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Fuck fuck fuck.
Never in my life have I ever been so irresponsible. I can’t believe I lost myself so entirely that I would drop my load bare. Not to mention who it was with!
The water is running hot now, scalding my hand before I turn it off in a hurry. When I pass the damp cloth to Carter, she flinches at the temperature.
“Maybe wait a minute before you…you know…it’s hot. That would be a shitty burn in a shitty place.”
Note to self, don’t call a woman’s vagina a “shitty place” after you have been revering it for an hour.
She gives me a look like she can read my mind before rubbing the warm cloth over herself. She flinches slightly and I take the fabric from her hand. My mom always taught me to clean up after myself. Cleaning my orgasm off Carter knowing most of it is inside her makes me stupid.
“You’re on the pill, right? I know I should have asked before but you seemed determined to get right at it.”
Carter sits straight up, swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress, her feet hitting the floor and her knees at her chest. Her tits are away now, the passion dying with every moment that passes and each dumb word that flies from my lips.
“Ya. Safe to assume I wasn’t out to baby trap you or something. I am a responsible woman. I wouldn’t have practically put it in without protection if I didn’t have something as a backup.”
“Thank fuck, I don’t even have condoms here,” I realize at the same moment I say it.
“So what you’re saying is, thank goodness you were prepared and safe Carter because I sure as heck wasn’t! Why would you even start something if you couldn’t finish? Literally!”
She is fifty shades of pissed off at me right now. And honestly, that’s starting to piss me off, too. Yeah, I know it takes two to tango or whatever. That means it’s not one person's fault when things go…haywire. I also light like a fuse when someone tries to blame me for something that is not my doing. I will own it when I fuck up. When I don’t fuck up though, pinning that on me will be harder than pinning the tail on a donkey without getting spun around first.
“How do I know this wasn’t part of your plan? Seduce me, get me to fuck you, get knocked up, and then take me for all I’m worth to support my kid. I’m a guy. You can’t expect me to think clearly when you’re putting my dick inside you with nothing on.”
“Is that what you seriously think of me? I have been trying for so long to get someone to notice my work and take a chance on me and it’s been…well it sucks honestly. I sent you that message out of jealousy. You have everything I want for my life and it made me angry that you could do all this stuff to bring bad publicity and everyone still loved you. I had no intention of sleeping with you like some groupie.”
She takes a few sidesteps, removing herself from the cage I unknowingly put her in with my body. I don’t know how to react to this. I have never had someone who wanted the opposite.
To want to make it on their own.
To not need to use my success as the stepping stone for theirs.
I didn’t think it was possible to want her more now but somehow now I do.
“Carter, that’s not what I…I don't think you're like that I swear…I know I said…” I defend myself, trying my fucking best to dig out of the hole I dug myself by being an asshat.
The number of times I have seen desperation, and fucked them knowing they only wanted that from me. Sending them away with the badge of honor plastered on them that they got with me. It’s never because they like me or give a fuck about my feelings.
Though to be fair, I am not one to show that I have feelings in the first place. Maybe it has been me all along that set myself up for that. Disappointment, the sting of being used. Guys can feel like that too you know. We might even feel it ten times harder than women, the pain coursing even deeper.
I snap out of my head to see Carter pulling her shoe on, leggings already wrapped back around her legs and hurt practically dripping off her.
“Fuck, Carter, stop! When you practically jumped me the other day I was caught off guard, ya, but I never thought it was because you were trying to get on my good side or something. I mean shit, if that was the case, you probably would have thought of it sooner.”
Another life lesson from BK: when a woman is telling you about her insecurities, don’t enhance them by telling her she should have presented them sooner. That will get you nowhere but on her fucking pissed list.
She stops what she is doing, one shoe on, her cheeks kissed with rouge from our intimate encounter. She looks like a girl about to do the walk of shame, except she has nothing to be ashamed of.
“I’ll remember that next time. Note to self, if you’re going to screw around to get ahead, make sure you don’t wait too long to make your first move.”
“Can you stop overreacting for two seconds? I am trying to tell you you’re not like the others and you’re plowing over me,” I can’t hide my frustration anymore and though I don’t want to yell at her, it might be the only way to get through without shaking some sense into her.
“Plowing over you? How could I POSSIBLY plow over the ah-mazing Brett Kane? The photographer that learned from the best, worked with the elite, and still insists on being a…well an asshole!”
And as the second swear I have ever heard her mutter falls from her lips, I laugh. I can’t help it because she is so wrong about me it’s comical.
“You’re right, Carter. You are exactly like the others. All you see is my wrap sheet, the resume filled with accolades, but you don’t see me. I’m right fucking here, Carter. Can you see me? Or do you only see me as an open invitation to my connections and knowledge? Because five minutes ago you wanted to make sure I knew that wasn’t what you were here for but all you have done is throw that right in my face. It’s bullshit, make up your fucking mind, woman!”
