Dark

by Rachel Harley

  As I spread the aftershave up Carter’s body, his eyes flicker open when I reach his neck and I lock my arms around it, threading my fingers into his tumbled curls. As he gives me a lovely half smile, he’s in a Michelangelo masterpiece once more, the perfection of his features so timeless he doesn’t seem real.

  ‘What about the pizza?’ he says hoarsely, his tongue meeting immediately with mine when our lips brush.

  ‘The only thing I want to eat is you,’ I groan and it tips him over the edge. He takes a step back, undoing his jeans and shoving them, his boxers, boots and socks away from his body quickly, kicking the material halfway across my lounge in his haste to get naked. His chest is starting to heave, his forehead dampening with a gloss of sweat and his eyes are dark. He gives me a scorching look as I stand in front of him, my mouth open and my face flushed.

  ‘Jesus, the things you say to me, I could come just listening to you,’ he growls and he wrenches me to him, hitching me up his body and striding into the bedroom with me clinging to him. He dumps me unceremoniously onto the bed, tugging off my pyjamas. I shuffle back and look up at him, just standing by the side of the bed for a moment, gazing down at me. I remember vaguely his threats about orgasm denial, but he’s on a sticky wicket if he’s intending to try that caper.

  I wickedly spread my legs, inviting him in and, when I crook a finger at him and hike a brow, he hesitates no longer.

  Later, much later, I’m lying on my side on top of the crumpled duvet, my head on the pillow. I’m soaked in sweat and my body’s on fire. Carter’s behind me, spooning me gently and slowly and I groan as I push my bum back to meet each of his languid thrusts.

  He’s stepped the pace down, but we’ve been doing this for hours now. I actually have no idea how Carter is still conscious. He’s come three times so far, but he’s not even paused for a drink of water or to get his breath back. I’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s made me come and my eyes slide shut as I feel his hand glide over the soaking skin of my hip. I jerk on the bed and mewl when his fingers stroke my throbbing clitoris and I clench my teeth. One more orgasm, that’s all I can cope with.

  Carter’s head is buried in my neck, his hot breath coming in pants. Despite his slow and languid thrusts, his heart’s jack-knifing in his chest behind me and I can feel the sexual tension in his knotted muscles. I cock my left thigh over his legs curled behind me, exposing my sensitive folds to his probing fingers and he groans deeply into my neck as he feels my skin twitching wildly under his touch.

  I swipe the sweat from my burning face. My hair is drenched, absolutely soaking. This has been incredible, the pleasure we’ve both wrung from each other and whilst I never want it to stop, if it doesn’t soon, I feel like I’m going to die. I’m burning up, I’ve lost about a pint of sweat and without having to look at Carter, I know he’s just as bad, our joined skin feeling as though it’s melted together.

  He suddenly slides free of me and I roll onto my back as he sits up. He’s panting, his eyes black and he’s hugely aroused. He blows out a shaking breath, raking his hands through his own wet curls before crossing his legs in front of me.

  ‘Come here, baby,’ he whispers and I sit up immediately. He holds his arms out and I plant myself gently in his lap and slowly down his cock. Stellar idea of his. I want to be looking into his eyes when I come one last time tonight, too.

  We sit for a while, breath hot and harsh on each other’s faces, our eyes locked.

  ‘I’ve never felt anything like this,’ Carter whispers and my heart leaps. Does that mean…?

  Nope. He could be referring to the sex.

  He confirms this with his next words. ‘The way that you feel around me, baby, the contours of your body, it’s as if you were made to be mine.’ His eyes slide shut again as our mouths lock and we hold each other close, kissing slowly and deeply.

  Emotions crash into me like breaking waves. I can feel them running riot in Carter’s body, the desperate way that he’s holding me close to him, the urgency of his mouth on mine. It feels like he’s trying to inhale me, absorb me into his own body, keep me with him forever. This isn’t just sex, a physical release between a man and a woman. It’s far, far more than that and although I try to hold onto it, I can feel the grip that I’ve managed to keep on my resolve begin to slip.

  When Carter finally breaks away from my mouth, I can see that he’s not going to be able to hang onto his control for much longer. Kissing me annihilates him, he’s told me this and I can feel that he’s nearing the end of this tether. I clench slowly around him and he cries out, throwing his head back, droplets of sweat flying from his hair. He grits his teeth and when he looks at me again, his gaze is blistering as he finally begins to pulse his hips quietly and softly up to meet mine.

  I gasp, clutching his shoulders and I move with him, dropping gently onto each of his slow thrusts and when he stills and grinds into me gently but repeatedly, I drop my own head back, waves of hot sweet pleasure now sparking from my core. Here it comes and as my eyes lock with Carter’s frantic greens I feel him begin to jerk inside me as another orgasm finally consumes him, he can’t hold it back.

  ‘Oh baby, I love fucking you so much,’ he gasps and then drags my sweating, panting body into his. The bomb finally goes in my core and I jerk helplessly on his lap, feeling the hot flood from both of us soak Carter’s crossed legs. He kisses my throat gently, making his way up my chin and then locks with my mouth, groaning when I tighten myself around his cock once more.

  He rests our damp foreheads together and closes his eyes as I run my fingers through his soaking hair. I open my mouth, to tell him that that was the best, the most mind-blowing experience of my life, but instead of those carefully chosen words, others finally break free and they’re out before I have a chance to stop them.

  ‘Carter, I love…’

  I really don’t need the finger that Carter’s brought up to my lips to stop me completing the sentence, I think I’d have done that myself anyway, as soon as I see the look in his eyes. The lazy, sated expression vanishes in a split second and I finally get a good look at what’s in its place.

  Fear.

  He can’t hear those words from me, that’s evident and, as my heart starts to thump sickeningly in my chest at what this means, the fear in his eyes grows, another emotion joining it and now he looks hunted.

  Oh fuck.

  This is all about to go spectacularly down the pan and I suddenly shove my body away from Carter’s, sliding free from his cock and pushing myself over the crumpled bed until my feet meet the floor. Pain shoots through me when I realise that he hasn’t tried to hold onto me, kiss me, ask me what’s wrong. He knows full well what’s wrong. I was about to tell him that I love him and he couldn’t hear it.

  Why isn’t he saying anything?

  The blinding pleasure of the last three hours dissolves in an instant, the sweet and loving atmosphere blown apart and I suddenly feel embarrassed being naked in front of him. I dip, picking up my PJs from the floor and sliding quickly into them.

  Say something to him then? You can’t just sit there ignoring each other after what’s just happened? You have to talk about it.

  Indeed we do, but I suddenly don’t have a fucking clue what to say to Carter. If I’m honest, I was fully expecting him to tell me that he felt the same, that all he’d been waiting for was for me to say the words first and I’m bitterly disappointed and hurt. Not only has he not said them back, he’s stopped me completing the sentence, as if they’re the last words in the world he wants to hear.

  I feel used suddenly, cheap and I snatch a hair tie from my dressing table, pulling my damp bird’s nest into a messy bun. My chest is still rising and falling quickly and my face flushed, but that’s not sexual desire now. It’s anger, hurt and loss. Yeah, loss. I think this is going to be a deal-breaker for Carter Jackson and I. He knows how I feel about him, he’s known since day one, probably. He must have known that sooner or later I was going to blurt it out.
Was this always his plan? Just to stop me saying it and then offer me nothing by way of an explanation?

  I glare at him on the bed and although his eyes meet mine, they’re guarded. He’s closed off and obviously feeling as uncomfortable as me, as he shifts over to the edge of the bed, tugging the duvet with him and covering his lower body with it. The silence stretches between us, each second that passes pounding into my brain like coffin nails.

  He drops his head, staring at the carpet and I can almost feel a scream building in my throat. This is an entirely new Carter, and I will him to bring his head up and meet my eyes. I need to see what’s in them – if I see them cold and shut off I’m going to start to die slowly inside. I know I am.

  Finally, he lifts his head, but his eyes are still downcast. Why isn’t he looking at me?

  ‘I have to go,’ he says, his voice low and shock hits me like a fist.

  He’s going? Why? He was staying overnight, he brought a bag with him…?

  The wittering thoughts tumble wildly through my panicked mind and sickness churns, a cold hand gripping my heart. Oh God, why the fuck did I try and say those words? What have I done?

  I gulp, taking a wobbly step back as he finally gets to his feet, still holding the duvet over his modesty and I choke back a sob. He’s never been embarrassed to be naked in front of me, but now he looks completely ill at ease. I half expect him to drag the thing after him into the lounge so that he can fetch his clothes.

  I want to drop to my knees in front of him, beg him not to go, but thankfully a little of the steel in my backbone remains, he’s not managed to destroy all of it and I give him a long cool look, my voice surprisingly wobble-free.

  ‘Why?’

  He finally meets my eyes but I’m not comforted. All I see them is a sea of pain, a raging ocean in a cyclone and I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste blood.

  ‘There’s something that I have to do,’ he says quietly, his voice even. Whatever’s going on in that beautiful head of his, he’s keeping it firmly locked away. It’s not good though – despite the fact that he still can’t say what’s on his mind, the agony in his eyes is telling me everything I need to know.

  Carter frees himself of the duvet and I feel an absurd pang of hope when he walks naked over to the lounge and his crumpled clothes. I have no idea why that makes me feel better, but it’s a tiny crumb of comfort in this nightmare I’m now stuck in.

  I dither in the bedroom. I want to charge into the lounge, drag the clothes off his body and throw myself into his arms. Tell him I’m sorry, I take it back – I don’t love him, it was a stupid mistake said in the throes of passion. But he won’t buy it and anyway, I’m no liar. I do love him. The problem is, he evidently doesn’t love me.

  Carter appears in the doorway again, fully dressed and he just stares at me. I feel like running at him and punching him in the face, shriek at him to get out, out of my flat and my life and take my poor smashed heart with him, but I can’t move. He’s locked with me and I’m under his spell, frozen to the spot, hypnotised by his verdant eyes.

  The pain is still there, swimming freely, but there’s something else, too now. I search his gaze and as he slowly walks over to me, my breathing beginning to quicken. I don’t know why, but I’d expected him to get dressed, grab his holdall and walk out. The fact that he’s still here is a surprise, but a very welcome one and as he approaches, that tiny spark of hope grows and becomes a weak flickering flame.

  He reaches me, still saying nothing but I can’t help the tremble of my chin as he cups my face in his hands tenderly. Why is he doing this? He’s just rebuffed my declaration of love, told me he’s leaving and got dressed and now… now he’s holding my face and drowning me with those fucking green eyes and I can’t help the sob that climbs my throat.

  Clenching my teeth until they ache, I screw my eyes shut, but my traitorous body still allows one lone tear to escape and it threads its way down my nose. Carter catches it with his fingers and he leans his forehead onto mine, closing his own eyes.

  I resist folding into his body. I can’t. It’s going to be hard enough as it is when he walks out of here soon, but if I have to let go of him, it’ll be purgatory for me. I see a wild image in my brain of Carter trying to get out of the flat door with me wailing and clinging onto his ankles and when his eyes open, they look deeply into mine.

  ‘Pearl, do you trust me?’ he whispers.

  Do you?

  I actually have no clue now. I did, I trusted him completely, but the last few days have sown some tiny seeds of doubt in my mind and after his reaction to my words tonight, well… no. I’m not sure that I do anymore. If Carter doesn’t love me, then we need to end this now. I can’t continue with this relationship, it will destroy me eventually and I’ll become a bitter shell of a woman, who will never recover enough to truly love someone else. He’ll poison me, withholding his love when I’ve freely given him my mind, body, heart and soul. However, at this juncture, I don’t have the balls to tell him that. I can see him battling in his mind, World War three going on behind his eyes and if I tell him that I don’t trust him, it might make his mind up for him. I can’t risk that. I just can’t, not at the moment.

  ‘Yes,’ I whisper. I can’t tell him anything else. I can’t just let him walk out of this flat and out of my life without a fight. How can I possibly? I fucking love the man, he’s my whole life and I need to be stronger than this.

  He said that there’s something that he has to do.

  He strokes my face gently and I can see him debate with himself whether to kiss me. I’m even more confused when I can see how much he wants to, but he reins himself in and I’m both glad and heartbroken. I want his mouth on mine, but again, it will be twice as painful when he leaves.

  ‘What is it that you have to do?’ I ask and he sighs and drops his head again.

  ‘Baby, this is why I need you to trust me. It’s important and family related. As soon as I’ve done it, I swear, I’ll be back, okay. We’ll sit down and talk, properly talk. I promise.’

  His eyes are beseeching me now, skipping across mine again and again, searching for some confirmation that I’m swallowing this and I’m going to let him leave without grilling him. My eyes harden as a thought fleets into my mind.

  ‘This is about fucking Toria, isn’t it? It’s something to do with her?’

  ‘No!’ he barks, glaring at me himself now. ‘For Christ’s sake, Pearl – you must know how I feel about that woman! It’s got nothing to do with her, I give you my word.’ He eyes me carefully and I blow out a breath. I think I’ll have that, the vehemence in his words, the disgust in his eyes when I mentioned her name. Good. At least it’s not her that I have to contend with. There’s something keeping Carter Jackson from me and I remember Toria’s words again on the night that I broke her nose.

  Carter belongs to a lot of things and none of them are you… you have responsibilities, Carter…

  Even though this might not involve her, she knows about it, of that I’m certain and sadness sweeps again. I asked Carter about these words, and he told me she was a liar, said them to hurt me. I don’t believe that now, there’s something else.

  ‘Pearl,’ he presses, he’s becoming anxious, but I actually don’t give a fuck if he is. He’s nowhere near the torment that I’m in, and will be in, until I know what the hell’s going on in his life.

  Why don’t you let him go and sort it out then, so he can come back and flaming tell you?

  I take a sudden step back, breaking the contact of our bodies and he gives me a pained look for a moment. I tug the tie from my hair and scratch my scalp irritably.

  ‘Carter, it’s fine. I understand, okay? If you’ve got stuff to do, then go and do it.’ I give him a wan smile. ‘Give me a call whenever,’ I say, cruelly nonchalantly, as if I don’t give a toss if he rings or not and I see hurt darken his expressive eyes suddenly.

  Turning my back on him whilst I still have the strength, I walk into the lounge a
nd over to the front door. I glance at my watch, it’s nearly ten. What the fuck is so important that he needs to do it tonight? I’m actually glad he’s leaving, every second he’s in front of me, finally knowing that he doesn’t love me, is like knives in my stomach.

  I hear him approach and he picks up the leather holdall. I pang again. I was hoping that he might leave it here, for next time, but maybe there won’t be a next time? He’s obviously not risking it and he puts his hand on the knob.

  Looking up at Carter, I struggle again not to cry. I thought that I had a lid on this, but I honestly have no idea if I’m ever going to see him again, despite his words from before. They might just be soothing bullshit, to enable him to extricate himself from my flat without too much of a fight, get him out of here. I might try and ring him tomorrow and he’ll have blocked my number.

  I shake my head roughly, tearing my eyes away from him. It’s hurting me too much to look at him, now those treacherous thoughts are in my head. I need him out of here, so I can go to bed. Maybe tomorrow he’ll have sorted out his shit and I’ll at least know where I stand. I haven’t got a clue at the moment. All I’m sure of is that he didn’t want to hear of my love for him and now he’s leaving.

  ‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ he murmurs, shouldering the holdall and opening the door finally. I bite my lip, saying nothing. Is he really going to leave without kissing me? If he does, I think I have my answer.

  He hesitates and I have a feeling that he was considering doing just that but then his eyes change again and he dips his head, his lips brushing mine, which part immediately at the feel of him. I can’t help it and I can’t stop it. I expect his tongue, but there’s no sign of it and suddenly, his kiss seems almost chaste as he moves his mouth slowly against mine. As pleasurable as it is, I screw my eyes shut with pain. It almost feels as though he’s kissing me goodbye for the last time.

  Thirty Nine

  I drop into the leather seat of my Mini the next morning and shut the door with a weary thunk. I lean back and close my eyes. I feel like shit and I’m absolutely shattered.