Dear Life

by Meghan Quinn

  “I don’t know. I just . . .” How do I put this into words without sounding completely insecure?

  I don’t get a chance to answer because Carter is whispering in my ear, his voice so strong, so sexy that I feel my legs start to tremble from the way his baritone voice hits me with every stressed word.

  “You don’t think I want you? You couldn’t be more wrong, Daisy. This pull between us, this connection, it’s unmistakable. It’s in my blood that I need to be near you, that I want you. There is no denying it. I don’t need you to try to be sexy, because you’re already sexy to me. By being just you, you’re sexy to me.” He kisses the side of my neck, his hands working their way down my arms to my waistline. “Calling you adorable, now that’s never going to change.”

  “Carter.” I go to protest when his hands cross over my stomach and work their way to the button on my jeans.

  Immediately, my hearts starts to hammer in my chest, my stomach drops, and a dull ache takes place between my legs, causing them to fall apart.

  “Do you know why you’re adorable, my sweet sexy girl?” he asks, his lips dancing across my lobe.

  My mouth is watering. I’m afraid to speak, so I shake my head.

  Without even looking, his dexterous fingers undo the button of my jeans, a rush of heat flooding my body, yearning taking over every nerve ending that’s prickling with anticipation.

  Undoing my zipper—my heart’s in overdrive, my breathing erratic—he kisses my neck again and then says, “Because, with just my light, little movements of undoing your pants, you’ve become so sexually charged, so palpable with need that I’m about to lose all self-control and fuck you right here on this couch.” A gasp pops out of me, but the thought doesn’t deter me. “But it’s not going to go down like that,” he say, his fingertips slowly working their way under my jeans, under the elastic of my thong.

  “Instead of me flipping you over, your stomach against the arm rest, my dick propped up behind you ready for entry, I’m going to take my time with you. Do you know why? Because you’re special, you’re one of a kind, and I would rather savor every inch of your virtuous and honest body, than have a few minutes of quick, dirty sex.”

  The tips of his fingers play with the top of my pubic bone, rendering me speechless.

  “Wha-what are you doing now?” I ask, not really sure what to say in this situation. Awkwardness starts to consume me, that’s until Carter moves his fingers down lower until they hit the top of my slit. “Oh,” I sigh in surprise, shifting my body closer against his where his erection is pressing against my back.

  I’m turning him on. How is that even possible? He’s so much cooler than me. So much more experienced, so much more . . . everything.

  “Can you do me a favor, Snowflake?”

  I nod, unsure of what he’s about to ask me.

  The feel of his lips press against the nook of my neck and shoulder, soothing me. “Strip off your jeans.”

  “T-take them off?” My voice wavers, my nerves on high alert.

  “Yes, take them off.” The way he says those four words, with such depth, such velvety smooth insistence, I do just what he says.

  With his hand under my thong, his middle finger casually smoothing over the top of my slit, I take my jeans off, kicking them to the side once they’re at my feet. It’s hard not to feel awkward, lying on Carter’s couch, his chest to my back, his dark to my soft, wearing nothing but a shirt and underwear. Does he find this sexy?

  “Fuck, Daisy,” he whispers, the faint feel of his scruff against my jaw. “Why did you hide those legs from me for so long? I want my face buried between them.” Even though I don’t know what that is like, I want it too. I simply want. I want Carter. “But I will save that for another day. This shirt though, we’re going to have to do something about it.”

  The hand not teasing me with delicious strokes, moves up my stomach, scooting my shirt up along with it. Carter’s head leans over my shoulder, watching with interest as he exposes inch after sinful inch of skin until he gets to my breasts. He leaves the shirt resting under my bra, never tempting to go any higher. I want to scream. I don’t want him to stop.

  “Take my shirt off,” I say. The brazenness in my demand actually catches me off guard.

  “No,” he responds, shooting me down. A wave of embarrassment washes over me right before his hand falls lower into my thong. “I have to touch you here first.”

  With ease, his finger slides along my slit, never pressing too deep, just skimming the surface, exploring. I’ve never been touched like this. Heck, I’ve never touched myself this intimately. The sensation is all new to me, as well as the slickness between my legs, the tingling waves undulating up my back, and the tightness in my stomach like any minute it’s going to bottom out in the most pleasurable way possible.

  “Christ, Daisy. You’re so damn wet. This is why you’re so fucking sexy to me. With just a finger passing over you, you’re soaking, ready for more.”

  “It’s the way you touch me, talk to me.”

  “Mmm,” he hums in my ear. “You like my voice, pretty girl?”

  “Yes.” I nod, my head resting on his shoulder as he continues to pass his finger over me, never going deep.

  “I’ll remember that, especially when I’m balls deep inside you.” Where my shirt is bunched just below my breasts, he starts to slip his fingers underneath the fabric, his fingers playing with the lace on my bra. The movement stills me, my breath hitching with each pass. “Now that I have my hand where I want it, teasing you, I can’t wait much longer to see your breasts.” No answer needed when it comes to Carter because he takes charge and lifts the rest of my shirt up so it’s around my collarbone, my bra-covered breasts on display.

  The chilly air hits me and I can feel my nipples puckering under Carter’s heated touch, his hands exploring the cups of my bra. And with one yank of the fabric, he pulls the cup of my right breast down, letting everything hang out.

  “Fuck, yes,” he mumbles, his hand immediately going to my nipple where he takes no time squeezing it.

  It’s as if my nipple is connected to the junction between my legs because one little pinch of my nipple has me flying upward, seeking relief from his finger.

  “Oh my,” I voice, unsure if that’s sexy or not.

  “Do you like it when I squeeze your nipple, Daisy?” He rolls the nub in his fingers with precision, making my body convulse in ways I never thought were possible.

  Breathlessly, I answer, “Yes.”

  “Good.” He pinches my nipple this time just as his finger rubs along my bundle of nerves, breaking the surface and causing all sorts of sensations to course through me.

  “Oh, Carter.” My hand grabs the back of my neck as I arch into his touch. “Oh it feels . . .” My voice dies off as he continues to rub my clit, making little circles with his thumb.

  “How does it feel?”

  “Like I-can’t-breathe amazing.”

  “Then I’m doing my job,” he whispers and kisses my neck, his fingers playing me like an instrument.

  Just when I feel like he’s not able to make me feel anything else in this moment with his rumbling voice, his rough, scratchy jawline, and his skillful fingers, he curls his wrist and sends a finger inside me, curving upward. Instinctively, my legs spread apart and my body melts into him, fully giving myself over.

  “I want you to remember this,” he says into my ear, his lips kissing my lobe. While he speaks, his fingers pick up their pace, my body igniting into a ball of flame, sensations synapsing every which way. “When you’re not feeling sexy, or pretty, or wanted, remember this moment. Right now, Daisy, with your legs spread, your breathing eratic, your eyes deliciously closed from pleasure, this right here is why you’re so damn sexy to me. You give yourself wholeheartedly over to me without question, which is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Daisy Beauregard, partially naked, writhing in passion, no qualms about me exploring this perfect body. This is why you’re sexy. Don’t ever
fucking forget that.”

  His pace is now relentless and for the first time, I have this deep burning sensation build in the pit of my stomach. My legs feel like noodles, my cheeks flush, my core contracts, and white-hot bliss pours through me, starting from my toes and shooting up my spine without any reservations, hitting every nerve ending on its way up.

  I can’t hold back the moan from the feeling taking over my body. I feel light, loose, free—incredible. The sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Me? I can barely move from the pulses of pleasure still running through me. His fingers are still inside me and I hope he doesn’t take them away anytime soon. Heavens.

  Is this what an orgasm feels like? If so, I want to have one every hour of every day. I want to kiss him, touch him, explore his body. Will he let me though?

  “Fucking hell that was hot,” Carter says on a heavy breath. “Jesus, Daisy.”

  I’m motionless, as if my bones have melted with one pinch of the nipple. Everything in my body is tingling, set on fire, embers igniting my need for more.

  “That was . . . really good,” I say awkwardly.

  “That was more than just good, Snowflake. That was fucking magical.” He pushes my shirt down and sits me up so he can reach my pants on the ground and hand them to me. “Get dressed so I can take you home.” Get dressed? Take me home?

  He walks over to the entryway, holds on to the door handle, and waits for me to get dressed. That’s kind of abrupt. He can’t even look at me. Insecurity once again floods my heart, making me feel self-conscious. Did I do something wrong? Will I ever get it right? Will I ever be able to read this man?

  Quietly and sheepishly, I put on my clothes, feeling more embarrassed than ever now. Only a few seconds ago, Carter had his hands all over me and now he can’t get me out the door fast enough. I don’t get it.

  “I can call a cab so you don’t have to drive me,” I suggest, slinging my purse over my shoulder once I’m all dressed.

  “Yeah, that’s not happening.” We exchange glances and he looks almost pained. I’m so freaking lost.

  Not wanting to end this night on a bad note, I take a deep breath and say, “Carter, I don’t know what happened, but if I did or said something wrong, please let me know.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Then why—”

  “If I don’t take you home now, I’m going to do something I’m going to regret. I’m going to fuck you ten times sideways until I feel a shred of the built-up tension that I’ve felt ever since I met you, ease. It’s dangerous for you to stay here with me. I’m not a good guy, but I’m trying to be one right now. So press those perfect lips against mine for a gentle kiss and then walk with me to my bike. You’re going home.”

  A small smile passes my lips. “You can’t control yourself around me?”

  He pulls on the strands of his hair and shakes his head. “I’m hanging on by a thread, Snowflake. So come fucking kiss me, and then get your adorable little ass downstairs. You’re going home.”

  I saunter over to him where he reaches behind me, presses his hand into my lower back, and pulls me in close, his other hand going to my cheek where he stares at me for a brief second and then kisses me passionately, his tongue wasting no time in meeting up with mine. A small moan escapes the back of his throat, and it’s one of the sexiest sounds I’ve ever heard.

  When he gently pulls away, he smiles down at me, his hands holding me in place. “This is a pretty shitty world, but you’re a bright beacon amongst all the dark.”

  Does he know he’s my beacon? Because right now, I wouldn’t be able to see past my nose without his guiding light. Even if I told him, I don’t think he’d believe me. Looks like I’ll just have to show him. I just hope I will know how.

  CARTER

  “Fear is an emotional hindrance on your state of mind. It’s very often as humans we let this emotion prevent us from moving forward, especially in our day-to-day life.” Marleen walks the room as she speaks, her short heels clicking along the concrete floor. “Fear can be debilitating, life altering, so intense and palpable that it paralyzes you. I know. I’ve seen this fear, I’ve faced it head-on.” She pauses, facing the wall and turns toward us. “I’m a recovering heroin addict.”

  Prior to her confession, her words were bouncing off the walls, never really sinking in, until she spoke of her past. Recovering heroin addict. Is that even possible? To recover from being an addict of such a destructive drug? In my experience with my parents, there is no recovering, only use after sickening use until you overdose, always chasing that first high, never ever able to obtain it.

  The air in the room stills as we all wait for Marleen, perfectly coiffed and pristine Marleen, talk about being a heroin addict. I never would have guessed that.

  “There were days that I would lie on my couch, my ex cooking the drug, and not able to move until I got my first hit. I was so dependent, so depressed, so consumed by chasing happiness that I truly never understood what happiness was to me. It got to the point that happiness was the drug for me. That if I didn’t shoot up every few hours, I was convinced I would fall into a deep depression, a depression so cataclysmic that I would want to commit suicide. So I continued to use.”

  Sounds about right. She could have been best friends with my parents.

  “But then, I got pregnant. On a bender, I was careless, didn’t use protection. The fear I faced the moment I saw the positive test in my hand, it was so consuming, I wasn’t sure if I could even walk out of the bathroom. I was pregnant. And the horrible thing was, I wasn’t scared about raising a baby, I was scared of giving up the only happiness I was aware of. Fear ate me alive, to the point that I kicked up my habit, shooting up more and more every day until I started miscarrying weeks later.” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “As I sat there, on my bathroom floor, blood from my baby around me, I wasn’t sure if life could get any more difficult. Instead of accepting fate and pushing past the fear, I let it set the course of my life.”

  Walking to the front of the classroom, she says, “Until you face your fears, push through, you will never know what’s waiting for you on the other side. In my instance, I could have been a mother, but will never really know what that’s like now. Don’t let this unpleasant emotion set the timeline of your life, like I let it do to me.”

  Clapping her hands together, she scans the room, making eye contact with what it seems like everyone. “Our next journey, if you haven’t guessed already, is to step up and face your fears. Think about what’s holding you back, what’s setting you apart from leaping over that fence and seeing what’s on the other side for you. It’s not until you face your fears that you will finally be able to find acceptance.”

  Fear.

  My fear doesn’t hinder me, it spurs me on. Fear of not being successful, of making something of myself will do that to you. What’s hindering me is my uncle. How am I supposed to metaphorically and lamely hop the fence if I have no control over it? I need money, I had money, money was taken away, therefore, I need to work again to get more money. No fear in that, just pure hatred.

  The session breaks, giving attendees a chance to go to the bathroom before we separate into our groups. Hollyn stands, stretching right before she heads to the bathroom. Jace pauses his FaceTime, leaving me alone with Daisy.

  Since I fooled around with her on my couch, I’ve seen her a few times, doing simple things like baking, cooking, and hitting up the local food trucks around the area. Nothing too intimate, nothing cutting close to where we went a week ago.

  I still can feel the imprint of her skin on my fingers and for some reason, it bothers me. I’m not stupid. I’m not one of those men who are blind to their feelings. I like Daisy, it’s as simple as that. But what I don’t get is why it bothers me.

  Maybe because whenever I’m around her, I can’t sulk and hate life like I want to. I can’t point a finger and tell Life to fuck off. When I’m with Daisy, I feel invigorated, even though everything else in my
life sucks. Even though nothing else about my life has changed. I don’t want to rely on her for happiness but damn if I haven’t done just that.

  “Are you ignoring me?” Daisy asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

  Slouched in my chair, my hands folded in my lap, I take a sideways glance at Daisy. She’s wearing a pair of black leggings, a thick sweater that comes to her upper thigh, and her boots. Her hair is straight, falling over her shoulders, looking extra blonde, extra innocent. She’s so damn beautiful and she has no idea.

  “Nah, I’ve got better things to ignore than you,” I answer.

  “What does that mean?” Her nose twists in confusion. “That doesn’t seem like a very nice answer, Carter.”

  I rub my face while letting out a long breath. “Yeah, I can be a dick sometimes. You should know this by now.”

  “You’ve always been nice to me.”

  “Because it’s hard to be a dick to someone like you.”

  “Then why are you being one now?” she asks, her face looking really worried.

  Fuck, I don’t want to make her cry. I’m in a shitty mood thanks to Marleen’s revelation. It’s managed to dig up old feelings of my parents and Daisy is the lucky one who gets to deal with it.

  “Not in a good mood,” I answer curtly.

  “Oh.” She plays with the hem of her sweater. From the corner of my eye, I can see her lifting her head up on occasion to glance in my direction. The innocent look starts to drive me crazy.

  “What?” I snap. “Why are you looking at me?”

  Her startled expression easily hits me in the gut, tipping me over the edge of being a dick to being concerned.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I did anything wrong.” Standing abruptly, she shoots across the room, other attendees blocking me from view.

  Good job, Carter. You’re a real fucking winner.

  Slowly, I get up, feeling the ache of my movement deep in my bones. I’m in my twenties but feel the burn of my forties in every joint. That’s what long nights of standing over a grill will do to you.