Chapter 35
JAMIE
Carmen and I are having a chill evening in her apartment.
We’ve both got our laptops on our laps. I’m finishing some simple homework assignments that I can submit online for one of my easier classes, while she’s working on her book.
Every now and then, I steal a glance at her.
The sight of her typing away, focus etched on her face, radiating creativity and inspiration, is so damn impressive. It’s also a hell of a turn on.
“Hey, Jamie?”
“Yeah?” I reply, lifting my eyes from my screen.
Hesitation flashes in her eyes for a moment before she says, “Do you want to take a look at my book?”
My brow lifts in surprise. “Really?”
The uncertain look swims back into her eyes. But then she nods. “I mean, if you want to. If you’re busy—”
I toss my laptop onto her coffee table, eagerly putting aside my work. Is she kidding? Of course I want to see her book. “Not busy at all. I’d love to read it.”
“It’s just that, well, no one’s read any of it yet. I’d kind of like someone to take a look at the beginning to assure me that it’s not totally awful.”
“I can already guarantee it’s not.”
A tiny smile peeks through her trepidation. “Don’t go bullshitting me. Promise me you’ll be honest.”
I hold out my small finger. “Pinky promise.”
Her eyes narrow. “I don’t play about pinky promises, Jamie. So if it’s bad, you really have to tell me.”
I laugh. “Deal.”
She wraps her pinky around mine. It feels good. Really good. I need to come up with more excuses to pinky promise with Carmen.
She hands me her laptop, with the Word document scrolled back to the first page.
“Alright, I think I’m too self-conscious to just sit here while someone reads my writing, so I’m going to go do the dishes and get my laundry from my aunt’s house while you read the first chapter.”
I give her a thumbs up and then turn my attention to her writing.
By the time I finish the first sentence, I’m so sucked into the story that I don’t hear the water running, or the clatter of dishes being placed on the drying rack, or even the sound of her leaving to walk over to Cindy’s laundry room.
The story, the way the characters are introduced, and the writing all grip me instantly, and I’m lost in it until I get to the end of the first chapter.
I finish right as Carmen walks back inside, carrying her full laundry basket.
I look at her. “Carmen. It’s fucking amazing.”
She blushes. “I told you I don’t play about pinky promises …”
I hold up my pinky. “If I’m lying, may this pinky be struck by lightning right now.” A lightning-strike-less beat passes. “See?”
A hopeful smile spreads on her lips. “Really? You’re really being serious? You liked it?”
“I want you to go do another load of laundry so I can read some more. I’m not kidding.”
Her face lights up. It’s a look that pierces my heart like an arrow.
Like she finally has confirmation that she can be proud of her writing.
She should feel that way. She deserves to.
I know that I’m biased, I’m biased as fuck when it comes to her.
But I’m not kidding when I say that what I read was damn good.
It also feels damn good to be the first person to have the privilege of letting her know that her hard work is paying off.
“First chapter only,” she says, setting her laundry down and taking back her laptop. “The rest aren’t as polished yet.”
“Fair enough,” I say. “But I’m really glad I got a chance to read some of your writing.”
“I’m glad, too.” She smiles. “I think you’re the only person I’d feel okay showing it to right now.”
Her words change something in the air. My breath catches, and I can sense hers does, too. There’s something different humming in the space between us, something more tender, more serious, more intense.
I stand up, pull her close, and kiss her.
As our lips roll, I can tell that something is different about this kiss, too. It feels somehow less playful, more purposeful—like it’s leading to somewhere we haven’t been yet.
“Carmen.” I can’t help but murmur her name against her lips.
“Jamie.” I drink in the sound of my name on her voice like it’s liquor.
My hands trace the shape of her body, curling around her hips to palm her ass.
“Bedroom.” One word from Carmen, and I can’t breathe.
I slide my hands up her shirt, feeling the bare skin of her hips, her waist, the outline of her ribcage. Every touch of her feels immediately seared into my memory, like my brain can sense this is a night, a moment, I’ll never forget.
Our clothes have fallen to the wayside by the time we reach her bed.
“I want you, Jamie,” she murmurs when I break our kiss to skate my lips over her soft neck. “All of you.”
I lock my eyes with hers. “Are you sure?”
A smile slides onto her lips. “Very.”
My heart lurches in my chest. It feels like it slams against my ribcage, like it’s trying to jump right to Carmen. And why shouldn’t it? It belongs to her, anyway.
Mine. That’s what Carmen feels like as the last of our clothes come off.
As my hands and lips lovingly and desperately trace every curve and outline and feature of her body.
The perfect roundness of her breasts, the firm peaks of her nipples, the slant of her hip bones, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip, the smooth expanse of her thighs, the gentle slope of her shoulders, the perfect shape of her neck, the adorable indentation of her belly button, and her soft, delicate fingers that I lace between mine when I settle between her legs after sliding on a condom.
I remember thinking, the first time I felt Carmen’s wetness with my hands and watched her get off, that nothing could possibly be better than that.
Feeling her mouth around my cock and savoring her taste with my head between her legs have since proven me wrong.
But is this about to be even better still?
I’m keyed up with anticipation, buzzing from head to toe, excitement and thrill swelling my chest while my nerves dance through me.
I line myself up with her opening. My cock is throbbing, tension coiling unbearably at the base of my spine. Still, I pause for as long as I can stand it, wanting to impress every detail of this moment onto my memory.
Our eyes lock. Carmen gives me a nod, a soft, gentle encouragement. I tilt my hips, entering her.
Pure bliss, bliss like I never would have imagined possible, fills me.
She’s so warm, so tight, so fucking perfect.
Her legs curl around my hips, tightening behind me to tug me closer against her body.
Our bellies and chests press together, her arms loop around my neck. She tilts her chin to kiss me.
I’m surrounded by her, everywhere, and it’s exactly where I want to be.
I move my hips. Pleasure bursts as I push in and out of her.
Emotion saws through me, and at times I can’t breathe.
I moan into her hair, press kisses to her neck and jaw and lips.
I have no fucking idea what I’m doing at first, I can’t deny that.
But soon I find a rhythm, and the soft gasps she releases that turn into moans and whimpers of pleasure buoy my confidence.
I wish I could say that I last long for my first time.
But I don’t. What can I say? I’m no superhuman.
I’m just a man, and feeling Carmen like this for the first time, feeling the clench of her warmth around me while her sweet moans sing in my ears, it all has the growing swell of pleasure inside me approaching the point of no return way sooner than I want.
She rolls her hips into my thrusts, and that’s it. I’m a goner. I only manage two more hurried ruts into her before my orgasm grabs me, pulling the life out of me. I fill the condom with hot streams of cum. My muscles spasm, my jaw clenches, my eyes screw tight as my climax smashes me to bits.
My weight collapses next to Carmen. That was … wow. How else can I describe it? It was beyond words.
Carmen’s hand rests on my chest, the warmth and softness of it feeling so good against the sheen of sweat I’ve worked onto my body. I turn my head to her, and when our eyes catch, my heart splits in two.
“How was it?” she asks.
I huff a laugh. “Are you kidding? I’d need to invent a new word to answer that question. And you’re the writer, not me.”
“Good, then?”
“Fucking amazing.” I tuck her closer to me. I pull in a deep, contented breath. “Did you come?” I ask.
Now it’s her turn to huff a laugh. “Jamie, you might have a real natural talent for getting me off, but this was still your first time. Of course I didn’t come.”
There’s nothing but good-natured humor in her answer, and I chuckle, too. Fuck, would I be crazy to say that having a post-sex laugh with Carmen is even better than the sex itself?
“In that case …” I try to summon some strength into my boneless-feeling body to crawl down and put my head between her legs, to make sure that she leaves this bed satisfied, too, but she flattens her hand on my chest to stop me.
“You can make it up to me some other time,” she says. “I enjoyed it, don’t worry. Let’s just relax for a while.”
I listen to her, settling into my spot on the bed, her warm body snug against my side.
This moment is so close to perfect. So damn close. There’s just one thing I wish I could say that would make it so. One small sentence. Three words. I want to say those words so badly.
But I don’t. I stop myself. I hold back. I content myself with what I have.
But in the back of my mind, I can’t erase the feeling that I won’t be able to keep doing that for much longer.