"Oh, good. He's being even more tight-lipped than usual, so I thought maybe it was still hurt or something. He won't even tell us how it happened."
"Really?" That's strange. He told me on the plane.
"No, and his medical records are sealed, obviously." She glances at me. "I don't suppose he—"
"No," I cut her off. "Hasn't mentioned it." I feel fine about sharing his progress, but he definitely told me about the bomber in confidence, even if he didn't know who I was at the time.
"Where did you go in Europe?" she asks, her eyes lighting up.
"Well, Paris, the south of France, Barcelona, Brussels..."
"Are you going to go back to college now?" she asks. I pause. She's definitely blunt.
"I don't know, to be honest. It's harder than I thought it would be. Are you in school?"
"No, but the good thing about writing is I don't need anyone else's help to do it. I mean, I'd love to get a degree, but it's really expensive, and I think your dad's already done enough."
"How do you—" I begin to ask, unsure of exactly what my father's done.
"What are you two talking about?" Carter asks as he walks in. Damn. He offered to help with dishes and I thought I might have ditched him for a little while longer. He's been on me like glue all day.
"You," Bree replies with a smile. Carter glances between us, unsure if his sister is joking or not, but neither one of us clue him in.
"Do you know if Jack's in town?" Carter asks.
"Dunno," Bree replies with a shrug.
"He's back on the road," I answer.
"I can't believe you tackled him," Bree says. I glance down at my phone as she takes her brother to task. It just lit up with a new text message from an unknown number.
Please tell me you're back in town for the holidays.
Maybe, I type back. Depends on who this is.
Nikki, you ass!
Holy shit. Nikki? She was one of my best friends in high school. We both grew up in Tampa but didn't meet until we were in boarding school together. Any time I got into trouble, she was right by my side. Usually because she was the one who caused the trouble in the first place.
Back in town for the holidays and after, I reply.
WHATTTTT??? You have to come out tonight!! New club just opened. Can't believe you didn't text me you were back!
I do feel guilty I didn't let her know. It's just that if I'm trying to get serious about my life, Nikki's probably the last person I should be hanging out with. She married an heir she met on someone's yacht and has never worked a day in her life. Still, she's fun as hell and being in this house is driving me crazy.
K but just for a bit. Have to get up early tomorrow, I lie, trying to build in an excuse for not staying long. I stand, looking as nonchalant as possible, and head for the hallway. I'm hoping Carter is distracted by his sister's teasing, but I hear his footsteps behind me.
I keep my gaze forward as I head back for the boat house, refusing to acknowledge his presence. I pick out a strapless leather mini and pumps, then throw on some smoky eyeliner and a couple layers of black mascara. I grab a clutch and head back down the steps, knowing full well that Carter is waiting at the bottom of them.
"No," he states simply as I breeze past him, headed for the garage.
"Yep."
"You are not going out right now. A bar is the last place you should be."
"It's a club, actually."
"Even worse. There are too many people. I won't be able to keep you secure."
"Feel free to stay home then," I reply, opening the side door of the garage and heading down the steps to my Audi. I open the passenger door and sit down, shutting it behind me. I wait, my hands crossed calmly in my lap. After a moment, the driver's side door opens and Carter gets behind the wheel.
"There are Afghani generals that are easier to protect than you," he growls. I hand him the car keys.
Chapter Fifteen
I smile as we step out of the car and Carter begrudgingly hands the keys to the valet. There's a line wrapped all the way around the side of the building, but I walk straight up to the bouncer as Carter hurries after me.
"Alexa Stratton...and bodyguard," I tell him.
"That is some dress, Ms. Stratton," he replies with a smile. "I'd let you in even if you weren't on the list. You let me know if you need anything at all."
I feel rather than see Carter glare at him as he opens the etched metal door for us. My heartbeat rises with the rhythm of the music and I feel perfectly in my element as I wa
lk through the throngs of people. Any insecurity and anxiety I've been feeling melts away, driven by the music's heavy bass.
My head turns at a woman's high-pitched shriek, and I feel Carter tense next to me. "LEX! Oh my god oh my god!" I laugh as I spot Nikki standing on a couch in the VIP area and frantically waving at me. The VIP hostess raises the red velvet rope as I walk over to meet her. "I can't believe you're really here!" she cries, jumping onto the floor and wrapping me in a hug.
"You look exactly the same, but with bangs!" I laugh, running my hand over her long, golden blonde hair.
"To old friends!" she says, grabbing a shot from a tray as a cocktail waitress drops them at the table.
"Old friends!" I echo her, automatically reaching out and downing a shot with her. The vodka burns as it runs down my throat and I gladly accept a gulp from Nikki's Cosmo to wash it down.
"Thought you weren't drinking," Carter murmurs in my ear. I feel my hackles rise, even though I know he's right.
"And who's this?" Nikki purrs, laying her hand on Carter's shoulder.
"Future step-brother and current pain in the ass," I explain.
"You want a drink?" Nikki offers.
"No thanks," he replies.
"I'll take one!"
"Alexa..." Carter protests, but whatever he wants me to do, I only want to do the opposite.
Nikki steps between us and links her arms with ours, guiding us to the couches. A few people from my old gang are here, along with a bunch of new faces that I don't recognize. After the pleasantries, I turn back to Nikki.
"Where's the husband?"
"Oh, he's so old, he goes to bed at like eleven every night," she says, rolling her eyes. "But he doesn't care if I go out after that, so whatever!" she adds brightly and hands me a cranberry vodka that she just made from the bottles on the table. "What about you? Any men in your life?"
