Meant for More

by Liza James

  "Yes," I moan out, gripping onto his arms while he moves faster. "Please, Carter. I'm going to come."

  "Good," he bites out as he suddenly slows his movements while I was racing toward my own release. He leans back and circles his finger over my clit. Languid. Deliberate. Tortuous.

  He thrusts forward again, letting me feel every solid of inch of him as he seats himself deep inside of me. I moan his name, uncontrollable begs and pleas for more fall from my lips without hardly knowing what I'm saying.

  I just know I'm close, and this orgasm feels stronger and more addictive than anything I've ever felt before.

  "More, baby? Say it." His voice is rough and sharpened with an edge of control. I fucking love it, and it calls to the parts of me that are so turned on by him like this.

  "Harder, faster. Please, Carter," I beg him, and as soon as I speak it out loud, he slams forward again, pounding into me as my release suddenly crashes like a wave swallowing the shore.

  I'm overtaken, and he keeps thrusting until he's about to come, pulling out of me and spilling across my stomach. He falls forward, his hand landing on my waist, just to the side of where he came on me.

  I look down, and for some reason, the sight of it is turning me on all over again. His hand shifts, and his fingers trail through his own release, dragging it over my body as if he's marking me. Claiming me as his alone.

  He looks up at me, and my eyes meet his while I struggle to catch my breath. "Are you okay?" he asks, his own breath labored and heavy while his hands continue massaging me.

  "Yeah," I reply. "Yes. Absolutely." I lean up on my elbows and then grip the back of his neck as I press my lips to his. He kisses me, and it's so incredibly intense in a new way. Now that we've shared this, now that I've given him this part of me.

  It's different. And I'm becoming far more lost to him than I anticipated.

  He pulls away and glances back down at my stomach, looking up to my eyes again before speaking. "I didn't think I could be so turned on by marking you like this. But fuck," he says as he suddenly grips me so tightly and yanks me farther beneath him. "I am."

  I laugh, but I know what he means because it's strangely erotic as well. More than I thought it would be. "I love that. But also, I'm on birth control."

  His eyes widen in a new way and leans back. "You are?"

  "Yeah, I've been on it for years for other reasons. It's beneficial for more than just preventing pregnancy," I reply as he shifts to the side and pulls me against him. He leans down and grips the edge of his blanket, pulling it up and over us as he gets comfortable in his bed.

  "Well shit. That is some damn good news," he laughs against my neck, dragging his nose up and into my hair while his hand falls over my waist.

  He pulls me even closer, his lips kissing along my skin, down my neck and over my shoulder while I surrender to his touch. "I'm glad it was you," I whisper, tangling my fingers through his against my stomach.

  "Mmm," he groans against me, subtly rolling his hips forward and into my ass again. "Only me," he replies. "You're mine, Bloom."

  "Yours," I mutter as my voice falls quieter and exhaustion slowly washes through me. It's been a long, chaotic night and I know that tomorrow, we'll have several things to confront with Liv and Benj.

  But not now, not tonight. And I let myself succumb to the sleep tugging at my mind. Exactly where I want to be, tightly wound in Carter's arms with his breath falling evenly against my neck.

  His warmth surrounding me, his possession consuming me, his touch igniting me.

  It's light out, and I can only tell by the streaks of brightness shining through my shut eyes. I whimper in frustration, wishing it wasn't morning yet. I don't want this to end. Carter's hand tightens against my stomach, and he drags me back while his stiff cock rolls against me from behind.

  I moan at the immediate throbbing in my core. I'm sore, and uncomfortable, but how is it I still want more of him at the same time?

  His lips shift against the back of my neck, and my fingers twist into his while I pull him even tighter against me. He's strong, his heavy arms shifting me easily so I'm on my stomach and he's at my back.

  He kisses down my spine, and I arch myself against him, my ass pushing back while his long fingers roughly slide down my ribs. "Shit," he mutters against my skin before biting down. One hand slides over my ass, squeezing and massaging before moving to my thigh.

  My phone rings from somewhere on the floor but I ignore it. No one needs me right now, and I don't have classes today so I have no obligations to be anywhere else.

  His fingers slip between my legs, moving through my pussy that's already wet with my own arousal. "How do you feel?" He asks as he circles my clit and gently moves over my core.

  "Like shit," I answer honestly, just as I push back against his touch so his finger stretches my pussy. "But I don't care." Moaning, I pull forward and push back again, fucking myself against his hand while he kicks my legs apart with his knees.

  My phone rings a second time, and I feel a vague wash of confusion at who could need me this early in the morning. It has to be seven a.m. or so at least?

  "You should answer that," Carter says as he backs away and rolls off of me.

  I groan in irritation as I slide off the bed and move to find my phone somewhere on the ground. It's tucked under an article of our clothing and when I glance at the screen, it's a number I don't recognize.

  "Hello?" I ask tentatively, wondering if it's my mom calling from a new phone overseas.

  "Bloom? Bloom Gardner?" The male voice on the other line alarms my nerves. Instantly, everything changes and I can't even tell exactly why other than the gut, instinctual feeling settling inside of me.

  "Yes?" I reply, my tone lining with suspicion and confusion. Carter hears it immediately, and in the same moment he's on the ground next to me, leaning in front of my vision so he can see my expression. I nod my head to him, mouthing that I don't know who's on the other line.

  "Ah, sweetheart. This is Officer Reddout with the NYPD. I'm so sorry to tell you this, but your father passed last night in the city." His voice is strained but firm and for some reason, it doesn't register in my head what he's actually said.

  "What?" I stammer out, trying to process exactly what he's saying. "What did you just say?"

  Carter leans forward, his eyebrows pinched together as his hands fall to my shoulders.

  "Your father, Samuel Gardner? He passed away last night. I—I'm so sorry. He was in the city, it's looking like a potential suicide."

  Silence.

  Everything stops moving. Stops processing. Stops seeing. Stops feeling.

  All of it. It's all gone in a single instant.

  "My dad?" My voice shakes, and the words feel like gravel spilling from my lips. "My dad committed suicide last night?"

  Everything swallows me whole at once. My mind completely blanks at how this is even possible. I just saw him, just the other day. And he was so good, he was happy.

  He was happy.

  I swear he was happy. Tears break through my lashes and spill down my cheeks. Carter's arms are around me at once, pulling me against him while the officer tries to explain over the line.

  I hardly hear it. Aside from the fact that they've ID'd him according to his identification in his wallet, and they've spoken to the rehab center.

  He left again last night, without a word other than checking out of the facility.

  "No, you have the wrong person. He wouldn't do this," I say, refusing to believe this is my reality.

  He keeps speaking, but I don't hear him. I don't hear anything anymore. Everything collapses around me. My entire life is gone in the instant destruction of one moment.

  He was happy.

  Right?

  How, exactly, do I fix this?

  Is there even a way? At least, I'd like to believe so. It doesn't make sense. But Bloom and I both felt something off when we saw him last week.

  We just didn't realize it was this.


  So, how do I fix this for the one girl I've known most of my life? The girl I've hidden with under trucks and behind trees. The girl who's supported me in every up and down I've experienced. The girl who's reached my soul in ways I never anticipated.

  The girl who's stolen my heart. How do I take care of hers?

  "Have you heard from Bloom today?" Liv asks as she walks into our kitchen. Benj is standing in here with me while we make lunch, but as soon as he sees her, he slaps me on the back and walks out.

  We never had the chance to tell them what we saw that night. It's been so far on the back burner now with everything going on that I've hardly thought of it.

  "No," I reply, keeping my eyes on the stove where I'm flipping several hotdogs and burgers for the guys. "Have you spoken to her?"

  "She hasn't left her room yet today. At least I don't think she has. I knocked earlier, got a vague leave me alone so I came here," Liv explains, and I'm not surprised in the slightest.

  I've gone over every single day, and I'll go over again with lunch, knock on her door, see her for a bit, and then leave when she's had enough. I've tried to stay over, but she wants nothing to do with anyone.

  She's detached and bitter. How could she not be? But it doesn't make any of this any easier. We have his funeral in a few days—Saturday afternoon—and I'm concerned for her health until she can fully process this.

  "I'll bring some food to her in a few minutes," I say, keeping my eyes on my work unintentionally. My mind is simply stuck in one place, and it's been hell at practice over the last week as well. I'm struggling to keep everything off the field and shit, right now, I wish I was more like Benj.

  Liv lays a hand on my shoulder and rests her head against my arm. "That'll be good. She'll appreciate it, even if it doesn't look like it." She pulls back and looks toward me, I turn my head and finally meet her gaze.

  For a moment, it's quiet, and her lips pull into a weak smile as she steps away from me. "I know about you and Bloom," she says, crossing her arms loosely over her chest and leaning back against the kitchen counter. "I'm not mad or anything, just so you know."

  I scoff and shoot a sideways glance to her. "Good, because I have a feeling you've had something else going on for a while."

  Her cheeks redden, and her eyes widen just slightly before she looks down at her feet. "Yeah, well. It's nothing now," she speaks quietly, fidgeting her hands at the edge of her hoodie while the silence grows between us.

  "When all of this settles, we'll talk about it. Okay? But I can't really focus on those details right now." I'm trying to be honest, even if it means pushing some things off for a while. I have to juggle different priorities, and this falls rather low on my list.

  "Yeah, yeah, of course," Liv steps away from the counter and starts walking out of the kitchen. "You take care of Bloom, all right? Make sure she doesn't—I don't know—do anything crazy."

  Do anything crazy.

  Yeah, the thought has crossed my mind before. I don't even know what crazy entails for Bloom, but I know she's in a dark place right now.

  I nod in agreement as Liv finally disappears, whether she left completely or went to find her brother—I don't know. But I call out to everyone in the house when the food's finished, packing up a couple burgers for Bloom and I before heading out on my own.

  I climb in my Jeep and drive over to Theta Si, parking just behind her little Ford Focus. I don't bother knocking on the house door when I get there, everyone is used to me showing up by now.

  Stepping inside, a few of the girls wave or shout hello, and I hurry up the staircase and in front of Bloom's closed door.

  Knock knock.

  I press my ear to the surface, listening for any response from my girl. But there's nothing, and I can't say I'm horribly surprised. I twist the knob and try to open it, but find it's locked so I can't get in.

  "Bloom," I say through the door, the tiniest shred of fear and worry suddenly sparking in my chest. "Bloom." I knock again, but there's nothing.

  No response. Not a sound of shuffling I can make out on the other side.

  "Bloom!" I shout this time, hitting the door with the side of my fist as I try the knob once more.

  "Jesus fucking chri—" I start, and just as I'm thinking I may need to ram the door open with my fucking shoulder, the click of it unlocking sounds ahead of me. She twists the knob so it opens, but turns and walks away as soon as it's free.

  I step inside and shut it behind me, watching in silence as she walks back to her bed and climbs under the covers. She rolls to her side, tucking her hands under her cheek while I set our food down and walk over to her.

  Crouching beside her bed, I take her in. Her skin is ashy, a clear loss of color and the vibrancy she usually holds. Her hair is tied up on top of her head, in a wild knot that's now become a tangled mess.

  But her eyes are what worry me those most.

  They're vacant. Empty. Swollen with the tears she clearly keeps shedding.

  I lift a hand and rest it on her check, brushing my thumb across her skin where it's red and stained. "Baby," I quietly say, wishing more than anything I could take away some of her pain. "I brought you food."

  "I'm not hungry," she replies, continuing to watch me with a hallow gaze.

  "I know you aren't," I say, offering a soft smile as my hand slides down her slender arm. She's wearing an old sweater that belonged to her dad. It was one of the few things she still had of him before he would disappear. "But you've got to eat something, at some point today. Even small. I'll be here to eat with you."

  "You can go," she states dryly. And I try not to let it hurt like it instinctually does.

  "I'm not leaving you, Bloom." I remind her, but this time I'm taking it a step further. "I'm staying tonight. We can hang out up here in bed all day, watch movies, eat and then pass out. But I'm not leaving you alone."

  It's Thursday, tomorrow I have to be home for a house party the team is holding. But I'll be camped out upstairs, studying and staying sober before the funeral on Saturday.

  "You really don't need to do that," she replies in a flat, monotone voice. "I promise I'm fine."

  I narrow my eyes at her, "Really?" I ask just before I stand and grab our food. I walk to the other side of the bed, climbing in over her covers while I nudge her with my elbow. "Come on, Baby Bloom. Take one bite and you can call it quits."

  She's silent for a moment, and I watch the rise and fall of her shoulders while she lays away from me. But finally, slowly, she rolls over and scoots up, resting her back against the frame of her bed.

  Her head falls against my shoulder, and I throw my arm around her while pulling her close.

  This fucking hurts.

  It hurts me, and I know what I'm feeling is nothing compared to what she's going through.

  I hold one of the burgers out to her, lifting it toward her face as she leans forward and takes a small bite. She chews in a sluggish and vacant way, her eyes glued ahead of us before finally swallowing.

  I offer it to her again, but she holds up her hand and turns away from it. "You said one bite," she reminds me. I run my hand up and down the outside of her arm, tugging her even closer when her hand reaches across my stomach and she clings to me.

  "All right," I surrender, she's right. I did say that. I put our food away and pull her over my leg, tucking her against my chest with my arms tightly wound around her. I press a soft kiss to her head and I can already see the quiet tears slipping down her cheeks again. "Bloom, baby."

  "I just can't believe this. Like it hasn't actually registered in my mind it's true. I keep thinking he's on the streets somewhere, binging and drinking and lost. But not gone, not really." She's sobbing, her fingers twisting firmly into my shirt while her entire body shakes against me.

  I hold her as tightly as I can, trying to offer as much comfort and security I can possibly manage to give her. "I wish I could fix this for you. I wish your dad was still here, that there was some way we could change
what happened, baby. But we can't," I whisper against her, kissing her again and brushing the tears from under her eyes.

  "I know, I know. I wish there was too. I just—I can't believe he's really gone," she replies quietly, her words choked out on breathy cries.

  "Have you spoken to your mom yet?" I ask, thinking maybe this will distract her a bit.

  "Yeah, a little. She's coming home for the funeral." Her voice is vacant again, as if it doesn't really matter what her mom said. "She was sad, but not surprised. I can't seem to believe that's how she's really feeling as well. How can she? After everything we've all been through together?"

  More tears. More cries. More shaky words and wishes for the past.

  "Ah," I start, unsure of how to understand her mom’s reaction. "Your mom let go of your dad a long time ago. Maybe—maybe she had already lost hope for his health then too." My hand slides to the hairband on her head, I pull it free, letting her hair spill out over her shoulders.

  "She was hopeless. I wish I had let go of him a long time ago too," she whispers her confession and god, it rips at my heart and stings my blood.

  "No, you don't, Bloom. You needed this time with your dad, and he needed those moments with you. If you had given up hope for him, you may not have gone to visit him this last time." I lean down and grip her chin with my fingers, tilting her head up so she's forced to look at me. "And that visit? It was everything, for both you and your dad. He was present, and happy, and healthy. He wants you to remember him like he was then, Bloom."

  Her lower lip quivers and her glassy eyes fill again with countless tears. The energy between us is so heavy, weighted down with regrets and despair. It's agonizing, the pain she's radiating and everything I'm able to absorb from this.

  Silent tears slip down her face and over her lips. I wish I could change everything for her, give her the father she always deserved, take away the addiction that tore him apart. Take care of her. In every way I possibly can.

  "Why does it have to feel like this?" she cries, her eyes searching mine desperately for the answers she's clearly looking for. "Like everything inside of me is dead. Like life is dull and useless. Like nothing actually matters anymore."