“JD,” he groans. He pumps himself into his hand and jet after jet of his release blasts hot across my chest and chin.
He’s stunning like this. His expression is frozen in painful ecstasy, eyes clenched shut and his large body shuddering and flexing with the force of his climax.
I could watch him forever.
I swipe my fingers across the wetness on my chest, bringing them up to suck them in my mouth. God, that’s good. Salty and delicious. One taste and I’m already addicted.
He opens his eyes and looks down at me, lips curving softly.
“What? What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I need to kiss you again,” he says, sliding down and pressing his chest to my sticky flesh. “And it needs to happen right now.”
“Good idea.”
“You’re the one with all the great ideas, grasshopper.”
Carter’s surprisingly still-hard cock glides against mine and we groan into each other’s mouths. He rolls more fully on top of me and his hips start a slow, sensual circle, creating the best kind of friction. The kind that already has me trembling and ready. He smiles against my lips and reaches between us, giving us both what we want. Again.
Well, hell.
He’s ruined me. I’m only twenty-six and I’m finished. Done.
Carter Willis is the best I’ll ever have.
***
Dear Diary,
I woke up in his orgy bed and didn’t want to leave.
I think the only reason I found the willpower to do it was because I didn’t want to. Some people might think that’s backasswards, but it’s more about preservation and pride. My pride. My preservation.
And backasswards is a word. Look it up.
I get that I’m making this more complicated than it needs to be, but I’ve never spent the night with anyone before. Not common knowledge, that’s not something I like to admit to, but there it is.
There was this one time I had sex with my boyfriend of the moment on a train, and technically we slept in our seats afterwards, and those seats were adjacent…but it’s not the same thing.
So I’m currently experiencing another personal first, and learning I don’t handle those as well as I’d like. That doesn’t mean I don’t know exactly what it is that sent me running this time.
The morning after.
If the sex had been bad, or even slightly satisfying, what happened next would be easier to figure out. But what do you do when you have the most unexpected, unbelievably incredible sex with a man who was giving you a place to crash while you had your locks changed? Someone you’ve known for less than a week?
How should I have responded to waking up sprawled on top of him like a human blanket, with his hand possessively cupping my ass?
There’s an obvious answer, I know, and if everything didn’t feel so up in the air and rife with potential complications, I might have gone for round four. And yes, I said four. Carter made me come three times before I passed out beneath him on the couch.
Best night of my life.
I’m such a fraud. It’s almost laughable to think I’ve been giving out sex advice for years when I’ve never actually had it before. Not the right kind. Not that kind.
The train guy, one prom night/truck stop/tequila mistake—don’t ask. A fellow introvert I met for coffee and wound up dating for two months, mostly via Skype. And Closet Cowboy Rod. Other than the occasional hand job with a goodnight kiss topper, that is the sad sum total of my sexual resume. None of those experiences are in the same universe as what Carter did to me.
That was more than good sex. So much more there are no words—and I always have words. But now I’m all emotion and sensation. Altered somehow, and completely at a loss as to what happens next.
So I left the bed, and I’m showering in the guest bathroom while I get myself together, because I refuse to let one night turn me into that clingy guy that won’t take a hint and go away. Everybody hates that guy.
Carter hadn’t made any noises about wanting me gone. Yet. And the man is relentless and vocal in his pleasure, so I know he’s not shy and that he enjoyed last night as much as I did. But that doesn’t mean he wants a repeat first thing this morning, if ever. It doesn’t mean the two of us are suddenly an item. He’s too experienced to be spun by this the way I’ve been.
I am so fucking spun.
I’m also crashing at his place. Eating his cooking. I know he invited me, but we’re still not in an equal-footing situation. If everybody hates the guy that clings, I can only imagine how they’d feel about the one who takes advantage of a generous man.
I stick my face in the hot water and drag my hands through my by now thoroughly washed hair. I can do this. Get myself under control and be cool about last night and all the orgasms. I’ll get dressed and call my landlord to make sure he has the new key to my apartment, and then I’ll go back to my life.