Page 38 of Mr. Edwards
I bound up the stairs two at a time. I’m anxious aboutseeing her again. I can’t remember ever feeling anything close to this. I’ve fucked a plentitude of women over the years. Christ, I was barely fifteen when I lost my virginity. I still smile when I think back to that night.
Ashton and I had been unexpectedly invited over to Alana Benton’s house; she was a senior in high school, and on the cheer team, a total babe. Neither of us knew what awaited us that night, but we never would’ve guessed it also included a group of her friends. It was our first introduction to pussy, and from that day forward there was no looking back. Those girls had unknowingly unleashed the monster in my pants, AKA my dick.
I’ve had plenty of great sex in my time, no scrap that, phenomenal or mind-blowing may be a better description, but none of those encounters can compare to what I experienced here last night. A rush of pure adrenaline. A feeling that made my body run hot like lava coursing through my veins.
If you asked me what the difference was between Carlee and the ones that came before her, I wouldn’t be able to pinpoint one particular thing. Maybe it was her smart mouth or the fact that she made me work for it.
Maybe it was the way she kissed me with such abandonment it reached right down to my very soul. Or how it felt to move inside her, and those sexy little noises she made during the height of passion. Her openness and willingness to try anything, and the way she so freely gave her entire body over to me, time and time again.
That blow job… fuck, how can I not mention that? I even jacked off to images of my cock buried down her throat in the shower this morning.
I adjust the chub in my pants as I clear the last step and head down the corridor toward her door. See what Imean, just thinking about her gets me all hot and bothered.
She holds all the power, and I’m not used to that. The way she kicked me out last night when she was done with me… that’s never happened before. I’m usually the one giving the marching orders.
You know a woman has you by the balls when your gut is tied up in a bundle of damn nerves. There’s something thrilling about this feeling, it’s completely foreign. I’d be lying if I said this whole situation didn’t scare the hell out of me.
I nervously run my hands through my hair when I reach my destination. I even take a moment to shake off the tension that coils around my body before raising my hand to knock. She had me going during our earlier messages. It was scary how panicked I became when I thought she was entertaining another guy. I was consumed by one word…mine.
Carlee opens the door seconds later, and the smile I see on her face expels all the air from my lungs. See again.There’s got to be something to that. Her hair is still pinned up into large barrel curls like it was earlier, but she’s now tied a hot-pink bandanna around her head. She’s no longer wearing the tight, sexy-as-fuck leopard print dress she had on earlier today, but even in a simple pair of black yoga pants, a white oversized T-shirt with the iconic red, mouth, and tongue Rolling Stones logo printed on the front, she looks damn fine. The shirt is hanging off one shoulder, and I can see the strap of her hot pink bra.
My eyes scan the length of her body. “You’ve put your pants back on?” I say, arching a brow. “I’m a little disappointed you’re not where you claimed you’d be in your message.”
She rolls her eyes. “A girl can only stay bent over the arm of a sofa for so long before she starts to cramp up.”
This woman.
“Well, I’m here now, feel free to resume that position.”
She steps to the side, allowing me to enter. As I pass, I sweep her into my arms and press my mouth to hers. I’ve been obsessing about her lips all day.
“Mmm,” she moans as my tongue sweeps along her bottom lip.
She leans her tight curves into my body, her arms snaking around my neck as I push her up against the door, deepening the kiss. I guide us into the room, backing her into the sofa. She moves her hands down to my chest, halting me from lowering her any further.
“Let me pack my stuff away first.”
Glancing over her shoulder I see a pair of scissors, a pile of newspapers, magazines, and one of those black ring binders lying open, propped up on one of the cushions. The plastic sleeves inside have rows of small pockets, they remind me of the ones I used for my baseball card collection when I was a kid.
Moving her to the side, I pick it up. “What’s all this?” I ask.
“I finished folding my laundry, so I thought I’d update my coupon album.”
“Coupons?”
She narrows her eyes. “Yep. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, no problem at all. It just concerns me that you’re relying on coupons to get by. If you ever need money?—”
“I don’t need your money, Grayson,” she snaps. “I’m quite capable of looking after myself.”
I didn’t mean to offend her, but there’s a lot of fucking coupons here, the binder is full of them.
“I never said you weren’t capable, but you’re my girl and it’s my job to look after you.”
“I’m not your girl.”
“Yes, you are.” I try not to let her see that her words sting. Why can’t she accept the inevitable? She’sminenow, end of story.
