I giggled and replied, “So am I!”
I remembered how he had sprinted out of the shop as I walked around the corner. When he reached me, I thought I’d left one of my items behind or, worse, that the payment hadn’t gone through.
“Oh no, did the payment not go through? Wait, let me check my bank,” I said, pulling out my phone to open the bank app in a panic.
He placed his hand over my phone and shook his head. “No, I, uh, just wanted to see if you’d like to get a coffee some time?”
Oh. OH! My face must have radiated disbelief, and he immediately looked dejected.
“No!” I hurriedly replied, waving my hands and shaking my head. Then I stupidly realised, “I mean, yes! That would be awesome.”
Girl, you act like you’ve never dated before. Well, sure, I’d been on dates and been with guys, but Carter was different. Most of the guys who had shown interest in me were either science nerds, super serious about their careers, or—let’s not forget—the guy who had a phobia of cheese. Don’t ask. None of them looked like they belonged on the football team and had a genuine appreciation for art.
He sighed in relief and flashed me a smile that sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core. Oh, deep, impure thoughts began to swirl in my head. I was jumping way too far ahead. All it would take is one date, and I might never see this guy again—let alone have him in my bed.
We exchanged numbers and made plans to meet. Afterward, Carter told me he’d gotten quite an earful from his manager when he walked back in, but he was just too excited to care.
“So, I happened to be driving by and wondered if I could pop up?” His voice pulled me from my memories, and I could almost picture the mischievous smile on his face. My core fluttered at the thought. Sure, I was fatigued from the dream, but I wasn’t dead. Actually, his timing was perfect. My dad was at his fantasy football group until late, and my mama was visiting my aunt, so she wouldn’t be back until morning. After the stress of my dreams, I could use some TLC—and Carter was just the person to deliver it.
I decided to play coy. “Oh…I don’t know. I was planning to finish this extremely exciting report for class. Honestly, I’m not sure I can pull myself away from it.” I rolled my eyes glancing over at the closed laptop on my desk.
I grinned, hearing his chuckle through the phone. “I think you’re working way too hard and need a relaxing break,” he replied, his voice dropping to that husky tone.
Cute was over. The moment he used that voice, I was done for. I matched his sultriness. “Well then, what are you waiting for?”
My breathing quickened, my heart racing with excitement. I clenched my thighs in anticipation. He had a habit of doing this to me—just by lowering his voice.
“Only for you to say the word.” His voice somehow got even lower. Damn.
“Word,” I said, smiling.
“See you soon.” His deep voice was full of promise.
I then heard the motor of his car pulling up to the house. Carter’s car was a black 1967 Chevrolet Camaro— you could hear that thing from a mile away. I cringed, thinking the neighbours definitely knew he was coming over. But the hornier version of me didn’t care. In fact, a wave of desire hit me at the sound of the engine’s roar.
Then reality kicked in. One, I was still holding my sketchbook. And two, I looked like a mess! My red hair was in a messy ponytail, and I was lounging in my green jumper and leggings—not exactly sexy.
I frantically shoved my sketchbook into the top drawer of my desk. Then, I tore the scrunchie out of my hair, pulled off my leggings and socks, and threw them into the hamper. I adjusted my cable-knit jumper so it barely covered my ass. Ok, I could work with this.
Sure, Carter had seen me in all kinds of states of dress, but I was still in that stage where I wanted to make his blood boil. I heard a knock at the door, and my heart skipped a beat.
Alright, keep calm, girl. You act like this, and it’ll be over in a flash. It always was. Our sessions were quick because we couldn’t keep our cool. For once, I would’ve liked it slow, but something about him always made me rush into it.
I hurried down the carpeted steps, careful not to trip, then paused at the door. I fluffed my hair, pulled my jumper down to reveal my freckled shoulders, and exhaled. When I opened the door, the early December air hit me, cold and sharp. There he was, standing effortlessly cool in a brown leather jacket over a grey button-down shirt and a black t-shirt that hugged his chest in all the right ways. His dark blue jeans did the same for his legs, and I caught myself sucking in my lower lip as I looked him up and down.
He was doing the same, his eyes hungry as they travelled over me. I saw him linger on my messy red hair brushing my bare freckled shoulders, then move down to my legs and exposed feet.
Oh yeah, we had a winner.
“Hi,” I said, trying to mask my breathlessness.
“Hi,” he replied, all cool and collected.
We paused for a second, and then suddenly, I was in his arms, my legs wrapped around him as he kissed me like we hadn’t seen each other in weeks. Truth be told, we’d had lunch just a couple of days ago, but at this stage in the relationship, every second counted. His mouth on mine drove me wild as he walked forward and kicked the door shut without breaking the kiss. When his lips found my neck, I sighed and began to grind against him. He smiled against my skin and, still carrying me, started up the stairs. Damn football player, always showing off.
Once in my bedroom, he kicked the door shut again and set me down. I immediately started pulling off his brown jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, but I left the black t-shirt for him. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching as he kicked off his boots and pulled the shirt over his head in one smooth motion, revealing his bare chest. His muscular arms—strong enough to carry me effortlessly—made it clear how fit he was. That always left me in awe.
A guy like him, honestly, was into me.
A lot of the guys I had been with were skinny, semi-muscular, or even had a bit of curves, but don’t think of me as shallow. This was just the first time I’d been with someone built like him, and damned if I wasn’t going to enjoy it!
“Hey, don’t objectify me,” he joked as he noticed me staring. I giggled, stood up, and kissed him, my hands now going into that messy blonde hair. His hands found the edge of my jumper and pulled it down, exposing my black bra. He then pulled down the other sleeve, and my arms came free as the jumper dropped to the floor. I also had on plain black panties. If I had more time, I would have put on that sexy lacy teal set I bought at the lingerie store. I began to undo his denims, feeling his already hardened bulge. He then reached around and unpinned my bra just like that! I tried not to think about how much practice he must have had previously to do that. It annoyed and excited me at the same time. My breasts were now exposed, and his hands were immediately on them. I moaned as I finally set him free, and his denims fell to the floor. His mouth was back on mine as I stroked his cock and slightly tugged it in a “come hither” way, and he followed me to the bed. My legs hit the edge of my bed, and I pulled him, and he was on top of me. Still kissing, of course; we had mastered that now. I cannot tell you how many times we’ve had small accidents, such as bonked foreheads, once a poked eye, and our teeth hitting each other as well. We always laughed it off, and that was why I was so comfortable with him.
He stopped kissing me and slowly pulled off my panties and I got really excited, thinking maybe he might do something different? We were three months into the relationship, and we hadn’t really explored different options yet. I was kind of afraid to mention it as I didn’t want to scare him off. Sure, I had read a couple of smutty books or watched some adult films, and I’d always managed my expectations of fantasy vs. reality, but I still wanted to try. I was just afraid he would be offended. I managed to avoid feeling disappointed when his hands went back up to my breasts after my panties were fully off. Oh well, maybe next time?
He kissed me some more and then whispered, “Do you think we could try without a condom this time?” Ah, not this again. I was on the pill, but I was also the result of the pill failing, so I was always extra cautious. I know, I know, but I just didn’t want to take the risk.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Be a good boy scout and wrap up,” I joked back, glancing at my nightstand where I kept the condoms. He rolled his eyes but respected my request (like the times before) and reached over to rummage through the drawer. That’s when I got a glimpse of his tattoo on the back of his left shoulder. I was always intrigued by it—a long skinny dagger with a sun and a moon. The sun was behind the hilt, with sharp rays extending outward. The crescent moon looked like it was stabbed by the dagger. I always wanted to ask him about it. I definitely had the urge to sketch it, too. He then found the package, pulling my thoughts back to the action at hand. I watched him pull the condom on and then he spread my legs wider and inserted himself into me. I moaned at the first connection. This was the part he was always good at. His hands raised both of my arms over my head, and he gripped them tight as he thrust into me. Each thrust brought me closer to my climax and I lifted my breasts against him, I wanted him to do something with them, but I was still met with no response as he continued moving in and out of me. My needs soon started to disappear as my climax built and I was close to the edge. I then moaned “Don’t stop” and he continued the pace he was at. Thank goodness, I have said that before to other guys and they changed pace! My body buckled underneath him as my orgasm came naturally and he suddenly groaned signalling he had come as well.
We lay there, naked, in post coital bliss. My head rested on his chest, and I listened to his steady breathing, feeling content. I started to trace idle patterns on his bare skin absentmindedly.
“So... how was work?” I asked softly, looking up at him. His eyes slid toward me, and he grinned.
“Ah, the princess wishes to know how us peasants labour to keep the kingdom of Averon thriving?”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling, but my lips betrayed me. “Spare me the theatrics, Carter. You make it sound like you’re out there tilling the fields.”
Carter chuckled, leaning in to kiss my forehead as I rested my chin on his chest. “Hey, managing art supplies is serious business. You have no idea how many paintbrushes I’ve saved from a tragic end.”
I groaned, burying my face against his chest. “My hero,” I said sarcastically.
He pretended not to hear and launched into his nerdy rant. “Indeed,” he said, puffing out his chest with exaggerated pride. “While the fair red-headed princess of Averon City enjoys her days of leisure—no work, just endless coffee and notebooks—I, Sir Carter Dawson... which, not gonna lie, that title sounds amazing... labour under the weight of a cruel and unforgiving register, and a manager named Milton.”
I snorted and smiled. Carter was a bit of a nerd—he watched more fantasy and supernatural movies than I could keep up with. The first one we watched together was a vampire romance. I thought it was a love story. He thought it was just a horror movie.
I leaned on his chest, my face resting in my palm. “Right, because college is such a breeze. No stress at all. Just me lounging in my royal tower without a care in the world.”
He let out a dramatic sigh, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Alas, I’ll never know the freedom of a royal education. If only I had such noble privileges, I could stroll through the halls of academia, free from the burden of earning my keep.”
I poked his side, laughing. “You know I’m under scholarship and can’t work. Besides, you’d be bored out of your mind without your little art-store escapades.”
“Ah, but boredom is the price we pay for a life of ease,” he said, turning to give me one of those serious, dramatic looks that always made me crack up. He placed his palm dramatically on my face. “But worry not, my love. I shall gladly bear the mantle of peasantry so you may live as the princess you were born to be.”
I giggled, shaking my head free of his grasp. “You goofy ass.”
“And you love it,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss my lips.
He wasn’t wrong. He always made me laugh with his ridiculous antics. “Yeah, I do,” I admitted with a smile.
He sighed contentedly and wrapped his arm around me again before actually answering my question. “Work was the same as always. You know how it goes—artsy types come in, grab their supplies, and get out.”
He kissed the top of my head, his chest vibrating with a quiet chuckle.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I raised an eyebrow, catching his playful grin.
“You’re one of them, aren’t you? Came in, grabbed your stuff, and vanished. Haven’t seen any of your sketches since,” he teased lightly, though I could hear the genuine curiosity beneath his words.
I felt my cheeks flush. My sketchbook was something I wasn’t ready to share—not even with Iah or Val, and they knew everything about me.
“Oh, the idea didn’t work out, Carter. I’m not as good as you think,” I lied, hoping he’d let it drop.
He glanced down at me, his expression softening. “I don’t buy that. I am sure you are good. Besides, it doesn’t have to be perfect. Maybe I could take a look sometime? No pressure, just...” He trailed off, waiting but not pushing.
My chest tightened with nerves. I needed to change the subject—fast. Shifting closer, I leaned into him with a smile. “I’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone draw. The lecturers are killing us with assignments. And honestly, I’d rather focus on this right now,” I said, pressing my lips against his, distracting him with kisses. I then climbed on top of him and started to sway a bit against him. He groaned, the tension breaking, and I knew the topic was successfully avoided—for now.
I was in the void again. Its stillness always sent a shiver down my spine. I didn’t want to be here—especially not again. I was just getting over the last one. Two dreams in one night was not a good sign. As always, I waited in the inky darkness, bracing myself for whatever was coming. Then I saw it, and my breath caught: the same image again, but this time, it wasn’t etched on skin or hidden in shadows. Carter’s tattoo blazed white in front of me. The sharp rays of the sun, the dagger, and the crescent moon stabbed through its centre.
It pulsed with a blinding white light, flashing over and over, and I had to shield my eyes, but it didn’t help. The brightness pierced through my hands. And then, just as quickly, the burst star exploded into my vision.
I jolted awake, eyes snapping open, my heart racing. I glanced around, disoriented. Carter’s side of the bed was empty. When I looked up, I spotted him standing by my desk. He was half-dressed, his jeans back on, but still shirtless. His phone’s screen glowed in the dim light, the likely source of the brightness from my dream.
As I focused more on where he stood, a sense of unease crept over me. Why was he there? My gaze flicked to the drawer where I kept my sketchbook—it was still shut. I exhaled in relief.
“Carter?” I called softly, still feeling unsettled. “What’s up?” I yawned, my voice groggy. “What time is it?”
He looked over, startled. “Ah, sorry I woke you. My group chat was going nuts over a trailer launch,” he said, walking over and leaning down to kiss me. “I didn’t want the light to wake you, so I moved out of bed.”
I smiled. “Aw, that’s so thoughtful.” I kissed him back, and he pulled away slightly.
“It’s almost ten-thirty,” he said, glancing at his phone. “I figured I should head out before your dad gets back.”
I pouted, a bit disappointed. “Boo, I wish you could stay all night. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to actually sleep next to you.”
He chuckled, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Trust me, you wouldn’t get much sleep..." I bit my lower lip. Smooth. He smiled at my reaction and kissed my forehead.
“How about we grab coffee tomorrow and take a walk in Silverwood Park? Just you, me, and some overstimulated squirrels...”
I barked a laugh. Silverwood Park was only a ten-minute drive from my house, but it was easily the most beautiful spot in Averon. No matter the season—rain, snow, or shine—the park always looked breathtaking. But the squirrels? They were a little crazy.
I remembered one time, a single squirrel had darted out in front of us, nearly causing us to crash into each other. Then, a whole gang of them followed, chasing after it like they were in some sort of woodland race. They circled the nearest tree, spiraled up, and then disappeared into the forest. Carter and I were convinced they had a caffeine addiction from sipping leftover coffee people threw in the trash. Honestly, that was an awesome third date—we couldn’t stop laughing at the sight.
“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” I squealed, hugging him tight. But then reality hit me, and I sighed. “Could we do it after lunch? I need more time to work on my project. I’m going to be that boring person, tapping away on my laptop on a Saturday night.” I waved my finger in the air dramatically, adding a sarcastic “woooo.”
Carter laughed, shaking his head. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do well in college, El.”Ah, El. My half-Spanish self never really loved that nickname, but Carter managed to make it sound cute, so I let it slide. Still, I rolled my eyes at his remark.
"Ugh, You sound like my parents!" I teased, giving his chest a playful shove.
"Well, someone has to be the grown-up in this relationship. I’m older, so it’s clearly my job," he grinned.
I cocked an eyebrow at him. "By one month... and 14 days!"
"Precisely!" he replied with that addictive smile. All I could do was smile back and shake my head. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring the coffee tomorrow to bribe you out of hermit mode."
I sighed dramatically. "Fine, you win this time, Dawson. Coffee and a walk it is."
He stood up, smoothing back his hair, and began gathering his things. I watched him move around the room, getting dressed. I really did love having him around—fun, teasing, and always able to make me laugh. Plus, his bear hugs never failed to cheer me up.
Once he was fully dressed, he came over and gave me a goodbye kiss.
"See you tomorrow, El," he promised.
"See you tomorrow," I replied.
As the front door clicked shut and the low growl of his Camaro faded into the distance, I noticed the room was rather empty. I hugged my knees and my mind wandered back to the dream. His tattoo. It had to mean something. The way it flashed at me in the void, erratic and without rhythm, felt urgent—like a warning. The image popped back into my head, almost begging me to draw it.
I climbed out of bed and opened the drawer, pulling out my sketchbook. Grabbing my white charcoal pencil, I dove back under the covers to keep warm, flipping to the next blank page. I began sketching, letting the familiar sound of charcoal gliding across paper soothe my nerves.
First, I started with the dagger. The hilt was jagged, with sharp points flaring out, giving it an almost aggressive appearance. I remembered how the blade was split—one side a striking white, the other a deep black. The contrast felt symbolic, though I couldn’t quite grasp its meaning. There was something unsettling about it, but I pushed the feeling aside and kept drawing.
Next came the sun. Its rays were sharp and uneven, radiating from behind the handle of the dagger. Suns usually symbolised warmth, light, goodness. Maybe this was some kind of heroic emblem? I thought back to how Carter liked medieval fantasy and comic books—could this be a symbol from his favourite hero? It seemed plausible, but the image still felt... wrong somehow.
I finished the sun and moved on to the upside-down crescent moon. My frown deepened as I sketched the jagged wound where the dagger pierced the moon, the blade splitting it all the way through. Light versus darkness? But the moon had never seemed evil to me. As I traced the harsh lines, a strange feeling crept in—I felt bad for the moon. Why? It was just a tattoo, after all... right?