Page 68 of No Save Point

I loved it. God, I loved it. Even half-conscious, barely awake — I let it happen. I opened for it, wanted it.

My body knew, the difference between being used and being wanted. It knew the hunger in those hands, the reverence buried inside every rough thrust, every filthy word. It knew the way I tipped my hips up, chasing more, even in sleep. I came for them, I know I did. More than once.

My throat is dry, lips swollen. My skin still hums with the memory of teeth and tongues and everything in between.

I’m sore. Soaked, and I want it again. Even now, tangled in Carter’s arms, breath warm against the back of my neck I can feel the echo of it. My body remembers what it’s like to be taken, slow and worshipful and then hard, until I couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began. It’s intoxicating.

I shift slightly in his lap, just enough to test him, to see if last night made him more confident, more ready, and the way his grip tightens, the way his fingers flex against my hips, tells me everything I need to know. But still, I want to hear him say it.

I tilt my head, running my fingers through his blonde hair, tugging slightly, smirking when I feel the way his body reacts to even the smallest touch.

“Do you still need guidance?” I murmur, my voice teasing, my lips just inches from his.

Carter inhales sharply, his eyes locking onto mine, his hands gripping me tighter. Without even a second of hesitation. “Yes.”

The word is firm, full of need, full of something that makes my stomach twist in the best fucking way.

He swallows, his voice lower, softer, shaking slightly with how much he means it. “I want you to show me every single thing you want.”

Fuck. I shudder at his words, the way they sit heavy in the air between us, my fingers remain tangled in his hair, my nails scratching lightly against his scalp, relishing the quiet, shaky exhale that slips past his lips when I do it.

He isn’t rushing, isn’t grabbing at me, isn’t kissing me hard and desperate like he thinks I’ll disappear if he doesn’t take everything at once. No, Carter is waiting. Waiting for me to tell him what I want, for me to make the next call, to set the pace. Fuck, that’s hotter than anything he could’ve done.

Because it’s not hesitation. It’s patience. It’s restraint. It’s him giving me control, knowing full well that when I do touch him, when I do let him touch me, it’s going to wreck him completely.

I shift in him, just enough to test him, to make sure last night wasn’t a fluke, and I don’t miss the way his hands tighten around my waist, the way his chest rises a little faster, the way his breath stutters when my hips brush over the very obvious evidence of just how much he fucking wants me.

Still, he doesn’t move first. He just, waits. Watches me. Drinks me in like I’m the only thing in the world worth looking at.

I run my fingers along the edge of his jaw, tilting his chin slightly, letting my thumb graze over his bottom lip, teasing, watching his eyes darken just a little more as I press forward, our mouths so close now, barely a breath between them.

“You like this, don’t you?” I murmur, barely brushing my lips over his. “Being told what to do.”

Carter’s body jerks just slightly beneath me, a sharp inhale, his grip flexing against my back before he forces himself still again. But his voice? Fuck, his voice is already unraveling.

“Yeah.”

I smile, dragging my nails lightly down the back of his neck, his breath coming out in a soft, strangled sound. “You want me to take my time with you, don’t you?”

His head tips back slightly, exposing the strong line of his throat, his pulse pounding there, his lashes fluttering, his hands gripping my thighs now, his voice nothing but a low rasp. “Fuck, Haven…”

I hum, my lips barely grazing his jaw, my fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, dragging my nails across his stomach, teasing over the muscles there. “Say it.”

Carter’s hands grip tighter, his hips pressing up against me like he can’t stop himself, like he’s barely hanging on, and when he finally speaks, his voice is nothing but a rough, broken plea. “Fuck… yes. I want you to take your time. I want you to ruin me, break me. I’m all yours Haven.”

Beneath me, against me, pressing harder, thick and undeniable, straining beneath his sweatpants. The way his body reacts to mine, the way I barely have to do anything, just shift the slightest bit, just let my breath graze his skin, just drag my nails a little lower, and he’s unraveling, gripping me tighter, struggling to stay still.

That’s just it, he’s trying. Trying so fucking hard to be patient, to let me lead, to let me take whatever I want at my own pace, but I can feel it. The control crumbling, and I want to watch it all fucking snap.

I press forward just slightly, letting my hips roll against him in the subtlest movement, but the effect is immediate, his hands flying up to grip my waist, holding me still, like if I do it again, he’ll completely lose himself.

A low, ragged sound slips from his throat, his jaw clenched so fucking tight, his head tipping back against the bed, his breath uneven as he grips me like he’s holding on for dear life. “Haven…”

My name is half a warning, half a plea, and fuck, that does something to me.

I smile, slow and wicked, trailing my fingers over his chest, feeling the way his muscles twitch beneath my touch, the way he’s so keyed up already, his body tight with anticipation. “What, Carter?” I murmur, brushing my lips over his jaw, the faintest touch, feather light, enough to make him shudder. “You wanted me to take my time, didn’t you?”

His breath catches, his hands flexing against my hips, his entire body tensing as I shift again, pressing just a little more firmly against the undeniable hardness beneath me. “Fuck.”

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