things. But as weird as it sounds, I don’t need that right now. The sex was stellar—fucking wonderous—and worth waiting another five years for. But just lying here next to her, watching her. Well, it’s different. It’s nothing, yet it’s everything. And those are the moments to treasure, right?
“You don’t just have to stare,” she whispers.
“What do you suggest?” I reply with a tiny flex against her.
“The art of suggestion?” she teases, her eyes darken with a mixture of shock and desire. It’s the kind of look that short-circuits the wiring of my brain, especially as she reaches between us, her fingers trailing over my crown.
“No, darling, I think you’ll find that’s my cock.”
“Decidedly unsubtle.” I groan as she takes me in her fist. “But very supple.”
I press my lips against hers at her first tentative stroke, then rise above her as a thought enters my head.
“What are you doing?” Her voice wavers with a little laughter as I lean over her and grab a condom from the nightstand.
“I’m constructing a masterpiece.” Back on my knees, I wrap my fingers around her hip, encouraging her onto her front.
“By kissing my bottom?” This time she definitely giggles. And she moves onto her front, like a good little girl. She turns her head over her shoulder, her gaze dipping to where my hand is wrapped around my hard cock. “Did you just call me a good little girl?”
“Don’t question the creator of your pleasure.”
“Yes, you’re a regular virtuoso.” But her teasing tone doesn’t last, not as I pull her up by the hips, bringing her up on her knees. She sighs as I draw featherlight fingertips down her spine, then gasps as I rudely spread her thighs wide. As I press my crown to her silky pussy, she keens, stretching out like a cat.
My first thrust is hard and fast, her body offering no resistance, her fingers tightening around the pillow.
“You’re so big like this.”
“Only like this?” I rotate my hips, then thrust back in.
“Oh, Carson. What are you doing to me?”
I might not be able to pen her a sonnet, but this I can do as I tighten my hands on her hips, pressing my lips to the elegant arch of her spine. Another tremble, another sigh. I withdraw almost fully, and she mourns the loss of me audibly.
“In this bed,” I rasp, sinking myself to the hilt once again. “I am the poet. You, my darling, are the poetry.”
22
Carson
I wake alone, as expected, in my hotel suite that I’m sure Fee would be surprised to learn is just a short walk from my apartment. I’m okay about being alone. Well, I’m not lonely, at least. And though I would have preferred to wake to her warm body, I appreciate she has other priorities. I know one day soon I’ll wake to the feel of her warm body against mine and know there will be other nights we fall asleep tangled in the other’s arms. One day not too far away, moments before she slips into the darkness of sleep, I’ll get to whisper a very important question to her: would she like to be woken by breakfast in bed the following morning or woken as my breakfast.
A grin creeps across my face. That moment isn’t too far away. And in the interim, I have new memories of her when I take my stiff cock into my hand. Not that I do so this morning as I playback the moments before she left. It was obvious she wasn’t about to invite me back to her place, my place, as she’d almost retreated into herself.
We’d dressed almost silently, and though she’d tried to discourage me from walking with her, I’d done so anyway.
“I don’t need you to take me home,” she’d almost whispered, her gaze on the floor of the private elevator car. “I mean back to the apartment.” She’d frowned. “Your apartment, I mean.”
I’d preferred home. One day soon, she’ll call it that in earnest. Hopefully, with me in it.
“I’m not letting you go home by yourself.” I’d clasped my hands to my back to stop from reaching out and touching her. From giving her something else she felt she needed to forbid.
“This isn’t a date.” Her gaze had caught mine then, her meaning clear.
Foolish Fee. I had her tonight, and I’d have her forever. A sentiment I feel this morning deep in the pit of my gut.
“You can’t expect me to wave you off in a cab,” I’d replied, almost