by B. Avery
When Carmine groaned and rocked her hips into his touch, he withdrew his finger and replaced it with two, scissoring them gently in her depths. He didn't trust himself with her; if she let him inside and he hurt her because he couldn’t be patient, he’d never forgive himself.
A third finger joined the two already inside of her, opening her up as slowly and carefully as he could until Carmine reached down to grab his wrist, stopping him. “Enough,” she gasped, “I want you.”
He buried his face in the back of her neck, feeling like he could climax from her words alone. “Roll over then, love,” he rasped once he found his voice, and she did as he bade, turning in his arms until she was facing him, both of them on their sides.
This was good, he decided. He wouldn't be able to thrust too hard in this position. He'd be less likely to hurt her. Reaching down, he grasped her thigh, tugging gently, and she got the idea at once. She draped her leg over his hip, her lips parting on a silent sigh as he rubbed himself against her, letting her get used to having him there. “Yes,” she whispered before he could say a word, and he brushed his lips against hers before taking himself in hand, pressing into her.
She tensed as he eased just the head inside, and he stopped immediately, his body trembling with the effort of doing so. Massaging the back of her neck in reassurance, he crooned nonsense, trying to distract himself from the blissful heat of her body, “It's all right, love. It's just me. It's me inside you. I won't hurt you. I'll stop if you want me to.”
Drawing in a breath, Carmine relaxed, her body once again pliant against him and he pushed a little deeper, gaining a few more inches before stopping again to let her adjust. Her inner walls were fluttering around him, and his hips twitched, the urge to plunge into her almost unbearable.
Slowly, he rocked against her, entering her in tiny increments, gradually sheathing himself deeper and deeper until he was finally buried in her, her body almost painfully tight. “That's it, Carmine, I'm all the way in. Breathe for me, love.”
Her nails dug into his shoulders, her breath coming hard, and he pressed tiny kisses to her face, trying to distract her from her discomfort. She nestled against him, clinging desperately, and he wrapped his arms around her, trying to protect her from himself. “We can still stop if you want to,” he offered, and pulling out of her might well kill him, but if she wanted to stop, he'd stop.
“No,” she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears, “Just give me a minute.”
“Take all the time you need.” Her inner muscles were clenching around him, the sweet pressure nearly sending him through the ceiling, but he held himself completely still as she struggled to adjust to his invasion. “You feel wonderful, love.”
“I do?” She looked shyly pleased at the compliment, and he couldn't resist the urge to kiss her, one hand tangling in her hair as his other rubbed her back, trying to offer her comfort.
“Oh, yeah,” he moaned as she arched into him instinctively, and it was getting harder and harder to hold himself still when he just wanted to move. “You're so hot, so tight around me... You feel like heaven.”
She lifted her leg a little higher, trying to curl around him more tightly, and her eyes went wide as the angle of their bodies changed. “Carmine?”
Her breathing quickened as she wriggled against him, her body moving maddeningly. “That's good... that's really good,” she gasped, sounding surprised.
Carefully, he pulled out a little bit before nudging back in, and she moaned, arching into him. “That's right, love,” he encouraged her, “Let it feel good. It's supposed to feel good.”
He set up a gentle rhythm, just rocking against her, slow and easy, never pulling out more than an inch or two. Carmine wrapped herself around him, her body moving instinctively to meet his thrusts, and he was glad he'd chosen this position because if he'd been on top of her, he would have already lost control. Hesitantly, he thrust a little harder, and Carmine yelped, jerking against him. “Good?” he asked, hoping that had been a noise of pleasure.
“Yeah,” she nodded eagerly, her face flushing, any sign of her earlier discomfort completely gone.
“You want more?” he pressed, fighting the urge to push her into the mattress and pound into her, show her how badly he wanted her. She whimpered and pressed closer, and he found another alternative.
“Then take it,” he hissed, rolling onto his back and bringing her with him, putting her on top. “You know what to do, Carmine. Go ahead. Make yourself feel good.”
“But you-” she protested, and he cut her off with a desperate chuckle.
“Oh, don't worry about me.” He shifted beneath her, his hands going to her hips as he helped her find a rhythm she liked, coaxing her to lift herself up and thrusting up to meet her. Carmine groaned, her head falling back as she started to move a little faster, and Smith could come just from the sight of Carmine riding him, her lovely face tight with pleasure and concentration.
His eyes kept straying to the place where their bodies were joined, the sheer erotic beauty of it nearly undoing him. His hard length disappeared into her with each downward stroke, Carmine's body taking all of him, united at last. A warm hand stroked his face, and he turned his head to kiss her palm, slightly embarrassed that she'd caught him looking, but Carmine just smiled, her eyes filled with adoration.
He let it go on for as long as he could, letting her take the lead and discover what she liked. He was only human though, and finally he couldn't take it anymore, his own need for release building painfully. Taking one hand off her hip, he reached between her legs, rubbing that sweet little bud with his thumb until Carmine trembled and shouted, grinding down on him like a woman possessed. This too was beautiful, his rough hands against her most fragile and delicate places giving her pleasure, and when he heard a hoarse cry, he thought at first that it was his own.
He realized his mistake at once. Above him, Carmine moaned and keened like he was killing her, but the look of awed joy on her face reassured him. Her body quivered as she lost her rhythm, moving against him frantically and he kept stroking, encouraging the delicious little convulsions, feeling her clenching around him in a vice grip. “That's it, Carmine. That's it, love. I'm here. I've got you. Come for me, love.”
She sank down on him, taking him as deep as she could, and cried out, her face contorting with pleasure. Smith reached up to pull her against his chest as she collapsed, burying his face in her hair as he rubbed her back. He held her for long moments as she trembled in his arms.
Once her breathing had evened out a little, Carmine pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his throat. “Now you,” she pleaded, “I want you to enjoy this too.”
“Already am,” he assured her, but he wasn't about to turn down her invitation. Giving into temptation he rolled her over, her legs automatically going around his waist as he settled on top of her. He started off slow- deep, powerful thrusts as he tried to get as close as he could to his precious girl. Reaching down, he caught her knee, coaxing her to put her leg over his shoulder so he could go deeper.
Carmine moaned, reaching down to grab his ass, and he picked up his pace, moving faster and harder within her. She held him close, whispering words of praise and encouragement as he panted and groaned, aroused to the point of insanity. His mouth found her neck, sucking and biting as he pounded into her, slamming into her over and over again. He could taste her, feel her all around him. She was everywhere, and she was Carmine- Carmine who he'd wanted so much for so long that he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't needed her. He'd dreamed about this, fantasized about it and now it was real and it was so good, better than he'd ever imagined, and she was hot and tight and telling him to come for her and he was so there.
He muffled his wild cry against her throat as he exploded within her, shoving himself as deep as he could get. Carmine held him tightly, stroking his hair as he came down from his high, feeling vaguely like he was watching himself from outside his own body as he groaned and pushed his hips against he
r, wanting only to stay inside of her for the rest of eternity.
Sanity slowly filtered back, and Smith realized he must be crushing her. He rolled onto his side, keeping her tight against him, not willing to break their connection yet. He tried for a kiss, but they were both out of breath, their lips slipping apart as they panted, and Carmine giggled through her nose. He pulled back a little bit to look at her, blanching at the memory of how rough he'd been. “Are you all right, love? Did I hurt you?”
“I'm perfect,” she purred, putting his fears to rest immediately. “That was... amazing.”
He grinned at her, “Was it everything you hoped it would be?”
She flicked his nose, scolding him for fishing for compliments, and he kissed her hard, wordlessly telling her how transcendent the experience had been for him.
“It felt different- coming with you inside me,” she said thoughtfully, then blushed, and he stroked his thumb over her cheek, charmed that she could still be shy after everything they'd done, “I didn't realize how intense it would be.”
“So, you wouldn't be adverse to a repeat performance?” he asked, confident he knew her answer, but wanting to hear it anyway.
She wriggled against him enticingly. “I could be persuaded.”
He groaned, feeling himself twitch inside of her, his body clearly on board with the plan. “No more today, love,” he said regretfully, “You'll be sore. You'll be sore anyway, but you need to give yourself time.”
She pouted at him, but he was immoveable on this point, refusing to take the risk of hurting her. Instead, he sucked on her lower lip and whispered filthy suggestions about what they'd do next time until she smacked his chest and called him a tease.
They didn't move from the bed for the rest of the afternoon, staying curled around each other, talking and caressing now that they had the freedom to do so. It was with a heavy heart that he saw the light dying outside, indicating that their magical interlude was coming to an end.
“I should shower,” Carmine said, and he growled at the thought. He liked how he smelled on her. He wanted to smell himself on her, a primitive way of staking his claim. Yet, sending her home to her father reeking of sex was not the best way to keep their secret. Sensing his dark mood, she nipped at his lips, “I expect company while I do.”
In the end he brought her off with his fingers underneath the flow of hot water, rubbing himself against her backside until he found his own release, the water washing away all evidence of their dalliance. They redressed, once again assuming the roles of Mr. Smith and his faithful assistant like nothing had changed.
Just inside the door to the cabin, Carmine froze and caught his hand, guiding it to the necklace that lay against her throat, the necklace he'd given her. “Every time you see me wear this, you'll know I'm thinking about you,” she told him, leaning up for one last kiss, “And I'll never take it off.”
It was exactly what he'd needed to hear, her words giving him the strength to lead them back out into the real world of Bartley where they would be once again surrounded by people who wouldn’t approve of their relationship. This day they'd formed a connection between them that could never be broken, and it was only a matter of time until they could let the world in on their secret.
CHAPTER FOUR
What surprised him most was how little anything changed now that they'd made love. Carmine continued to come to work five minutes late each day, cleaning and running the shop with her usual efficiency. She took tea with him, told him about the books she read, brought him food, and teased him out of his dark moods. It was just like before, only now he was allowed to stare at her without worrying she'd catch him at it. He could kiss the soft lips he'd only dreamed about before. Smith had never been happier in his life.
They were very, very careful not to get caught. Even when they were on their own, kisses were for after hours and behind locked doors. Even so, Smith felt like the words 'I'm shagging Carmine Mayberry' were emblazoned on his forehead. He stared too often and too long, tensed up when she got close as he reminded himself not to touch, and gravitated toward her whenever they were in the same room like a planet in orbit around its sun. He was insanely, blindingly obvious, and not a soul noticed.
Even the councilor stopped popping by at irregular intervals, and maybe she'd just been wanting to browse, but he'd felt like he was being silently interrogated. The pleasure of having Carmine for his own had been tempered by his fear of losing her, but that fear was starting to look more like paranoia. It wasn't until he was walking home one night, leaning heavily on Carmine that he realized just how self-involved the people of Bartley were. They were walking to his house wrapped around each other in the dusky gloom, and no one was paying any attention to Mr. Smith and his shop assistant.
In truth, there was nothing at all untoward about their plans for once. His back had been throbbing all day, the shifting weather patterns playing hell with it, and he'd gritted his teeth and soldiered through it, until Carmine had thrown up her hands in disgust and kicked him out of his own store. “You've been growling like a hungry bear for four hours. Go home. I'll lock up.”
It was a testament to how bad he felt that he hadn't even argued with her, just gathered his dignity, and walked away. Before he could catch himself, he managed to trip over a fallen object. His ankle pounded, throbbing with pain as he pulled himself up.
She caught him around the waist and wedged herself against his side, offering herself as support. He clung to her, too grateful to be embarrassed by his body's weakness. He would be later, but for now Carmine was holding him, her hair soft against his cheek, and the burning pain was almost bearable.
“Poor baby...” she murmured, her voice rich with sympathy and not a trace of pity, and he nodded, rubbing his cheek against her curls. “Come on,” she said at last, shifting her grip on him so her arm was around his waist and he could hold on to her shoulder.
It was a slow and awkward walk back to the house, and this wasn't quite what he'd pictured when he'd envisioned them together, but it was still comforting to know that Carmine loved all of him, even the broken bits. She'd spent plenty of time over the years on the first floor of his home, but she'd never seen the rest, so he was surprised when she headed for the stairs instead of helping him into the living room to collapse. “Where are you taking me, love?”
“Bed,” she said succinctly, and although there was no seduction in her tone, a few parts of his anatomy perked up anyway.
“I don't-”
“You're a mess,” she cut him off, her eyes flashing a challenge as they started up the stairs. In response to his raised eyebrow, she continued, “I'm serious. You're really pale. I'm putting you to bed, and you're going to stay there.”
“Yes, mam,” he muttered, not sure how he felt about this side of her. Carmine had never had a problem bossing him around, but he didn't relish being treated like a child.
She grinned up at him, her tongue poking out between her teeth, “Be good or I'll spank you.”
“Well, now. I'll have to file that one away for later.”
Desperately, he tried to will away the mental image of Carmine sprawled face down across his lap, crying out and wriggling with pleasure as he brought his hand down on her rump, punishing her for teasing him, and he was in no condition to do anything about this right now, which was grossly unfair.
He couldn't imagine what kind of look he had on his face, but Carmine ducked away from him as soon as she had him sitting down on the edge of the bed in the master suite.
“Can you get yourself undressed?” she asked. He was tempted to say no just to get her to help him out of his clothes- which would hopefully lead to getting her out of hers so he could see how lovely she'd look spread out on his navy blue comforter- but she was already edging toward the door. Apparently seeing how helpless her lover in his current state was wasn't a turn-on for her.
He sighed and waved her off, stripping to his boxers and undershirt before dragging himself fully onto the
bed, using his hands to help straighten his leg and leaning back against the wooden headboard.
To his surprise, Carmine bounded back in a moment later, her hands full. “Here,” she handed him two of his pain pills and a glass of water, watching like a hawk to make sure he drank the entire thing as the dosage instructions demanded and he usually ignored. Once she was satisfied, she took the glass back and found a small throw pillow under his back, moving carefully, she slid it under him, taking some of the pressure off it.
He caught his breath when she leaned down to press a kiss to his stomach, smiling sadly before arranging an ice pack under the afflicted area. “Is that better?” she murmured, and he nodded dumbly as she moved to sit next to him, her head on his shoulder.
“I wish I could fix it,” she said in a low voice, her hair tickling his chin.
With a sigh, he kissed her hair, tugging her a little closer, “You're the only cure I need, love.”
It was a disgustingly soppy thing to say, but he meant it, and it was worth it to see the way her eyes lit up. She didn't get much sweet talk out of him. Perhaps he should work on that.
Carmine leaned up for a proper kiss, the melancholy mood in the room popping like a soap bubble when she snuggled back into his side, looking around the room with unabashed interest.
“I've never been in here before.” Smith followed her gaze, trying to see the room through her eyes.
The room was large but cluttered, just like everything else he called his own. Compared to the spread of random trinkets, the cream-colored walls and wood floor provided a very plain backdrop, as did the navy cotton comforter. No doubt she'd find it dull.
“It's just like I imagined it,” she pronounced at last, bouncing a little where she sat and giggling, “And I love the bed.”
The navy fabric would do wonderful things to her eyes, he decided, then groaned to himself. “I find it incredibly unfair that the first time I get you in my bed, I can't do anything about it.”