The Beautiful Game

Chapter Thirty One - Lou

I'm in Carter's bedroom, sat on the edge of his bed, exactly where I promised myself I would never end up.

I'd pretty much been sober from the moment my lips had touched his. The time it took for him to decide to kiss me back was enough for my courage to absolutely plummet. I was ready to buy a car and make tracks for Mexico and start a new life.

Then he'd kissed me back. And kissed me. And kissed me.

I could still feel his hands on my hips, taste his tongue in my mouth, hear his groan against my neck.

He'd gone to get me a drink of water, because I'd looked like a startled woodland animal, his words not mine. I really didn't want to look startled, I wanted to be a siren. Irresistible and wanton.

I hear the heavy thud of Carter's approaching footsteps and I feel my eager heartbeat at the apex of my thighs. I hope to God I can school my features into something remotely sexy and nothing like a woodland creature as I watch him enter the room, bottle of water in hand.

There's a small trip in his step as he catches sight of me, yet he doesn't break eye contact as he steadily gets closer. Now who's startled?

He stands less than a foot away from me, twisting off the cap; I lift my hand, waiting for him to pass it to me. But he doesn't.

There's a confident smirk on his face as he bats my hand away, it was the smirk of someone who had full confidence in their abilities; and from what I'd felt behind his jeans earlier... well.

His free hand rises to my jaw, softly, tilting it upwards. My lips part naturally, a small gasp escaping at the contact as he brings the bottle to my lips. We don't break eye contact the entire time, the absolute silence of his place and only the faint streetlight shining in, amplifying the intensity of the moment. His nostrils flare as the cold water pours against my lips and into my mouth, the hand encasing my jaw slipping lower to caress my throat as I swallow.

I'd accepted my fate with Carter earlier this evening, the moment I'd turned around at the bar and saw him; I knew.

I'd felt relief. I'd wanted this with him despite all my best instincts. 

I was no longer strong enough to fight the gravitational pull toward him. I'd meant what I said, I didn't want pressure or strings. I had too much pride to give in to his virginal stereotype.

He wanted me to be sure. He wanted submission. To surrender the battle lines, ones we'd drawn weeks and weeks ago.

Satisfied that I'd drank enough water, he placed the cap back on and set it on the table, turning back to me, his eyes wholly black in the dim light of the room.

"Are you sure?" I appreciated his need for consent, nodding as I edged backwards onto the centre of his bed, kicking my shoes off, resting back on my elbows and pulling my knees up.

"Tell me you want this Lou; I can handle being your stress relief, but I can't handle you regretting this tomorrow."

He stood to his full height at the end of the bed, both hands fisted at his sides, jaw clenched; a force to be reckoned with, almost shaking with restraint. Despite his experience and dominance, in that moment I felt complete and total control over him.

I had next to no experience with men. Not men like Carter anyway. I'd kissed boys, they'd kissed me back, maybe some boob grabbing. But Carter stared down at me like he wanted to devour me.

"I won't regret this." In a moment of sheer unadulterated bravery, I let my legs fall open, revealing myself to him. Internally thanking my waxing lady and Ella for convincing me the tiny sheer black thong was the only underwear suitable for beneath the red dress.