Page 195 of Stranger to Love

I gladly gave it to her. Two fingers slid in with effortless ease—she felt like fucking heaven. Wet, warm, and already tightening as she found her own rhythm, grinding down onto my hand while her breathing turned heavy and jagged against my ear.

I was getting fucking soaked myself. I bit my lip to keep from crying out as I matched her pace, hooking my fingers to hit that perfect spot. The movement earned me a sharp puff of air against my skin as her grip on my shoulders turned bruising. God, I loved her like this.

"You have no idea how good you feel," I moaned, upping the tempo. My fingers slid in and out of her as if I was building toward my own peak. Her body tensed at my words, so I kept fucking using them. "I've wanted you to ride my fingers for so long, Mommy."

Her hips practically buckled, and she let out a low, guttural moan. I was so fucking turned on my voice was starting to break. I turned my head to whisper directly into her ear, "I love how you use me. Grinding on my fingers just to get exactly what you need."

"Fuck, Alex," she whimpered, and Jesus... hearing her swear like that while she whined and rode my hand was making me ruin my own knickers. My nipples were so fucking sensitive, pressed hard against her as she thrust against me. I might actually have come like this, and she was not even fucking touching me.

I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me; I was throbbing so hard it actually fucking hurt. Carrie shivered and lifted her head from my neck, her pace against my hand slowing just a fraction. She looked down at me, her eyes heavy-lidded and glazed in that spaced-out way that told me she was right on the edge.

She bit her lip, pushing herself up just enough to look me in the eye without losing our connection. I could practically see her mind working, so I just let her take whatever she wanted, concentrating entirely on the rhythmic pump of my fingers inside her. Then, she glided her thumb across my rock-hard nipple, and I whimpered—that was fucking mean. She smirked, her dominance resurfacing even as she closed her eyes when I deepened my pace.

Her hands moved like lightning, bunching the hem of my nightgown up until it pooled under my chin. Before I could even register what was fucking happening, she ground down deep on my fingers and leaned back in. I matched her pace, gasping for air, but then the breath was knocked out of me completely as she took my nipple into her mouth. No teasing, no fucking preamble—just firm suction and her tongue swiping over the peak.

“Fuck... shit—Carrie!” I gasped, my chest arching up to meet her. She began chasing her own release with a new fervour, clearly getting off on the fucking wrecked sounds I was making.

Between the slick of her wetness coating my hand, my own desperate moans, and the sensation of her mouth on me, it was sensory overload. I could feel her tightening around my fingers; my hand was starting to fucking cramp, but I pushed through, desperate to feel her break.

She started to lose her momentum as the orgasm finally crashed over her, but I was right there, driving my fingers in as hard as I could while she cried out. She moaned against my skin and then dived back onto my sensitive nipple, sucking so hard I let out a jagged scream.

Oh shit. I was fucking coming.

My hand flew from her hip, lacing into her hair as she jumped to my other nipple. She was sucking so hard it would probably leave a bruise, but I couldn’t have cared less as I cried out, my body tensing with a violent, white-hot climax while my fingers were still buried inside her.

I’d never come like this before. My body felt like it was fucking short-circuiting.

As I tried to make sense of the world again, Carrie pulled back. She pressed a soft, lingering kiss to each of my nipples before shivering as I slowly withdrew my fingers. She let out a long, happy sigh, lying down beside me and finally kicking her knickers off the edge of the bed.

I chuckled breathlessly, licking my soaked fingers. I fucking loved the taste of her. “Well... that was new.”

Carrie chuckled, pressing a kiss to my shoulder as she gently pulled my nightgown back down for me. I shook my head, sucking my fingers once more before turning to her. “I never knew a woman could be so damn hot that I’d come without her even... well, without her even really trying.”

Carrie smirked, one elegant shoulder shrugging. “I wouldn't say I didn't try, princess.”

I laughed, leaning into her side. “Yeah. Fair enough.”

Carrie reached out, cupping my cheek and pulling me into a slow, lingering kiss that tasted like salt and satisfaction.

"I love you," she whispered against my lips, her voice barely more than a breath.

The weight of it always hit me right in the chest, no matter how many times I heard it. I leaned into her palm, my heart swelling. "I love you too," I whispered back, feeling like the luckiest woman in the world.

For a few seconds, we just lay there in the warm morning light, tangled together and enjoying the quiet. But then, the memory of our "mission" for the day bubbled back up, and I couldn't help the mischievous grin that spread across my face.

I propped myself up on my elbow, looking down at her. "Well," I said, my eyes dancing. "The rescue centre doesn't open for another couple of hours. I’d say we have just enough time for a very long, very thorough shower before we head out to find my puppy."

Carrie raised an eyebrow, a familiar, knowing glint returning to her gaze. "A long shower, hm? And I suppose you'll be needing help reaching your back?"

"And everywhere else," I confirmed, sliding off the bed and reaching out a hand to tug her with me. "Come on, Dr. Carter. We have to be clean if we're going to meet the newest member of the family."

Carrie let out a soft laugh, allowing me to lead her toward the bathroom. "You are quite the negotiator when you want to be. I suppose I can spare the time.”

The drive to the rescue centre was marked by Carrie’s stoic, silent contemplation, while I practically vibrated in the passenger seat. As much as she tried to play the part of the reluctant benefactor, I knew she’d do anything to see me this happy, even if it meant sacrificing her silence and her expensive rugs to a four-legged riot.

We’d already cleared the initial hurdles. Before we went to Italy, a very intimidated-looking volunteer had come to the house to assess its "viability." I’d watched Carrie’s amusement grow as the woman’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, her gaze darting from the velvet sofas to the priceless vases. The volunteer had practically whispered her concerns about "pristine furnishings," a sentiment Carrie had actually appreciated. Finally, someone else who understood the sheer madness of bringing a puppy into this sanctuary of minimalist luxury.

Now, we were sitting in a small, cozy meet-and-greet room, the air smelling faintly of floor cleaner and old tennis balls. After a brief interview where I’d promised endless training sessions and Carrie had—quite firmly—promised discipline, the staff had gone to fetch our first potential match.