His fingers clamp around my hips as he arches up into me, his gaze sharp and piercing. “I think I like this position the most,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because I can look up and watch you.” He plays with my cock before his hand returns to my hip. “And that.” He smiles.
He lets me ride him like this for a few minutes, until my cock completely recovers and is ready for more.
That’s apparently the key point for him. He gives me a squeeze, then urges me up and off him, spooning me against him for position number two. On our sides, he can kiss me while he fucks me and strokes my cock for me.
We only make it as far as number six, with me on my back and my ankles over his shoulder as he plows me, when he gasps. “I can’t hold it any longer.” He finishes, buried inside me, his forehead resting on mine for a moment as he catches his breath. “Stay,” he says.
I’m a good boy, so I do.
He gets out of bed and I hear him cleaning up in the bathroom. I haven’t come yet, but that’s not up to me anymore.
When he returns, he grabs another condom from the drawer and is smiling down at me when he straddles me. As he rips the pouch open and rolls it down me, it finally dawns on me what’s going to happen.
I smile. “This can be number seven. I say it still counts.”
He takes his time, his gaze never leaving me as he slowly sinks my cock inside him. He’s tight, and hot, and I’m not going to last long at this rate.
“Hands over your head,” he says.
I comply, already close to coming.
He reaches down and pins my wrists with one hand and cups my face with the other when he leans in to kiss me.
Mental vapor lock kicks in. Pure pleasure, need, hunger engulf me.
Carter nibbles on my lower lip. “Give it to me.”
We find a rhythm. Before long, I’m cresting and falling, unable to keep my eyes open as my cock throbs inside him and fills the condom.
His lips slant over mine, nibbling, exploring. “How’s that?”
“Thank you, Sir. Much better.”
He chuckles. “Let’s see if you’re still feeling like that by the time Susa gets back.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
We end up wearing each other out before the chicken is finished cooking. He helps me clean up the kitchen after we eat. Both of us sleep great, and the next morning when I check my phone, I have a deposit alert.
Mom hasn’t cut me off yet.
I don’t know what Carter’s been saying to my mom, but the allowances continue to appear in my bank account despite my reduced texting schedule.
Whatever he’s saying is working, so I don’t rock the boat. I follow his orders and let him tell me what to do in terms of dealing with her. Then again, after what I’ve found out about her, part of me is hoping for a chance to confront her.
When I wake up Saturday morning, Carter is spooned along my back, his arm and a leg draped over me, the warmth of his skin against mine an addictive sensation.
Skin hunger. Itisa thing—I looked it up. It sadly helps explain why, even early on, I responded so well to Carter’s attention.Oneof the reasons, another being, obviously, that I was an unowned and adrift submissive and Carter was the perfect Master to draw me in and draw me out of my shell.
I pull his arm a little tighter around me, hoping I don’t wake him up.
I don’t understand why I’m not panicked, why I’m not frantic, why there aren’t a million thoughts and recriminations racing through my brain at this moment.
Before all this, I couldn’t enjoy simply lying in bed and slowly waking up on a weekend morning, because my brain pecked at me, hard and painfully.
