This time, Joker blinked.
I dropped my eyes to his side and saw the red welts my nails made. I fought back the wince and looked back to his face.
“I hurt you,” I snapped.
“Caris—”
I leaned into him. “You had to instruct me,” I hissed. “That was embarrassing,” I kept hissing. I leaned back. “I mean, I’ve got a son. I’m hardly a virgin, but I couldn’t cope with all I was feeling and I messed it all up!” I yelled.
He made to move to me but I lifted my hand and he stopped.
“That was supposed to be beautiful. It was supposed to be perfect. You were perfect. You’re flawless. Look at you!” I cried. “You’re like… top-to-toe beauty. Every inch. And I’m…” I slashed a hand down my front, “not.”
“Butterfly—”
“No. Butterfly doesn’t work here, Joker. That was awful. I made it that way. Not for me. For me it was amazing. But for you… in the end, you didn’t kiss me, barely touched me, just did what you had to do to get it over with.”
Suddenly, with those words out of my mouth, making them real, I wanted to cry, and just as suddenly, I wanted more than I ever had in my whole life to have the strength not to do it.
But I knew I was going to do it so I had to get out of there.
And to do that, I needed my T-shirt, my shoes.
I looked to my feet.
I also needed my footies.
I didn’t even notice him taking off my footies.
When did he take off my footies?
He did and I couldn’t dwell.
I had to go.
In order to do that, I bent and snatched my top from the floor and then started tearing through the bedclothes to find my footies.
“Baby,” he called gently.
I found one and balled it in my fist, looking for the other one.
His hand lighted on the skin of my spine just above my jeans.
“Carrie,” he said softly.
“This is… this was… I can’t believe I messed this up,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “It was supposed to be special and I… I… c-conked you on the jaw.”
I got that out (barely) and then I was on my back in the bed with Joker on top of me.
I looked to the side and begged shakily, “Please let me go.”
“Tell you something,” he replied and I pressed my lips together as I dropped my stuff and lifted my hands to the unyielding warmth of his shoulders and pushed (again to no avail, he didn’t budge an inch). “The first time I had you mostly naked, wet and hot in my bed in a way that I was gonna get to bury my cock inside you, the only way that was gonna go down was with me watching the whole fucking thing.”
I froze.
Then my head righted and I stared.
“It gets hot like that, Carrie, shit happens. I don’t give a fuck you nearly bust my jaw with your head, especially when you do it after ripping my tee off and going for me with your mouth.”
My lips parted.
“And, trust me, you can’t scratch too hard. It took me by surprise but I liked it a fuckuva lot. The problem was, after you did it, you got skittish and didn’t roll with it.”
“Really?” I whispered.
“Fuck yeah,” he replied firmly. “That’s why I told you to relax. The rest, baby, you were closin’ down on me, I knew why and I needed to get you passed that. Not to fuck with your head, but I had my share of hard bodies. I liked ’em. I like women in a lot of different varieties. But if I have a choice, my preference would be yours. Soft, sweet, seriously wet, and definitely hot.”
“I…” I breathed then finished, “Really?”
“Why would I lie when what I say has the goal of gettin’ me more of you? If I didn’t fuckin’ love what I got, I wouldn’t fuckin’ lie. I’d let you leave.”
That made sense.
“And Carrie, I know what I want in bed and I’m not a man who has a problem with communicatin’ that. It isn’t about instruction. It’s about gettin’ off the way I wanna get off and guidin’ you there with me. You were in the moment, totally into what I was doin’, and that was fuckin’ great. But I intended to make it better. And, baby, you gotta know, that shit isn’t gonna stop. I know what I want, you’re gonna give it to me while I give it to you, and you’ll learn to roll with that too.”
That also made sense.
And was more than a little arousing.
“Fuck,” he snarled and I tensed under him at the intensity. “It sucks you didn’t get what I got outta that, Carrie. You hot and wet and squirming and panting and I got to watch the whole fuckin’ thing. It was magnificent. Unbelievable. Better than I could imagine, and Butterfly, I did a lot of imagining from about the time you were fourteen.”
Oh.
Wow.
“And it fucking sucks you didn’t come away with the same fucking thing,” he finished.
“I did, at first,” I told him hesitantly. “You were… are amazing, but you were, during and right after…” I faltered then forged ahead. “Then you just said, ‘be back’ and didn’t kiss me or anything.”
“If I kissed you again I’d want it to last a while and lead direct into some post-fuck cuddling which I’d hope would lead to more fucking and I couldn’t do any a’ that with a used condom on my dick.”
“Oh,” I whispered, again feeling embarrassed and again it was different.
“Yeah. Oh,” he replied, not looking embarrassed, and no longer looking frustrated. Instead, looking like he was fighting against laughing, which had the fortunate result of making me feel less embarrassed.
“I think I may have messed up again,” I told him and he dipped his face closer to me.
“No, you feel it, you share it. Don’t hold back with me, Butterfly.”
That was good advice. Good advice for a relationship two people were building.
Which I hoped with all that had just happened we were still doing.
On this thought, I blurted, “Are you mad at me?”
His brows went up. “About what?”
If he had to ask then he wasn’t mad so I didn’t think I should remind him of all the reasons he could be.