Chapter Thirty-Eight
Elle
My eyelids flutter open, and I wake with a stretch. As soon as I shift, I’m instantly reminded that I’m no longer a virgin. There’s a soreness between my thighs that wasn’t there before.
Last night was...
In a word...
Amazing.
Maybe I hadn’t orgasmed when he’d been inside me, but I had liked the feel of his weight pressing me into the mattress and how he’d buried himself deep in my body. The fullness of it. The natural rhythm we’d found. It’s a closeness I’ve never experienced with another human being, and I can’t imagine feeling this way about anyone else.
For me, there’s only Carson.
Rolling onto my side, my gaze settles on his sleeping form. His blond hair is mussed and it’s entirely too tempting to reach out and rake my fingers through it, pushing the blond strands from his eyes. My hungry gaze roves over his handsome features, from eyebrows that are thick and prominent before sliding to high, chiseled cheekbones and then sinking lower to a strong jawline that’s covered with a light scruff. His nose would be straight but there’s a slight crick to it from being broken a few years ago. Maybe others would see it as a flaw, but I think it gives his face character. He was way too pretty before.
That thought has the edges of my lips curling. God, he would hate if I told him he was pretty.
A soft sigh falls from my lips.
I’m so in...
Something.
I’m so in something with this guy.
Having sex has only intensified all of the emotions fighting their way to the surface, making them even more undeniable.
My gaze falls to his chest. During the night, the sheet has bunched around his waist, covering the part of him I’m most curious about. Last night, his cock had been rock hard. Afterward, in the bathroom, it had softened. Although, that state hadn’t lasted very long. In the steamy enclosure, he’d soaped up his hands and stroked them over my body. Within minutes, he’s stiffened right up.
There hadn’t been much time to inspect him. Not the way I’d craved. I’m dying to see what he looks like now in the early morning light. My teeth chew my lower lip as I consider taking a tiny peek. Roughly thirty seconds tick by before curiosity wins out and I carefully slide the sheet down his prone form. The last thing I want is for him to wake up and catch me ogling him like a creeper. My gaze flicks to his face before dropping again. I want to study Carson at my leisure without him being aware of it. The truth of the matter is that I’ve stared at him for hours at a time, but never this part of him. Never when he’s been wearing so little clothing. Or, like he is now, none.
As the sheet slips past his waist and then hips, his cock is slowly revealed. My breath catches at the back of my throat as I stare in fascination. The root juts out from a patch of dark blond curls, curving along his lower abdomen. I’ve seen pictures of penises before—Madison has been known to show off a dick pic or two—but I’ve never found them particularly attractive.
I feel differently staring at Carson. Even in repose, he’s long and thick. I take another quick look at his face to make sure he’s still sleeping soundly. His chest continues to rise and fall rhythmically.
Wanting to study it more thoroughly, I scoot closer. Almost all the times I’ve felt him or caught a glimpse of his dick, he’s been hard. This is different. He looks almost soft, not nearly as intimidating. When the urge to reach out and stroke him strikes, I curl my fingers into my palms until the nails bite into the flesh.
It’s a foreign feeling to realize how fascinated I am with this part of him. The longer I stare, the more curiosity is piqued. Memories of what it felt like when he touched me and went down on me pop into my brain.
Does he enjoy that kind of caressing as well?
Would taking him in my mouth feel just as good for him as it did for me?
I’ve overheard enough stories from my friends to know that guys enjoy blowjobs. I would never admit it to Carson, but him licking and kissing me had felt so much better than sex. Will that change over time?
I have no idea.
Unable to resist the lure any longer, I reach out and gently stroke the tip of my finger over the long curve of him.
Velvety smooth.
That’s the only descriptor that comes to mind.
This time, I trace him from the tip of his bulbous head to the root before running my fingers over his balls. They’re equally soft. Using my entire hand, I palm the sac, wanting to learn the weight and feel of it. I squeeze his flesh carefully before caressing him. I’m so enthralled by the sight that I gasp when he shifts beneath me. Within seconds, his cock stiffens, no longer curved against his lower belly. Instead, it rises, becoming harder.