9. Grayson
Chapter 9
Grayson
I pull up outside Carlee’s apartment complex in record time. I’m eager to see her again; she’s been on my mind all day. I would’ve reached out to her earlier, but Ashton came around my house after he left Emma’s this afternoon. He seemed spooked, so we sat around and had a few beers. I needed to get him out of his own head.
Initially, he was upset that I’d given Emma a lift this morning, but that’s a good thing. If he’s possessive that means he likes her, and if he likes her, he’s not as broken as he thinks.
I did him a solid and explained that her car wouldn’t start, and hinted that it would be the perfect opportunity for him to reach out. She’s exactly what he needs; he just doesn’t realize it yet.
Emma’s sweet, kind, and the polar opposite of his psycho ex, but I need to be on my game when it comes to my best friend, Ashton will self-sabotage and fuck it up if I’m not. This could be his fresh start, a chance to finally move on, and I’m going to fight tooth and nail to make sure that happens.
I bound up the stairs two at a time. I’m anxious about seeing her again. I can’t remember ever feeling anything close to this. I’ve fucked a plentitude of women over the years. Christ, I was barely fifteen when I lost my virginity. I still smile when I think back to that night.
Ashton and I had been unexpectedly invited over to Alana Benton’s house; she was a senior in high school, and on the cheer team, a total babe. Neither of us knew what awaited us that night, but we never would’ve guessed it also included a group of her friends. It was our first introduction to pussy, and from that day forward there was no looking back. Those girls had unknowingly unleashed the monster in my pants, AKA my dick.
I’ve had plenty of great sex in my time, no scrap that, phenomenal or mind-blowing may be a better description, but none of those encounters can compare to what I experienced here last night. A rush of pure adrenaline. A feeling that made my body run hot like lava coursing through my veins.
If you asked me what the difference was between Carlee and the ones that came before her, I wouldn’t be able to pinpoint one particular thing. Maybe it was her smart mouth or the fact that she made me work for it.
Maybe it was the way she kissed me with such abandonment it reached right down to my very soul. Or how it felt to move inside her, and those sexy little noises she made during the height of passion. Her openness and willingness to try anything, and the way she so freely gave her entire body over to me, time and time again.
That blow job… fuck, how can I not mention that? I even jacked off to images of my cock buried down her throat in the shower this morning.
I adjust the chub in my pants as I clear the last step and head down the corridor toward her door. See what I mean, just thinking about her gets me all hot and bothered.
She holds all the power, and I’m not used to that. The way she kicked me out last night when she was done with me… that’s never happened before. I’m usually the one giving the marching orders.
You know a woman has you by the balls when your gut is tied up in a bundle of damn nerves. There’s something thrilling about this feeling, it’s completely foreign. I’d be lying if I said this whole situation didn’t scare the hell out of me.
I nervously run my hands through my hair when I reach my destination. I even take a moment to shake off the tension that coils around my body before raising my hand to knock. She had me going during our earlier messages. It was scary how panicked I became when I thought she was entertaining another guy. I was consumed by one word… mine .
Carlee opens the door seconds later, and the smile I see on her face expels all the air from my lungs. See again. There’s got to be something to that . Her hair is still pinned up into large barrel curls like it was earlier, but she’s now tied a hot-pink bandanna around her head. She’s no longer wearing the tight, sexy-as-fuck leopard print dress she had on earlier today, but even in a simple pair of black yoga pants, a white oversized T-shirt with the iconic red, mouth, and tongue Rolling Stones logo printed on the front, she looks damn fine. The shirt is hanging off one shoulder, and I can see the strap of her hot pink bra.
My eyes scan the length of her body. “You’ve put your pants back on?” I say, arching a brow. “I’m a little disappointed you’re not where you claimed you’d be in your message. ”
She rolls her eyes. “A girl can only stay bent over the arm of a sofa for so long before she starts to cramp up.”
This woman.
“Well, I’m here now, feel free to resume that position.”
She steps to the side, allowing me to enter. As I pass, I sweep her into my arms and press my mouth to hers. I’ve been obsessing about her lips all day.
“Mmm,” she moans as my tongue sweeps along her bottom lip.
She leans her tight curves into my body, her arms snaking around my neck as I push her up against the door, deepening the kiss. I guide us into the room, backing her into the sofa. She moves her hands down to my chest, halting me from lowering her any further.
“Let me pack my stuff away first.”
Glancing over her shoulder I see a pair of scissors, a pile of newspapers, magazines, and one of those black ring binders lying open, propped up on one of the cushions. The plastic sleeves inside have rows of small pockets, they remind me of the ones I used for my baseball card collection when I was a kid.
Moving her to the side, I pick it up. “What’s all this?” I ask.
“I finished folding my laundry, so I thought I’d update my coupon album.”
“Coupons?”
She narrows her eyes. “Yep. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, no problem at all. It just concerns me that you’re relying on coupons to get by. If you ever need money?—”
“I don’t need your money, Grayson,” she snaps. “I’m quite capable of looking after myself. ”
I didn’t mean to offend her, but there’s a lot of fucking coupons here, the binder is full of them.
“I never said you weren’t capable, but you’re my girl and it’s my job to look after you.”
“I’m not your girl.”
“Yes, you are.” I try not to let her see that her words sting. Why can’t she accept the inevitable? She’s mine now, end of story.
“I’ve known you what? Five minutes.”
“You’ve known me more than five minutes, Carlee. Technically this is our third date.” Her eyes widen. I count them down on my fingers before she has a chance to dispute me. “One: the club where we met. Two: the pizzeria, and this moment makes three.”
“Whatever,” she says rolling her eyes, but she’s smiling as she does it. “That still doesn’t make me yours. I told you I’m a no-strings kind of girl.”
“I hate to disappoint you, sweetheart, but we have strings.” I gesture back and forth between us with my hand.
Her lips turn down into a frown as she lifts her hand in the air, spreading her pointer and middle fingers into a V before snapping them closed to mirror a pair of scissors. I shake my head because I’ve only been here a few minutes and she’s already starting to piss me off.
Newsflash, our strings cannot be cut with imaginary scissors.
She’s my girl whether she likes it or not .
I take a deep breath trying to calm myself before I say something I’ll regret.
“I’m serious about the money, Carlee,” I state, changing the subject. “If you need anything all you have to do is ask.”
I can remember when my mom relied on coupons, and I hate to think that Carlee might be in the same position.
“Like I said, I’m good. There’s nothing wrong with being frugal. I’ve been like this my entire life.” She pauses for a moment and shrugs. “I guess you can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you’ll never take the trailer park out of the girl.”
“You grew up in a trailer park?” I ask surprised. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
I don’t care where she’s from, or how much money she has for that matter. She could live in a cardboard box in a dingy alley and I’d still want her. My family struggled a lot after my father died. I may be worth millions now, but I know firsthand what hardship looks like.
She straightens her spine and pulls back her shoulders, showing both her strength and fire. Tough times build character, and this woman has a plentitude.
“Having money doesn’t necessarily make you a good person you know.”
“I agree wholeheartedly,” I reply. “I’m around wealthy people daily, and the majority of them are assholes.”
“Like your douchey friend?”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “You mean Ashton? No, he’s one of the good ones.”
“Wow,” she says, taking the album out of my hands and carefully placing it on the small coffee table behind me. “You must know some pretty sucky people then.”
I slide my arms around her waist, drawing her closer. “I know this girl who sucks…” I clear my throat before continuing. “…like a champ.”
Her eyes light up with mischief. “Tell me more about her.”
“Well,” I say, tightening my hold. “Jesus… where do I st art.” I throw my head back and groan. “Just thinking about her gives me a boner.”
She moves her hand between us, palming my dick through my jeans. “I can tell,” she declares as I tilt my head forward to rain kisses along her jawline. “She must be pretty hot if just thinking about her does this to you.”
“You have no idea… she’s sizzling. A walking fucking wet dream.” I run my nose up the side of her neck before sucking her earlobe into my mouth, softly biting down on it. “She smells amazing too… good enough to eat.”
“Is this the one with the black hair you were telling me about?”
I draw back for a moment, studying her. It takes me a few seconds to realize what she’s talking about. Our text messages . “No, this one is new. She’s a blonde, and sexy as fuck. She recently made it to the top of my list… she bumped all those other bitches off.”
“Wow,” she says as her smile grows. “The top, hey? She must be good.”
“Best I’ve ever had,” I reply without missing a beat because it’s the truth.
“Is she saved under ‘Blonde who sucks cock like a champ’ now?”
“No, this one needed something special.”
“Best blowjobber ever?”
I bark out a laugh. There is no way I’m going to tell her what I actually have her number saved under. She’d think I was a stage five clinger if she knew the truth.
Originally, the whole ‘Future Mrs. Edwards’ thing was a crazy whim on my part, simply because she’d taken my breath away, but after spending more time with her, I realize maybe my subconscious is onto something here. I’ve never met anyone worthy of that title before, but a huge part of me can see myself with this woman long- term. If I can get her to drop this whole ‘no strings’ bullshit that is.
There’s something about Carlee that called to me the moment I laid eyes on her. It was a deep-seated knowing, that even I can’t explain. I’ve never connected with someone so quickly.
“Enough talking,” I say, swinging her around so her back is now facing my front. I place my hand between her shoulder blades, gently pushing her torso forward and bending her over the arm of the sofa.
Ghosting my hands along the curves of her hips, I hook my thumbs in the waistband of her tights, dragging them down until they’re scrunched up around her ankles. Damn her rear looks amazing in that hot-pink thong, all round and peachy. I’m going to take that sweet ass of hers one day.
Crouching down, my teeth sink into her right butt cheek while my hand palms the left one. When she arches her back and whimpers, I move to slide her panties down her legs. Her position doesn’t waver and I love how compliant she is, even lifting one foot at a time, allowing me to remove them all together.
Once her ankles are no longer restrained by her clothing, she widens her stance, and her body shudders when I run my tongue along the inside of her thigh.
My hand slips between her legs, to prepare her for what’s to come. I groan when I find her wet and ready. One of my fingers sinks deep inside her. I’m torn between staying down on my knees and feasting on her sweet pussy, but my need to be inside her is too great. I’ll get to the feasting part later, first things first, I’m going to fuck her into a stupor.
Sliding my hand into my pocket, I frantically search for a rubber. After the number of times we fucked last night, I made sure I came prepared, stuffing in as many as I could. Tearing one off, I drop the rest to the ground and pop the button on my jeans.
My hands slightly tremble as I drag down the zipper. The anticipation to sink into her heat is almost too much.
Once I’m sheathed to the hilt, I place my palm at the base of her neck, pushing her face further down into the cushion. I use the other hand to stroke my cock, running it over her slick seam and lining myself up. I throw my head back as I slowly sink the tip inside her.
“Fuck, Carlee,” I growl, jerking my hips forward until I’m buried balls deep in her heaven. She’s so tight, she wraps around me like a glove.
“Grayson,” she says all breathy, and I love hearing her say my name like that.
She pushes her body back, meeting me thrust for thrust. I can tell by the sweet noises she’s making she’s enjoying this just as much as I am. My mind feels scrambled as it tries to process the magnitude of emotions this woman incites in me. I want to climb inside her and take up permanent residency.
Drawing out to the tip, I drive back in hard. “You feel so good, baby. So, goddamn good .”
Leaning over, my chest rests against her back as I slide my hand under her chin so I can tilt her head to the side and taste her mouth. Desperation seems to take over whenever we’re together, like we can’t get enough of each other.
I’m pretty sure I’ll never get my fill of this one.
Carlee scoops up her underwear and slips into the bathroom to clean up. “Help yourself to a drink if you want one,” she calls out as she disappears down the hallway.
I tuck myself back into my pants, tossing the condom in the trash when I enter the kitchen. My eyes survey the space. It’s so tiny in here, but everything has its place. She’s a neat freak I can tell.
Opening the fridge, I bend over to look inside. It’s practically empty, apart from a carton of milk, butter, some ketchup, a lone beer, and a bottle of wine. There’s no meat or fresh food. That concerns me. Maybe she has those coupons for a reason.
Closing the door, I head over to her pantry, expecting to see sparse shelves as well. But that’s not what I find at all.
“What the fuck, Carlee?”
“What?” she says, exiting the bathroom and coming up behind me.
I point to the contents inside. “Did you rob a cannery or something?”
There are rows and rows, and fucking rows of neatly stacked canned food lining the majority of the shelves. Each one has the label facing forward. SpaghettiOs, baked beans, spam, canned sausage, chili, tuna fish... But again, not a fruit or vegetable in sight.
Tucked away in one corner is a lone jar of instant coffee, alongside a small clear plastic container that I presume, contains sugar, nestled next to multiple jars of peanut butter and an equal number of grape jelly. There are at least five bottles of ketchup, and the top shelf is box after box of breakfast cereal. She has a mini convenience store right here in her kitchen .
She scrunches up her cute little nose. “I have food in my cupboard what’s the big deal?”
“It’s not the food per se, it’s more the quantity.” I shake my head at the absurdity of it all. “Do you have an addiction to canned products?”
Her jaw ticks and I can tell I’ve offended her. It wasn’t my intention; I’ve just never seen anything like it.
“Do you know what it’s like to go for multiple days without food because your crack-whore of a mother would rather score a hit than feed her daughter?”
“What?” Her statement takes me back. Is this something she experienced personally? Or is she just throwing out a far-fetched scenario to help plead her case? When she pokes my chest, an uneasiness settles in the pit of my stomach.
“Well, unfortunately, I do, so I’m sorry if this… ” she gestures to the expansive contents of her pantry with her hand, “ …offends you. But I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth like you Mr. Moneybags, I grew up with empty cupboards, so if this is what I need to do to give that starving little girl peace of mind then so be it. Fuck you, Grayson Edwards, you judgmental ass.”
She turns in a huff and storms toward her bedroom before I even get a chance to respond.
“Hey,” I say taking a few steps forward and reaching out to snag her arm.
Carlee tugs out of my grip and spins around to face me. “You should probably go.” Her eyes look glassy like she’s about to cry, and I feel like scum.
When she attempts to slam her bedroom door in my face, I stick my foot out, stopping her. “Hold on a minute.”
“Move your foot,” she growls, putting her full body weight behind the door, trying to force it closed. “Don’t push me, Grayson. I’ll kick your ass if need be.”
She’s got some strength, but she’s no match for me. “Is what you just said true?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, I do. Those small scars on your back, do they have anything to do with your upbringing?”
“You saw them, huh?”
“You know I did, don’t act coy. You tensed up as soon as I kissed them.” She bows her head but neither confirms or denies my assumption. I place my hand under her chin, tilting her face back to mine. “Did someone do that to you?”
Given the position of them, it would be almost impossible to be self-inflicted, but the question needs to be asked.
She shrugs, and my stomach sinks. That’s a good enough answer for me. My eyes search hers, and the sadness I see swimming in those hazel depths is almost my undoing. Without hesitation I pull her into my arms, crushing her petite body to mine. I try my best to remain calm on the outside, but on the inside, I’ve almost reached boiling point.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair. “I’m so fucking sorry that someone thought it was okay to hurt you like that.”
She lets me hold her for a time before stepping out of my embrace. She extends one of her arms toward me. “I have more. I don’t see the ones on my back, so sometimes I forget they’re there.”
I wrap my fingers around her bicep, gently running the tips over her tattooed skin and down the length of her arm. To the naked eye, they can’t be seen, beautifully hidden behind the colorful ink, but I can feel the small raised bumps on her skin, and there are a lot of them. I move to her other arm and have to swallow down the lump that forms in my throat when I feel a ton more. It breaks my heart. Fucking, crushes it. What kind of monster would do this to her?
“Is this why you got your ink? To cover them up?”
She drops her gaze, staring down at the carpet, but I can see her face is now flamed red. “People always asked where they came from, and it’s not something I like to talk about. They’re a painful reminder of a time I want to forget.”
“Who did this to you?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” I say because I need to know who I have to kill.
“My mother,” she whispers without meeting my eyes.
I draw back like I’ve been slapped. Her mother, what the fuck . “Your mom did this to you?”
“Yes,” she answers with a small nod.
“How?”
“Her cigarettes. She was a mean drunk.”
“Fucking hell, Carlee.”
Turning my back on her, I run my fingers through my hair. It’s not because I can’t bear to look at her now, quite the opposite. I’m just struggling to keep my shit together. How could a mother inflict that kind of torture on her own child? My mom would rather die than hurt me or my little sister, Kaitlin.
My mind tries to process everything I’ve just learned. What she’s been through both saddens and infuriates me, and I’m sure I don’t know the half of it. There’s also a huge part of me that’s immensely proud of the kind of person she is today, despite it all .
She’s a survivor . I love that about her.
I’m struggling to wrap my head around it, but none of what I learned tonight makes me want to bail. It just confirms that overwhelming feeling that’s been swimming around inside me since yesterday… she needs me just as much as I need her . Every single part of me wants to wrap her in my arms and protect her from all the ugliness in this world.
It’s been less than twenty-four hours since I first laid eyes on this woman, but something deep inside me screams she’s my one . That special someone my dad talked about. Those words he spoke that day suddenly have clarity. Is she the person I’ve been searching for?
I’ve had beautiful women clawing down my door, blowing up my phone, and literally throwing themselves at my feet from the time I hit puberty. But my reckless ways are no longer fulfilling. The women from my past are all the same. Carbon copies of each other. None of them have been able to keep my attention for long. That’s because they weren’t Carlee. In my heart, I know she just shared a part of herself that she never gives anyone, and that means everything to me.
It takes a few moments for me to pull myself together; when I do, I turn back around and reach for her. I crush her tightly against my body, burying my face in her hair.
“Where was your dad when this was happening?”
She shrugs. “Not around, but I doubt he would’ve cared even if he was.”
I exhale a long breath. She lucked out on the parent front. I didn’t even know her back then, so rationally I know there’s nothing I could’ve done to prevent any of this from happening, but I hate that there was nobody around to protect that little girl .
“I won’t let anyone hurt you again,” I whisper. And I mean every word.
She doesn’t reply, but I can feel her mouth curve into a smile against my chest. That right there is enough.