Chapter 35 #4
"I had a plan for tonight," she said, her voice a low, rough velvet. "I wasn't expecting an explosion of balloons and confessions, Alex, but I am still very eager to use my gift."
She crawled back up my body, her weight pinning me into the sea of crushed rose petals. She loomed over me, her hands framing my head as she leaned down, her lips ghosting over mine, her voice dropping into that terrifyingly intimate, authoritative register that always made me melt.
"Tell me, darling," she whispered, her gaze boring into my soul. "Do you love every side of me? Do you love Dr. Carter as much as you love me as just Carrie?"
She paused, her thumb grazing my lower lip as a wicked, knowing smirk touched her mouth.
"And do you love your Mommy, too?"
The question crushed me, sending a fresh spark of heat through my exhausted body. She was giving me exactly what I needed—the control, the care, and the absolute fucking ownership I’d been craving since the moment I laid eyes on her.
"Yes," I breathed, my voice trembling with a level of submission I didn't know I possessed. "All of you. I love all of you."
Carrie kissed me softly, a lingering, tender contact that felt like another "I love you" before she whispered, "Would you like your gift now, darling?"
I could only nod, my voice completely lost in the haze of love and heat.
Carrie bit her lip, a flicker of that predatory Dr. Carter smirk returning, and slipped off the bed.
I let out a low, involuntary groan as I watched her move; the way that black lace thong framed her toned, perfect arse as she walked was enough to make me want to fucking cry all over again.
She headed for the bedside drawer—the one I remembered the silk ropes were in—and my stomach performed a fucking violent, thrilled somersault. But she didn't go for the restraints. Instead, she pulled out a heavy, midnight-blue velvet bag.
My breath hitched as she untied the drawstring and pulled out a harness and a sleek strap-on.
Oh, mother fucker.
I whimpered immediately, the sound escaping me before I could catch it.
I’d used them on other women before, and I’d experimented briefly on my own, but I was never with anyone for more than a night.
I never had the trust, the time, or the partner to actually explore what it felt like to be on the receiving end of someone like her.
I thought she was going to fucking break me.
I watched her, fucking mesmerised, as she put it on.
She did it with a terrifyingly graceful elegance, her movements efficient and poised as she adjusted the straps against her hips.
I never thought anyone could look so fucking sophisticated while wearing a harness, but Carrie managed to make it look like an extension of her power.
When she was finished, she stood at the edge of the bed, the lamplight catching the curves of her body.
She looked like a goddess of everything I’d ever fucking wanted.
I shivered, my entire body humming with a fresh wave of anticipation and a desperate, gnawing want that made my previous climax feel like a distant memory.
"You've taken such good care of me tonight, Alex," Carrie murmured, her voice dropping into a dark, heavy register as she crawled back over the mattress, shadowing my shaking frame. "Now, lie still. It's my turn."
She reached out, her hand sliding up my inner thigh, her touch firm and possessive. "Are you ready to be mine completely, princess?"
I nodded frantically, my hair splaying across the crushed rose petals, but Carrie didn't move. She just stayed there, poised and powerful, her eyes locked onto mine with a steady, expectant heat.
"Use your words, darling," she prompted, her voice a low, melodic command.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "Yes... please. I want you. I want all of you."
Carrie hummed, a sound of pure, dark satisfaction that vibrated right through me.
She adjusted herself, kneeling comfortably between my legs, her thighs framing my hips.
She took her time, moving with a clinical precision that only made the anticipation more fucking agonising. Then, she lined herself up.
She didn't look away for even a second. Her gaze was pinning me to the mattress as she began to slide in. Holy shit. She went slowly at first—agonisingly, beautifully slowly—allowing my body to stretch and adjust to the new, stretching fullness of her.
The sensation was overwhelming. It was not just the physical feeling; it was the psychological weight of her being the one to do this.
I felt my face heating up, a wave of intense fucking vulnerability crashing over me.
My hands flew up, reaching for a pillow to throw over my head—anything to hide the raw, undone expression I knew was fucking plastered on my face.
"Hands down, Alex," Carrie commanded, her voice sharp but laced with affection. "I want to see you. I want to see exactly what I’m doing to you."
I whimpered but obeyed, my hands clenching into the sheets instead. I was forced to meet her stare as she pushed deeper, her eyes tracking every flinch, every hitch in my breath, and every flicker of pleasure that crossed my face.
"That's it," she whispered, her pace picking up just a fraction as she found her rhythm. "Look at me, princess. Let me see how much you love me."
I was completely unraveling. The weight of my confession still hung thick in the air, mixing with the relentless, agonisingly perfect rhythm of her inside me.
I was shattered wide open—entirely, irreversibly hers.
As she leaned down to trap my mouth in a deep, bruising kiss, a blinding wave of clarity hit me: I’d never been more alive than right there, broken down and pinned beneath the woman I finally, truly belonged to.
Carrie began to up her pace, her movements transitioning from clinical precision to a fucking relentless, rhythmic drive. She let out a low, guttural groan, her hips snapping forward with more force as she felt how tightly my body was clinching around her.
"God, Alex," she rasped, her composure finally fraying at the edges. "I knew... I knew you’d be this perfect. I’ve spent months imagining exactly how you’d feel, how you’d look under me when I finally took you like this."
My head thrashed against the pillow, my hair a wild mess tangled among the rose petals.
I tried to stay fucking calm, tried to keep my eyes locked on hers like she commanded, but the sensation was too fucking much.
It was an all-consuming friction that was lighting up every nerve ending in my body.
I felt dizzy, the air in the room suddenly too hot to breathe.
"Mommy, please—" I choked out, my fingers digging so hard into the mattress I was worried I’d tear the silk sheets.
"Stay with me, princess," she commanded, her voice a rough growl as she drove deeper. "Don't you dare close your eyes."
The tension was building into something unbearable, a coiled spring at the base of my spine that was being wound tighter and tighter with every thrust. I was right on the fucking edge, the precipice of a climax so huge it felt like it’d shatter my bones, but Carrie wouldn't let me fall.
She kept the pace steady and punishing, hovering me right on that agonising brink, forcing me to endure the pleasure until I was sobbing her name.
"I love you," she whispered, leaning down so her sweat-dampened skin slid against mine, her lips brushing my ear as she delivered a particularly deep, hard surge. "I love you, and you are mine."
The word mine was the final spark. The coiled spring inside me snapped, and I was thrown into a white-hot explosion of release that left me screaming her name into the crook of her neck.
My body convulsed, clinging to her with a desperate, crushing strength as the house—and the world outside it—completely ceased to exist.
The ripples of the climax continued to wash over me, long and shivering, leaving my muscles feeling like melted wax.
The tears fucking started again—not from sadness or fear this time, but from the sheer, overwhelming weight of being seen and held so completely.
I was a sobbing, trembling mess, my breath coming in short, jagged hitches as the adrenaline began to ebb away.
Carrie didn't say a word. She moved with a quiet, grounding tenderness, gently withdrawing and slipping out of the harness. I heard the soft thud as it hit the floor, discarded and forgotten.
Before I could even try to pull myself together, she was back, sliding under the covers and scooping me into her arms. She pulled me flush against her, my back to her chest, her limbs wrapping around me like a shield.
One of her hands tangled in my messy hair, while the other pressed firmly against my heart, as if she was trying to steady its frantic rhythm with her own.
"Shh, I've got you," she whispered into the back of my neck, her voice thick with an affection that felt even more intimate than the sex. "I’ve got you, Alex. Just breathe, darling."
I turned in her arms, burying my face in the crook of her neck, my tears dampening her skin. I felt her heart beating slow and steady against my ribs—a lighthouse in the storm of my own head. The room was quiet then, the only sound our synchronised breathing.
She held me with an absolute, fiercely protective weight, her lips occasionally tracing slow, lingering kisses across my temple and forehead.
For the first time in my life, the quiet wasn't vast or isolating—it was a sanctuary. As my eyes grew heavy, sinking into the warmth of the bed, I realised the girl who relied on cheap bravado and swore she’d never need a soul was officially gone.
Carrie had completely dismantled her, and for the first time, I didn't care.
I was just Alex. She was just Carrie. And for that night, that was everything.