Page 80 of What It Should Be
Gripping his thighs, I urge him deeper, not giving him the option to pull out.
“You want me to come down your throat while you come on my tongue?” he questions before hooking his fingers so deep inside me I see stars again. Though, I’m not sure if it’s the blood rushing to my head or the impending second orgasm.
Nodding my head in reply, I take him deep again, using my teeth a second time. His cock swells in my mouth just as a sensation I’ve never felt before pools at the base of my spine. Tension pulls taut at my core, and when Carson’s tongue rapidly flicks at my clit again, the pressure in my core releases and I have the most intense orgasm of my life.
Did I just . . . ? Holy shit, I did. I just squirted. On his fucking face.
Carson lets out a feral growl as his cock pulses in my mouth and he comes down my throat and I moan as I swallow him down. His legs shudder beneath my palms, as he pulls out of my mouth.
In a move I’m not sure how he pulls off, he swings my other leg over his head, hikes me up over his shoulder, and makes his way into the bathroom. Setting me down, he starts the shower before pulling me into his chest.
“You. Are. My. Dream. Girl,” he tells me, punctuating each word with a kiss. Carson holds my head in his hands as he gazes longingly into my eyes. “How fucking privileged am I to call you mine?” I don’t get a chance to utter a single word before his lips crash against mine. Steam begins to fog the bathroom by the time we come up for air.
“Come on, let’s get cleaned up so I can fall asleep with my girlfriend on my chest again.”
My heart expands in my chest as he and I take turns washing each other with care. The feelings I have for this man eclipse all others I’ve ever felt before. It’s at this moment, as I’m safely wrapped in his arms in Venice, that I realize I’ve fallen inescapably in love with Carson Wilder on only our first date.
25
July
When we traveled from Venice to Florence yesterday, we stopped for lunch in Bologna before we got to our cottage tucked away in the countryside. The immaculate home overlooks the rolling hills of a nearby vineyard, with greenery that frames the windows and doors, covering the stone exterior, giving it the cottage feel. We’re not exactly roughing it, especially considering there is a butler and chef that stay on the property, but it has the most amazing vibes for my dream girl to write.
The entire reason I booked the place was because it has a private office that overlooks the vineyards, and the house is secluded, offering Dakota the opportunity to get in as much writing time as she can. Meanwhile, I plan to be in the pool that happens to be right outside one of her office windows, giving her all the inspiration she needs.
Waking up this morning, I feel on top of the fucking world. The other night, I made Dakota come twice on my tongue. And when she squirted on my face, I came so hard I thought I might spontaneously combust.
That was, hands down, the hottest night of my life. I’m wrecked in the best way. No one else could ever compare to Dakota. The way she feels nestled in my arms, the smell of her jasmine perfume, the sound of her sweet laughter filling the room—I’ll never get enough of her.
I’m out of my mind obsessed with her. But it’s okay. It’s the healthy kind of obsession. The kind of obsession I would feel okay sharing with my therapist during a session . . . probably.
“Your heart is racing,” Dakota informs me when she stretches in my arms.
“It does that from time to time. Well, really, just whenever you’re next to me. Good morning, gorgeous,” I murmur into her hair as I begin planting kisses all over her face.
“Stop! Oh my gosh!” she exclaims in between giggles.
Rolling her onto her back, I continue trailing kisses over every inch of her skin.
“Being with you like this has me feeling like I’m still dreaming,” I admit.
She tugs on my hair, bringing my face to hers. “You’re not dreaming, Carson. This is real,” she places my palm over her heart, which also means I’m palming her naked boob. Giving it a squeeze, I realize I’ve already ruined the sweet moment, so I might as well make the most of it.
Peeking up at her, I take her in. The way the morning light shines off the caramel highlights in her hair, which are lighter from the Italian summer sun. Her bronzed skin is on display for me, a stark contrast to the crisp, white sheets. Her sleepy eyes are hooded with lust. When she tries to bite back a smile, I tenderly pull on her chin and watch as her plump bottom lip breaks free.
“You’re sure I’m not dreaming?” I question before suggesting, “I think I’ve got the perfect test to let me know whether or not I’m still asleep.”
“Go for it,” she says with a yawn.
Leaning down, I pull her nipple into my mouth. When I do, her yawn turns to a gasp at the contact. I proceed to tweak, pinch, and bite her nipples, getting her worked up.
“I need more,” she mewls after I torture her for few minutes.
“I’ve got you,” I say as I shoulder my way between her thighs. “I’m going to start my day the best way I know how—with you splayed beneath me, begging and writhing for my cock, grinding on my face while I devour your sweet pussy. I am a man obsessed, Austen. I can’t get enough of you—the way you taste on my tongue, the way you moan my name, the sexy whimpers you make when I suck your clit. I’m greedy for every part of you.”
I don’t wait for an answer; instead, I languidly stroke my tongue through her slit. She loves when I flick my tongue over her clit, but this morning, I’m going to bring her to the brink and edge her a bit.
Once I’ve got her thoroughly riled up, she curses me while her fists clench the sheets.
