Sweet Summer Love (The Sweetest Thing, #3)

by Sierra Hill

  I latch on to her hips and press her into my thickening cock before I take possession of her mouth, which is open wide with a response sitting at the tip of her tongue. The kiss doesn’t last long, but it’s gentle, as I pepper her lips and the corner of her lips with light touches.

  “And,” I add for good measure, “you just can’t help yourself around me. I get it. I’m a pretty hot commodity.”

  “Argh! You’re impossible,” she wails, pushing at my chest, her small palms landing on my pecs. She tries to push me away but fails. It makes me laugh a little louder.

  She gives up with a sigh, pressing her forehead to my breastbone.

  “I forgot how arrogant you are. And annoying.”

  “Ah, but you love it. Admit it.”

  “Pfft. I’ll do no such thing.”

  “Baby, by the end of the weekend, you’ll be admitting to everything. You’ll be on your knees begging for mercy, but dying for more of me. Just you wait.”

  I know this will bring a howl of indignation from her, because it’s so outrageous. And as if right on cue, she huffs out an exasperated sigh.

  The truth is, though, that I’ll be the one begging for more. I’m not sure I’ll be ready or willing to let her go when Monday comes around.

  Even though I know it’s the only choice I have.

  Chapter 17

  Logan

  Except for an hour earlier this morning when Carver went back to Joel’s place to pick up his clothes and toiletries, Carver and I spent the entire weekend together. Mostly wrapped up in each other’s arms in my bed.

  And just as sure as he promised, he cured me of my boring, vanilla sex life. Holy goodness, that man has an imagination and isn’t afraid to try anything. I think he may have ruined me for anyone to come after him.

  While sex with Jeff was never on the agenda, I can’t imagine that he would ever do some of the things that Carver did to me. I checked a whole lot of kinky off my bucket list, things I only ever read about in Ali’s smutty books.

  Sixty-nine? Check.

  Kitchen counter? Check. Check.

  Ass play? Triple check.

  When Carver’s thumb found its way between my ass cheeks...like, inside my ass...sweet baby Jesus, I about freaked. But my, oh my...once I got over the initial shock of it, relaxed and became accustomed to the foreign feeling, I let go of my inhibitions and just rolled with it. All the while, Carver used his dirty words and erotic commentary to get me out of my head and into the moment. Enjoying all the naughty things he did to me.

  I said a small prayer of thanks that Ali wasn’t home this weekend, because I screamed so loud at one point, that our neighbor, Phong, knocked on my bedroom wall, yelling at me to “shut the hell up” in a very thick Vietnamese accent.

  Carver takes dirty and raunchy to a whole new level, yet he remained careful and respectful of my emotional well-being. He never assumed anything and took it slow once I gave him the green light on anything new.

  My sexual partner list isn’t terribly long. Besides Carver, there have been three other guys. They were all decent – mostly acquaintances whom I’d dated a few times before sleeping with. Looking back now, I know Carver is right. None of those guys could do half of what Carver does to me.

  And the spankings?

  I. Never. Knew.

  Sure, I’ve read all the well-known, made-into-movie BDSM books on the market. Every girl is curious about that. Most of the illicit, kinky stuff described in those pages turned me on, but I couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone. The bend-her-over-his-lap-and-spank-her scenes were thrilling and hot, but not once had I considered that I would like it for myself.

  And then it happened. Carver flipped me over and spanked my bare ass and I practically climaxed on a scream. In that moment, I wanted to dry hump the arm of the couch from how turned on I was by his dominance. As an independent and strong-willed woman who grew up with three older brothers, I would never fit into the submissive stereotype. In my mind, spanking is for disobedient children to remind them of who is in charge.

  Sexually speaking? I had no clue how turned on it would make me. The ache grew exponentially between my legs and I was writhing for more in an instant. I actually begged him for more. Who the hell am I?

  To say that Carver opened a whole new world to me is beyond an understatement. He’s right. By the end of the weekend, there is a very large possibility that I’ll be clutching his pant leg, on my knees, begging him not to leave. To give me more of what he’s got.

  And what he’s got is aimed right at my mouth this very moment.

  Long, thick and imposing. It’s seven-thirty on Sunday morning and we’ve been in bed sleeping the last four hours, exhausted from wearing each other out all night long. I’d fallen asleep wrapped up in his arms and woke to the heat of his body next to mine.

  I’d slipped out of bed to use the bathroom and padded back into the darkened room to find Carver laying on his back, one muscled arm flung over his eyes, the sheet resting at his knees to expose his glorious body. Even in sleep, his flaccid dick is impressive.

  Carver’s body is all sculpted lines, rolling hills of muscles and tattoos scattered in well-placed spots along his biceps, chest and back. I have to touch him.

  And touch him, I do. I sink to my knees, the bed dipping, as I lean over the middle of his torso. My fingertips gently trace along his taut, smooth skin, over his ribs, across his pecs and then down the ridged valley of his stomach. I reach the light smattering of fuzz of his happy trail, and give in to the desire to lick it.

  His breathing accelerates a notch, but when I peek up at his face, he appears to still be asleep. But the one thing that is wide awake is his cock, now completely erect and staring me in the face.

  I’ve yet to taste him. I’ve fondled, stroked and petted him, for sure. But every time I tried to get my mouth near him, he’d distract me and end up fucking me in some far more adventurous position. Now in the dim light of morning, I’ve found an opportunity that I’m going to take.

  I’m no porn star when it comes to my blowjob technique, but I’m not terrible at it, either. It’s not always been on the top of my most favorite things to do list, but with Carver, my mouth waters with desire to suck him in deep.

  Carver stirs slightly but continues to sleep as I lace my hand softly underneath his balls, cupping him, rolling him gently in my hands like Chinese Baoding balls. I marvel as his cock twitches and grows. My head hovers over him, my tongue tentatively drawing a line from the base of his shaft to the tip, swirling around the purplish-colored crown. This provokes a low groan from Carver and stops my movement, until I feel his hand on the top of my head.

  I grin and continue lavishing my attention on his morning wood. His cock is so thick it’s hard to wrap my entire hand around the girth, but I manage. Clasping him firmly in my palm, I stroke him as I center my mouth over the tip, slowly drawing him in. We both moan in unison when I take him in the back of my throat.

  In order to accomplish this task, I lean over so my ass is head over teacup. I’m not surprised when I feel his large hand land on the soft flesh of my butt, his palm running along the curve – up and over, down and around.

  And as if right on cue, I feel the biting sting of his hand when he paddles my cheek. I swallow a groan, effectively tightening my throat muscles around his dick.

  “Oh fuck, Lo...yeah. Shit that feels good.”

  I hum at his compliment, as my world right now is centered solely on making Carver happy. To bring him fulfillment, because I know I’ll receive the same in kind. He is the most unselfish lover I’ve ever had. He’s made up for his oversight on the night we lost our virginity when I didn’t climax. All is forgiven where that’s concerned, because he’s given me a multitude of orgasms the last two-days.

  Continuing my ministrations of sucking, licking and swallowing around his large cock, his hand migrates between my legs, his thumb running along my wet center, dipping into my heat and then dragging my wetness over my cl
it. The lusty moan that emits from my mouth hardly sounds like it comes from me. It’s thick and husky. Granted, I do have a dick in my mouth, so it’s bound to come out a bit muffled at the moment.

  When he hits a spot that has never been touched before, I cry out and thrust my hips backward. I’ve heard some women have a G-spot hidden somewhere inside them, but no one has ever found that buried treasure within me. Carver slips another finger inside and curls it upward, and sends me soaring. Flying over that cliff reserved for heavenly orgasmic flights.

  My hand is still on his dick, and I’m practically strangling it as I come harder than I’ve ever come before. After the last and most intense wave of pleasure passes through me, I let out a deep sigh and begin stroking him again, ready to resume my mouth-to-dick loving.

  “I want to feel you come on my cock.”

  I tilt my head to the side to look up at him, his eyes dark with desire and half-lidded.

  I let him go to respond, “Well, I want to feel you come in my mouth.”

  He growls, “A sexual standoff. How inconvenient.”

  I grin widely and then take him back in my mouth, but before I can suck him in again, he’s grabbed hold of my hair and yanked me back with a twist of his wrist. I startle a yelp and he loosens his hold.

  “Put a condom on me and ride me.”

  He’s holding an unwrapped condom out in his hand. When did he get that? I don’t remember hearing the crinkling sound as he unwrapped it.

  I take it from him with a frown. “God, you’re so bossy.”

  “I wasn’t captain of the team for no reason.”

  I fit the rubber around his dick, but not before taking one last swipe of his head with my tongue. I’m awarded a taste of his pre-cum and I smack my lips together in satisfaction. I’m about to straddle him facing forward, but he stops me.

  “Nope. Turn around. Ride me reverse. I want to see your ass.”

  “I – uh...”

  Now that it’s a bit brighter in the room, I feel a little uncomfortable in my own skin. I’m not sure why, but it makes me feel vulnerable. We’ve done it doggie-style already, and that didn’t bother me, but for some reason, this has me weirded out.

  Carver shifts up into a sitting position, cupping my face in his hands, and then kisses me soundly. He gives such good kisses. His lips are perfect, commanding and pliable.

  “Don’t go shy on me now, Lo. I’ve already seen and tasted every inch of you. Trust me, baby. You’ll like it this way. I promise.”

  Do I trust Carver? Yes. Yes, I do.

  Yielding to his request, I swing my legs around in the other direction and face away from him, his long legs on display in front of me. Shifting forward, Carver’s hands cup my bottom with a satisfied grunt. He’s seemingly enjoying both the view and the touch of my butt based on the low, guttural and masculine growl. And then I feel him poised at my entrance, just as a wet thumb is gently nudging me in my other hole.

  “Oh shit,” I cry out, as he enters me with a hard push in both locations.

  I may black out for a moment from the intense physical pleasure that explodes in my veins. Like firing out of a canon and flying a hundred miles per hour across the sky. It’s freeing and beautiful.

  The bite of his fingers as they grip me has me moaning, enjoying all the physical sensations assaulting my body all at once.

  “That’s it, baby. Ride me. Own me. Take us both there together.”

  I give in to his commands and do as he says.

  And soon find out Carver Edwards was right.

  I really did like it that way.

  Chapter 18

  Carver

  The post-coital bliss covers us both like a warm, velvety blanket in middle of a raging snowstorm. I’m more content than I’ve ever been in my life.

  Logan is cuddled up next to me in the crook of my arm, her cheek resting against my chest, the soft tendrils of her hair a waterfall of silk over my torso. From this vantage point, I can see the top of her pert nose, peppered with cutest little freckles. Her long eyelashes flutter, as she speaks softly, telling me a story about her friend Alison, who is an aspiring writer.

  “I’m so jealous of Ali’s imagination. She can create the most creative stories and characters. It’s like they come alive on the page. I know once she submits her manuscript, she’s going to hit it big.”

  “I don’t doubt it if you’re her biggest cheerleader. Speaking of cheerleader...you’d look really good in one of those tiny little outfits on the sidelines of my games. You don’t have an old one lying around anywhere, do you?” I’m only half kidding because she’d look smoking hot in one of those uniforms.

  She smacks at me playfully and I reach down and pinch her exposed nipple, extracting a little yelp from her. We’ve been lazily laying in her bed now for the last few hours. The perfect Sunday morning.

  “I’m sure you have enough of your own cheerleaders that you don’t need another one to add to your collection.”

  “Maybe,” I admit honestly. “But you’re the only one who makes me feel like I matter.”

  She shifts her weight across my body, flipping onto her stomach so her elbows are out and her chin rests on her hands that lay on my breastbone. Her eyes are light blue in the soft light cascading through the bedroom window, but they blaze with an intensity bigger than the ocean.

  “I’m so proud of you, Carver. You set out to play in the NBA and you’re so close to that goal. Most teenage boys say they want to play in the pros, but it never happens. They don’t either have the drive or what it takes. But you’ve made it happen. Do you know where you’ll be drafted?”

  The unexpected compliment fills me up with pride. It means she paid attention when we were younger. I spouted off all my hopes and dreams as a sixteen-year-old boy. Dishing out dreams that I aspired to become. Hopefulness and arrogance that only the young can afford to extol.

  I place a quick kiss on her nose, then her forehead, and then the top of her sexy, mussed-up hair.

  “While I’m hopeful, it’s still not a sure thing that I’ll be drafted.”

  She gives a disgruntled huff. “Whatever. Don’t get all humble now, Mr. Full-of-Himself.”

  I flick her nose with the tip of my finger and I laugh when she tries to bite it.

  “Truthfully, I do think I’ll get drafted, I’m just not sure in which round. My agent, Cristopher, has been working on the backend with the various team managers and owners to see where I might fit. It all depends on their current rosters and payroll. And even if I do get selected to a team, there’s no guarantee that I’ll actually play my first season, much less start. There’s a strong possibility I could get a contract and then be waived the very next year. It’s all a crapshoot.”

  This was the reason my dad was so adamant that I finish college with a degree, to ensure that my future was invested in something other than basketball. The exact reason he did what he did when it came to Logan’s pregnancy. I’m old enough now to see the logic behind his actions, but not his tactics. Which reminds me about dinner tonight.

  Logan interrupts before I can ask, “Where do you see yourself playing?”

  My hand glides down her lower back, as I leisurely stroke the bare skin down the curve of her ass. The goosebumps that prickle over her flesh make me smile and I continue my sensual maneuvers.

  I shrug my shoulder. “No preference, I guess. But I did give him a list of my top team picks. It really doesn’t matter, though, because I don’t control the outcome.”

  I continue, “Even if I get picked up by one team, they could work out a trade behind the scenes with another team – so I could end up somewhere else entirely. I really just have to wait and see and let the chips fall where they land.”

  Logan nods her head, scrunching her cute nose in worry. “That must be difficult, not knowing where you’ll end up. Leaves so much up in the air right now, doesn’t it? That’s got to be stressful.”

  It doesn’t surprise me that she’s so intuitive and per
ceptive of my limbo. She’s always been empathetic. “Yeah, I guess it is kind of stressful.”

  Especially now that I have someone here that I don’t want to leave. This is exactly the reason I never wanted to get involved with a girl. The life on the road is not conducive to establishing a normal dating life.

  “What do your parents think about all this?” she asks softly, with uncertainty threading through her words.

  I crinkle my nose. “Honestly? I don’t really care. They don’t factor into my decision. I made them a promise when I went to college that I’d finish my degree, but after that, my life is mine. I choose to do what I want, with whom and where.”

  There’s a quiet pause as she considers her next response. “I don’t know what happened, but it’s obvious you’re angry with your father. For what he did. But Carver...you need to forgive him. He was looking out for your best interests. We were so young back then. Although I wish things had been different...” she hesitates, her voice now thick with emotion.

  “Your father treated me with kindness both times I met with him. He helped me and helped figure out what was right for our child. I was still in high school and too young to be a mother. I don’t regret giving him up so that he could have a better life...so you could have a life free of those burdens.”

  A current of anger bubbles up inside me from the bottom of my toes. I flip her on her back and hover over her so that she can see the truth within my eyes.

  “Logan...you and our baby would never have been a burden to me. Just never.”

  A tear spills out from the corner of her eye and she glances away from me. Off into the distance.

  “You don’t know that. You...” I watch as her throat works in a swallow. Her eyes return to meet mine, locked with fiery intensity. “We would have failed each other. It would have been inevitable.”

  She squirms underneath me, trying to get up. I don’t want to let her go, but it’s obvious she needs space. I move to the side and she swings her legs over the edge of the bed, grabbing a t-shirt from the floor to cover her naked body.