I'm about to answer him when a laugh starts to trickle out of him. He shakes his head at me as if he's in disbelief. "Snowflake, I so did not expect you to grab my dick. I'm just kidding. But the idea of you even thinking about it is adorable." Leaning down he kisses me on the nose.

Adorable. Why does that one word make me feel so tiny? Maybe because it's something my grams called me. I don't want to be adorable.

I want to be sexy, pined after, desired.

Not adorable.

"What's wrong?" Carter asks, looking a little confused by my pause.

What would a sexy woman do in a moment like this? Lick her lips? Thrust her breasts? Snap her thong?

Snapping a thong sounds extreme.

Thrusting breasts? Well he's practically resting on my breasts, so that would be weird if I tried thrusting them. He would probably think I was trying to get him off me.

Lick my lips. Hmm . . . I can do that.

Squinting for sex appeal, I stare into Carter's eyes and slowly make sure to wet every inch of my lips and the skin around them. I swipe my tongue around my mouth, making sure not only to go clockwise, but to go counter clockwise as well.

Oh yeah, look at me go . . . sexy Daisy is on the loose- Wait, why is his brow furrowed? Why is he pulling farther away from me?

Is he pulling away . . . oh yes, he must be giving me access to the penis. This is your moment, Daisy. Be the sexy woman you want to be. Don't hold back.

Continuing to lick my lips, my hand shoots out from my side, and with a deep breath, I dive in with such force, I surprise myself.

And I surprise Carter because the man who was once hovering over me, content and happy to make out, is now ram-rod straight on his knees, hands gripping my wrist as my palm and fingers curl around his well-defined crotch.

What I think is a pleasurable experience for Carter, my hand squeezing his penis, apparently is not a good time for him as he starts to swat at my hand and yell at me in a high-pitched lady voice.

"Daisy, let the fuck go."

"What?" I ask, in between licking my lips and giving his penis mini palpitations with my palm.

Penis Palm Palpitations. I shall search the Internet for such a phrase. Maybe I can copyright it.

"Let go!" Anger spills from his lips just as he rips my hand away from him.

"Hey, I was squeezing you."

Sitting back on the couch, his arm slung over his eyes, his chest heaving, he says, "I'm well aware of your squeezing. Christ, Daisy."

Was that a good Christ or a bad Christ?

Needing to find out, I crawl over to him. With my approach, he flinches, his eyes opening and his hands going in a protective position over his crotch.

I'm guessing that was a bad Christ.

"Was that not sexy?"

"Do you find castrating me, sexy?"

"I wasn't castrating you," I say, feeling smaller by the minute.

"Snowflake, your hand was acting like a vise on my penis. What the hell were you trying to do?"

This is not how my first chance at being sexy was supposed to go. Was the licking of the lips not right? I might have been a little aggressive with grabbing his penis, but once I had hold of it, I didn't want to let go. It was like a baton in his pants, my hands being the participants in passing it around.

Knowing I have to answer him, I say, "Um, I was being bold, you know, sexy Daisy."

"Sexy Daisy?"

"Yeah." Shying away, I sit on the couch next to him, facing the rest of his living room because I'm too shy-horrified-to look him in the eyes. "I wanted to step out of my comfort zone and try to be sexy. From the look of horror in your face, I failed tremendously."

"Snowflake, why are you trying to be sexy? You don't need to be-"

"I want to be." I hate feeling as though I need to defend myself. "I'm so sick of you calling me adorable. That's something a big brother would say about his little sister. I want to be so much more than adorable. I want to be wanted."

From the corner of my eye, I see his face soften. He approaches me with a warm embrace, pulling me into his chest so we rest back on the couch, the ceiling in my line of vision. Leaning forward, his breath tickles my ears as he speaks. "Snowflake, you think I don't want you?"

"I don't know. I just . . ." How do I put this into words without sounding completely insecure?

I don't get a chance to answer because Carter is whispering in my ear, his voice so strong, so sexy that I feel my legs start to tremble from the way his baritone voice hits me with every stressed word.

"You don't think I want you? You couldn't be more wrong, Daisy. This pull between us, this connection, it's unmistakable. It's in my blood that I need to be near you, that I want you. There is no denying it. I don't need you to try to be sexy, because you're already sexy to me. By being just you, you're sexy to me." He kisses the side of my neck, his hands working their way down my arms to my waistline. "Calling you adorable, now that's never going to change."

"Carter." I go to protest when his hands cross over my stomach and work their way to the button on my jeans.

Immediately, my hearts starts to hammer in my chest, my stomach drops, and a dull ache takes place between my legs, causing them to fall apart.

"Do you know why you're adorable, my sweet sexy girl?" he asks, his lips dancing across my lobe.

My mouth is watering. I'm afraid to speak, so I shake my head.

Without even looking, his dexterous fingers undo the button of my jeans, a rush of heat flooding my body, yearning taking over every nerve ending that's prickling with anticipation.

Undoing my zipper-my heart's in overdrive, my breathing erratic-he kisses my neck again and then says, "Because, with just my light, little movements of undoing your pants, you've become so sexually charged, so palpable with need that I'm about to lose all self-control and fuck you right here on this couch." A gasp pops out of me, but the thought doesn't deter me. "But it's not going to go down like that," he say, his fingertips slowly working their way under my jeans, under the elastic of my thong.

"Instead of me flipping you over, your stomach against the arm rest, my dick propped up behind you ready for entry, I'm going to take my time with you. Do you know why? Because you're special, you're one of a kind, and I would rather savor every inch of your virtuous and honest body, than have a few minutes of quick, dirty sex."

The tips of his fingers play with the top of my pubic bone, rendering me speechless.

"Wha-what are you doing now?" I ask, not really sure what to say in this situation. Awkwardness starts to consume me, that's until Carter moves his fingers down lower until they hit the top of my slit. "Oh," I sigh in surprise, shifting my body closer against his where his erection is pressing against my back.

I'm turning him on. How is that even possible? He's so much cooler than me. So much more experienced, so much more . . . everything.

"Can you do me a favor, Snowflake?"

I nod, unsure of what he's about to ask me.

The feel of his lips press against the nook of my neck and shoulder, soothing me. "Strip off your jeans."

"T-take them off?" My voice wavers, my nerves on high alert.

"Yes, take them off." The way he says those four words, with such depth, such velvety smooth insistence, I do just what he says.

With his hand under my thong, his middle finger casually smoothing over the top of my slit, I take my jeans off, kicking them to the side once they're at my feet. It's hard not to feel awkward, lying on Carter's couch, his chest to my back, his dark to my soft, wearing nothing but a shirt and underwear. Does he find this sexy?

"Fuck, Daisy," he whispers, the faint feel of his scruff against my jaw. "Why did you hide those legs from me for so long? I want my face buried between them." Even though I don't know what that is like, I want it too. I simply want. I want Carter. "But I will save that for another day. This shirt though, we're going to have to do something about it."

The hand not teasing me with delicious strokes, moves up my stomach, scooting my shirt up along with it. Carter's head leans over my shoulder, watching with interest as he exposes inch after sinful inch of skin until he gets to my breasts. He leaves the shirt resting under my bra, never tempting to go any higher. I want to scream. I don't want him to stop.

"Take my shirt off," I say. The brazenness in my demand actually catches me off guard.

"No," he responds, shooting me down. A wave of embarrassment washes over me right before his hand falls lower into my thong. "I have to touch you here first."

With ease, his finger slides along my slit, never pressing too deep, just skimming the surface, exploring. I've never been touched like this. Heck, I've never touched myself this intimately. The sensation is all new to me, as well as the slickness between my legs, the tingling waves undulating up my back, and the tightness in my stomach like any minute it's going to bottom out in the most pleasurable way possible.

"Christ, Daisy. You're so damn wet. This is why you're so fucking sexy to me. With just a finger passing over you, you're soaking, ready for more."

"It's the way you touch me, talk to me."

"Mmm," he hums in my ear. "You like my voice, pretty girl?"

"Yes." I nod, my head resting on his shoulder as he continues to pass his finger over me, never going deep.

"I'll remember that, especially when I'm balls deep inside you." Where my shirt is bunched just below my breasts, he starts to slip his fingers underneath the fabric, his fingers playing with the lace on my bra. The movement stills me, my breath hitching with each pass. "Now that I have my hand where I want it, teasing you, I can't wait much longer to see your breasts." No answer needed when it comes to Carter because he takes charge and lifts the rest of my shirt up so it's around my collarbone, my bra-covered breasts on display.

The chilly air hits me and I can feel my nipples puckering under Carter's heated touch, his hands exploring the cups of my bra. And with one yank of the fabric, he pulls the cup of my right breast down, letting everything hang out.

"Fuck, yes," he mumbles, his hand immediately going to my nipple where he takes no time squeezing it.

It's as if my nipple is connected to the junction between my legs because one little pinch of my nipple has me flying upward, seeking relief from his finger.

"Oh my," I voice, unsure if that's sexy or not.

"Do you like it when I squeeze your nipple, Daisy?" He rolls the nub in his fingers with precision, making my body convulse in ways I never thought were possible.

Breathlessly, I answer, "Yes."

"Good." He pinches my nipple this time just as his finger rubs along my bundle of nerves, breaking the surface and causing all sorts of sensations to course through me.

"Oh, Carter." My hand grabs the back of my neck as I arch into his touch. "Oh it feels . . ." My voice dies off as he continues to rub my clit, making little circles with his thumb.

"How does it feel?"

"Like I-can't-breathe amazing."

"Then I'm doing my job," he whispers and kisses my neck, his fingers playing me like an instrument.

Just when I feel like he's not able to make me feel anything else in this moment with his rumbling voice, his rough, scratchy jawline, and his skillful fingers, he curls his wrist and sends a finger inside me, curving upward. Instinctively, my legs spread apart and my body melts into him, fully giving myself over.

"I want you to remember this," he says into my ear, his lips kissing my lobe. While he speaks, his fingers pick up their pace, my body igniting into a ball of flame, sensations synapsing every which way. "When you're not feeling sexy, or pretty, or wanted, remember this moment. Right now, Daisy, with your legs spread, your breathing eratic, your eyes deliciously closed from pleasure, this right here is why you're so damn sexy to me. You give yourself wholeheartedly over to me without question, which is the sexiest thing I've ever seen. Daisy Beauregard, partially naked, writhing in passion, no qualms about me exploring this perfect body. This is why you're sexy. Don't ever fucking forget that."

His pace is now relentless and for the first time, I have this deep burning sensation build in the pit of my stomach. My legs feel like noodles, my cheeks flush, my core contracts, and white-hot bliss pours through me, starting from my toes and shooting up my spine without any reservations, hitting every nerve ending on its way up.

I can't hold back the moan from the feeling taking over my body. I feel light, loose, free-incredible. The sexiest thing I've ever seen. Me? I can barely move from the pulses of pleasure still running through me. His fingers are still inside me and I hope he doesn't take them away anytime soon. Heavens.

Is this what an orgasm feels like? If so, I want to have one every hour of every day. I want to kiss him, touch him, explore his body. Will he let me though?

"Fucking hell that was hot," Carter says on a heavy breath. "Jesus, Daisy."

I'm motionless, as if my bones have melted with one pinch of the nipple. Everything in my body is tingling, set on fire, embers igniting my need for more.

"That was . . . really good," I say awkwardly.

"That was more than just good, Snowflake. That was fucking magical." He pushes my shirt down and sits me up so he can reach my pants on the ground and hand them to me. "Get dressed so I can take you home." Get dressed? Take me home?

He walks over to the entryway, holds on to the door handle, and waits for me to get dressed. That's kind of abrupt. He can't even look at me. Insecurity once again floods my heart, making me feel self-conscious. Did I do something wrong? Will I ever get it right? Will I ever be able to read this man?

Quietly and sheepishly, I put on my clothes, feeling more embarrassed than ever now. Only a few seconds ago, Carter had his hands all over me and now he can't get me out the door fast enough. I don't get it.

"I can call a cab so you don't have to drive me," I suggest, slinging my purse over my shoulder once I'm all dressed.

"Yeah, that's not happening." We exchange glances and he looks almost pained. I'm so freaking lost.

Not wanting to end this night on a bad note, I take a deep breath and say, "Carter, I don't know what happened, but if I did or said something wrong, please let me know."

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why-"

"If I don't take you home now, I'm going to do something I'm going to regret. I'm going to fuck you ten times sideways until I feel a shred of the built-up tension that I've felt ever since I met you, ease. It's dangerous for you to stay here with me. I'm not a good guy, but I'm trying to be one right now. So press those perfect lips against mine for a gentle kiss and then walk with me to my bike. You're going home."

A small smile passes my lips. "You can't control yourself around me?"

He pulls on the strands of his hair and shakes his head. "I'm hanging on by a thread, Snowflake. So come fucking kiss me, and then get your adorable little ass downstairs. You're going home."

I saunter over to him where he reaches behind me, presses his hand into my lower back, and pulls me in close, his other hand going to my cheek where he stares at me for a brief second and then kisses me passionately, his tongue wasting no time in meeting up with mine. A small moan escapes the back of his throat, and it's one of the sexiest sounds I've ever heard.

When he gently pulls away, he smiles down at me, his hands holding me in place. "This is a pretty shitty world, but you're a bright beacon amongst all the dark."

Does he know he's my beacon? Because right now, I wouldn't be able to see past my nose without his guiding light. Even if I told him, I don't think he'd believe me. Looks like I'll just have to show him. I just hope I will know how.

CARTER.

"Fear is an emotional hindrance on your state of mind. It's very often as humans we let this emotion prevent us from moving forward, especially in our day-to-day life." Marleen walks the room as she speaks, her short heels clicking along the concrete floor. "Fear can be debilitating, life altering, so intense and palpable that it paralyzes you. I know. I've seen this fear, I've faced it head-on." She pauses, facing the wall and turns toward us. "I'm a recovering heroin addict."

Prior to her confession, her words were bouncing off the walls, never really sinking in, until she spoke of her past. Recovering heroin addict. Is that even possible? To recover from being an addict of such a destructive drug? In my experience with my parents, there is no recovering, only use after sickening use until you overdose, always chasing that first high, never ever able to obtain it.