Tate:hope he’s not putting you to sleep, pretty girl because I can’t stop thinking about your mouth, and the way you moan
My breath stutters.
Carter sees it instantly. “What is it?”
I don’t even think before showing him, which is probably telling in itself, because part of me wants to see how he reacts, wants to see if that softness shifts into something else.
He half groans, followed by a laugh. “Fucking Tate.”
I set my phone down. Not to ignore Tate’s message but because Carter’s eyes are locked on me, his screen catching the curve of my shoulder and the outline of my tank top like he’s memorizing every pixel.
“He doesn’t get to have you tonight,” Carter says quietly. “Not like this.”
Even though he’s trying to sound confident, I can hear the tension in his voice, the shared space of possessiveness he’s still figuring out how to wear.
I tilt the camera a little, giving him a better view of the dip in my collarbone. “No,” I say softly. “All yours tonight.”
Carter swallows hard, he looks halfway destroyed and I haven’t even touched myself yet. “Tell me what to do,” he breathes. “Please.”
That word—please—it hits me in the chest every time. He says it like he absolutely means it. I think that’s why it turns me on more than anything else. He wants to get it right, for me.
My fingers trail lightly over the curve of my neck, just to tease. “Start slow, just watch me.”
His breath stutters. “I am.”
The way he’s looking at me, hungry and eager, it makes me feel bold, made of fire. I let my hand slip lower beneath the hem of my tank, just a tease of skin, just enough to make his lips part and his jaw clench.
He shifts under his blanket. His camera angle dips slightly, I catch a glimpse of his stomach and the waistband of his sweats riding low, his breath catching every time I move.
“You can touch yourself too, Carter,”
He nods immediately, his hand disappearing beneath the frame as his head tips back for a second, and I can see it the rush of sensation hitting him all at once.
“I—I don’t know if I’ll last long,” he admits, breathless. “Just watching you…”
“You don’t have to,” I whisper. “I just want you to feel good.”
His eyes squeeze shut as he groans softly. I can tell he’s trying to hold it together for me, trying not to fall apart too fast, even though his body’s begging him to. My mind drifts back to the first night with him, how hard he tried to please me first.
“Talk to me,” I coax. “Tell me how it feels.”
His lips part, and it takes him a second to find his voice. When he does, it’s barely there. “Feels like you’ve got your hands on me,” he says. “Like I’ve been waiting for this forever, like it’s finally happening for the first time, I don’t want it to stop.”
I press my fingers to my lips, the tension building between my thighs as I whisper, “Then don’t stop.”
His breathing is ragged now. My name falls from his lips again, a desperate whisper wrapped in want. I can tell he’s close, his eyes fluttering, his throat tight as he tries to hold on, tries to wait for me.
I dip my hand into my shorts, circling my soaked clit. “I’m so fucking wet for you Carter, s-so close,” I murmur. “Come with me.”
“Fuck—Haven—” His voice cracks, it’s too much, it’s everything.
“Look at me when you do,” I whisper.
When his eyes meet mine, I fall apart. A slow, shuddering moan slips past my lips as my body clenches, heat rushing through me like a spark catching dry leaves, all-consuming and bright. My hips jerk, fingers stilling. On the other sideof the screen, Carter groans low, his whole body tensing, eyes squeezing shut, his hand faltering before he finally stops.
“Oh my God,” he breathes, chest heaving, forehead falling forward like he’s too overwhelmed even to sit upright.
We’re both quiet for a second. Just the sound of breathing, of the soft hum of our computers, of the silence after a storm.
