Chapter 17 Carter
CARTER
“It’s not a lie as much as it is false.”
Time for me to endure all of her denial until I eventually get through to her. She’s a tough cookie to crack; I knew this from the moment she landed on my lap three years ago like a dove.
But she can’t afford to waste time and shake her head when this is my son we’re talking about.
“He’s not important,” I state, repeating her earlier answer when I’d asked about Otis’s father. “Not important at all.”
“You invite yourself into my house, play Scottish clans with my son and then declare he’s yours? What’s next? You’re Carter Trescott’s evil twin brother?”
“Carmen.”
“Get my name out of your mouth,” she hisses, mindful of her tone since Otis is still in the room.
She must think I’m a fool. I know how I looked when I was his age. My mother liked to remind me every time I paid her a visit. The photo albums were always in her hands, her nimble fingers flicking through pages from when I was a toddler.
Her palms would lovingly brush over the plastic finishings. She’d stroke my face in the photographs, since it wasn’t acceptable to do so in real life on your thirty-something-year-old son. It was like she wanted to travel back to the past, to a time where I needed her again.
She’d live quietly in the memories while I was busy on my phone. She’d point out a picture of me pulling a funny face, and I’d laugh dismissively as she explained the memory that I wasn’t paying full attention to.
Because work always came first. I didn’t have time to dwell on the past. Money had to be made.
Yeah. I looked identical to Otis when I was his age. My mother showed me enough photos for me to know.
“Someone has to tell him.”
“No.” Carmen rejects the thought immediately, confirming that I was right. Otis is my son.
“If you don’t, I will.”
She scoffs. “Bring yourself back down to planet earth for a sec. Think about this. You can’t barge into our life and announce, ‘Daddy’s home.’ It doesn’t work like that. What Otis and I have is good.”
I don’t doubt that. She’s done a fantastic job of raising him so far.
But what happens when he starts to get inspired by outside influence?
He needs guidance. Male guidance. It’s easy for the world to infect your brain if you let it. Otis needs a grounding voice. He needs what I lacked when I was growing up. A father to keep him in check.
Carmen is doing a good job. She deserves a son who’s going to be there for her. She deserves a son who’s present, who puts the phone down and connects when the family dynamics start to shift.
Idealism catches you young. Once you’re in that net, there’s no escape. You learn the hard way and spend the rest of your life wallowing in regret.
It’s very obvious that Otis has my genes.
So I dread to think what other characteristics of mine he has.
“I understand.” I sit back into the couch, netting my hands. “I get why you kept him from me. I was an asshole. At that time, I would have made a shit father.”
Carmen tenses her jaw. She wants to say that I’d still be shit now, for the sake of the argument, but she knows I’m different. When I was playfighting her son, I felt her eyes on me.
“You can’t tell him. It’s best if he doesn’t know.”
Her eyes suggest something else. This isn’t just about me coming between mother and son.
“You’re afraid I’m gonna leave again, and you can’t bear the thought of Otis going through the same thing you did.”
She pauses for a beat before saying, “Not true.”
“True,” I counter. “You’re afraid of me, but you’re more afraid of yourself.” I narrow my eyes. “You think you’re letting yourself down—and Otis—the closer you get to us. You don’t think you can have both without forfeiting one.”
Carmen throws her arms over her chest defensively. “Both of what?”
Love seems too much of a stretch, so I settle for “Fun and family.”
Her eyes ball up with scrutiny. “That’s right. You can’t have both.”
“Ever considered the possibility of fun and family merging into one?”
“Somebody always pays the price, and I will not let that be Otis,” she insists.
My mother used to have photographs pitched up all over the place. Carmen only has a few, and the same faces are all in each one. She has a small family. One that only consists of two members. She must be used to people letting her down.
Guilt strikes my chest.
I was the one who used to do the letting down.
“He’s a good kid,” I say. Best to steer the conversation away before she resents me anymore. “And you’re a good mom.”
“Thanks.” She flashes me a sheepish smile and jumps up, disappearing into the kitchen.
There isn’t really much to do around here so I hop up and follow her, returning to the two mugs of tea that are now lukewarm.
Carmen takes a sip of hers and downplays the disgust. There’s nothing worse than a beverage when it’s that in-between temperature. But Carmen has to find a way to keep her hands busy so I don’t see them shaking.
I chance a hand on the small of her back. When she doesn’t pull away, I say, “This is your life too, you know. You’re allowed to have fun.”
“Easy for you to say when you don’t have responsibility.”
“You can lean on people. Not everyone is gonna walk away.”
Despite her turned head, I feel her soften into my touch. Her silk skin feels perfect in my palms, and her scent is already clouding over me. The faint smell of rotting wood has been lingering in my nostrils ever since I stepped foot in here.
Until now.
Now, I smell Carmen. Her honeyed scent is thick like smoke around me, but it doesn’t hold the density of smoke. I feel weightless, like I could slip into another world and live in it forever.
I comb a hand over her scalp and lead it down through her locks of hair.
My cock is always the hardest when she’s like this, in her natural state, not disguising herself in thick perfume and makeup like the night of the auction.
When I can play dot-to-dot with the freckles on her cheeks, I know my erection isn’t going anywhere.
Her cherry lips part as I trail the hand up her back, massaging tight knots that she has accumulated. It’s hard being a single parent. The tightness in her traps and shoulders are evidence of how hard she works to keep Otis afloat. She has always come second.
She lets me swivel her back around. Lets me hoist her up on the countertop. I journey my hands over her body, her heavy eyes rolling back into their sockets.
Her lips are wet with the mist produced from the long inhales and exhales of her breaths. I work my hands up to her neck and capture her chin, pulling her toward me to plant a tender kiss to her lips.
She whimpers at the contact, her hands grappling my jacket, desperate for more.
Her kisses grow hungrier, but I control her mouth and keep the pace slow. This isn’t like the first time when we were both intoxicated, in a rush to chase a high that was never going to last.
This time needs to mean something. Since I can’t get through to her with my words, I need to show her with my body just how serious I am about protecting her.
And when the boys and I succeed in protecting the two of them, I’ll ask her again if she’ll reconsider me being in my son’s life.
Carmen sighs into my touch and rolls back her head, allowing me to continue my kisses over her jaw. I make it to the base of her neck and pause.
Because we both know what comes next.
“Bed. Now,” I demand.
Her eyes flick open, thick with desire.
“Let me put Otis back in his cot.” She dashes back through the double doors and mumbles something incoherent to her sleepy son through the wall.
It’s torture for her to leave me hanging like this, my cock so painfully hard.
“Will the other two be mad?” she pouts when she finally returns, softly closing the doors behind her. “That we’re doing this without them?”
“They can suck it up.”
Unable to control myself much longer, I yank her hand and scoop her up.
The stairs creak as I ascend each one, probably older than the toaster. The bedframe is the same when I lay Carmen down on it. Vintage wood groans so loud I’m afraid it’s gonna wake Otis, but Carmen doesn’t look like she’s worrying about that.
She’s more concerned with her clothes. How many she’s wearing.
I rip the T-shirt from her body, her pants off in an instant. The matching bra and panty set wasn’t planned with us in mind, because she wasn’t planning on running into us today.
My cock strains even more at that thought.
I tear the cream lace from her and strip her naked. I’m busy watching the way her breasts bounce when suddenly she’s no longer on the bed, but knelt down into the closet with her ass sticking out.
I cross the room and grab each cheek like I’m kneading dough.
“Looking to get on all fours for me, sweetheart?” I pull on her hair, forcing her ass closer to my crotch.
That’s when she produces a camcorder.
Her fingers fly over the buttons, starting it up. “We don’t want the others to miss out. Here.” She shoves the contraption into my hand. “Film yourself fucking me. I’m sure Vex and Skipper would love to see it. I know how much you all love a personal porno. I see you all staring as you take turns.”
Video evidence of me fucking Carmen? Fuck yes. Using your imagination can be exhausting, but I won’t need to use it anymore with this at my disposal.
“I want you bent over the bed.”
She scrambles over to the foot of the bed and gets in position like a good girl, her ass sticking out even more than before. For the benefit of the camera, I slow things down to film the details of her voluptuous body.
First, I start with her ass, using my hands to demonstrate just how round and firm she is. I slide a hand upward and film it dipping into her arched lower back.
I flip her body around and film each supple breast. My fingers play with her tender nipples, and I capture her reaction on video as she moans.
Her legs peel apart in response, so I lower the camera and insert it between her thighs. The skin here is soaked, but nowhere near as much as her delicate pussy, which is swollen and ripe for me to touch.
“I have you all to myself tonight,” I say, to both pleasure myself and to torment the other two who are gonna be watching this later.
Carmen’s limp body slides down to the floor, her back propped up against the bed frame. I’ll lift her onto the bed and take her, after I finish filming my favorite parts of her body.
I bring the camera even closer and stroke a finger through her rosy folds. “So wet and beautiful.”
She cries out, urging the finger to caress her clit. She even arches her hips to get the finger where she wants it.
“All in good time, princess.”
Hidden beneath her syrupy folds is her tiny bundle of nerves. I rub my finger over the nub lightly and film her reaction. Her cheeks are blushed red, her mouth hung open in pure ecstasy as she tries to contain herself.
“Look into the camera lens, sweetheart,” I command her.
She puts on quite the performance, moaning and singing, making a show of biting her lip, massaging her own breasts and hard nipples as I play around with different angles.
“That’s it, sweetness. Let yourself go.”
Eventually, my cock becomes too painful to do this anymore. I toss the camcorder aside and lift Carmen up onto the bed. I bask in the glory of her plush pussy and sweat-slicked skin once more before I release myself and dive straight in.
Her walls surround me in a warm embrace, and I know I’m not gonna last long.
Carmen’s moans grow in volume as she repeats my name, the tone rising in pitch each time as she gets closer to the edge.
Her pussy squeezes my length to the point where it’s physically impossible to hold off any longer.
I explode deep inside her pulsating walls and stay inside as I help her ride out the rest of her climax. Her hand grips my shoulder, her sharp fingernails digging into my skin like sharp talons.
It’s a satisfying kind of pain that I never want to go away. The kind of pain I crave to feel forever. She holds on to me like a buoy in a sea storm, and it suddenly makes me feel like I have a purpose again.
I want to be her anchor. I want her to lean on me.
To trust me.
Because reuniting with Carmen has given me a second shot at life.
And this time, I want to do it right.