Fearsome (35 page)

There are a few older couples mingling by it, but I feel alone enough to gather my thoughts. I wander back to the end of the hall to peer out into the great room again. I see Carson talking to Gemma and my soul drops to the floor. Gemma is standing close enough for her arm to touch Carson and he’s smiling down at her as she talks to him. They aren’t in a group, it’s just the two of them talking and it looks so intimate I want to retch.

“Hi,” a nice voice says behind me. I turn around and face a handsome man, one of the guys I saw hanging around Dylan and Carson when I took the photo.

“Hi,” I say, putting my hands behind me like a five-year-old.

“Would you dance with me?” he asks. A beautiful Van Morrison song starts playing. “Slow dance,” he says, holding out his arm with a smile.

“Sure,” I agree. It is a party after all. As we walk out to the dance floor we pass by Lois and her geriatric gang again. I give her a signal and toss my purse to her. Like a pro she stands and catches it then frowns and shakes her head in disapproval. She wants me to dance with Carson, but the dancing gods are not on my side.

“Jess, right? I’m Matthew,” he introduces himself, taking my hands in his.

“Nice to meet you,” I say. He pulls me in closer as Van Morrison croons about searching the world over for his love.

“No. No. No.” I hear Carson’s voice booming behind me. “That’s enough of that. Move over, Matt, this is my dance and take this for me.” Carson tosses his suit coat across Matt’s empty arms still in their dance pose.

Matt looks from me to Carson, not sure if he should argue that he was here first. Most likely, Carson’s sheer dominance in height and muscle causes Matt to apologetically bow out and allow Carson to take over.

My shocked expression must be apparent to everyone within sight of Carson’s display.

“House rules. Host gets first dance.” He yanks me close to him and we begin moving with the melody. My nerve endings are fired up as my hands rest on his hard shoulders. I can feel his heat through his shirt.
Stud in the house!

“Did you have to humiliate him like that?”

“Matt? He’ll get over it,” Carson snaps. “I wasn’t going to let this be your song with him.”

“What are you ranting about?”

“Everyone has a song for their first dance; when they first meet or get married. I wasn’t going to let this song belong to you and Matt.”

I stifle a laugh. “You’re jealous. I thought you never get jealous.”

“I never have until you let that guy swing you out onto the dance floor like…”

“Like what?”

“Nothing,” he says and holds me tighter. “Like he’s your lover. This is a song for lovers.”

I smile up at him and he begrudgingly smiles at me and then looks away. “I didn’t think you were speaking to me anymore.” It hurts to have to hold my head back to look up at him. I’d rather rest my head against his chest while we sway, but I think I lost that privilege.

“We’re not really speaking. We’re dancing.”

“Carson,” I admonish him with another smile.

“You think I give up that easily? You’re more interested in me than you want to admit. You’ve already decided to live in Hera, you let the girls move in and you gave up your lease in the city.”

“How do you know about my apartment?”

He tilts his head to the side as if I asked a stupid question. He smells so good; I really don’t care about the answer to my question.

“I hope you’re doing some soul-searching.”

“What?”

“The song. Aren’t you listening to it? This is our song,” he growls.

I laugh so hard, I have to pull my hand from his and cover my mouth. He uses the opportunity to pull me into an embrace and keep dancing. His head is resting on mine.

“Stop ruining our song,” Carson says.

“Carson, I think you’d be less sure of me if you knew my parents.”

“What do they have to do with us?” His deep, rich voice rumbles into my ear.

“They are everything I know about marriage. They never ask if I’m dating anyone because they don’t care. They taught me that the most important parts of my life are career, salary and ambition.”

“They are just trying to protect you. All good parents do that.”

“I know how to work hard and I know how to manage bank accounts. I don’t know how to be a couple. You deserve someone who is as caring as you are with Dylan and your friends. You deserve someone who appreciates family the way you do.”

He moves back to look at me. “Don’t patronize me and most definitely do not preach some movie script to me. I can take care of myself. Do you judge me by my parents?”

“What? I didn’t know your parents.” I have a difficult time hearing him over the music and can’t believe we’re having this discussion on the dance floor.

He pulls me back in and speaks into my ear. “You know my mother died young and my father was a suicidal drunk. They left no will, no provisions for my brother and me. Do you think I would take the same path as them?”

“No,” I answer. My skin tingles as his lips brush against my cheek. “I think you have faced extreme adversity and used it to make you stronger.”

“So, you don’t judge me by what my parents did or did not do, but you believe I should judge you by your parents. Who I don’t even know. Christ. For someone who likes logic, you make the most illogical argument about us.”

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” I say softly with my eyes focused on his chest peeking through his open collar.

“I don’t, either. Shut up and dance.” He’s angry and disappointed that I would have to mention sparing anyone the hurt of loss. If anyone knows how to protect people, it’s Carson.

The deejay announces the last song of the evening and starts spinning a sexy dance club song. Dylan comes jumping onto the dance floor with three young women following him. Their arms and legs are flailing everywhere. I decide this would be a good time to exit the dance area since Carson isn’t a showy dancer like Dylan.

“Whoa. Where do you think you’re going?” He grabs my arm. “We’re still dancing, Babycakes.”

That name infuriates me and he loves it. I put my hands back up for a traditional waltz hold, but Carson rests his hands on my hips and slams my body right against his as he starts dancing to the fast pop tune. One of his legs is between mine as he does some kind of sexy rumba move, swaying and grinding.

“You have got to be kidding,” I say loudly. I can’t believe he’s comfortable dancing so provocatively.

“Oh, I’m not kidding. Put your hands on my shoulders.”

While everyone else is jumping, hopping and twirling, Carson makes us look like the hot salsa duo. I would never do this in public with any other man, but my surprise and anger dissipates as I begin enjoying our erotic dance. His muscles are thick and hard across his broad shoulders. His eyes bore into me as our bodies crush together and the heat between us soars. It’s over too soon; the song ends and I push away to get some air. Carson is behind me and puts his hands back on my waist.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he whispers into my ear. “You’re staying here with me tonight.”

I whip around so fast my elbow slams into his ribs. He winces.

“I’m leaving with the girls. Jeremy is our driver.”

“Nope.”

Carson heads to the door where people are milling around, putting on coats and saying goodbye. He says something to Imogene who looks across the room at me. I’m still standing there, not really sure if I should insist on leaving or follow my body’s lead, which is begging to stay with Carson.

“Dear,” Lois says. She raises an eyebrow with a hint of a smile, but she says nothing else before handing me my evening bag and leaving with the other guests.

Thirty-Five

I peer out the window into the blackness of the valley below and when I turn back to the large, quiet house, the catering staff has already wrapped leftover food and stored it in Carson’s big, empty refrigerator along with swiftly collecting all the dishes and glassware. When the house is cleared of all people, the lights dimmed or shut off, Carson comes back in through the front door and locks it. We look at one another from across the room and I don’t know whether to be excited or terrified.

He strides toward me and takes my hand to pull me towards the stairs.

“We’re doing it your way,” he says.

“What’s my way?”

“No talking, no strings.”

He walks me briskly upstairs to his bedroom and closes the door. Before I can say anything, his mouth is on mine, hot and frantic. My whole body responds immediately. I run my fingers through his hair and then his tongue and lips are on my neck. A rush of cool air envelopes my body as I realize Carson has pushed my dress straps off my shoulders and it falls to the floor.

“Keep the shoes on,” he demands, still kissing me and pulling my panties down at the same time.

I am fully naked and standing in my heels while he is fully dressed and ravaging me with his mouth. I reach for the bulge in his pants and he groans, however, when I start to undo his zipper, he pushes my hand away.

“No,” he says. “Here.” He walks me to the window, a glass wall that overlooks the white valley, and plants my hands above my head, flat against the glass. He stands behind me and uses his leg to spread mine wider. I feel extremely vulnerable, yet excited. The sound of Carson unzipping his pants sends a flame of arousal through my body. I am getting wetter with anticipation.

His calloused hands do not caress me gently this time, they maul my breasts, kneading and pinching my nipples as his cock rubs against my butt cheeks. He keeps one hand on my breast and uses the other to rub my clit. He is rough as he pushes two fingers in me and rubs my folds with my own fluids.

“Carson, now.” I am practically panting with desire.

“I don’t want to use a condom this time. I want to feel you without it. Is that okay?” he asks gruffly.

“Yes. It’s a safe time,” I blurt it out, wanting him to know that I recently started the pill to be with him, but it sounds like a pretty lame statement, so I keep quiet.

From behind he pushes his cock into me, forcing me up against the window. I gasp, but then groan with pleasure as he grunts and pumps relentlessly into me. The more I moan, the faster he thrusts. His hand is still circling my wet center and I think I’m about to come when Carson pulls out. He swings me over to the bed, no easy move for me in heels. I’m on my back facing Carson as he strips his clothes off. It’s a highly erotic sight and I scramble backwards to the middle of the bed to watch him.

Naked, Carson looks even taller, wider and more intimidating. Seeing his face darken with arousal, I gasp at the size of his cock. He puts one knee on the bed, grabs my ankles and yanks me back to where he’s standing by the side of the bed. He shoves two pillows under my lower back and rests my left thigh over his hip so I’m exposed and titled up to him. The heels fall off when he puts his hand under my butt cheek and props my right thigh up with his other hand. I watch every muscle and ripple in his torso as he bends over and kisses my belly. He works his way down between my legs and pushes his tongue into me.

“Oh God,” I whisper.

His tongue circles, licks and sucks until I can’t stop moaning.

“That feels so good, don’t stop… don’t stop.”

He stops and chuckles cruelly, obviously wanting to punish me. He stands up again and leans in with his cock circling me until he is dripping in my wetness. “Shit,” he whispers and shudders. He can’t wait any longer either, and plunges into me full hilt.

I gasp and a low groan escapes Carson’s steely demeanor. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine. I have the urge to close my eyes and let my head fall back, but I use all my resolve to keep my gaze locked on him. He slams into me with uncontrollable desperation. I arch up and run my hands down my sides and back up across my breasts and peaked nipples.

“Keep doing that,” he says hoarsely, staring at my hands fondling my own breasts.

I slowly run my palms lightly over my nipples and watch Carson’s intense gaze as though we’re dueling for who can have the most pleasure without showing any affection. I want to stroke his face and remove the lock of his hair that has fallen forward, but he keeps enough distance between us so my hands can’t reach him. His frantic thrusts slow down and he grinds in a full circle. It’s an assault on my sensitive spot and I smile as a spiraling orgasm begins to build in me.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Carson groans as his own pleasure becomes too powerful. He pulls out of me and flips me over. “On your knees,” he rasps.

Feeling bereft without him in me, I scramble to get in position, on my knees and elbows. He enters me from behind again and lunges forward covering my body. I’ve temporarily lost the climax that was building in me and I think that was intentional on Carson’s part. Somehow, in his way, this angry sex is his way of getting back at me for being distant and noncommittal. He’s putting on a good show, but I’m not fooled.

His emotions are running him ragged on the inside. If he only wanted to fuck me senseless and get pleasure out of it for himself, we’d already be done. This is going on and on because he can’t touch me without an emotional investment. I consider this and how much I like having him care about me. He thinks this rougher version of sex will frighten me or turn me off, but truthfully, in Carson’s mind, he is making love to me, not screwing me. He’s a terrible actor if he thinks I’m falling for his tough guy act.

His fingers rub my wet folds as he pummels into me with quick grunts. Having this animalistic effect on him arouses me more. I clench my inner muscles, making him groan louder.

“God, Jessica,” he hisses. We both come.

Our undulation continues as his climax subsides. Another wave rolls through me and I yelp as a lingering flame triggers my nerves endings again. Carson holds onto me tightly before pulling me down with him still inside of me as he lies down on his side. My back is to his chest and he is breathing heavily against my neck. He keeps his arms wrapped around me. With a slight movement, he pulls out of me. I can feel when his tense body relaxes completely and his weight sinks further against me.