We’re both panting and breathless when he pulls away. His dark eyes find mine. “Can I take you upstairs?” he asks in a hushed whisper.
I don’t speak, unable to trust my voice, so I nod.
He picks me up against him, and our mouths find one another again as he carries me up the stairs and into his room. The room is dark but smells of him. The scent is rich and thick and woodsy. He places me on the bed, and his scent is only stronger here. The blankets are thick, and the pillows are fluffy. It’s like a bed that you only find in a nice hotel. Soft, comfy, and perfect.
Now that’s we’re hidden away in his dark room, he leans back on his knees and unfastens his pants. I make quick work of removing the rest of my clothing. We both somehow finish at the same time, and before I know it, we’re crashing together, lips, hands, and legs, all tangled around each other. His hips are between my legs, and his erection is hard as it presses against my core. His hands are moving all over, touching all of me at once, my hips, my waist, my breasts, his strokes alternating between firm grasps to light caress.es
I lift my hips, enjoying the feeling of his soft tip running between my wet folds. Both his hands come down on my hips, holding them still. The moment he trusts me not to move them again, one hand falls away. He takes himself in hand and guides himself into me, filling me. It must be just as overwhelming for him as it is me because he keeps pausing. Every time I think he’s all the way in, he pushes in more. I feel almost painfully full, but I’m sure it’s just from lack of anyone being inside of me in so long.
Finally, I feel his hips touch against me, and I know that it really is the last stretch. He still doesn’t move though. He holds completely still, adjusting to my tightness and heat.
“Fuck, Violet,” he whispers against my lips. “You’re so fucking tight, I want to come right now.” He rocks his hips, and his tip finds that perfect spot that has me letting out a soft moan.
“Please, don’t stop,” I beg, needing more.
His lips find mine, and he pulls his hips back, slamming them into me. I dig my nails into his back as I moan into his mouth, already ready to fall apart. He wraps one arm around my back, like he’s hugging me to him, but it lifts my hips up at an angle that is perfect and delicious. He uses that arm to pull me back into his thrusts, making them feel harder and more powerful.
While his hips keep moving, he leans down and sucks my nipple into his mouth again, flicking his tongue against it. I feel my release begin to rise and my breathing picks up.
“Are you going to come?” he whispers, moving his mouth up to my ear.
My hold on him tightens, but I’m still unable to find my voice as I let my release build higher.
His hips move faster, his thrusts getting harder. His hands squeeze my body, and his mouth ravages my neck and jaw. “Come for me, Violet. I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.” His teeth nip my ear, and my moans grow louder.
“Carson,” I breathe out his name. “Fuck, don’t stop,” I beg. Pressure continues to build until it’s too much, and the next thing I know, I’m spiraling, falling, breaking into a million tiny pieces. My orgasm washes over me, hot and heavy, swirling around inside of me like a hurricane, slowly taking over every nerve ending. My toes go numb, my lungs stop working, my heart races, and it feels like every hair is standing on end. I ride out every last wave he provides me until I can finally suck in a gasp of air.
His thrust seem to grow more impatient, and they get faster but less precise. Suddenly, they jerk to a stop, and he lets out a sound from deep in his throat that has my stomach muscles tightening from the sexy noise. His hips slow and come to a stop. Finally, he’s still on top of me.
We’re both breathing heavy, trying to get control of our bodies. I can feel his heart pounding against his chest, which is pressed to mine. But as quickly as all this happened, his body tightens again, but this time, it’s not in the same way. He’s back to being guarded, only giving me one small peek at himself. Now, he’s confused, unsure of what we just did. I can feel his unease creeping up like a spider I’ve been watching travel the room. The question now is, how’s this all going to play out? Will he ask me to leave? Will he beg me to stay? Maybe I should just make this easier for him and remove myself. I’m sure he’s fighting with himself right now, and to be honest, so am I.
Eight
Carson
I haven’t even pulled out of her yet, and already, I’m freaking out. I keep the thought of Kate at bay, along with the fact that Violet is the first woman I’ve been with since her passing. What gets me, though, is how we even got here and the cost that I won’t have to pay—but Margo will. If this ends badly, I’ve taken Margo’s closest thing she has to a friend. The guilt eats me alive.
I pull myself away from her and lay on the bed beside her. She’s still breathing heavy and unable to move. My lungs are working double time, and my heart is racing to keep up. I can’t even remember the last time sex felt that good. Of course, it was always good with my late wife, but this is something different. This is the sweetness of something new, the excitement, the fear, and the nervousness that comes with it. Violet was too perfect, and I couldn’t help but to take her. She’s beautiful and sweet, she loves my daughter, and I couldn’t resist. Being with her was even better than I imagined. She was unbelievably tight. I would almost think that she isn’t very experienced, but she moved perfectly. She was hot, nearly too warm and welcoming, and I wanted to blow the moment I slid into her. Her moans and whimpers were soft and sweet and a turn-on.
But now we’ve reached the awkward part. What do we do now? Will she get up and leave, or will she stay? Will she pretend that this didn’t happen? Will she be ashamed of being used? Because that’s basically what I just did. I wanted her and I took her like a new toy, knowing that I was only going to play with it once.
It’s dark and quiet in my room, so I don’t have to worry about her finding my worried expression, but then, I don’t have to worry about it at all because she’s sitting up on the bed and pulling her clothes back on.
“What are you doing?” I ask, confused.
“I gotta get home. It’s late.”
“You don’t have to rush off. You can stay if you want,” I offer, but all the while, I’m hoping she doesn’t take me up on it.
“Thanks, but I really don’t want to have to explain this to Margo tomorrow.” She stands up. “Where’s my shirt?”
“In the living room floor with mine.” I nearly laugh out. I stand up and pull on my jeans. “I’ll walk you out,” I tell her, leading her toward the door.
Downstairs, I pick up our shirts and I hand hers to her. She pulls it on quickly, then sits down to pull on her boots. I stand back, watching and trying to think of what needs to be said here, but I’m coming up blank.
She grabs her bag and stands up. “Well, um, thanks for the invite?” she says, but it sounds like an awkward question.
I laugh as my hand raises on its own to run through my hair, a nervous habit. “No problem. Margo loved having you here and…so did I.” I add on the last part, and it sounds just as awkward as her last statement.