20. Chapter Twenty - Empty Relief
That was why I looked up at him then, my pussy aching for something real, my cheeks warming even though there was nothing in the room I genuinely craved. It wasn’t Carter I wanted. It was the feeling of being wanted plainly, without conditions attached. Not tolerated or analyzed, just wanted.
Culver’s kindness still felt tangled up in circumstance, timing, and manipulation no matter how many times he tried to convince me otherwise. I refused to let myself fall into it.
So when Carter looked at me with that hot, uncomplicated hunger, I let myself enjoy it for what it was.
Temporary, surface-level, and easy. Pretending I was wanted for my tits, my ass, or the way I ground against him instead of because I was my ma’s daughter gave me a sense of control, even if it was cheap.
Carter grabbed my skirt again, yanking it higher to expose my soaked thong, and my back arched automatically as his fingers brushed along my inner thighs.
Even while my body reacted, a hollow feeling spread quietly through my chest. His hands carried enthusiasm without rhythm, rough fingers squeezing my ass while his thumb grazed my pussy lips through the soaked fabric like he was guessing his way through it.
I stayed quiet, waiting to see if he’d eventually touch me properly, rub my clit the right way, and give me something strong enough to chase.
That never came. Not the kind of pleasure intense enough to silence my thoughts.
His cock nudged awkwardly against my entrance without enough pressure, his movements clumsy and overeager, and honestly, I’d known from the start this was probably how it would go. Whatever Carter offered barely existed beyond the moment.
Again, I recognized the type instantly. Boys taught by porn clips and locker room conversations, convinced sex started and ended with pounding and friction.
Nobody ever explained to them that women needed pacing, pressure, anticipation, and attention, that orgasms came easier when someone actually paid attention to the body beneath them instead of chasing their own finish line.
And somehow, part of me still hoped he’d surprise me. Not because I cared about him. Because I wanted something tonight to feel worth it.
Instead, I got exactly what I expected.
I didn’t stop him or pull him away, though.
Distraction didn’t need to be perfect. It just needed to be loud enough.
So I let Carter chase his little victory while I held onto mine, convincing myself that if somebody else touched me first, maybe I could reclaim parts of myself Culver had already wrapped his hands around without even trying.
His cock nudged against me once, then again, uncertain, before he finally thrust forward hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.
The pressure burned at first, making my eyes sting before it slowly evened into something tolerable.
For a moment, I actually looked at him, taking in the broad line of his shoulders, the tension in his jaw, and the way his muscles strained with effort.
My hips rolled instinctively, trying to ease the stretch caused by his lack of foreplay or patience. That was exactly why I’d made myself cum before leaving the house. I already knew what kind of night this would be: a guy more obsessed with sex than actually being good at it.
The music downstairs throbbed faintly through the walls, distant and impersonal against the body moving above mine.
Carter gripped my hips for leverage instead of intimacy, breath turning heavy while sweat gathered along his temple like he was trying to pass some invisible performance test. I moved with him anyway, letting the rhythm drag us somewhere blurry and forgettable.
He kept thrusting, quick and mechanical now. His hands squeezed my hips tightly enough to pull a gasp from me while he chased a pace only he seemed to understand.
Then suddenly, the head of his cock brushed against my G-spot.
A startled gasp tore from my throat, shock flaring hot through my spine. Carter froze instantly, eyes widening with pure animal pride like he’d personally discovered fire.
“Oi,” he said abruptly, dragging me out of the haze clouding my head. My eyes blinked open fully, focusing on his face hovering above me. Suspicion crept into his expression. “That feel good, love?”
His hand slid down my stomach before pressing firmly against my abdomen, and another breathy sound escaped me right away. The added pressure amplified everything in a way my body recognized instantly. My pussy clenched involuntarily around him, instinct betraying me faster than thought ever could.
“Mnn,” I murmured weakly, my voice thick with distraction and reluctant need.
He studied me through narrowed eyes while his thrusts slowed slightly.
“Atta girl,” he muttered, already sounding smug.
“Now,” I whispered, lifting myself enough to loop my arms around his neck and reclaim at least a little control, “are you gonna make me feel better, or are we just pretending tonight?”
His laugh came low and boyish, confidence swelling in a way he absolutely hadn’t earned.
“I don’t put it all on the table the first go,” he breathed proudly.
He pulled me closer until heat rolled off his skin in heavy waves. For a second, I thought he might actually kiss me. His gaze dipped toward my mouth, reckless and hungry, but right before it happened, I turned my head aside.
His lips brushed my neck instead.
“No,” I said flatly, leaving no room for argument.
His hips snapped forward harder, forcing another moan from me.
“Bad girl,” he groaned against my skin, like saying it made him threatening instead of inexperienced.
“That does nothing for me,” I replied dryly, threading my fingers through his hair anyway just to ground myself in something physical.
My body betrayed me again, tightening around him instinctively while my thighs trembled from the friction.
It was disturbingly easy to feel the split between my brain floating somewhere far away and my body still chasing sensation underneath him.
He shifted again, dragging my hips upward while thrusting deeper.
The angle punched the air from my lungs.
And suddenly—
Cold hands. Emerald eyes. Restrained hunger. The invisible tether.
“Culver.” His name slipped out before I could stop it, raw and quiet and far too real.
Carter stilled. His cock twitched sharply inside me.
“What?” he asked, voice cracking around the word.
I blinked up at him, pulse slamming unevenly through my chest while my fingers drifted lazily along his neck, searching for an escape route.
“I asked if you were close,” I lied breathlessly.
He grunted, suspicion fading fast once instinct took over again. His focus dropped back between our bodies while his thrusts picked up with the same sloppy urgency as before.
“Inside?” he groaned.
I huffed a small humorless laugh. “Hell no.”
“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling out abruptly.
His fist wrapped around his cock, stroking himself with desperate speed while slick arousal coated his shaft.
He held it close to my face, showing me exactly where he’d been buried moments earlier.
I watched him with detached curiosity before my tongue flicked out to taste the mixture of us from the tip.
His eyes hooded instantly, and a groan ripped from his throat.
It didn’t take long before thick ropes of cum spilled across my face and cheek, hot, messy, and painfully physical. He worked himself through every last pulse before collapsing beside me with a satisfied sigh loud enough to fill the room.
Eventually, I pushed myself upright, brushing tangled hair off my shoulders, feeling the dried stickiness cooling on my skin.
Carter zipped his pants and sat up, already mentally stepping out of the moment, the same way people closed out browser tabs they never intended to save.
He didn’t say anything while I licked the remnants off the corner of my mouth and grabbed a discarded shirt from the floor to wipe my cheek.
I wasn’t meaning for it to look seductive, but it was just a cleanup.
“Will you take me home?” I asked, my voice low enough that it barely rose above the thumping bass downstairs.
For a heartbeat, I honestly expected him to refuse.
Boys like him rarely stuck around after the first orgasm.
But his gaze drifted down my naked body, and he swallowed hungrily before clearing his throat.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice roughened by the aftermath.
“’Course. Wouldn’t leave ya here like this. ”
Relief and resignation tangled beneath my ribs.
I turned away from him to collect my clothes, my mind already drifting to how this night would fade into the background.
My panties were balled up near the foot of the bed, and my shirt was tangled beneath his shoes.
I slipped into them mechanically. I didn’t feel romantic or fulfilled or powerful.
“We don’t have to leave right away,” I muttered as I pulled my arms through the straps of my top. “Unless you’re about done here.”
“We can dip, yeah,” he replied a little too quickly, his voice ricocheting against the walls, light and unbothered.
I stepped into the cramped bathroom before anything else could be said.
The fluorescent light flickered overhead, harsh and unflattering, as I grabbed a wad of rough toilet paper and blotted at my face again.
I avoided the mirror completely. I didn’t want to see what expression was waiting for me there.
I didn’t want to see the girl who gave her body away just to outrun a ghost.
A loud knock rattled the bedroom door, impatient and sloppy. “Hurry up!”
Carter stepped forward, shouting back without missing a beat. “Yeah, we’ll be right out, mate.”