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24
CARLEIGH
Isleep until almost ten.
The only reason that I even wake up at that point is because my phone starts ringing.I pick it up, bleary-eyed, and presses ignore with an audible groan when it’s obvious that it’s a spam caller.I glance at the time, give a grand stretch, and slide out of bed.
I use the bathroom and brush my teeth, glad for some clean relief from the taste of late-night macaroni that’s still in my mouth, then shuffle down the hallway barefoot to see where Bryson is.
I find him in the kitchen with a pile of farmer’s market mini cucumbers and several jars for pickling already prepared.He’s in a light blue t-shirt and a pair of shorts with his favorite baseball cap perched backwards on his head.Bruce Springsteen is playing quietly from his phone’s tiny speakers, and he’s humming along with a smile on his face.
I walk up behind him and slide my arms around him, pressing my face to his back.“Hi,” I say, muffled and sleepy.
He covers my hands with his own.“Morning, babe,” he greets, unwinding my arms from him so he can turn around to face me.“Sleep well?”
I nod and yawn.“I need coffee.”
Bryson tilts my chin up and kisses me.“Want me to make it for you?”
I shake my head.“No, I can do it.”I shuffle to the end of the kitchen where the coffee maker and grinder are, and reach up to the cupboard where I keep my beans.I set the bag of coffee down on the counter when Bryson’s arms slip beneath my arms and circle around my waist.
“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles into my hair.
I lean back into his chest, still sleepy and pliable.“I look like a mess,” I point out.“I’ve been past a mirror.”
His left hand drifts beneath the hem of the t-shirt I’m wearing.“You must be looking in a different mirror than I am.”
“I don’t think so,” I say, but even while I’m speaking, my chest is arched into his hand.I’m not sure if it’s the memory of my bad shift last night or the comfort food he made me or his general, overall sweetness, but I’m feeling needy today.“Bryson, that feels so nice.”
Bryson’s right hand joins in, tenderly fondling my other breast.He massages them gently, occasionally flicking his thumbs over my nipples, and latches his mouth to the side of my neck.“I want to make you feel good, Carleigh.”
He’s hard against my lower back, but he’s still so gentle; it feels good, but I’m not sure if that’s what I need right now.So, I tilt my hips backwards against him, and in response, he presses himself against me and squeezes my breasts harder.“Fuck, Carleigh,” he mutters, dropping one hand from beneath my shirt so that he can slide his palm over my ass.
“I didn’t do anything,” I whine, wiggling my hips.
He pulls the cheek of my panties to the middle, exposing more of my skin, and slaps my ass.I bite my lip against a moan, but gasp audibly when he does it again.He rubs one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, then drops his hand and tugs my shirt off from the hem in one swift motion.
I’m awake now, coffee be damned.Bryson tugs my underwear down my panties pool at my ankles, and I kick them to the side.He slides his right hand between my legs, teases two fingers at my entrance, and holds my hips from moving with the other arm.I grip the countertop and try to breathe steadily.
“Still think you’re innocent?”he asks over my shoulder, as his fingers begin to slowly enter.“Because I don’t think so, Carleigh.”
I can’t help it; I whine and press my ass into him.Bryson tugs my head to the side, drags his teeth over the side of my neck, and thrusts against me in response.His fingers push deeper, thumb beginning to circle my clit, and oh god, oh god, this time I don’t want just this.This time I want all of it, all of him.
“Bryson,” I breathe, grabbing his right wrist in my hand to still its movement.
He pauses, fingers still inside, and kisses my ear.“Yeah, baby?”
“I’m ready,” I say breathlessly.“I’m ready, I don’t want to wait anymore."
Bryson’s forehead presses against the side of my head.“Carleigh,” he says, his voice gravelly.He cups my left breast with his hand, rolling it gently in his large palm.“Are you sure?”
I place my left hand on top of his and push him to squeeze me harder, to leave a mark, to cover me and fill me like I want.“I’m sure,” I answer softly.“I want you inside me.”
His lips find my ear again.“Okay,” he says simply.He lets go of my breast and slowly removes his fingers from inside, then turns and scoops me into his arms.I hang onto his neck and giggle nervously, suddenly finding it amusing that he’s fully clothed and I’m completely naked.
Bryson walks us into my bedroom and sets me down on the bed.He takes off his shirt, but he doesn’t make a move to take his pants off.I watch, curious, as he walks out of my bedroom and presumably into his.He returns a moment later with a condom and sets it on the corner of the bed.
Then, just as he kneels on her mattress, he grins.
