Page 19 of His Red Carnation

“Oh, fuck,” she whimpered as she fisted her comforter, her pussy clenching around my cock.

The feeling of her tight pussy coming for me pushed me over the edge—I came instantly, a deep growl rumbling from my throat beneath the sound of Sloane’s whimpers. My hips slowed as we both caught our breath, but the familiar guilt started creeping back into my gut. I couldn’t keep pulling away after we fucked; I knew it hurt her. But she couldn’t expect this to keep happening…even if it did.

I pulled out and collapsed onto my side, tugging her close. She immediately wrapped a leg over me, pressing herself against me, our sweaty bodies tangled together. Her hand found my beard, her fingers gently stroking my face.

“You started it,” she teased, almost reading my thoughts.

I chuckled. “I can’t fucking help myself. You’re like my Kryptonite.”

She giggled. “Hmm. Does that make you Superman?’”

I smiled down at her, her deep brown eyes gazing up at me with a zeal that sent flutters through my chest, turning me to mush. I fucking loved her. I never wanted to leave her side. Two days—that’s all it took for me to fall for this girl. It was terrifying.

“Nah. I could beat Superman’s ass,” I joked with a grin.

Her eyebrows lifted in amusement. “I bet you could. Look at you,” she mused, running her fingers along my arms. “You’re a beast. How’d you get so buff?”

She was flattering me, but I didn’t mind soaking it in.

“I work out a lot. If I’m not on the job, I’m either at the gym or working on my car.”

She sighed dramatically. “Work, work, work. You need a vacation. You should take me to Fiji. Or Hawaii,” she teased.

God, I’d fucking love that. Sitting on the beach with my beautiful girl beside me, warm sand on our feet, the sun giving her olive skin a cute little suntan.

“Hmm.” I laughed, but it came out half-hearted. “I wish.” The reality of it all started to sink in. This was too forbidden, too fucking complicated. It could never last, no matter how much I wanted it to.

Sloane’s frown deepened as she searched my face. “I wish you’d tell me what’s on your mind. Your thoughts are safe with me.”

There it was again—that fucking old soul wisdom. She’d be a great fucking therapist.

“I can’t because it doesn’t matter. Everything I’m thinking about you would turn to dust the second I said it out loud.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Not if we didn’t let them,” she said softly.

I sighed, shaking my head. “We can’t, Sloane. You know it, I know it,” I said, my voice dry and emotionless, even though I wanted to cry into a pillow.

She let go of me and sat up in bed. I followed her.

“Why keep doing this, then? I’ve already caught feelings. I really like you, and it hurts so badly when you say these things.”

I was pushing her away. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe she could live a normal, happy life with someone her age—not worrying about taking care of an old man like me years down the road.

“I thought my thoughts were safe with you? And now you’re mad because I’m telling you the truth?” I shot back.

She scoffed, standing up to grab her clothes. “I didn’t say I was mad. But you can’t just say those things and expect me not to feel hurt. I wish, just once, you’d tell me you cared about me after we fucked instead of saying shit like that,” she yelled, pulling on her underwear.

I sluggishly grabbed my clothes and began to dress, the heaviness in my chest making every movement feel like a chore. I hated that I was hurting her. All I wanted was to fucking kidnap her, take her to Tahiti, change our identities, and spend every second of the day fucking while I told her how much I loved her.

“I’m sorry, Sloane. I don’t like hurting you,” I admitted quietly, sitting still on the bed with my shirt hanging open and my pants half-buttoned.

She shrugged, crossing her arms, her voice soft but firm. “Maybe we should only see each other when it’s absolutely necessary. This…this hurts too much,” she said, motioning between us.

I nodded because she was right. “Okay.” My voice was flat, defeated. Hers wasn’t much better.

She watched me stand to finish getting dressed, slipping on my shoes. Every part of me wanted to drop to my knees and tell her how much I needed her, how much I loved her. But instead, I just walked out the door, saying nothing, and sat at the piano in the hallway, hating myself more than I ever had.

9

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