A Son of Carver (Carver High #2) (29 page)

“Yeah, but it was me who said I had to be clothed and in something I didn’t recognize as my own.”

“But I’m the one who worked my ass off. I mean, shit, the hours I’ve spent selflessly toiling over pictures of half-naked women… I just hope you appreciate it.”

She slaps me on my shoulder, but she’s smiling. “So what’s the next step, genius?”

I turn her so she’s sitting on lap, facing me. I look at her eyes as I run my hands up her thighs. “Does this bother you?”

“No,” she tells me.

“Not at all?”

“It feels good, Nash.”

I push the sweatshirt up around her waist and let my hands round her hips until they’re full of her ass. “What about this?”

“It’s fine.”

“Fine?”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“Alright, I guess I’ll take that,” I tell her as my hands move up her back and round her sides until they’re splayed out over her soft belly. I let my thumbs drag up and down her stomach, dangerously close to her breasts. “Still okay?”

“Umm hmm,” she mutters through tight lips, her hands now firmly grasping my shoulders.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

“Just touch me Nash. The anticipation is killing me.”

“Okay,” I whisper, slowly running my hands over the sides of her bikini top, wanting badly to rip her sweatshirt off so I can see what I’m feeling. She’s got her eyes closed now and is breathing deeply. I let my fingers round the top of her breasts until they’re touching the skin that her top isn’t covering. God, they’re so soft and firm and way more than a handful and I want nothing more than to touch every inch of them but I do the right thing and slowly move my hands back down to her stomach, out of her sweatshirt and onto her thighs. “That was good, babe. You did good.”

She finally opens her eyes. “No. I didn’t. Why the hell does it still bother me, Nash? What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Nothing. You’re perfect. We’re gonna get there.”

She leans forward and kisses me. “Thank you for being so patient with me.” Sitting up, she lets out a frustrated sigh and I know she’s sad and upset. I want to help her. I think I know how to help her.

I reach my hand into her hair and tilt her eyes to mine. “Presley?”

“Yeah,” she says, her thoughts still clearly stuck firmly in her head.

“Let me get you off.”

I stare at him. I don’t know what to say. It’s not like this is the first time he’s made this suggestion, but he’s never looked as serious as he does now. His expression is painful and the worst part is I know the reason he’s in pain is because he wants me to be happy and not because he’s frustrated or needs his own release. He changed for me, I want to change for him.

But still, the thought of being intimate like that with him… the Greek god who is confident and sure of himself and… experienced… is overwhelming. Mentally, I can’t get there. Physically, I want him so bad it’s painful. “I want you to, Nash. I want you to so badly, but the thought…” I let out a long breath and close my eyes. I can’t even talk about it for Christ’s sake.

“Presley, I love you. I want to help… I think this will help. I’ll turn all the lights out. I won’t look at you. You can keep all your clothes on. You just have to relax and trust me and I promise that I will give you your first orgasm and then you can see what this is all about. You can figure out why, when we kiss, your body wants more. You can understand that there’s a reason for feeling desire. There’s a payoff. All you have to do is trust me. It will feel good, I promise. And I won’t touch anything but your clit.”

Oh my god.
He can’t keep talking to me like this. I literally can’t handle it anymore. “But you’ll see me… have an orgasm. If that’s even possible. What if I say or do something stupid? What if you think it’s gross?”

“Jesus, Presley. You could oink like a damn pig and kick me in the balls while you’re having an orgasm and I would still love it.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

I bring my fingers to my mouth, chewing on my nails. I’m going to let him do this, I know that. I want it too much. But it’s still freaking me the hell out.  “Can I at least have a drink first?”

“No.”

I pull my hand from my mouth and gawk at him. I’m not used to him saying no to me. “No?”

“No, because then you’ll get all weird after it’s done and blame it on the alcohol. We’re gonna shut off the lights. We’re gonna keep all our clothes on. I’m gonna rub your clit. You’re gonna have an orgasm. You might scream or squeal or break out in spasms – you will lose control because that’s what’s supposed to happen and I will enjoy every second of it because I love making you happy. And then when it’s all done, it’s not gonna be weird. But if you think it is, I’m gonna hold you and talk to you until it’s not. And even if you don’t think it’s weird I’m gonna hold you and talk to you and sleep with you in my arms and wake up the same way and tomorrow the world will still be turning. I’ll still be me, you’ll still be you, we’ll still be us except, hopefully, you won’t be so scared of sex or your body. And you might even be happier.”

Suddenly I’m eager. He just promised me heaven on earth and I’m ready to go. “I swear, you need to go into politics or become a lawyer – you can convince anyone of anything.”

“Great,” he says, standing with me in his arms. “Let’s go.” 

“Wait…like now? Right now? You have to give me a minute.”

“For what?” he asks, dipping his head to kiss my neck as he walks me down the hall.

“I don’t know… to get ready?”

“No. Hell no,” he tells me as he walks into his bedroom. “You don’t get a minute because your head will start spinning and you’ll change your mind.”

“But I should shave, and brush my teeth…”

He kisses me, long and deep and it has the same effect it always does – I turn into rubber. “Your mouth tastes fantastic. But I won’t be kissing it. And I won’t be touching your legs.”

“Well what about my… what if I need to shave… other places?”

He sets me down on his bed and kneels on the floor between my knees, his hands gently holding my face. “I’m only going to be touching your clit, Presley. I don’t care what kind of amazon bush you got – I won’t see it or feel it.”

I smack his arm. “I do not have an amazon bush.”

“Either way – doesn’t matter. I won’t even know.”

“Oh my god. Am I really doing this?” I ask myself.

“Yep,” he says, standing and going to his desk. He pulls out his phone, clicks a few times, places it in the dock and hits play. Day Wave starts playing and I smile. He pays attention to the things I like.

All business like, he walks to his window, pulling the curtains over his window shade and then going to the door, closing it and turning the lights off.

The whole process eases my tension and I can’t help but laugh at how unromantic the whole thing is.

“What are you laughing at?” he asks as I feel his hands around my waist. He picks me up, hoists me across the bed and lays me down on his pillows.

“This just seems so systematic,” I tell him happily because I don’t want the pressure of romance. I don’t want any foreplay. He’s doing exactly what he knows he should do – getting down to business as soon as possible before I chicken out. “You know me too well.”

He laughs then hovers over me. I can feel his hands on each side of my head. He leans down, his lips brushing over mine, teasing me. My hands automatically go to his hair so I can pull him fully into my mouth. But he pulls away before I get my claws in him and tells me, “That’s the last kiss you’re getting for a little while.”

I let out a long breath. My body is eager for him- my mouth, my hands, my aching insides.

He’s sitting back on his heels now. I can see his silhouette. His hands grasp onto my calves and he tells me, “If they’re not already, close your eyes.”

“Closed,” I report.

His hands slowly move up my legs even though he said he wasn’t going to touch them. But they are shaved. I’m shaved and moisturized, trimmed and exfoliated. I’ve been in tip top shape ever since I started regularly making out with Nash.

When his hands make their way under my sweatshirt I can feel my body tensing and he tells me, “Relax. It’s just me.”

“I know,” I whisper. “It’s just a natural reaction…but I’m good. Promise.” And I am.
It’s just Nash.
The guy who loves every part of me and Lord knows he’s seen much worse than me having an orgasm, and all my crazy shit just seems to make him love me more.

Gently, he pushes my sweatshirt up around my waist, then brings his hands to my knees and eases my thighs apart. They easily fall open. I’m more ready for this than I thought I was. I can see the pictures on his camera. The images that really were beautiful… and sexy. And I accept that it’s me. That it’s what he sees when he looks at me. I
am
beautiful.

His thumbs slip under my bikini bottom and I suck in a breath.

“Are you okay?” his voice is even deeper and huskier than normal. It totally turns me on. I can actually feel myself becoming wet. Which, oh my god, I can’t believe I’m even thinking that. But it’s true and that thought, too, turns me on.

“I’m so good,” I whisper.

I can’t see him, but I know he’s smiling.

With one of his hands, he easily moves the center of my bottoms to one side. Air hits my sensitive, yearning insides and I hiss.

“Still good?”

“Yeah,” I breathe, slightly embarrassed that I sound so turned on.

“I’m gonna touch you, Presley,” he says, sounding as turned on as I am.

“Please, Nash.”

And then I feel it. I feel his thumb… his finger… something magical pressing into me, rubbing up me, through a field of sensitive nerves, landing on my clit. “Ahh,” I breathe, less embarrassed now, by my blatant lust.

I can hear him breathing, hard and steady. “You’re wet, Presley… you’re so fucking wet.”

“Oh my god,” I breath again, his words alone having the potential to send me over the edge.

And then he starts rubbing me. One finger moving up and down my wet insides, another one making soft circles over my clit.

“Holy shit,” I mutter, my entire body feeling like it’s been lit on fire. Every nerve ending I have, brought to life and snapping like mini fireworks.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes. God, Nash.
Yes
.”

His hand slowly moves deeper, still rubbing a torturous path up and down me. I can’t even discern where he’s touching me, what he’s doing, but the deeper he goes, the further I go into this ecstasy that’s becoming torturously painful. I fist the comforter on his bed, my heels find his legs and dig in behind him as I try to keep my body here in reality because I swear to god, I feel like it could go whirling off into space at any second.

His thumb is steadily rubbing firm but gentle circles over my clit. He’s stimulating so many different parts of me, I don’t even know where to focus my energy in order to experience the release that I so desperately need.

“Nash,” I beg between my tortured moans and cries.

“What do you need, Presley?” he asks me, his voice dripping with pure lust.

“Ahh. I need to come. Please…”

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You are so damn sexy. Oh my god…”

That helps, his words help. My hips start bucking into his hand as the pressure inside of me builds further. I’m flailing, I’m screaming, it feels so good. I need this so bad.

“I love you, Presley. Come for me. I want to feel you come,” he breathes.

And I lose it. I totally, completely loose it.

A feeling that is indescribable washes over me. It’s thick and shiny, it’s solid and liquid. It’s sharp and soft. It brings me one hundred percent out of my body and for a few moments I don’t even feel human.

Slowly, it begins to subside, lingering, pulling my body into small, sharp spasms, spreading out through every inch of me before fading into the air around me.

When it leaves completely I feel a huge smile covering my face, my eyes still closed. And then I start laughing. “Oh my god,” I whisper.

“Oh my god,” Nash whispers back.

He pulls my limp body up and into his lap, wrapping me up tightly in his arms. His lips come to mine, they’re wet and warm. Everything feels different now. My lips… his lips… it’s all melting together and it feels so absolutely amazing. He kisses me long and deep and the desire inside of me grows again.

My hands roam over his skin, taking his shirt off in the process. His hands roam just as greedily over my skin. When he finally has me out of his sweatshirt and my skin, that I didn’t realize was desperate for his, is finally pressed up against his hard warm body, I moan into his mouth and he growls into mine.

My legs wrap around his waist and the thin bikini bottoms are making it very easy for me to feel the hard length under his jeans. As my fingers tear at the button on his jeans, my tongue pushes further into his mouth. I don’t even know if what we’re doing is considered kissing. We’re definitely licking. “I want you so badly, Nash,” I moan when I finally have his pants undone. My hand snakes under the waistband of his underwear and when my fingers find his tip I wrap them around his thickness and moan desperately into his mouth.

“Fuck, Presley. Jesus….fuck. We should stop,” he says, his hand wrapping around my wrist.

“What,” I mumble into his neck where my mouth has traveled.

“You’re not ready for this,” he mutters with what seems like some serious effort.

I sit up now, wishing the lights were on so he could see how mad I am. “I swear to god, if you make me stop
now…
after I’ve worked so hard to get here… I will rip your balls off.”

“Ugh,” he moans, his teeth finding my lip and raking over it. “I want you so bad.”

“I want you more,” I promise him.

“We need to stop,” he practically cries, his hand finding my ass and pulling me tightly to his bulging hard on.

“Nash, no. I know what I’m doing. I know exactly what’s happening. I’m about to lose my virginity… with you. The guy I’m in love with. For the first time in my life I want it. I want you inside of me. Yes, you just gave me my first, mind blowing orgasm, and yes, I’m swimming in the desire you create in me, but my head is clear. It’s clearer than it’s ever been and all I want is you. If you’ve ever wanted to make me happy then let me have that. Let me have you.”

“Fine,” he whispers in my ear. “But I’m not having sex with you for the first time with the damn lights off.”