My body knew, the difference between being used and being wanted. It knew the hunger in those hands, the reverence buried inside every rough thrust, every filthy word. It knew the way I tipped my hips up, chasing more, even in sleep. I came for them, I know I did. More than once.

My throat is dry, lips swollen. My skin still hums with the memory of teeth and tongues and everything in between.

I’m sore. Soaked, and I want it again. Even now, tangled in Carter’s arms, breath warm against the back of my neck I can feel the echo of it. My body remembers what it’s like to be taken, slow and worshipful and then hard, until I couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began. It’s intoxicating.

I shift slightly in his lap, just enough to test him, to see if last night made him more confident, more ready, and the way his grip tightens, the way his fingers flex against my hips, tells me everything I need to know. But still, I want to hear him say it.

I tilt my head, running my fingers through his blonde hair, tugging slightly, smirking when I feel the way his body reacts to even the smallest touch.

“Do you still need guidance?” I murmur, my voice teasing, my lips just inches from his.

Carter inhales sharply, his eyes locking onto mine, his hands gripping me tighter. Without even a second of hesitation. “Yes.”

The word is firm, full of need, full of something that makes my stomach twist in the best fucking way.

He swallows, his voice lower, softer, shaking slightly with how much he means it. “I want you to show me every single thing you want.”

Fuck. I shudder at his words, the way they sit heavy in the air between us, my fingers remain tangled in his hair, my nails scratching lightly against his scalp, relishing the quiet, shaky exhale that slips past his lips when I do it.

He isn’t rushing, isn’t grabbing at me, isn’t kissing me hard and desperate like he thinks I’ll disappear if he doesn’t take everything at once. No, Carter is waiting. Waiting for me to tell him what I want, for me to make the next call, to set the pace. Fuck, that’s hotter than anything he could’ve done.

Because it’s not hesitation. It’s patience. It’s restraint. It’s him giving me control, knowing full well that when I do touch him, when I do let him touch me, it’s going to wreck him completely.