A Son of Carver (Carver High #2) (30 page)

He wants to turn the lights on.
Do I care?
Do I care if he sees my body? I just let him put his fingers inside of me, I moaned, screamed, begged him to have sex with me. Do I really care if he sees me with my clothes off? He loves my body, maybe I don’t, but he does. That’s a fact I can no longer deny. So why would I keep it from him?

“Turn them on, Nash,” I whisper in his ear before licking it and sucking on it, my nails digging a path down his neck.

“Uh,” he moans. “You’re driving me crazy.” He scoops me up by my ass, carries me off the bed and over to the wall where he fumbles around until he finds the light switch. We both pause from our kissing to pinch our eyes closed and complain at the light that’s suddenly assaulting us.

When his eyes open and he’s looking at me for the first time since he gave me my first orgasm I can’t help but smile shyly. “Hi,” I whisper.

“Hey,” he whispers back, the cutest grin in the world spreading out over his face.

“I had an orgasm,” I tell him.

“Oh, yeah?” he smirks.

“Uh huh. It was really nice.”

“Just nice?”

“Nice in an other-worldly explosive kind of way.” I shrug.

He takes one hand off me and runs his fingers down the side of my face. “I’m happy for you.”

“I’m happy for me too,” I tell him, my face naturally leaning into his touch. “And I’m about to have sex for the first time. With my boyfriend. Who really, really loves me. And who I really, really love back.”

“Are we really about to do this?” he asks, the concern on his face real.

“Yep. We really are,” I tell him, my face breaking out in a smile.

It takes a moment for his eyes to search mine thoroughly, but eventually he smiles back at me. “Hey, Presley?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m about to
make love
for my first time,” he tells me, his eyes all sparkly.

“Ooh, sounds romantic,” I tell him with a laugh.

But the look he gives me is so damn intense it’s startling. “I’m serious.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“You’re the only girl I’ve been in love with.”

“I know,” I whisper. We’ve had this conversation before. He claims he didn’t realize it when he was with her, but that he was never in love with Tatum. And after the conversation I had with Summer, I believe him.

“And I’m about to have sex with you.”

“Hopefully… if we ever stop talking.” I smile and kiss him, and when I pull back, he’s smiling again too.

He walks me back over to the bed and lays me down. I don’t even realize I’m in nothing but a bikini until his big warm hands are wrapped around my stomach. “You’re so unbelievably soft,” he practically sighs, his hands roaming over my hips and down my legs.

I reach out and grasp onto his shoulders. “And you’re so unbelievably hard.” He looks at me and smirks and my eyes unintentionally veer to the waist of his jeans that are still wide open, the hardest part of him pushing impressively at his boxer briefs. “Not what I meant,” I laugh.

“But I am.”

“I know. Must be painful. You should probably do something about it,” I tell him, taking my hands off his arms and easily untying the strings at the sides of my bikini bottom without hardly thinking about it. I pull it from under my body, discarding it on his floor.

His mouth hangs open as he stares at me before his eyes come back to mine. “Who the hell are
you
? And what’d you do with my shy little kitty?”

“I had a little talk with her… explained that you love her and that she can trust you. And that you think she’s beautiful… and she’s starting to agree. But doesn’t really matter – I think she got lost in the hurricane you awoke in my body. Probably lost out in the ocean somewhere.”

“Drowned in the waves of orgasm?” he asks with a smile.

“Probably.”

“Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Your bush isn’t Amazonish at all…in fact it’s not even bush-like… more of a cute little strip.”

“I would return the compliment but your pants are still on,” I tell him, my eyebrows raised expectantly.

“You want me to take my pants off?” he says with a smirk.

“And your underwear.”

He stands and I prop myself up on my elbows, making sure I don’t accidentally look down at my own naked body. I’m doing really well with all of this if I do say so myself, but one wrong move on my eyeball’s part and it could potentially send me into a spiral of panic.

He runs his hands under the waist of his jeans, pushing them down an inch at a time. He’s torturing me on purpose but I don’t mind. When he finally gets them pushed past his ass they fall to the ground and he steps out of them. I take a good long moment to appreciate how truly amazing his body is. He’s seriously cut like a piece of marble. Part of me wants to lick each hard indent and ridge of his body and the other part of me wants to take out my charcoal pencils and sketch the crap out of him.

My eyes eventually return to his and he’s smirking at me. “Go on,” I tell him with a huge smile.

“You really want to see me naked, don’t you?”

“You really want me to see you naked, don’t you?”

He shrugs. “I like making you happy.”

His fingers disappear under his waist band and my eyes are instantly back on the show. It only takes an inch of movement before his tip is exposed. Unintentionally, I suck in a breath created from equal amounts of lust and fear. “Presley?”

“Yeah,” I mutter, my eyes still on the show.

“You’ve seen a guy’s dick before, right?”

“Nuh uh,” I tell his penis since that’s what my eyes are still glued to. His hands come out of his waist band and his penis goes back in its snug little home. “Whaaa… what are you doing?” My eyes snap to his.

“Never?” he asks with confusion.

“What? No, never,” I tell him, frustrated.

“What about… what’s his name. Your old boyfriend.”

“No.”

“Porn?”

“What? No. Why the hell are we talking… get back to your strip tease.”

His hands move back to his underwear and my eyes go where his hands go. He hooks them in the waistband again, but doesn’t move them. “I don’t know if I can handle the pressure.”

“What?” my angry eyes snap back to his.

“I mean… me and the big guy have to represent here seeing as it’s your first sighting. It’s stressful.”

“Are you messing with me?”

“I don’t know. Promise you’ll love him no matter what? He’s not as pretty as your pussy.”

“I hope not. That would be weird,” I tell him, rolling my eyes.

His hand moves again and I swear to god if he doesn’t get on with the show I’m gonna lose my mind. His hand reaches fully into his boxer briefs and I can see him grabbing himself and it, like a lot of other things he does, turns me on. With his other hand he finally pulls down his underwear and steps out of them and towards me. He shifts his hand, rubs himself up and down and then finally releases himself.

And here he is. Standing in front of me in all his naked, large, hard perfect glory. God, it’s bigger than I thought it would be. It’s a little scary. I can’t imagine
that
being inside of me. 

I sit up and reach for him, my hands clamping down on his hips. I peek up at him. “I think I like him,” I whisper.

He smiles at me. “He likes you too.”

And then, I don’t know what the hell comes over me, but I lean forward and lick it. And then I’m pretty sure I say, “um.” The tip is moist and tastes salty. It’s smooth and soft and a little fascinating and I can’t seem to stop licking it. Nash is mumbling and swearing and his fingers are digging into my shoulders and I think that’s good but I’m not really concerned because
the big guy
has all my attention at the moment.

I shift on my knees and wrap my lips around him liking the way he feels in my mouth. With some effort, I slide my lips down his shaft, my tongue licking and tasting as I go. Nash continues to swear and mumble. He slides to the back of my throat and I wonder if it’s normal to like the way that feels, because I do. I like it.

Nash lets my mouth explore him for a while, but eventually he eases out of my mouth pushing back on my shoulders. I look up at him with some confusion.

“What the hell?” he mutters with drunken eyes. “You’re gonna make me come. You give quite the blowjob for someone who’s never seen a dick,” he tells me as he slides me up the bed, hovering over me.

“Blow job?” I ask, confused.

“Don’t even try to tell me you don’t know what a blow job is.”

“Of course I do, Nash. But I didn’t… that’s not what I did.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You don’t know what a blow job is.”

“I do.”

“You don’t. You absolutely know how to give one… the best one I’ve ever had. But you don’t know what one is.”

I smile at that. I can’t help it.

“You’re seriously the cutest thing in the entire world,” he tells me, reaching behind my neck and untying my top. He pulls it away, his amused eyes never leaving mine. His palms run up my breast, his fingers splaying out over them. And then he stops. I watch as his face is overcome with panic. “Oh, shit…”

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Presley… I’ve got my hands all over your tits.”

My eyes flash to his hands that are indeed all over my breasts. The nerves spring up inside of me and my instincts tell me to push him away, but I don’t. My eyes find his again and I tell him, “I think it’s okay.”

“You think it is, or it is? Because I swear to god if I just fucked this up for you I’ll never forgive myself.”

I close my eyes and breathe. He moves his hands back down my breasts, gently cupping them, his fingers making lazy trails over my skin. His hands are big. When he eventually rounds the side of each breast and drags his fingers over the tops of them he’s almost covering them completely. They don’t feel gigantic. The feel
right
. Like the perfect size. I exhale a breath of relief. I hear him doing the same thing. He explores my skin for a while and I become more comfortable. When he eventually drags his thumbs across my nipples it’s uncomfortable. He does it again and it’s not as bad. By the fifth time it actually feels good. “It’s good,” I finally tell him, opening up my eyes to look at him.

“Yeah?” he asks, still sounding unsure.

“Yeah,” I whisper, smiling up at him. “It feels good.”

He smiles too, then leans down to kiss me, one hand moving off of me so he can prop himself up over me. His kisses are soft and lazy. His tongue explores my mouth sweetly.  Eventually he eases out of it and his eyes meet mine and there’s apprehension there.

“You can taste me,” I whisper, somehow knowing that it’s what he’s asking me.

He kisses my jaw and then my neck. He makes a warm wet trail across my clavicle bone and down my sternum. He kisses and licks his way up one of my breasts, his eyes looking up at mine every few seconds to make sure I’m still okay. And I am.  When his soft, fat lips wrap around my nipple for the first time, it’s startling and again I’m fighting all my deep seeded instincts because I can also recognize that it feels good. There seems to be a direct line between my nipple and all the things he stimulated before with his fingers and I whimper as his teeth graze over my engorged nipple. My hands fist his hair out of desire as he alternates between his fingers and his mouth as he expertly stimulates me.

My breathing becomes increasingly heavy and erratic as my desire for him swells. I wrap my legs around his hips needing some kind of contact and when that contact comes from his large, hard-on I moan.

His lips leave my skin and when his eyes meet mine they look crazed. “You’re perfect, Presley,” he says with some force, his hand wandering between my thighs, his fingers, once again starting their magical dance across my skin. God, does it feel good, but there is now a yearning so deep inside of me I know there’s only one thing that will satisfy it.

“I want you inside of me, Nash,” I tell him.

“Trust me, Presley, I want inside of you.” He shifts on the bed, fumbling around his bedside table before sitting up before me on his knees. I marvel again at how insane his body is. It’s golden and hard and shiny with a thin layer of sweat. He rips a condom pack open with his teeth and I watch with wonder as he rolls it down his long length.

He kneels between my thighs, one hand stimulating me again. It feels good, but I’m ready for him. All of him. “I want to have sex with you,” I whisper, my hands running down the sides of his face and down his neck.

“I know. I don’t want it to hurt…” His fingers push into me then, in a way that he didn’t do to me before.

I wince. Because it does hurt.

“Try to relax,” he whispers, leaning forward to kiss my mouth.

“Okay,” I tell him, taking a breath, trying to get everything down there to relax and unclench.

“That’s good, babe,” he whispers. “I’m putting another finger inside of you, okay?”

“Yeah,” I breathe. And then he does, and it hurts, and I clench harder.