Meant for More

by Liza James

  Color Theory is a bitch. But it comes so easily to Bloom, it blows my mind. It's how her brain sees and processes things. Completely natural, as if it all just clicks right into place as soon as she reads or hears it.

  Not for me though. Just like English, I'm shit at that too. Bloom, though? A fantastic writer. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't convinced her to write several of my papers over the years.

  Book report? Bloom.

  Watch a movie and discuss several themes? Bloom.

  Anything even remotely artistic that doesn't have to do with building something? Bloom.

  She sees the vision and then I create it. That's how we work together. We're a balance, her and I. Opposites in so many ways, yet we end up complementing each other in the most important ones.

  Tonight though, she passed on our study session because she's going to see her father tomorrow. I know she's nervous, I can practically feel her tension through the clipped text messages she sent me.

  BabyBloom: Can't study tonight. Preparing for dad tomorrow.

  Carter: Want help?

  BabyBloom: As long as your help doesn't include fondling and dirty talk.

  Carter: What fun is that?

  BabyBloom: You're right. Best you stay away. ;)

  She's been sassy lately—which I love. But it doesn't come without her clear moments of detaching herself as well. She gives me an inch and then pulls away another mile. She's so set on us being apart, that I'm left hungry for her fucking touch and words and company at the end of every day.

  Who the hell am I now?

  Is it cliche to say it's just simply different with her? Is it ridiculous to think I want to see her accomplish her dreams, but be by her side and holding her hand as she does it?

  Jesus. That's fuckin' cheesy.

  I drop my head forward and hit the table in front of me with a heavy thud. Groaning out, my fists lands on the surface as well, frustrated and annoyed at myself and my spiraling thoughts.

  "Bit by the love bug, dude." Lucas's voice rings out beside me and I whip my head up at his sound. He's standing over me, chomping on an apple as he watches my obvious breakdown.

  "What the fuck?" I grind out, rubbing my hand over my head in order to ease the increasing migraine.

  "Seriously. Didn't think I'd see you like this. But it makes sense, what with you finally falling for Bloom and all." He digs his teeth into the apple with another loud crunch and then chomp.

  My eyes dart to him and I stand up, meeting his careless gaze and haughty smile. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking—"

  He shoves me back and into the seat again, leaning over me as he slowly swallows his bite. "Nah, you shut the fuck up. If you want her, you better make it right with everyone else. She won't put up with you if it means hurting my sister or Benj. You know her. So, settle up, kitkat." He steps back and turns around, leaving me in heated silence. "Also, I could beat your ass for hurting Liv." He turns and calls over his shoulder as he walks away.

  Fuck. "I know man, I know."

  "Good, take care of your shit." He walks out, his endless chewing growing quieter and quieter with each step.

  Motherfucker. Okay.

  At some point, we're going to have to talk to Benj and Liv. Air all of this shit out. But not now, not when Bloom is about to see her dad and not until she's ready to have the conversation herself.

  I glance at the clock and realize how late it is—10:17 p.m. Gathering my leftover plates and utensils from my meal earlier, I clean up my space and load the dishwasher for the entire house. They're lucky I'm so damn helpful, honestly.

  Benj is already in bed, as are most of the other guys. So, I climb the stairs quietly and head into my own room. I switch off the light at my bedside table, undressing until I'm only in briefs and climb into bed.

  These are the moments things start getting difficult. When I'm laying in bed, alone, thinking about football and my courses.

  Or seeing Bloom for my studies.

  My mind filters through little phrases she says, the tone of her sweet voice as she speaks. It leads to her sounds, moving easily from her innocuous hums while we work to those little whimpers she makes when I'm touching her.

  And then I'm thinking about being with her. The way her shoulders shift when I lift up her shirt. Her full, round tits spilling over those lacy bras she wears. Her nipples, tight and hard as they pull against the thin fabric lying over them.

  Fuck.

  My hand slides down my stomach, feeling over the ridges of my own abs before slipping lower.

  Her voice plays in my mind, begging me to touch her, to make her come like she knows I can.

  My fingers move under the edge of my briefs, until they're wrapping around the thick length of my cock. A slow, languid stroke to the top before I come back down again. Squeezing briefly at the base as I fill my mind with visions of Bloom.

  Buzz.

  Shit.

  My phone suddenly lights up at my side, pulling my attention away from these depraved visions. I quickly reach over, hoping to black out my screen so I can get back to stroking my own cock when I realize it's Bloom.

  Ahh, perfect.

  BabyBloom: What are you doing?

  Carter: Uhh, is that a trick question?

  BabyBloom: What? No. Seriously, did you go over the study material I sent over earlier?

  Carter: Yeah, no.

  BabyBloom: Wtf. What have you been doing all night?

  Carter: Thinking.

  Suddenly, my phone rings, Bloom's specific ringtone blasting through the silent space and spiking my heart rate.

  I hesitate, unsure of whether I should answer this with my hand wrapped tightly around my hard cock.

  Fuck it. "Hey," I say, keeping my voice low so I don't wake anyone in the rooms next to mine.

  "Thinking? About what? Color Theory?" Her voice is bright, but hushed as well and I can hear the sound of her getting comfortable in her own sheets and bed.

  I scoff, "Color Theory? Seriously? Is that what you think about late at night while you're in bed, Bloom?"

  She falls silent, except for the tiny swallow I hear over the line. "Maybe."

  "I'm not surprised, honestly. Your head would be filled with images of mixed colors and unique shapes while you sleep." I laugh quietly, but god, just the sound of her voice has my cock getting even harder.

  This is sick, right? Listening to her talk about class and somehow being turned on by it?

  "I do not think about fucking shapes and colors when I go to sleep, Carter." She's firm in her argument, and I can't help but laugh again at her obvious defense. But I also see an opportunity here, and I vaguely wonder how far Bloom would be willing to go.

  Can I have this piece of her?

  "Yeah? Then tell me what you think about." My voice drops lower, a huskier tone overtaking the sound as I release my cock and try to rein in my own need.

  She's quiet again, and I have a feeling she’s unsure of how to respond. "I think about a lot of things," she finally replies. She's hushed her words a bit more now, and I hear her shift around in her bed for the second time.

  "Give me details."

  "Carter..." she objects, but I swear I can hear the tiniest hint of curiosity as to where I want this to go. "Are you trying to have phone sex right now?"

  "Wait, are you a virgin in this aspect too?" I suddenly ask, possibly detouring this little moment but this is important information.

  "Ah," she starts, and it's immediately obvious she's never done this.

  Why do I like that even more?

  My cock kicks at the thought of doing this with her, and I run my hand over the length of it again.

  "Yeah, I guess so,” she says shyly. Then she whispers, "I've never had legitimate phone sex before."

  A giggle.

  A little fucking giggle.

  My dick jumps. Literally, kicking against my hand at the idea that this could be mine. So many of her firsts would be mine.

  "I want thi
s from you," I reply honestly. My hand strokes down again, and the dominant pull in my nature shifts to the forefront.

  "Okay." She shifts in bed again and it's like the tension builds with every passing second. I don't get it, but just the anticipation of doing this is getting to me. "You want to know what I think about?"

  "Yeah," I say. "Tell me."

  She hums anxiously for a moment, and I don't know why but the fact she's nervous and innocent is exactly what I'm craving.

  "I'll tell you what I think about." I decide to step in, realizing she probably needs the direction and I actually love giving it to her. "You. It always starts with your voice."

  "My voice?" she asks, surprise lining her tone in the way I like.

  "Fuck, I can't get enough of your voice," I reply as I shift my briefs down and release myself entirely. "Those sounds you make when we're together."

  "When?" She pauses, and I can tell she's heading in the right direction. "When you're touching me?" Her voice dips even quieter, muted whispers and breathy words.

  I groan out, "Yeah, exactly. It always starts with these little moans, when my hand is around your throat and I'm kissing your neck."

  "Shit," she curses. The silence in the room grows even heavier. The shifting sounds of our beds filling the space between us. Everything is thick and intoxicating with the air of needy desire.

  "What are you doing?" I demand, my own words kept firm and strong like my touch would be.

  "What do you want me to be doing?" Goddamn. Her voice is pure and filled with temptation. She's so fucking innocent, it makes me want to come already.

  "Spread your legs, Bloom." I fist my cock again, sliding up and grazing my thumb over the tip before moving back down. "Touch yourself while you're on the phone with me."

  "Are you sure?" she asks, and I swear to all fuck she has to know what she's doing. "We shouldn't be doing this." Such a good girl.

  Yep. Yeah. She knows.

  "Do it." Another stroke, another image of Bloom spread wide open in front of me.

  A quiet whimper falls from her lips and fills the line with everything I could possibly imagine it to be. "That," I say, just as she cries out a second time. "That sound. Fuck, Bloom."

  "You like it when I moan, Carter?" she asks, and then she does it again. This time louder, a little bit longer.

  A little needier.

  "I like it when you moan for me," I say, groaning as I tightly grip the base of my cock. "Only for me."

  "You're the only person I think about." She's gaining confidence, and the way she continues speaking is filled with her own courage. It's hot as hell. "When I'm wet, and I'm wishing you were touching me."

  "Touching you where, Bloom?" I keep pushing her. My own cock throbbing with the need to release already.

  She's quiet, nerves suddenly silencing her voice aside of her little moans. "My pussy."

  "Yeah, you like that, don't you? When I was filling you. When my fingers were sliding in and out of you like you're doing to yourself now." I'm stroking myself faster, my own hips thrusting up through my fist.

  "Yes, I love it when you touch me like that. But—" She halts her words on a louder moan and I struggle to hold back my own release. I want to listen to her come before I do.

  "But what, baby?" I ask, pausing my own movements while I wait to hear what she's about to say.

  "I want more," she replies, cautiously approaching a subject I’m tentative to confront with her. I don't want to assume I know what she means, but fuck if I'd like to give it to her.

  "What are you saying exactly, Bloom?" I ask, forcing my hand to stay still before I fucking lose it.

  "I don't want to say it," she whispers, but I hear her own hand moving a bit faster under her sheets.

  "Say it." The command falls easily from lips. I need her to say it out loud before we confront this.

  "Carter..." She says my name on a heady whimper, her own desire and slick pussy sounding quietly over the line. Jesus, fuck. I want her to come. I want to make her come right now, and when we're together next. "I want you to fuck me."

  Allllll right. Okay.

  "Bloom, for fuck sake. Don't say that," I grind out through clenched teeth while my fist works up and down my hard cock. My own cum slips from the tip a bit, and I drag it down my length and over my skin.

  "What?" she suddenly says, surprise evident in her tone. She stops moving, I can hear it under the sheets. "I thought that's what you wanted?"

  "Of course, that's what I want." I keep fucking my own hand, imagining her touching herself in front of me. "Don't fucking stop." I bite out, and I hear her shift before starting again. "I want to take your virginity, and everything else you'll give me. I want all of your firsts, Bloom. I want you to come while I'm inside of you. My cock thrusting in and out while my hand’s wrapped around your throat."

  She's breathing heavily, her personal cries and moans getting quicker and more chaotic. "Carter," she breathes out. "God, I'm so wet."

  "Yeah? I want you to touch your clit, baby. Slowly, back and forth before moving down and stretching yourself with your own fingers." I'm getting close, listening to her breathe and work herself up is too fucking much. I only wish I was watching this right now, seeing her writhing in front of me while she came.

  "I am, I'm so close to coming, Carter," she says, desperation clinging to her words and her touch.

  "Keep going. Deeper, Bloom. Faster."

  I can hear her wrestling on the other line, the sound of her slick pussy and rapid breaths.

  "Fuck, I wish I was there right now," I say while I bring myself closer to my own release by listening to her. My head is filled with her figure, with her movements and voice and begs. "Come on, baby. Let me hear you come."

  That's what it takes to snap her into a release. She moans loudly, calling out my name. I pump my fist even faster on my cock while I listen to her. It all hits at once, my own cum spilling only seconds after her.

  "Holy shit," she finally says after the thick haze of sexual tension disperses. "That was insane."

  I can't help it, I laugh after I finally catch my breath. "Not bad for your first time, yeah?"

  She giggles, "Are you phishing for compliments right now?" I can hear her shift around in her bed, and I imagine her propping herself up on her side while she sits on the phone with me.

  "You know me better than that, Baby Bloom." My voice falls quieter, my own head spiraling with different thoughts and confessions I want to give her. "I can't stop thinking about you."

  She's silent, but I hear her breaths come a little quicker. "I can't stop thinking about you, either."

  "How the fuck did this happen?" I ask, settling deeper into my bed and shifting the comforter off my chest and torso. It's hot in here now, and this intimate conversation is lighting a new fire under my skin.

  "I think it happened a long time ago, honestly," she replies, and I'm instantly eager to hear her explain.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I've always noticed you. Even when we were younger, and when I thought about our future, you were never not in it. Does that make sense?" She yawns, her voice stretching into a long and languid sound as she gets sleepier.

  I love it.

  "Yeah, I get that. I've never imagined a future without you in it. But I don't think I connected that until recently," I explain, disappointed in the fact that I've missed this for so long.

  "I know. It's just been what is. Like it simply existed without a label, without expectations. But still assumed." She's quiet for a moment. "I think this was always meant to happen. But we had to find it in our own way, on our own path."

  "We had to be apart to realize how good we already were together." My voice is growing heavy. My thoughts slipping together in vague waves of exhaustion.

  "Exactly." We both descend into silence, and I think she's already fallen asleep when her smooth voice suddenly breaks through once more. "Come with me tomorrow?"

  A quick burst of energy sparks th
rough me at her question. "To see your dad?" I clarify.

  "Yeah. I don't want to go alone." She says softly, her tone tinged in a layer of hope.

  "Of course. I'll go with you. Why don't you go to sleep now, I'll text you in the morning." I glance at the time again—eleven-thirty.

  "All right. Good night, Carter."

  "Goodnight, Baby Bloom."

  It's today. It's finally today.

  Carter is picking me up soon and together we're driving the forty-five minute trip to the rehab facility my dad currently resides at. I've been there before, but it was quite a while ago and I knew having Carter with me would help calm my nerves.

  Last time I went he had been detoxing and going through withdrawals. It wasn't a good visit, and that was months before our latest run in at the restaurant.

  This one will be different though. He's sober. His detox process has been going smoothly, and he's far more aware of his triggers and reactions. Even if it isn't perfect, I don't care.

  I'll have Carter there with me, and I know my dad will be glad to see him despite what he said last time. My dad really does love him, and it'll be a nice surprise.

  I'm standing in front of the narrow mirror in my bedroom, twisting around while my eyes rake over the outfit I'm wearing.

  Light wash distressed skinnies. My favorite cropped blouse, pink and red roses on long flowy sleeves. I layered my gold necklaces and tied my hair up into a couple of space buns while my shaggy bangs hang wildly across my forehead.

  The swell of excitement and nerves continues churning through my stomach. One second I'm happy and thrilled, the next I'm nervous and anxious. A constant twist, but I knew it would be this way.

  It's always this way when I go to visit.

  Thankfully though, something different tugs at my mind as well. Thoughts that this change is different—that this one will stick.

  It's been so long, such an exhausting and painful battle getting here. But damn, I'm so proud of my dad and I can't wait to show him a few pieces I've made at the studio.

  He was the one who introduced me to my passion, and I know he'll want to get back in it with me once he's truly clean.

  Suddenly, my door swings open and Liv steps inside. Her usually styled hair is a chaotic mess on top of her head, her makeup smeared across her face as if she's been crying.