A broken moan escapes my lips, and I bury my face in the pillow to keep from screaming my pleasure. His palm moves to my lower back holding me steady as he swivels and thrusts, penetrating me deeper.
Sweat beads on my forehead, and my hair sticks to my face. When I raise up slightly on my knees to brush the hair from my face, my new position causes my orgasm to race forth. “Carter?”
“Yes, baby?” he says breathlessly.
“Keep moving just like that. Don’t shift.” My legs go numb and start to shake. My knees won’t hold me up anymore, and I stumble forward, bracing my hand against the wall. He continues to pound into me and releases his own orgasm as I climax.
He falls forward, his sweaty forehead resting against my back.
“Jesus, baby. You’re going to kill an old man.” He rolls off me, spreading himself across the entire length of the bed.
“Stop it. You’re not old.” I swat at him, as I crawl off the bed, giving him space.
“I’ve lived a lot of life in my thirty-two years, but none of it has been as exciting as you.”
I step into the bathroom and wet a wash cloth, wiping the sweat and sex from my body. I wet another one and take it into him. I straddle his legs and wipe him clean, cooling down his body too. The heavy scent of sex fills the air.
He scoots over and makes room for me. When I slide against him, my bare hip hits the wet spot. “Damn it. I’m in the wet spot.”
He laughs quietly. “You mean spots, because I’m lying in one too. Hold on.” He jumps out of bed and fumbles around in his mini closet before pulling out a huge beach towel and folding it in half. I stand and help him lay it across the mattress. “There. That should work.”
We snuggle back together, pulling a sheet over us. I fall asleep smelling suntan lotion and coconuts.
Day 22
Day 21? No 22. I didn’t write yesterday. Or the day before. Hell, I don’t even think I wrote before that. Shit. I’ve already messed up this journal. So just know if you’re reading this after I’m gone, it’s not written in real time because my fucked-up brain has no actual clue what day this is.
I did something last night I’ve never done in my life. I had sex with the same woman twice. Twice.
Holy fuck. I fucked her. Twice. I know you’re probably thinking I sound like as ass because I keep referring to having sex with Teddy as ‘fucking her’, but I got lost in her the minute I entered her heavenly body.
Mind you, that wasn’t my intention, but that’s what happened, and I cannot tell a lie.
It was hard and fast and glorious.
The way she shivers and quakes when she comes, holy fucking hotness, Batman. I want that kind of sex every fucking day for the rest of this life. It may sound shallow, but it’s my highest compliment. This woman has a rockin’ body, knows her own mind, has a keen intelligence, and a sassy mouth. She’s perfect. And I think I’m in love.
25
Teddy
“Hey, Derek. We’re near the Alamo. Can we check it out? It’s almost lunch.”
“You want to see The Alamo? I thought it was just a boring building,” he says, scrunching up his nose. “But if you want to go, I guess we can. It’s not like we have any real schedule we need to keep.” The screen on his phone brightens as he begins searching for walking directions.
“I’ll go wake up sleepyhead.”
I climb out of the front captain chair and step over Molly. I slide Carter’s bedroom door open and watch him sleep. He looks so peaceful. His dark brown hair is spiked up from sleep, and he’s hugging the pillow I slept on. I tug on the pillow.
“Hey, babe. Time to wake up.”
His eyes flutter open.
“W-wha-what—” He shakes his head with frustration and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before forcing the rest of his sentence out. “—time is it?”
I sit on the edge of the bed while he sits up and wipes the sleep from his eyes. His fingers massage the creases in his forehead.
“Are you all right? I’ve never heard you stutter before.”
A look of concern flashes across his face but it disappears into a soft smile.
“I’ve never stuttered before. See? I’m not doing it now. Maybe my mouth tried to work before my brain was awake. I need some coffee,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He stands up and appears coherent and steady.
“We’re going to the Alamo.”
“Why?” he says, his mouth faintly mocking.
“Wow. You and Derek are both down on the Alamo. I’ll have you know it’s an important part of Texas history, and without Davie Crockett and Sam Houston, we’d be ordering our ribs, barbecue, and tacos in Spanish.”
“Well, I don’t know any Spanish, so we’ll stop by and pay our respects to the men who allow me to order my food in English in this state.” He swats me on the rear end as we head to the kitchen.
“So, this is it, huh?” Derek says as he takes a few more pictures of the board of rusted weapons found after the battle of the Alamo.
“Yeah, there’s not much to it, but now you can say you’ve seen it the next time you order your Mexican food in English,” Carter says with sarcasm as he winks at me.
I roll my eyes at him and let out a giggle as he gives my side a tickle.
We head back to the RV in the parking lot, and Carter decides to take Molly for a walk before hitting the road again. I boil water for pasta. Might as well eat before our next long trek up the road.
Carter and Molly arrive back as the penne with alfredo sauce is ready. I place the large salad bowl and vinaigrette dressing on the table as the boys dig in.
“It’s roughly sixteen hours to the Grand Canyon from here. That doesn’t include stopping for sleep and checking out any nearby places. It’ll take us a few days to get there. Have we decided if we’re going to the northern or southern rim?” Derek looks back and forth between Carter and me.
“Ssssss-southern rim,” Carter spits the words out, not looking at either of us.
I swallow the pasta I’m chewing. “First your hands shake, and now you’re stuttering. What’s going on Carter? Are you sick?”
“He’s just…” Derek starts, but I interrupt.
“I know, he’s stressed out. Stress doesn’t cause stuttering. It only aggravates it. Neurogenic malfunctions cause stuttering. Are you an epileptic? Have you had a traumatic brain injury? Do-do you have MS?”
“No. Nothing like that. I get bad headaches. Migraines actually.” Carter begins to rub his temples in his familiar habit.
“Like I said, he suffers from excessive stress,” Derek chimes in, glancing nervously at Carter. “He also gets excited at times, and I have to calm him down. It’s the little things that get him worked up. We have to keep him grounded and neutral—”
“I want to take Teddy rafting down the Colorado River,” Carter states, cutting Derek off. “That should be relaxing.”
“Um, have you ever been rafting, Carter? It’s not relaxing. It looks stressful. Maybe we shouldn’t do that.” I grab his hand and encircle it with mine, worried that he’s not telling me everything. “We could just go horseback riding. That’s peaceful.”
“No!” he spits out. His eyes are bright and pleading as they lock on mine. “I want to give you the Grand Canyon trip you wanted. Hell, we may do both, but we are not going to sit here and discuss my health. It is what it is. I’m stressed out from leading a selfish life. End of story. Let me have my adventures with my lady and best friend. That’s all I want.”
I nod, swallowing down the lump which has formed in my throat. Call it intuition, but it has to be more than stress. But the desperate, pleading look in his sad eyes has me agreeing to anything he wants. He lets out a breath, a tiny smile gracing his lips as he gives my hand a squeeze. His hand quivers slightly over mine before he pulls it away and gets to his feet, his plate in hand.
With lunch over, Carter and Derek take the realm of driving and navigating while I clean up the lunch dishes. Once everything
is put away, I start Googling all of the symptoms I know about Carter and apply it to my knowledge gained at Columbia University plus listening to my father’s conversations over the years. He could have multiple sclerosis and wants to travel before it becomes too difficult. I just wish he’d tell me. I can’t shake the idea that something else is going on, and I have a feeling he needs me more than he knows.
Day 35
Yes, Day 35. Derek helped me count our days away from NYC so I can straighten out my journal. If only I could go back and add in the missed days, but they’re long gone at this point. Suffice it to say, I either slept through them or laughed my way through them, because I’ve been in nothing but pure heaven since Teddy joined us.
She’s been a little standoffish since my stuttering moments a few days ago. I haven’t done it since but trying to convince her that what’s wrong with me is just stress is getting harder and harder. The woman can see right through me, I swear.
Doctor Abrams and I are messaging back and forth. He’s not happy with me, but he called in a new prescription at some pharmacy in Flagstaff for me that Derek retrieved. Not sure it’s doing anything new or special from the old medicine, except make me sweat more. We’ll see how I feel in a few more days.
I don’t want to admit it to myself, let alone Derek, and especially not Teddy, but I’m starting to feel different. I had trouble tying my shoes this morning. Even fastening the buttons on my shirt was a fiasco, which explains why today I’m wearing a twenty-dollar t-shirt from the Alamo gift shop that says, ‘Remember the Alamo’. I was worried before. Stressed before. But it’s getting worse. It’s coming. I don’t know how long I have. I’ve been praying for my six months, but at the rate I’m going, I might only have three.
I’m trying not to draw into myself. I’m trying to enjoy the woman I’m falling for. I’m trying to enjoy all the moments, but every fucking time my hand shakes or the words falter, I’m reminded that I’m a ticking time bomb and the minutes are blinking faster.
I know. Shut the hell up about it. And I should. I need to stop focusing on my disease and focus on the positives. But even those are turning to negatives because I’ll be leaving them soon.
Anyway, enough of my boo-hooing.
We’re off to ride the trails down to the Colorado River on horseback then to whatever we decide our next adventure will be. Derek booked us on the gentle course, but we were warned the river is up, so it could be a little more adventurous than we bargained for. I’m all in. I just want to see Teddy laugh and have a good time. She’s all I care about.
We’re going to pitch a tent too. We have two, so I’ll have some privacy with Teddy. I plan on making use of our time together.
If the tent is a rockin’, don’t bother knocking. If it’s not doing anything, best check on me. I could be dead.
26
Carter
“Fuck,” I hiss, fumbling with the button on my cargo shorts. I panic, craning my neck to see if Teddy is coming. She’s been riding my ass lately about me telling her what’s going on. Asking me if I want to talk to relieve some stress. I’ve been making up lies, telling her that work texts have me exhausted. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold her off. I mean, I can’t even button my damn pants this morning.
I try again, but my fingers can’t seem to follow the instructions I’m giving them.
“Come on,” I whimper, my fingers slipping once more. I sink onto the bed, my face in my hands. My cheeks are wet. I’m crying.
“Damn it,” I sniffle.
“Carter,” Teddy calls out, popping her head into the room. I look up at her, my heart warming as her bright smile greets me. It falters on her lips.
“What’s wrong?” She’s at my side in moments, thumbing the wetness on my cheeks away.
“I’m having a bad day, sweetheart. Headaches.” I give her the feeble lie, hating myself for it. I don’t know why I don’t tell her the truth. Maybe because I know it’ll crush her, and I can’t bear to see her hurt.
Imagine her pain if you die on her, you dumb ass.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asks, brushing her lips across my jaw. “I heard that sex can help alleviate stress and headaches.”
I chuckle softly, loving how ready she always is. “Mm, baby, I should be the most stress-free man in the world if that’s the case. All I’ve been doing is burying myself in you.” My lips find hers in a sweet kiss which has my cock growing three sizes in my unbuttoned shorts.
“Then what’s one more day?” she purrs against my lips.
I tug at her tank top, desperate to get it off her so I can feel her warmth against me. I need to forget about all this bullshit. She’s what matters to me. Not my goddamn pants. In moments, we’re both naked. She’s straddling my lap, and her large breasts are pushed against my face. I let out a groan as I bury my face in them, sucking and kissing the sweet mounds.
Her wet center slides down on my aching cock, causing my eyes to roll back in my head. She rides me like a cowgirl, her head thrown back in ecstasy, my fingers tangled in her dark locks. My Teddy Bear can sure move. She has my toes curling in moments, her pussy spasming along my cock as we peak together.
It’s hot and fast. And perfect since we’re supposed to be meeting Derek outside.
“I’ll never get tired of this,” she breathes out against my lips.
“M-me either, b-baby,” I reply with a stutter, kissing her tenderly. Her forehead rests against mine.
“Carter, I’m worried about you.”
I’m silent, internally screaming at myself to just tell her what’s wrong.
“I-I-I’m fine. J-just h-h-h-headaches,” I manage to choke out. My heart pounds harder in my chest. I feel dizzy and weak. I close my eyes for a moment as she runs her fingers through my hair, grounding me.
“You’re not. You need to tell me—”
“We n-need to get d-dressed. D-Derek is w-waiting. Let him know I’ll be there in a m-moment,” I stammer out, lifting her off my lap and pulling my boxers back up with shaking hands.
I need water. And my medicine. I’m sweating like a damn horse. She gives me a frown before putting her clothes back on.
“Call me if you need me,” she says, grimacing slightly before planting a sweet kiss on my lips as I sit on the bed in my boxers. Her words are innocent enough, but her eyes say everything she’s thinking. She knows I’m sick. I just need to confirm it.
The moment she’s gone, I let out the breath I’m holding and bend to reach for my shorts. A wave of vertigo takes hold, and I slide off the bed, hitting my head on the door of the closet.
A groan of pain leaves me, and I lie on the floor, stuck between the bed and wall, staring up at the ceiling. My heart hammers painfully in my chest. My vision is dotted with dark sparkles. Tingles rocket through my body.
I can’t get up. I know I can’t. So, I lay there, praying this isn’t the end.
“Carter?” Derek calls out, coming into the Beastmaster after the minutes race by. “Carter!”
“I-In h-here,” I manage weakly. “Help.”
Derek’s footsteps thunder toward me. In moments, he’s beside me, worry in his dark eyes.
“I seem to have fallen,” I say, wincing.
“You should go to the hospit—”
“No,” I say sharply. “No.”
“Carter—”
“Damnit, Derek, just listen to me! Please,” I plead, my voice choked. “The end is coming. P-please. I just need more time. T-teddy…I don’t want to go. I just want to have these last m-moments.”
“What if you can get help?” Derek murmurs, helping me to sit up. “What if there’s something that can be done?”
He assists me to my feet, and I sway, his hands steadying me.
“I’m a dead man walking,” I sigh, rubbing my eyes.
At least, I’m not as dizzy anymore. When I open my eyes, it’s to see Derek staring at me, a frown on his face. “Don’t tell Teddy.”
“She needs to know,
Carter. What the hell am I supposed to do if you don’t wake up one day? Or if you stroke out or something? Did you know her dad is a brain surgeon?”
I scowl at the information. She’d mentioned something like that to me, but I’d been so eager just to be near her that I hadn’t paid much attention.
“I’m not sure why that matters. She doesn’t even talk to her family anymore.”
“It matters because from what I’ve learned from her, he’s one of the best in the country. Probably the entire world. Maybe he can help you.”
I shake my head, my heart hurting. No one can help me. Doctor Abrams said there’s no cure. That’s why we’re on this trip. One last hurrah.
“Please. Don’t tell her. Promise me?”
A muscle in Derek’s jaw pops, but he gives me a curt nod anyway.
“Also, do you have pants without buttons?”
Derek sighs and backs out of the room. I pull my t-shirt back on with shaking hands. It’s not long until Derek’s back, holding out a pair of gray basketball shorts. I eagerly take them and tug them on.
“How do I look?” I ask.
“Like you’re living the dream, man.”
I nod. “Good. That’s the look I’m going for.”
Derek sets our tents up at the Grand Canyon National Park. I’m feeling slightly fuzzy but loads better than I was earlier. I drink in the sight of Teddy in her tiny tank top and barely-there shorts. My girl looks amazing as she bustles around our campsite, her long, dark ponytail swinging behind her.
I can’t help myself. I wrap my arms around her waist from behind and inhale the lavender scent she’s wearing.
“Baby, you smell good,” I say, grateful I’m no longer stuttering. She turns in my arms, her breasts pressed against my chest. Her lips find mine, giving me a deep kiss which I eagerly eat up.
When we break apart, her eyes are locked on mine.
Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology Page 73
