32. Carter
32
Carter
I am barely fucking holding it together. Haven’s hands are still on me, her breath warm against my skin, her weight pressing into my lap like she owns me, fuck at this point, she does. She has me wrapped around her finger, wound so tight I’m ready to snap, my body betraying every attempt at patience, every ounce of control I thought I had.
Then she said it, Good boy. It’s not just the words, it’s her. The way she whispers them, soft and deliberate.
Now I’m fucking desperate. “Please, Haven,” I breathe, my voice already shaking, my hands gripping her tighter, my hips shifting beneath her, searching for more, for friction, for anything. “I need you, fuck, I need you so bad.”
Her fingertips trace my jaw, slow and deliberate, like she’s savoring the way I’m unraveling for her, and fuck, it only makes it worse, makes me ache, makes my cock throb so hard it’s almost unbearable.
I can’t think about anything else. Just her, how perfect she feels, how warm, how soft, how good it’s going to be when I finally get to fill her up, when she finally lets me, fuck.
The thought alone nearly ends me. I groan, my head tipping back against the bed, my breath ragged, my entire body burning with how much I want her, with how much I need her, my fingers digging into her skin.
And then reality crashes back. Tate is down the hall. If I can barely keep it together, if I’m already losing myself this fast, if Haven keeps teasing me like this, pulling these sounds out of me, making me beg for her like I don’t have a single fucking ounce of shame left, Tate is going to hear.
I snap forward, fumbling for the remote, fingers shaky as I hit the volume button, the sound of explosions and gunfire suddenly blaring through the speakers, loud enough to drown out the way I’m fucking falling apart for her.
Haven laughs, low and breathy, dragging her nails down my stomach, making me jolt beneath her. “That bad, huh?”
I groan, gripping her hips tighter, pressing my forehead against her shoulder, breathing her in, voice rough and desperate against her skin. “You have no fucking idea.”
I don’t know how much longer I can take this. The tv blares, loud enough to shake the fucking walls, but it’s not enough, not really. Not when Haven is still pressed against me, her fingers tracing slow, taunting patterns over my skin, her lips hovering near mine, her body rolling against me like she’s savoring every last second of my torture.
Not when my cock is still aching, still pressing against the soft heat of her, still throbbing so fucking hard it’s almost painful.
I’m still thinking about last night, I still remember the way she sounded when Tate and I had her together. Fuck.
I drag in a sharp breath, clenching my jaw, forcing my focus back on her, on the way she’s watching me now, waiting, her brown eyes full of mischief.
She feels it, doesn’t she? The way my body has gone rigid, the way my hands tighten around her waist, like I’m trying to force myself to stay in this moment with just her, with just us.
But it’s too late, I’m already thinking about it.
I’m already remembering the way her body trembled between us, the way she let go completely, the way she moaned my name and his at the same fucking time. I’m remembering the way it felt to wreck her with him.
Maybe I liked it, liked the way Tate pushed me, challenged me, the way I wasn’t just making her fall apart for me, but proving I could keep up, proving I could give her exactly what she needed.
Maybe I liked the way she responded to both of us, the way she lost herself, the way she let us ruin her completely.
Now I’m sitting here, gripping Haven’s hips, feeling my restraint slipping, knowing Tate is probably awake and that no matter how loud I turn this tv up, if I wanted him to hear, he fucking would.
I let out a ragged breath, dragging my hands up Haven’s sides, my fingers curling around the back of her neck, pulling her closer, my lips brushing over hers, my voice nothing but a hoarse whisper. “You drive me fucking insane, you know that?”
She smiles, her fingers tightening in my hair, her hips shifting just slightly, just enough to make me groan. “Good.”
Fuck I don’t even care who hears anymore.
I watch her, my breath uneven, my hands slide down her back slowly. She’s still perched in my lap, moving against me, making every single thought in my head blur into white noise except for one, slamming through my chest, twisting low in my stomach, making my cock throb even more beneath her, making my fingers grip tighter, making my breath come out just a little sharper.
Before I can stop myself, before I can even second-guess it, I test the waters.
I tilt my head, letting my lips brush over the soft curve of her jaw, my voice low, thick, dripping with something just a little too knowing. “Bet Tate’s listening anyway.”
Haven freezes, just for a second but I feel it. The way her breath catches, the way her body tenses slightly, the way her fingers hesitate where they’re tangled in my hair. She swallows. She moves again, slower almost like she’s taking in the weight of my words, rolling them around in her head, deciding what the fuck to do with them. “You want him to?”
I grin, slow and lazy, dragging my fingers down her spine, dipping just beneath the hem of her hoodie, letting my nails scrape lightly against her bare skin, enjoying the way she shivers at the contact.
“I don’t know, baby.” My voice is barely a murmur now, my lips moving against the bottom of her ear, letting every single word sink into her, letting them wrap around her like a fucking vice. “Do you?”
Her breath stutters, her thighs squeezing tighter around me, her nails digging just slightly into my shoulders, and I know she’s thinking about it.
I feel her breath stutter, the way her body tenses, then melts, how she shifts just slightly in my lap, like she’s testing herself, seeing if she can handle the weight of what I just said.
I drag my hands up her back, slow, teasing, fingertips pressing just enough to make her arch into me.
My mouth hovers over hers, a smirk curling at the corner of my lips, because fuck, I can tell she’s already slipping. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” I murmur, just a breath away, my voice nothing but rough heat against her mouth. “You liked every second he touched you. When we both did.”
Her fingers tighten in my hair, her nails scraping against my scalp, and she shakes her head slightly, like she’s trying to deny it, but I feel it. The way she squirms against me, the way her breathing picks up, the way she doesn’t pull away.
So, I push further. I run my tongue along the seam of her lips, tasting the faint hint of coffee still lingering there, swallowing her sharp inhale when I press my mouth against hers, coaxing her into falling apart for me.
Her hands move, sliding beneath my hoodie, nails tracing the ridges of my stomach, and fuck, I can’t take it anymore. I need to feel her. I need her bare against me.
With one swift motion, I yank my hoodie over my head, tossing it aside.
She barely has time to react before I do the same to hers, tugging it up, over, until she’s sitting in my lap in nothing but her bra, her skin flushed, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, her brown eyes hooded and dark.
Fuck, she’s beautiful. I run my hands up her sides, my thumbs dragging over the curve of her ribs before I dip lower, my mouth finding the side of her neck, tasting the heat of her skin, nipping lightly just to hear the sharp breath she takes in. “You liked it, Haven,” I murmur against her throat, my tongue sweeping over the spot I just bit, soothing it. “Tell me.”
She shudders, tilting her head slightly, exposing more of her neck, giving me full access. Fucking surrendering to me.
I kiss my way lower, down the delicate line of her collarbone, between the curves of her tits, my hands already sliding behind her back, fingers teasing at the clasp of her bra. “Tell me you want it again.”
Her breath is shaky, her hands still gripping my shoulders, her body trembling in my lap. She wants to fight it, wants to resist, but I can feel the way she’s breaking, the way she’s losing herself to this, to me in this moment.