Page 44 of No Save Point

I want him, now. I shift slightly, bracing myself, thinking about how I’m going to ease us into this. And then, out of nowhere, a thought slams into my brain.

Tate. What the fuck?

I blink, heart hammering, body tensing, pulse jumping in my throat because why, why the hell is my brain doing this right now. This is about Carter, and I’m thinking about his brother? I shake it off, force myself to refocus, this is his moment. Not Tate’s, and I’m about to make sure he never forgets it.

His chest is heaving, his hands are gripping my thighs like he doesn’t trust himself to move, his cock is so hard, so fucking thick, pulsing against my stomach as I guide him into position.

He’s still shaking his head, still trying to breathe, still looking at me like he has no idea how the fuck this is happening. “Jesus Christ, Haven.”

I smirk, dragging my hands down his stomach, feeling the way his muscles twitch beneath my fingers. “Just trust me.”

I move, taking him in my hand, guiding him down, pressing the tip of him against my soaking wet pussy, sliding him along my clit, letting him feel just how fucking ready I am for him.

His breath punches out of him in a broken sound, his fingers digging into my skin like he’s barely keeping it together. “F-Fuck,” he stammers, head falling back, his entire body trembling beneath me.

God, he’s so sensitive. I keep going, dragging him along me, teasing him, showing him how good this is going to feel. “This helps,” I murmur, voice soft but sure, “for both of us.”

His hips jerk. Just slightly. Just enough for his tip to catch, just enough for him to feel the way I clench around nothing, the way I’m so fucking desperate to take him inside me. That’s when he completely falls apart. His hands snap up, gripping my waist, his breath coming out ragged, his body fighting itself like he doesn’t know whether to pull away or push in, whether to stop or let this happen, whether to lose himself completely or try to hold on.

I don’t give him the chance to hesitate. Just enough to take the thick head of him inside me, just enough to feel that stretch, that pressure, that first overwhelming inch—

And holy fuck.

“Oh, fuck.”

The whimper escapes before I can stop it, my head tipping back, my breath stuttering out of me like I’ve been sucker-punched.

He’s so fucking big.

His name is ripped from my throat, and I can feel the way his entire body reacts to it, the way he groans so deep it vibrates through me, the way his grip tightens like he’s barely hanging on.

“Mmm fuck—” He’s panting beneath me, his fingers flexing, his stomach tensing, his cock pulsing inside me like he’s seconds away from losing it already. He’s trying so hard to be good.

Trying so hard to not come. I’ve never seen anything hotter in my life.

I brace my hands against his chest, steadying myself, grounding myself, forcing my body to relax as I guide him further in, rocking against him, showing him exactly how I need this to go. “Slower Carter.”

I press my lips to his jaw, whispering against his skin. “You need to focus on a rhythm.”

He groans, head dropping forward, forehead pressing against my shoulder as he tries to breathe through it. He’s shaking, struggling. Trying to hold on.

Slowly, so carefully, like he’s terrified to hurt me, terrified to go too far—he thrusts. His hands grip my hips like they’re the only thing tethering him to reality. He’s so thick it borders on overwhelming, and he’s trying so fucking hard to stay in control. The way his fingers keep flexing like he’s reminding himself not to move too fast, not to come too quick, not to ruin it.

I lean in, lips brushing his ear, “Y-yes, just like that.”

That’s all it takes. His hips jerk, his breath leaves him in a broken, groan—fuck— He thrusts up into me again harder, driving himself so deep.

“Oh, fuck—Carter—”

He’s panting now, sweat beading at his temples, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut like he’s seconds from shattering.

I want to watch him break. Right. Under. Me.

I barely get the words out before he does it again, I can barely handle it. I claw at his chest, digging my nails into his skin, as I try to keep up with the way he’s finally, finally letting himself take what he wants. I’m not going to last. Not with Carter fucking me like this.

My fingers dig into the back of the couch, my nails pressing into the fabric, my body rocking forward with every single thrust, and I can’t, fuck, I can’t handle this.

I was supposed to be in control. I was supposed to take care of him, guide him, show him how to move, how to make this good for both of us.

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