Darker Water (19 page)

“Do you want me to stop?”

“God no.”

His hand kept moving, over my shoulder to my
neck, pushing my hair out of his way before continuing its
torturous path. Down the outside of my arm, up on the inside, the
back of his fingers brushing my breast and stopping, as if he
couldn’t decide which direction he should go.

I turned slightly to encourage him to touch
my chest, but he was already moving back down my arm. His gentle
caress continued onto my hip, down my leg, then back up as close to
as much of my ass as he could touch with our bodies pressed so
tightly together. Back to my hip and then down onto my belly.
Inching closer to the edge of my panties. One finger went under.
Then multiple. My breath caught.

“I want to make you come so bad,” he
whispered, his breath warming the side of my neck. “Just my hand.
Is that okay?”

I couldn’t speak, and I wasn’t sure if I
wanted it to just be his hand. “Uh huh.” The truth was I could
probably come from all the tension built up over the last few
weeks. Actually, I’d come plenty of times fantasizing about
something really similar to what he was doing right now.

I rolled onto my back, wincing as he yanked
my panties down hard.

“Sorry.” He waited for me to lift my legs and
then pulled them the rest of the way off.

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” His unshaven cheek scraped my
skin when I turned my head to find his lips. He rested on one elbow
and his hand snaked behind my neck, controlling the angle of my
head and forcing my mouth open for his tongue. He tasted so male—so
Carson. Honest, no holds barred, putting everything he was into
this amazing collision that had started out as a simple kiss. One
that wasn’t supposed to be happening because neither of us were
supposed to be in this place at this moment. But we were, and I
wouldn’t have given it up for anything.

His other hand kept moving, doing something I
couldn’t focus on because the pleasure was systemic. All insecurity
about the other women he’d been with disappeared. I wanted to thank
each and every one of them for giving him the practice. He knew
exactly where to be gentle, when I needed more pressure, even when
to free me from the kiss so I could get more air.

I ran my fingers through his hair, tore at
his shoulders, grasping any part of him I could as he stroked and
filled me.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I think I could come
just hearing you moan like that.” Had I been loud? I didn’t know,
couldn’t tell, couldn’t remember, and didn’t care.

When I slid my hand down his side to the
crest of his hip, fingertips under the band of his boxer-briefs,
his hand disappeared, reappearing to stop me before I could grab
his cock or climb on top of him.

I whined, “Don’t stop. Please, Carson. Don’t
stop.”

He pushed my leg off him, moved my arms back
onto his shoulders, and then finally put his hand back exactly
where I needed him to be. “If you move your hands again, I’ll
leave.”

“Why?”

“Because you just woke up, and I need your
complete focus for our first time together. I shouldn’t even be
doing this. There’s a limit to how much I’m going to use you when
you’re not completely aware of what’s happening.”

“I want you to use me for everything.”

He groaned. “You need to shut up now. The
only thing I want coming out of your mouth is a lot more moaning.
And the only thing I want your body to do is what it’s already
doing.” He didn’t let me agree or disagree, silencing any
protestation with another kiss and a deeper stroke of his
fingers.

Oh god.
I tried moving on top of him
again, not on purpose but just because I couldn’t help myself. He
grumbled and moved me where he wanted me and told me to knock it
off. After that, if he really wanted me to shut up and take it, he
got exactly what he wanted.

To not have to think or anticipate what
someone else needed, to have all his attention on me, on what I was
feeling, being controlled by what he was doing, was—

“Soooo good!” I said through my teeth, every
muscle tightening, fighting not to roll over and slide onto his
cock. I’d never wanted anything or anyone more. He slipped his leg
over mine, pinning me to the bed somehow.

“Shut up, Lane.”

I think I’d been begging, if not in words, in
tone, whimpering, asking him to take me completely. My hips raised
off the bed, forcing him to go deeper, harder, faster.

His lips moved to my neck and he mumbled, “I
said just my hand, didn’t I? That was stupid.”

It was too late anyway. I was so close, my
back arching, my nails digging into him. I was making desperate
sounding noises that I knew I’d be embarrassed about later. Not
now, though. Now I felt too good to be embarrassed or worried about
anything.

“Damn it, I can’t wait to be inside you.”

Then why
was
he? With his breath hot
against my skin, the last piece fell into place and I went over,
screaming a release that had been building ever since we met. It
went on forever, my entire body tensing and my back jerking off the
bed with each aftershock.

My body was dead, gone, over, completely
useless. “That was...”

“The most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever
heard,” he said, still caressing me gently even though he was
breathing almost as hard as I was.

“You mean I didn’t scream out someone else’s
name?” My laugh increased the feeling and then immediately sent it
over to the too-sensitive side.

“Nope, it was mine.” He kissed me, increasing
the pressure of his fingers. “Again.” It wasn’t an offer—it was a
demand.

I pushed him away. “God, no. I can’t.” As
much as I wanted to. “I can’t.” But
he
could…if he didn’t
stop me from touching him again. “Don’t you want to—?”

“I’m good.”

Not nearly as good as I was right now. “But I
want—”

“Shut up and go to sleep.” He pulled me close
to his chest, and I could hear his heart pounding. “You’d better
believe we’re going to discuss it tomorrow, but for now, just go to
sleep.”

Well into the exhausted, post-orgasmic
preamble to deep, deep slumber, I wished he was in it with me. And
I’d be happy to help him get there. But out of everyone I knew,
Carson was the one who’d never be shy about telling me exactly what
he wanted. So, if for whatever reason he gave a little while ago,
he didn’t want to, maybe I’d...sleep. And then when we...

When I woke up, I still had a raging hard-on.
Not at all helped by Lane’s leg being on top of mine, her thigh far
too close to my cock. Plus, since I’d been the one to take them off
her, I knew for a fact she wasn’t wearing any panties. If I moved a
little to my left—

No. I wasn’t going to move to the left,
because that would be
highly
stupid.

I’d fucked things up
really
nicely
last night. I wouldn’t have kicked her out of my bed in the middle
of the night, but I had a couch for fuck’s sake. I didn’t have to
slide into bed with her, press myself against her as I listened to
her come, and then sleep with her wrapped around me.

I’d slept. Shit. I’d actually slept. Before I
stopped bringing women to my place completely, I’d tried to sleep
with one of them in my bed a couple times. I couldn’t send a woman
out onto the street at two in the morning just because the party
was over. But eventually I always had to give up and go into
another room.

Except with Lane. I’d crawled into bed with
her because I couldn’t stop myself. And pulling her closer, feeling
her body, making her come, and tasting her on my fingers after she
crashed—all of those were things I couldn’t stop myself from doing.
And I would do whatever it took to do them again.

But I wouldn’t kiss her. Kissing was great—I
was all for kissing—but not after a night like the last. Not when
I’d made a hundred different bad decisions within twenty minutes of
seeing her in my bed. If I wasn’t careful, I’d screw it up or make
her think something was there that wasn’t. I couldn’t afford to
make any more mistakes. I wasn’t worried about myself, but she
wasn’t used to the kind of relationship we could have.

She stretched, her face squishing up before
she opened her eyes and saw me. “Oh shit.”

I laughed. “Good morning to you too, Lane.
How was your week? Mine was no fun at all but it’s picking up
rapidly. Thanks for asking.”

She sat up, her cheeks on fire for a reason I
didn’t understand. It was the morning-after-very-little-happening.
Great stuff but definitely nothing to be embarrassed about.

“Thanks,” she mumbled. “For the…um…”

“The what?” I got it when her blush darkened.
There’s something innately wrong about thanking the person you’re
in bed with for giving you an orgasm. Like it was a big surprise or
a special gift. What the fuck other reason would you be there
for?

“I made you come because I wanted to, not
because I wanted your gratitude. Or payback.” I smirked. “Although
I’m not opposed to the idea. But not now. Maybe later.” Damn, I
wanted to kiss her. A lot. “You know what’s worse than a woman
giving you a hand job because she feels obligated to?”

“What?”

“Her not giving you a hand job at all. I’m
just kidding.” I smiled, pushed out of bed, and went into the
kitchen to cool off with some scalding hot coffee. “We agreed to
talk about where things stood when I got back. I can be patient a
little longer.” Look how long it had been already.

It was going to happen, I knew that. She’d
finally said it would, but more than with anyone I’d ever been with
before, things had to be clear between Lane and me. Or she’d get
hurt, and I’d feel like the biggest asshole on the face of the
earth.

“It would be helpful if you weren’t so nice
about all this,” she called.

Was I being nice? No. I was being horny and
selfish and a little bit desperate.

“Nope, all of this is me being a selfish
prick. I’m only being your friend for self-serving reasons.”
Anything that kept us in the same room would get me where I wanted
to be sooner. And honestly, if I could only hear one thing for the
rest of my life, I wanted it to be her screaming my name.

“You’re so full of shit. When’s the last time
you worked this hard to get a girl to sleep with you?”

“Never.” Ever, ever. Nothing even close to
this. “But you’re helping me test out something new. To me, at
least. The theory is: the more the sexual tension builds up, the
bigger the explosion will be when it finally happens. This is all
foreplay.”

“I’m not sure I can live up to that kind of
expectation.”

If last night was any indication, then yeah,
she definitely would. My anticipation was so high, I’d been like a
teenager touching a woman for the very first time. Unless I’d kept
a certain amount of pressure on her, she would’ve felt my hand
shake. Luckily, once
she’d
started shaking it wasn’t a
problem anymore.

She jumped in the shower while I made coffee.
I’d already poured two cups when I realized I’d never made coffee
for a woman before. That had to be some kind of record. My rep was
a lot more exciting than my reality, but I would still need a lot
more hands to count the number of women I’d slept with. I needed
less than one to count the number I’d cared about.

That I knew exactly how she took
it—grotesquely sweet with lots of cream—didn’t bother me at all,
though. We’d spent a lot of time at coffee shops. Her choice of
locations where we couldn’t get horizontal wasn’t lost on me. It
showed a certain cute naïveté that she didn’t realize I wanted to
take her vertically just as badly.

I’d just given up my search for milk that
wasn’t chunky when I heard her come into the kitchen.

“I only have sugar and—”

Her body pressed against my back, molding
into me. She hadn’t put anything on after her shower, not even a
towel. This was very good. She was fully awake and taking things
into her own hands. Hopefully into some of her other parts too. As
long as she wasn’t doing it out of guilt. Or payback. A payback
orgasm seemed an awful lot like a pity-fuck, and that was never
going to happen. I was horny as fuck, but I still had some
pride.

I already knew that once wasn’t going to be
close to enough with her, and I didn’t want us to stop hanging out
together. Lines couldn’t be crossed haphazardly if I wanted to keep
all of that.

She reached around me and ran her hand down
my abs, past the waistband of my boxers.

“This is because you wanna feel good, right?
Not because of any dangerous, emotional, female reason?” My voice
was like sandpaper as I not only
felt
her fingers curl
around my quickly hardening cock, I also saw them.
Fuuuuck.

“You don’t know anything about women, do
you?”

I knew how their bodies worked but right now
that was only one of the things that I needed to be paying
attention to.

“Don’t ask me
why
I want it,” she
said. “Just give it to me.”

Yeah, I think I could do that. When she
started moving her hand, stroking my cock, I groaned. Coffee
forgotten. Time and space gone.

As tight as her grip was and as fucking great
as it felt, it wasn’t going to be enough. I needed to feel her come
again, this time around my cock.

“If I turn around now things are going to
escalate, Lane.” I spoke with my eyes closed, my hands clutching
the countertop. “So what would you say if I asked you how far you
wanted to go with this?”

“I’d say, ‘Why are you asking me questions
when you should be fucking me?’”

With a quick breath that might have to hold
me for a while, I spun around and lifted her into my arms, unable
to keep my mouth off her. Lips, jaw, neck, collarbone—anything I
could reach.