by S. A. Wolfe
“Carson.” I smile as he continues to drive himself into me until his own release comes.
“Ah!” Carson groans with his slowing thrusts, pumping the last of his liquid into me.
He keeps swiveling and grinding his hips into me until he’s empty. He frees my legs, but keeps me pinned against the wall, holding my face for a searing kiss that means more to me in the afterglow of our love-making.
I am completely sedated and less concerned about Talia seeing us. Carson pulls me under one of the showerheads and scrubs my head with shampoo before massaging my body with bath gel. I moan as his slippery hands slide up and down my arms.
“This feels too good,” I say.
Carson gives a deep chuckle. The smile on his face is nothing short of bemused gloating.
“Spend the day with me.” He wraps me in his arms with my back against his chest.
I groan, not wanting to battle with him again, especially when I’m naked. His soapy hands fondle my breasts, making them perk and fill with an ache. Then before I can build up any defense against him, his hand is slipping between my legs, rubbing me where I’m still vibrating from the first orgasm. My sex is wet and open and I feel my senses hum on a wave of arousal when I think of Carson driving his lust, need and want into me.
“One more time. We both want it. And then you stay here with me today,” he says gruffly into my ear.
“You don’t play fair,” I say breathlessly as his fingers push inside me. I love that his large body can encompass me, trap me and titillate me so easily.
“I can’t play fair. I have a lot of competition.” His tone is guttural and I sense him turning into a feral creature of need, his cock getting hard against my back.
“There’s no competition. How can you be ready for this so soon?”
“Look who’s talking? You’re so wet. I bet I could make you come with two more strokes.” He talks low as though he can’t control himself much longer.
I raise my arms, put my hands against the glass wall and arch my back, sticking my rear end out. “Now. I want you.”
Carson rubs his full cock against me before inserting the head. “Are you ready for me again? I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, spreading my legs. His slippery fingers rub me from the front and caress me from the back as I pant with wanting him, arching my back more.
“Now,” I moan.
“This will help,” he says and it sounds like he’s using more gooey liquid soap.
“Now, Carson,” I beg as I face the shower glass.
He pushes upward into me with his hands on my waist like a vise, which is good because I can barely hold myself up.
“How’s that?” he asks and I can picture his smug expression.
“Faster, harder,” I plead.
On my command I can feel his excitement surge through him, an energy that also courses through me as long as we are touching. He holds me in place with one strong arm while his hand rubs my clit until I’m about to scream. The lubrication allows him to go deeper and faster, and I cry out with each thrust. My climax comes hard and spills into converging spasms that shake me into oblivion and leave me gasping.
“Yes,” I moan.
“Fuck, that feels good,” Carson mutters as his cock spurts into me. His arms wrap around my waist and he holds me firmly as he mounts me, slamming his length as deep as it can go until it is empty.
We are in a slow, hazy mind fuck after that. I have never spent this much time with any man in any of my sexual experiences. That’s not saying much since I’ve only had actual intercourse with two men, two brothers. I cringe. One I liked, but one I am now falling hard for. I think about this as I regain my composure.
Carson cleans my body gently again with a washcloth, kissing each part as he does. Dylan could do this with anyone I think. He is affectionate, loving and able to throw himself into a moment with anyone. I suppose that’s how he got a reputation as a ladies’ man. Yet Carson is closed off to women when it comes to intimacy and I know how significant it is for him to have me in his personal space. Plus, all this time our bodies were touching, I only thought of Carson. Not once did I think of Dylan or any of the guys I’ve ever thought I liked.
Carson hangs up the washcloth and then pulls me in for a long, deep kiss. His hands cup my face and I gush inside, knowing that he loves me. At least for this moment, I have this beautiful man and his desire to please me. I still grapple with believing this could be permanent, however, it’s this moment that I want to savor, so I return his kiss with the same loving attention.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to make love to you all day,” he says, biting my ear lobe.
“Hmm, you have to be out of steam.”
Carson looks down and smirks and I follow his gaze. His cock is semi-erect and bobbing between his legs.
“Good Lord. What are you made of?”
“Want to find out?” He laughs before kissing me again.
I have to push my way out of the shower.
“You’re going to leave me like this?” he asks as I snatch two towels.
“You’re insatiable,” I accuse as I wrap a towel around my body and put my hair in a turban.
“Only when it comes to you.” He laughs again and begins washing his hair.
As he showers, I find his hair dryer and work on my knotted mass with sneak peeks at his magnificent physique.
“I see you looking,” he says as he shampoos his hair with his eyes closed.
I scoff and leave the bathroom.
“I’m going to have my way with you again in the bed,” he shouts after me and I hope Talia can’t hear us.
I rifle through his drawers to find some sweat pants and a T-shirt. I have to roll the pants and tie the drawstring waist band as tight as possible. Then I collect my rumpled black dress before heading downstairs.
The scent of good coffee hits me as I descend the staircase. I head into the kitchen where Talia is adjusting a mop head. She is not much older than me; petite, blond and very pretty. Carson never mentioned that.
With Carson naked on top of me and a skimpy blanket covering his ass, I wonder how much she actually saw. At least I feel less exposed now. My face and body scrubbed clean and I’m swimming in Carson’s giant-sized sweats. Without make-up I look like I’m seventeen tops and that makes me self-conscious.
“Hello,” Talia says with a heavy Polish accent and a big smile. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb.”
“It’s okay.”
“Carson is always out the door before seven so I didn’t know he was here and the truck is not parked in front of the house. Really, I thought he was at work,” she goes on to plead her apologies.
“Really, it’s fine.” I flit my hand in the air like getting caught in a sex act is something that happens all the time to me. “Did you make coffee?”
“Yes, for you and Carson,” she answers. My discomfort is somewhat mitigated by her sincerity and sweet demeanor.
I help myself to a mug of coffee and relish the hit of caffeine.
“Are you hungry?’ she asks. She takes a pan of burritos out of the oven.
“Did you make that?”
“Yes. I cook for Carson. I cook for you, too. It’s shrimp and asparagus from the party and I scramble it with egg and cheese to make a breakfast burrito. You like?”
“I love.”
Talia puts a burrito on a plate, gathers a napkin and utensils and then places it in front of me where I sit at the kitchen island. I pick the burrito up with my hands and start eating, realizing once again how hungry I am.
“I’m so glad you’re with Carson,” she says, putting another burrito on my plate and making a plate for Carson. “He likes you a lot. You were dancing last night.”
I vaguely remember noticing a pretty blond on the dance floor with Dylan. It was Talia. She must have witnessed our silly scene while Carson and I were dancing.
“He talks about me?”
“No,” she says, bu
t she’s nodding and smiling. “I mean, yes, in a way. When he’s here, sometimes he mentions you, but it’s how he says your name. He put up your paintings, did you see?”
I nod, my mouth full of her excellent food. I imagine Carson talking about me with Talia in a subtle way, although it’s enough that she picks up the signals. She’s a very attractive woman after all and looks like someone who has to fend off a lot of men.
“You blush. You like him, too. More than like, yes?” she asks.
We both turn and notice that Carson is standing at the far side of the kitchen, leaning against the passageway to the formal dining area. He’s wearing relaxed jeans and a black T-shirt. His hair is wet and slicked back. He crosses his feet and arms in a very obvious way as he waits for my answer.
I turn back to Talia and feel my face redden even more.
“Oops,” she says, smiling at me and then at Carson. “Too personal. I’m going to go clean.” She slinks out of the room with her mop and bucket.
Carson approaches and sits down to eat his meal. He is quiet and I know, behind that steely façade, he is seething. He has professed his love for me more than once over the last few weeks, especially over the last ten hours.
I scrutinize my unfinished meal with an artificial interest and wish there was some way I could click my heels and beam myself home. I’m going to have to ask Carson for a ride since the snow is too deep and treacherous for walking.
“More than like?” Carson repeats Talia’s question to me. “Jess?”
Our eyes meet and I immediately register the hurt behind his tone.
“You don’t want to give the real answer,” he says. “Whatever. I’m starved.” He picks up his food with his bare hands and eats it like a bear discovering a fully stocked campground.
I want to tell him that I’m crazy about him and I want to reach out to tuck a lock of his glossy hair behind his ear, something to bring back the intimacy of the last few hours we spent together. I don’t do or say anything.
“Fucking is exhausting,” he says between bites.
I deserve that one.
Carson finishes his meal while I sip my coffee. His silence is punishing. If we can do this to each other, the sooner I leave, the better.
“Get your things. I’ll drop you at your house.” His tone is cold. It makes me feel sick to disappoint him.
Carson pulls his truck up to my house and keeps the engine running.
“Sorry,” I say, looking at him for the first time since we left his house.
“Don’t.” He puts a hand up so I’ll shut up. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Fine. Tell me how a guy like you can surround yourself with so many beautiful women and yet you want me to believe that I’m so spectacular?”
Carson takes in a slow breath and clenches his jaw. “I really don’t understand how your great mathematical mind works, Babycakes.”
“Don’t call me that. I told you I hate it. It’s patronizing.”
My rage over his silly pet name for me startles him. “I’ll never say it again,” he says curtly.
“You said you haven’t slept with any women in a while, but there are plenty of condoms in your truck and your house. You’re getting action somewhere. Talia is very pretty—”
“What?” he shouts. “I have never touched her.”
“What about the women you just hired at work? Hell, what about Lauren or Imogene and the mystery woman at the Mohonk resort?”
“I’m confused,” he says angrily. “Do you actually think I slept with all of these women or are you just jealous of every woman I know? What am I working with here? Irrational accusations or insane jealousy?”
“Oh!” I scream and kick the dashboard. “I don’t know what I’m thinking, but I hate feeling unsure about you.”
“How can you be so insecure about us? I’m a very direct guy; I thought I made my intentions clear.”
“You paint a very enticing picture here, a nice package; the handsome guy with an incredible talent, who also happens to be super nurturing to others and he’s surrounded by all these lovely available women, but he sets his sights on me,” I mock. “Hmm, I don’t know. Should I fall for this or should I use some common sense?”
Carson looks dejected and shakes his head. “You don’t trust me. I don’t know what I’ve done, but you don’t trust me.”
“I’m a realist and I’m not ready to live up to your expectations of me.” I jump out of the truck.
“You’re a cynic. Bottom line, you don’t believe what I’m telling you, so end of story.” Carson yanks my door closed and drives off.
Thirty-Seven
“Tell me again,” Lauren says. “I’m trying to understand why you walked out on Carson.”
I’m sitting at the kitchen table. Jeremy and Imogene are making grilled cheese sandwiches with bacon and tomato while Lauren and Leo are setting the table. It’s a very homey, domestic setting with two lovey-dovey couples and me. I envy their comfortable simplicity when it comes to dating. It makes me more miserable watching them touch each other with loving gestures and little knowing smiles.
“I didn’t walk out on him. You make it sound like we’re married and this is a bad country song. Can we change the subject, please?”
They spend the next hour talking about their new projects at the workshop and the girls’ jewelry business. Leo and Jeremy have nothing except good things to say about Carson’s business acumen and the project ideas as well as the new furniture plans coming from the design team, Gemma and Noelle. Imogene explains her new marketing plan for her and Lauren’s re-purposed vintage jewelry and everyone praises her for the research and business plan she has drafted.
I say little and mostly push my food around on my plate. I wouldn’t say it out loud, but I’m longing for Talia’s scrumptious breakfast burrito that was sitting so close to the guy who stars in my daydreams and fantasies. If I could go back and play that scene over, I don’t know what I’d say differently, yet I would do it with more diplomacy and unselfishness. I would hope. Then again, I keep blowing it every time, so who knows.
After lunch, I check my emails from my 5 Alpha team and follow a thread of messages about a glitch that started about the time I left for the party. The team is worried that the first trial run and presentation to the client will have to be postponed, so I begin reading through the code. I’m sitting sideways against the massive desk with my feet propped up while I scroll through one of the monitors. I’m mindlessly lost in a particular section of the software when Lauren walks into the library and plops herself on the couch with an exaggerated huff.
“Where’s Leo?” I ask.
“He and Jeremy just left. Is this a good time to talk or am I interrupting your work?”
“I can’t concentrate, so we can talk. Let me guess. Carson?”
Lauren is wearing a Syracuse sweatshirt and fleece shorts, looking like a cheerleader with her blond hair pulled back in a high ponytail. She’s the popular, pretty girl on campus that I wanted to be in high school and college, but I could never muster up the confidence to be as outgoing as Lauren.
“You spent the night at his place and you came home in his clothes. How long have you really been seeing each other?”
“We’re not. We’ve…” I take my feet off the desk and bring them to my chair, hugging my legs.
“You’ve hooked up a few times, right?”
“Yes.” I don’t like using that term. “Hooking-up” isn’t the right word to use with Carson. Maybe he did that with other women in the past, but it’s not how he sees me. At least that’s what I tell myself because it’s not how I see him.
“But it’s more than that, right?”
“Lauren, get to the point. What are you asking me?”
“Leo says that Carson doesn’t even realize when he’s talking about you, but he brings you up a lot; at work, at lunch. Leo says Carson has been like this for weeks, and I’m no idiot. Carson didn’t leave a date and drive through a tropica
l storm to see me. He does these things for you. Not to mention the party last night. My God, the guy only has eyes and hands for you. How do you not see this?”
“I do see it, but I find it hard to believe that it’s real. It wasn’t long ago I was going through a similar situation with Dylan and look how that turned out. It seems kind of creepy of me to date his brother even if he thinks he’s in love with me. I don’t—”
“What?” Lauren practically shouts. “Carson told you he’s in love with you?”
“Yes.”
She beams. “That is so fucking amazing. Carson is a great guy. He’s not screwed up like Dylan. I mean, I love Dylan, he’s adorable, but Carson has his shit together and he lives like a monk. Seriously, if he did date a woman, it was a secret and it never happened here. I always wondered if he’d find someone and settle down and now he has his eyes on you. I love this.”
“Well…” I hesitate.
“Oh God, no. I know that face you make. What did you do?”
“Apparently, I’m not doing enough. I’ve discovered Carson is a very direct, no holds barred type of guy when it comes to a relationship. He has an idea or opinion and that’s it, he puts it out there. It’s all or nothing with him. There’s no in between.”
“Oh, let me see if I get this straight. He’s in love with you and you probably haven’t said it back to him because you’re chicken shit after what happened with Dylan. Because if you get involved with Carson and it goes south,” Lauren winces, “yikes, you’d have the small town gossip girls shredding you. Oh, wait a minute. I’m the biggest gossip in town, so you don’t have to worry about that, and um, you’re already involved with Carson. You can’t sleep with him and pretend like nothing happened. Besides, I don’t think it’s creepy. The Dylan thing was months ago and they’re not related by blood so there’s that.”
