by R. S. Lively
“What do you think?” he asks.
“I think it's amazing,” I say. “It's – so powerful and compelling.”
He nods, but his face is solemn. “And so sad.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “That too.”
I walk around the display, taking a closer look at it. It's then I see that there are names etched into every single one of the bullets and my heart feels like it's ripping in two. Eventually, we move on, but the image of that piece lingers in my mind.
We stroll around the gallery for close to an hour, examining all the pieces on display. Several, I find quite striking, but nothing impacted me like that one sculpture did. We say goodbye to Harold, but as we go to the door, Carter stops me.
“Hang on, I forgot that I needed to talk to Harold about something.”
I nod. “Oh, okay.”
He steps away and goes over to speak to Harold. Their voices are low, and I can't make out what they're saying, but the big man starts to laugh and claps Carter on the shoulder. A moment later, he rejoins me at the door and we step back out into the night.
Arm in arm, we walk back down toward where Roger is waiting with the car. A group of three twenty-somethings pass us, hipsters all of them. I see their heads turning to watch me as we pass and I feel uncomfortable beneath the scrutiny.
“Damn, I'd hit that twice,” one of the kids mutters.
“I'd do things to her that are illegal in most states.”
Carter stops, and I feel him tense. When I look into his face, I see that his jaw is clenched, his eyes are narrowed, and he looks ready for a fight.
“Carter, no,” I say. “It's okay.”
He gives me a small smile and disengages himself from me. My heart thumps hard inside of me as I see his face darken with rage as he turns around and walks toward the group of hipsters.
“You wanna say that again?” he says.
The three twenty-somethings exchange looks with each other, smarmy smiles on their faces.
“We was just admiring your woman,” says the first guy, a tall kid with a bushy beard and horrible acne on his face.
“You boys need to learn about something called respect,” Carter says, his voice low.
They all burst into laughter, nudging each other in the ribs like it's the funniest thing they've ever heard.
“And who's gonna teach us, old man? You?”
The bushy bearded kid steps forward as Carter slips out of his jacket. He tosses it back to me and I catch it. I want to tell him to stop. To pull him away before this gets out of hand. I take a step forward and let out a gasp of surprise when a hand falls on my shoulder. I quickly spin, my hand raised, when I find myself looking into Roger's face.
He shakes his head. “Best to not interfere, miss,” he says.
“We can't just let this happen,” I say. “There are three of them and only one of Carter.”
Roger smirks. “Don't underestimate Mr. Bishop,” he says.
There's something in his voice that tells me he's seen Carter in situations like this before. Three against one though? I personally find fighting barbaric and unnecessary. But then, so were the remarks they made about me. They were offensive and rude. But, that I can handle. Seeing Carter squaring off with three young, relatively fit kids worries me to no end.
“Just – wait,” Roger says.
Given that his hand is clamped onto my shoulder like an iron vice, I'm not going anywhere. I have no choice but to stand there and wait.
“Apologize,” Carter says. “Tell the lady you're sorry for being a rude, disrespectful little pig.”
“Pfffttt,” the kid replies. “Go fuck yourself.”
Carter smirks. “That your final answer?”
“Ummm – lemme think about it for a minute,” the kid says. “Yeah, go fuck yourself.”
Carter's fist is a blur of movement. I hear the crack of his fist meeting the kid's face before I even register that Carter had thrown a punch. The kid's head is rocked back and a spray of red shoots into the night air. He stumbles backward, falling flat on his ass with a grunt which is quickly followed by a howl of pain. He clutches his nose and I see the blood squeezing out from between his fingers.
Carter looks to the kid's friends and takes a step toward one of them. They both back up, hands raised in surrender, their faces stricken as they look at their fallen comrade who continues to roll around on the ground, wailing like he'd been shot.
“I think you owe the lady an apology,” Carter says.
The two guys who are still on their feet turn and look at me, eyes wide, terror on their faces.
“I'm sorry,” the first one says.
“I didn't mean any disrespect,” says the second. “Really sorry.”
“Now pick up your friend and get the fuck out of here,” Carter growls.
They scramble to get their friend on his feet, each of them slinging one of his arms over their shoulders and scurry off down the street. I look over and see Roger on the verge of laughter. He just shakes his head as Carter rejoins us. He looks down at me and gives me a rueful grin.
“I don't tolerate being disrespected,” he says. “And I really don't tolerate somebody I care for being disrespected. I'm sorry you had to see that though. I know you don't like violence.”
I'm numb with disbelief as I stare at him and then cast my gaze to the still retreating figures of the three hipsters. He's right, I abhor violence. He used to tease me about being a bleeding heart, but I just don't like the idea of people hurting one another.
Standing there in the wake of that fight – as quick as it was – my opinion on the matter hasn't changed. I still abhor violence. But, I've never actually had somebody defend my honor the way Carter just did. That he put himself in harm's way to defend my dignity – well – to be honest, it was kind of hot. As shallow and vapid as that sounds.
“Thank you,” I say. “That was – something.”
I give him a smile and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. With Roger leading the way, we walk back to the car. As we slip into the back seat, and Roger closes the door, Carter turns to me, a look of earnestness in his face.
“Will you come home with me?” he asks.
Everything in my brain is screaming NO! Pump the brakes. Stop before the train runs me straight off the tracks. I know I shouldn't even be entertaining the idea, so I open my mouth to tell him so.
“Yes.”
My eyes widen, and my mouth falls open when I hear the words that just passed my lips. Maybe, it was the mojitos. Maybe, it was the overwhelming rush of endorphins of seeing Carter fight for me. Maybe, it was getting wrapped up in all those old, leftover feelings from a decade ago.
More than likely, it's a combination of all those things, but when I looked into Carter's eyes, I knew I wanted him more than anything in that moment. The warmth that had been spreading inside of me all night, finally made its way down between my thighs and I knew I needed to have him inside of me again.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes.”
~ooo000ooo~
“Wow,” I say. “You've certainly come a long way from Hell's Kitchen.”
I stand before the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the twinkling lights of Midtown Manhattan spread out below. The view I have from my own place in the Upper East Side – I got the condo after my aunt and uncle had passed – is nice. This though, is something else.
The lights in Carter's condo are dim. Candles burn on the mantel above the oversized fireplace and on some of the small tables scattered around the main room, and soft jazz music plays from a hidden sound system. There is a sunken living room behind me. The fireplace takes up one wall, two couches face each other, with a heavy oak and glass table between them.
His place is beautiful. Very tastefully decorated, with simple, subtle decorations. Beautiful works of art adorn the walls, and although it's obvious Carter had money, nothing about his place flaunts that fact. It's actually rather – restrai
ned.
Some folks with a lot of money feel the need to flaunt it. To let everybody know who steps through their doors that they are wealthy. People like that tend to go well over the top and their places are usually pretty gauche and gaudy.
Not Carter though. Like him, his home is very tastefully understated.
In the windows, I see him approaching me from behind. My body tenses and I feel a ripple of anticipation pass through me when he slips his hands around my waist. When he presses his lips to my neck, kissing his way from my ear to my collarbone, I let out a soft moan, currents of pleasure rolling through me. I raise my arm and run my hands through his hair as I feel the tip of his tongue upon my flesh.
“I've dreamed about this for ten years,” he says softly.
A small giggle slips past my lips. “I'm sure you managed to occupy yourself just fine with that parade of supermodels.”
He shrugs. “They met a need,” he says. “You fill my every want and desire.”
Gripping my waist a little tighter, he pulls me against him and I feel the length of his hard cock pressing against my ass. Heat blossoms between my thighs and I feel myself growing impossibly wet. The truth of the matter was that for the last ten years, I've dreamed of this too. Though I've been with other men, none have ever compared, and I even had to close my eyes and fantasize about Carter with a few of them. When I masturbate, although I watch porn, more often than not, it's with him in mind.
So yeah, I know all about what it's like to dream and fantasize about something for years.
Sliding my hand down, I grip his cock through his slacks as he continues to kiss my neck. He stops me though, grabbing my wrist and pulling it away from him. Instead, he pushes himself harder against me, grinding his hard prick against my ass.
Turning me around, he presses his mouth to mine and kisses me. His tongue slips between my lips and dances with my own, nearly stealing the breath right out of me. Our kiss grows in intensity and passion as he picks me up. I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and my legs around his waist and he carries me down the three steps into the sunken living room.
Gently laying me down on the couch, he hovers over me for a moment. The glow from the fireplace dances and flickers upon him, making his eyes sparkle like jewels. He kisses me again and slides down my body, a roguish little smile on his face. Pulling me to the edge of the deep, oversized couch, I shudder as he parts my thighs. His eyes never leaving mine, he slides his hands up my legs, the feel of his fingertips on my flesh sending lightning bolts of pleasure racing through me.
I let out a choked gasp when he touches me through my panties. He slides them down my legs and tosses them aside, his gaze never leaving mine. Pushing my dress up around my waist, he lowers his face, tracing the tip of his tongue around my dripping wet, swollen lips. I cry out, feeling like a bomb has just gone off inside of me when he buries his tongue deep inside of me.
“God, Carter,” I cry. “Yes, baby. Yes.”
He licks and sucks on me, seeming to savor every last bit of me. I grab his hair, pulling it hard, then push his face down deeper into me, unable to get enough of having his mouth on me. I grind myself against him, the waves of pleasure growing stronger, rocking me harder. I arch my back and cry out, my hand gripping the back of his head tightly.
When he takes my clit into his mouth, sucking and nipping on it at the same time he buries two fingers deep into me, my eyes snap open and a loud, stuttering moan escapes my throat. He drives his fingers into me hard and fast, his tongue and mouth working magic on my clit. The pressure inside of me is building and my body starts to tremble.
“C – Carter, I'm going to...”
My voice trails off as I moan and grind myself hard against his mouth, unable to get enough of him.
“Come for me, Darby,” he says, his breath warm, his deep voice vibrating against me. “Come for me, baby.”
To emphasize his desire, he drives his fingers even deeper, sucks on my clit harder, and that pushes me over the edge and drops me down into crashing waves of sheer ecstasy. I feel like I've lost control of my body as it bucks and thrashes wildly, my orgasm quickly making my body tense up one moment, then making it feel as limp as a wet noodle the next. Carter slips his tongue back into me, tasting me. Savoring me as my climax rolls through me.
Slowly, it subsides, and I'm pulled back from that peak once more. The fires still burn bright and hot within me, I'm dripping wet, and my desire for him has never been higher.
“I need you, Carter,” I gasp. “I need you inside of me.”
Carter raises his face, my juices glistening on his lips and chin in the firelight. I've never seen a sexier sight in my life. He stands up and pulls me into a sitting position. Standing before me, he keeps his gaze locked onto mine as he slowly and methodically takes off his tie and drops it on the couch. Next, he unbuttons his shirt with that frustratingly slow pace.
My want and need driving me forward, I'm unable to contain myself, and reach for his pants. Grabbing hold of his belt, I quickly undo it, only to have him grab both of my wrists in one of his large, strong hands, and pull them away. I look up at him, confusion and lust making my head a maelstrom of chaos.
“Patience,” he says, his voice low and gravely.
His eyes sparkle dazzlingly, and my head starts to spin. I feel like I'm under his spell, unable to think, unable to act – only able to do as he says.
Carter drops his shirt on the floor beside him and I get my first look at his body and I feel myself grow even wetter. He's all hard angles and planes, his arms, shoulders, and torso corded with muscle. Slowly and hesitatingly, I reach up and then stop, looking up at him as if asking for permission.
“Yes,” he says, answering my unspoken question. “You may.”
Biting my bottom lip, desire driving me half out of my mind, I slide my hands across his taut stomach, up to his hard pecs, reveling in the feel of his strong flesh beneath my fingers. I lean forward and plant a soft kiss on his stomach, working my way up until the tip of my tongue is circling his nipple.
I feel his hands in my hair and he takes a handful of it, gripping it hard, and pulls my head back. I look up at him as he leans down and presses his mouth to me. His kiss is strong. Forceful. And full of desire. Keeping hold of my hair, Carter kicks off his shoes, unbuttons his pants, and lets them fall to the floor. His erection is straining against his boxers and I reach for it, only to have him push my hands away once more.
“Patience,” he repeats.
Letting go of my hair for a moment, he pushes his boxers down and kicks them off as well, standing before me entirely exposed. His cock is long and hard – every bit as beautiful as I remember it. I shudder as I recall how incredible it felt deep inside of me.
His eyes burning with an almost maniacal light of lust, Carter steps forward, the head of his glorious cock drawing ever nearer. My eyes never leaving his, I part my lips and allow him to slide it into my mouth. As I tighten my lips around that hard, thick shaft and start to swirl my tongue around the head of it, Carter's eyes flutter and he lets out a soft gasp.
I work my mouth up and down on his cock a little harder, a little faster, and Carter groans softly. Feeling emboldened, I raise one hand and wrap my fingers around the base of his cock, gripping him hard. I start to move my head up and down, his stiff prick filling my mouth, while I use my hand to stroke him at the same time. Carter is gasping as I work his hard rod with my mouth and hand with a fury, sucking and jerking him harder and faster.
Carter's breath catches in his throat and he softly moans my name as I work his cock with all of the passion and energy ten years of pent up sexual aggression and desire for him in me. I feel his body tensing beneath me and his breathing grows heavier, thicker. He steps back, pulling his cock out of my mouth. I look up, a salacious grin on my face.
“I'm not ready for this to be over yet,” he says.
“Good,” I reply. “I'm not either.”
“Be right back,” he says,
his voice thick.
Without a word, he turns and hurries up the steps, leaving me sitting on the couch. He returns a moment later, a condom in his hand and that roguish smile back on his face.
“Stand up,” he says.
I quickly get to my feet as he steps behind me. Carter places a soft, sensual kiss on the back of my neck as he slides the zipper on my dress down. He pushes it off my shoulders and lets it fall to the ground, gently kissing my shoulders as his hands roam my body. The feeling of his hands on my flesh sets my body aflame, my every nerve ending quivering with desire.
His eyes riveted to my body, Carter walks around me, drinking in every inch of me. The look on his face is one of pure rapture, the fires of desire in his eyes burning even brighter. Hotter. I feel a soft quiver roll through me as he gazes at my body, as he looks at me like I'm the most beautiful woman he's ever laid eyes on.
“My God,” he whispers. “I've almost forgotten just how beautiful you are. You are absolute perfection, Darby.”
The heat rushes into my cheeks and I'm suddenly glad for the dim lighting in the room so he can't see the unnatural shade of red I'm undoubtedly turning.
“Stop,” I say softly.
He lifts my chin so that our gazes are firmly locked, and I can see the conviction in his eyes.
“You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Darby,” he says. “Always have been, always will be. You are absolute perfection in my eyes.”
A warm glow fills my body. I've received plenty of compliments in my lifetime, but the way Carter speaks, with such passion and firm resolve – it means more to me than every other compliment I've gotten in my life combined. It fills me with a happiness and a joy that's been missing from my life for so long – so long, I'd forgotten it was even missing in the first place.
Carter leans forward and kisses me again, soft and gentle at first, but quickly grows in intensity. He pulls back and hands me the condom.