Chapter 39 Carson #2
My ankle throbs when I put any weight on it, so the hospital issues me a pair of crutches to go with it. It takes another two hours to get discharged, during which Grace and Dan get my car from the rec center. Grace gives her brother a stern look before leaving me with him.
By the time Dan and I pull up to the house, I’m nearly wild with exhaustion and emotional overload.
I feel like my eyes are spinning in two different directions, so it’s good when Dan comes around to the passenger side and dumps my crutches in the grass, scooping me out of the car and into his arms like a damsel in distress.
“Do you want to try to take a shower?” he asks, and while I definitely need one, I think I’m too exhausted.
“In the morning,” I say through a yawn. “I think just bed.”
Dan places me gently on the bed in the guest room.
“Arms up,” he says, reaching for the hem of my shirt.
“I can do it,” I retort, but he gives me a stern look.
“Let me help,” he growls, all authoritative in that dangerously tailored suit. Yeah, I’m definitely going to let this happen.
He peels off my shirt and sports bra, planting gentle kisses on my bare breasts before helping me lift my hips and sliding down the black spandex shorts. When he sees that I’m wearing nothing beneath them, as usual, he lets out a growl that sounds like a caged tiger.
“I think I’ll just sleep like this,” I say, giving him a smirk as I recline naked on the bed. I gesture to that sexy suit of his. “You next.”
Now it’s his turn to smirk.
He steps back, loosening his tie and pulling it off, looking like a real live suit daddy ready to level me with a sexy, stern look.
He winds the tie around his hand like a boxer wrapping his knuckles, then places it on the bedside table.
He shrugs off his suit jacket and makes slow work of the buttons on his shirt, revealing his bare skin and ink in torturous increments.
“I feel like I should be slipping dollar bills into your belt,” I say hungrily.
“I think I’m at least worth fives,” he says with a raised brow. His belt clinks, and I squeeze my thighs together, the sound deliciously sexy.
But everything changes when he lowers those impeccably tailored suit pants. His muscular thigh, formerly bare, now features fresh ink.
“I got it today,” he says, glancing down at the art. “I stopped by my old shop when I got to Brooklyn.”
“It’s a lemon,” I say, my eyes widening as I take it in. It’s just like mine. Only—
“It’s the other half,” he says. And I see it immediately. My bisected lemon fits together with his to make a whole. “I hope it’s okay.”
“Dan…” I whisper, at a loss for words. All I can do is beckon him closer. He drops his boxers and comes toward me, crawling onto the bed and propping himself over me.
“I love you, Carson,” he says. He plants a gentle kiss on my lips.
“I love you, Dan,” I whisper, and run my hands up his muscular back.
I arch into him, chasing the sensation of his hard length against my soft skin.
I reach down, grip him in my fist, and give him a long, slow stroke that makes his chest rumble, the metal in his cock digging into my palm.
“Now, my ankle hurts a little bit. Do you think you could do something to distract me from the pain?”
“I have one other surprise for you,” he says with a devious grin.
“Tramp stamp?” I ask, smiling wide.
He laughs, then reaches for the bedside table, pulling open the little drawer. He takes out a sheet of paper. “I did this before I went and epically fucked up. It was going to be your post-scrimmage gift.”
I open the folded sheet to find a lab report.
“I got tested. All clear,” he says.
My eyes widen, and I look up at him. “Wait, so we can—”
He nods. “If you want to. I’m absolutely fine with using condoms for as long as you want, but you said you were curious about the added sensation of the barbells, and…well, you can feel them better bare, so—”
“Yes,” I hiss, bringing a thigh up over his hip, opening myself to him. “Oh my god, this is the best, most filthy surprise I’ve ever received.”
“Let me,” he says, his fingers trailing down until they reach my slick heat. “Jesus, Carson. You’re soaked.”
“Between that tattoo and the news that I get to feel you inside me bare, this is turning out to be one of the best nights of my life,” I say. “And that’s with the broken ankle.”
“High praise,” he says, dragging the head of his cock up my slit, pausing at my clit until my eyes nearly roll back with need. Then he glides back down, slipping inside me up to the first barbell. I feel the chill of the metal and hiss, pressing into him. “Gentle,” he chides.
“I don’t want gentle,” I whine, rolling my hips. “I want it all.”
“Greedy girl,” he whispers into my neck as his tongue laves my skin in gentle strokes.
Then he snaps his hips, his cock stretching me, filling me, and I cry out.
He presses a palm down into my lower belly, dragging himself out, and fuck, I feel every ridge of him, natural and augmented.
The friction of the barbells sends little zips of pressure and pleasure racing through my body.
“More,” I cry, writhing on his cock, desperate for the sensation of him moving inside me.
“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he grits out as his hips pull back once again. When he presses in, I arch my back to meet him. He drops his lips to my nipple, laving the dusky pebbled peak with the flat of his tongue. “So fucking good.”
Then he drops his fingers to my clit, rubbing messy, frantic circles as his thrusts grow deeper, harder, and I rise to meet them. I whine and beg, the edges of my vision crowded with stars as I chase my orgasm.
“I want you to come,” Dan pants, his muscles bunched as he works to pull me over the edge. “I want you to come, and then I want to come on you.”
“Yessss,” I hiss, the request hitting me right as I feel myself tip over the peak, tumbling down into an abyss of stars and sensation. I scream his name, clutching his shoulders as my body spasms with pleasure. “Fuck, Dan, come! Now!”
He pulls out, grasping his cock in his fist, his eyes hooded as he watches the aftershocks shake my core, my chest heaving as I work to catch my breath. I reach up and press my breasts together, my fingers dancing over my nipples as I beg, “Come on me, Dan. I want it.”
He loses control with a shout, painting me with warm ropes of pleasure.
When he’s wrung out and folded over, his hand pressing into the bed beside my cheek, he locks eyes with me.
“You are going to be the death of me,” he whispers. “And I cannot wait.”