Chapter 17
AYLA
My heart pumps blood through my veins in rapid, scorching pulses. I’m a hot, quivering mess in Carson’s arms. I want him so much.
God. What is happening?
“Ayla.” He finds my eyes in the dim room. “I don’t know what’s happening.”
“I don’t either. I’m not supposed to have sex with you.”
“What?” Confusion pulls his brows down.
“It’s not good for exes to have sex again.”
“Do you want me to debate you on that?”
Despite the lust humming through me, my mouth twitches with mirth. “Do you want to debate me on that?”
“Right now, hell yeah. Jesus.” He exhales sharply. “I’m… You are so goddamn beautiful and hot and…” He nudges his hips against mine.
“I’m quite aware of your giant wang.” My pussy squeezes. My pussy wants that wang.
A smile flickers on his lips. “Giant, huh?”
“You know you’re packing.” Like I haven’t told him that before.
“Yeah. I am.” He nudges me again.
I can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of me. “Oh my God.”
“You want my giant wang.”
“I do. I really do.”
“Then what’s the problem?” He nuzzles my neck, kisses me there, then licks me. “We’re consenting adults.”
“I… uh… I think there’s a problem… but right now, I don’t know what it is.”
“We can figure it out later. I’m a problem solver.”
“Yes. You are.”
His big hand clasps my ass, holding me against his erection. My brain is oatmeal and I’m consumed with an aching, pulsing need between my legs. My body is trying to get closer to him.
He dips his head and shocks me by finding a nipple through the cotton of my pajama top and tugging it into his mouth.
“Oh!” Sensation shoots from my nipple to my pussy, tugging an ever-deeper ache low inside me.
“Mmm.”
He knows me. He knows every erogenous zone, every turn-on, every secret desire.
He’s already pulled my hair, making me dissolve into a wet, sticky mess.
He knows how to kiss me, how to play with my tongue, how to suck on it, nip at my lips.
I’m so far gone even if Tessa was right here in the room telling me not to fuck him, I’d ignore her.
He runs his hand all the way up my back under my shirt, then down, leaving a trail of electric sparks along my skin. I’m squirming against him and manage to wriggle myself on top of him. I kiss him and our mouths open wide to each other, seeking, tasting, consuming.
I keep wriggling my pelvis against his, over his dick, and he groans into my mouth. “Fuck, Ayla.”
“Yes, please.”
Another guttural noise rises from his throat.
I straddle him and sit up and pull off my top over my head.
He whimpers. He honest to God whimpers. His hands find my breasts almost reverently. The feel of his rough hands on my sensitive skin makes my abs contract hard. “So beautiful,” he whispers. “Christ.”
He still finds me beautiful. This unravels me even more. I stretch out on his chest and kiss him again, while his hands glide up and down my back. The only sound in the cottage is the wet noises our mouths make and the soft moans in our throats.
I shift my body so my nipples are right in front of his mouth and he immediately latches on to one, sucking it into his mouth with a devastating pull. My head falls back, my hands on his shoulders as he draws on my flesh, eliciting a flood of heat between my thighs.
I shift lower, dropping a kiss on his mouth, then a trail of them over his pecs and abs… down to the line of hair beneath his navel that disappears under the waistband of his boxer briefs.
“Fuck,” he moans, his hand in my hair. “Feel how hard I am.”
I shift lower still, rubbing my cheek over the huge bulge beneath his underwear. The fabric there has a damp spot and I love how turned on he is for me. “Yeah. You are.”
“Ayla. Christ, Ayla.”
“Mmm.” I press a kiss to the fabric, then hook my fingers under it to tug it down.
His cock is right there, ready and hard and leaking.
So beautiful. I circle my fingers around him.
I wish I had more light so I could see him better.
So I could admire him. But his girth and weight in my hand is exquisite.
I stroke him up and down, his skin thin and velvety over the solid core of him.
I comb my fingers through the thick hair at the base, and with my other hand delve into his briefs to cup his balls.
I let out a little hiss of pleasure at the feel of them in my palm, and he grunts.
I want to taste him, but before I can do that, he sits up to kiss me again.
I’m on his lap, his arms around me, our mouths fused yet again, and then he works my pajama pants down over my hips.
It’s awkward and ridiculous as I go onto my knees so he can pull them lower, and he fumbles with them.
I laugh softly as he makes an impatient noise and lifts me off him to drag them the rest of the way off.
He shoves down his briefs, too, and we’re both naked, skin to skin and oh my God, oh my God, it feels sublime. Euphoric.
“Is this okay?” He peers into my eyes. “We can stop if you want.”
I cup his face with both hands. “It’s okay.”
“What about a condom?”
“Oh.” That stops me. Not something we had to worry about. “I don’t…”
“I don’t either.”
We stare at each other in the dusky room.
“I… haven’t been with anyone else,” I say. “But you—”
“I haven’t either.”
“Really?”
We share another long, loaded look.
“Really.”
My heart gives a kick against my ribs. “What about Emma?”
“We went out twice. That’s it.”
For all the problems we had near the end of our marriage, I trusted that Carson had never lied to me. And I still trust him. “Okay. We’re good, then.”
“What about birth control?”
Oh yeah. “I’m on the pill again.”
He closes his eyes and I rise onto my knees as he holds his cock and I slowly lower myself onto it. His thickness stretches me with a sweet burn.
“Jesus,” he whispers.
“Yeah.” I swallow, pressing a hand to my belly where he fills me so deeply. I love it.
He cups my breasts and gently squeezes them, and then I’m overcome with sensation, a voluptuous fullness, and I have to stretch out on his chest again. He strokes my back as our mouths meet in more hot, wet kisses, my body pulsing around him, trying to accommodate him.
“I could almost come right now,” I whisper.
“Yeah. I could come, too. In your tight… sweet… pussy.”
Slowly, I start to move, lifting on him, lowering back down. Exquisite sensation flows through me from my center to my fingertips and toes. My spine is melting, molten pleasure swelling inside me.
“You take my cock so good,” he murmurs, cupping the back of my head with one hand, caressing my ass with the other.
The pace is leisurely as I rise and fall on him, but the sensations aren’t leisurely, they’re exciting and scorching, and I start moving faster.
He penetrates deeper, his cock gliding over sensitive nerve endings inside me.
Then he pushes up to sit, his arms stretched out behind him, hands planted into the mattress, using his hips to thrust up into me.
“Keep taking it,” he growls. “You’re doing so good.”
I bounce on him, both of us panting, almost laughing at the thrill of it, and I rub my palms over his pecs, lingering on his nipples. He draws a sharp breath in, like I knew he would, and I love it.
I hold his head to kiss him again and he wraps his arms around me, our bodies pressed together from where we’re joined to our chests. He moves my legs so I’m not kneeling but rather seated fully on his lap, and I twine my arms around his neck, holding him tightly.
“Wrap your legs around me, angel.”
“Mmm.”
We both move our hips, rocking together, holding each other.
“Fuuuck. Fuck yes.” He plants a hand behind him for leverage and thrusts up harder.
Every drive pushes the air out of my lungs and I rest my forehead against him as I gasp and moan.
And then, with an arm banded around my waist, he spins me onto my back, moving over me without withdrawing from me.
This move has always thrilled me. I love his strength.
Now I’m looking up at him. He holds himself up on his arms. “Still okay?”
“Yes.”
He moves against me, pushing deeper into me, and I pull my knees back and hook my ankles on his ass, cupping his face, then forking my fingers into his hair, now damp with sweat. “You’re such a beautiful man.”
A groan rumbles in his chest and his pace picks up.
The slaps of our bodies meeting fills the room along with the scent of my arousal and his warm skin.
He buries his face in the side of my neck and I tilt my pelvis to get the right angle, to get the friction of his body on my clit.
My orgasm is already brewing, sensation coiling and tightening.
I cry out at the exquisite loveliness of it, holding his shoulders as he pounds into me, shaking the bed. I absorb every sensation and sound and scent. “God!”
“Fuck. Ayla.” He nips at the skin on the side of my neck, sucks it so gently. “Your pussy’s so good.”
“Oh God, I’m coming.” My orgasm crashes over me, waves and waves of pleasure, my body tightening around him.
I’m still floating as he shouts out his release, his body crushing me, filling me, engulfing me, and I feel every pulse of his ejaculation. It goes on and on, warm wetness flooding me, and I cling to him with arms and legs as he finishes.
We stay like that for a long time. I’m weak. Drained. Content.
“So what was your name again?” Carson asks lazily.
My head jerks up to stare at him. His eyes are closed, and he’s smiling.
“You asshole.” I smack his chest.
He laughs and holds me tighter. And I have to laugh, too.
Laughing and sex are two of the best things in life.
“Remember… when I was pregnant and I was overdue? And I heard that an orgasm can help start labor?”
He laughs again. “Oh, Christ.”
I was so huge and neither of us were feeling it and we both kept laughing the whole time. He finally told me I had to stop talking or it wasn’t going to happen.
“It’s a wonder I could even get it up with you going on about oxytocin and my semen softening your cervix.”
I crack up laughing again. “It worked, though,” I remind him.
He shifts to the side, pulling me onto my side to face him. We’re both grinning. “Yeah. It did.”