The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers) Chapter 169

The little bar is bustling and Arrick has me in the safe space of his arms at the bar, so I don’t get
crushed by the people pushing in and out. He is talking to the bartender over my head as I try to listen
over the noise and feel like maybe this was not the best idea I ever had.

He’s speaking French., I have no clue what he is ordering for us at all, but he knows what I like so I
leave him to it. This is the second place we have been tonight after our meal in a bistro down the street.
We left there when a lot of students came in and started pushing each other around merrily, obviously a
little worse for wear. I could tell by Arrick’s demeanor and how close they kept coming to me that he
would be bristling for a fight if they got any nearer and suggested we find a bar to move to. This one
isn’t much better as we are in the trendy part of Paris where all the clubs are super busy and not the
small quiet cozy nook I envisioned when I suggested this.

I’m tired, a little lightheaded from the wine we had with our food and generally wishing I hadn’t
suggested this at all. I’m hot and stuffy and the noise of this place is giving me a headache.

I get that he misses New York and our nights out with friends, and that he hasn’t been able to take me
out in so long, and we both miss it. Although now we are here, I want to go home. I lean back against
him in a bid to rest my head on his collar bone and loop my arm around his, tensing against the bar
with a sigh.

Arrick swoops down to my ear so I can hear him and pulls me tight with his free arm.

“Hey, you okay?” his voice sends shivers, his breath tickling my neck and ear and I nod obediently. He
seemed really psyched about us coming out and kicking back to let off steam and I don’t want to tell
him that an hour in I feel like death and want to leave.

The bar tender places drinks in front of us, two shots, a pint of beer for Arry and a glass of red for me.
The shots were our sort of idea to get drunk fast in between the regular alcoholic beverages and
looking at the little green vial now. I wonder if my stomach can handle it. I’ve had the bouts of nausea



on and off all day and eating rich cuisine only brought it back again. I try and shake it off and keep
telling myself that we need this, to get back to normal and let our hair down.

Arrick leans forward and practically presses me to the bar when he downs his, so I follow suit and do it
too. I literally gag as soon as I do and wonder what the hell has happened to me. I used to be a
hardcore drinker and could at least pretend to keep up with him. I’ve never gagged at a shot before and
even standing with the bitter burning aftertaste, I realize it tastes weird and metallic. I pick up my wine
to wash it away and screw my face up at the contrasting tastes with a grimace.

He lifts his drink over my head and holds his elbow out for me to take, leading us through the busy
room to try and find a table somewhere in the packed foggy atmosphere.

The downside to Arry not really spending much time here is we barely know anyone. He nods at a face
or two, but we end up finding a table near the back corner and hems me in when he sits down. It’s a
little claustrophobic back here but it’s a hell of a lot quieter than by the bar.

I shift in my skirt, which looked pretty going on but now feels like it’s confining me uncomfortably. I went
for cute denim and short, sexy as could be with still being modest in the aim of winding up my fiancée
to fever pitch. Instead, I can’t breathe and wonder if I even bought this in the right size. I haven’t worn it
since I tried it on a few months ago and now I am wondering if I should cut down on the junk food. The
waist is pinching and my chest in my pastel unicorn top feels restricted as though my bra is too tight.

“You seem like you don’t want to be here?” Arrick catches me off guard, watching me pensively. I flicker
my glance up to that questioning look and see the doubt.

“I do… Honestly I do… it’s just a little crowded in here and crazy noisy.” I smile, trying hard to look
happy and he frowns.

“Your still not feeling great, are you?” He leans in and presses his hand to my head in a bid to check
my temperature and I push it away with a nonchalant smile.



“I’m fine… I have my mind on drunken hot sex with a sexy Italian… Stop worrying.”

“You can have hot sex with him anytime… If you’re sick, then we should go back.” He’s losing the
carefree smile, and worried protector frown is clearly going on. I sigh and know this is futile now his
overthinking brain is clicking into motion. He will pester me relentlessly unless I get up and dance on a
table and get hopelessly drunk, which I really have no energy for.

“Okay look… I don’t feel great, but I’m hoping with enough booze and maybe a shot on a dance-floor it
will pass, and then we get to go be very naughty and naked.” I slide my hand under the table up his
thigh and plant myself firmly on a part of him that starts stirring to attention. Arrick smirks and leans
back on the seat, giving me encouragement. No one can see anyway so I have myself a little fondle
and smile when he begins to show signs of arousal. His foot moves between my ankles and uses his
knee to nudge mine apart gently. His hand following suit as he strokes my inner thigh right up to my
panties. I have to inhale slowly to calm down the immediate reaction my body has but at least I’ve
distracted him from thoughts of going back home so early.

That crazy horny switch form earlier is still like a hair trigger it seems, and I practically crush his knee
with the automatic pressing of my knees together when his thumb brushes over my warmest part of my
apex.

“Maybe we should down a few at the bar on the way out and go have sex… Now.” He’s trying to act like
he’s crazy horny, but I know him; maneuvering me home to tuck me up in bed like a sick puppy.

God, Arrick!

Sometimes this side of him drives me crazy; when best friend and protector overrides everything. I
want hot drunken sex and I will be damned if he is going to screw that up.

“How about we go find a better club with a dance-floor and you can show me your moves?” That’s a far
better idea, seeing as Arrick’s dance moves always get me hot and bothered and he has a real skill



with grinding me into fever pitch. I miss it, all our naughty nightclub sex in weird places days.

He regards me for a second, downs his pint in one long glug and slides out of his seat. I lift my wine as
if to show him I’m in full agreement and try to down it too, almost choking halfway, but I make a great
show of almost emptying my glass without retching. He pulls me out of my seat after him and leads me
with entangled fingers.

We don’t stop at the bar at all, instead he drags me out by the hand, looking very sexy and suave in
dark pants and a dark grey button down with his trademark leather jacket of old. I’ve missed seeing it
on him, my sexy bad boy. He does look crazily hot and despite the sudden rush of booze hitting me in
the brain and sending my legs to jelly when we hit fresh air, I do want to rip his clothes off and let him
have me right here in the street.

“Where to, beautiful?” He turns on me out in the quiet dark air and for a second, I’m relieved to be out
here in the quiet. The thought of a club is not so appealing now that I remember what silence sounds
like. The drinks I have managed to keep down must have been super strong though, as already I’m
beginning to feel beyond tipsy. Not in a good way as that tinge of nausea rises but I push it down
stubbornly.

“How drunk are you?” I eye him up, seeing only stone cold sober and knowing he needs way more than
what he’s drunk to get a buzz, but I want sex and then we can go home.

“I’m not really… Why are you? After what, three drinks, baby? Jesus, Sophs. When did my girlfriend
become such a lightweight?” he laughs at me, hauling me into his arm as he starts heading us along
the cobble street, pointing at clubs along the way. I shake my head at every point and turn to him
instead.

“Let’s have sex now.” I slur weirdly. A lot drunker and even I’m shocked at how badly this has hit me in
such a short space of time. Fresh air is like some mad accelerator. I never get this drunk this easily and



wonder if maybe I am still sick, and booze is somehow more potent because of it.

“In the middle of the street?” He smiles, looking me up and down a little more intensely and I can tell he
is gauging my drunkenness with a little disbelief. He looks amused anyway.

“I am crazy horny for you right now… if you don’t fuck me, I may self-implode.” It comes out of
nowhere, a word I rarely use and in a way that I wouldn’t normally seduce him, but now my head is on
sex and a plan and I am all in. See logic says hot horny sex to satisfy my kinky boy and then I won’t
feel guilty about making him take me home, so I can pass out before eleven p.m. Going home for sex is
not the same and his mention of missing kinky this morning has me all over the place.

Maybe it’s the insecurity from months of being weird and all the crap that’s gone on with us lately. I
really want him to see we are still us and we can still be kinky and spontaneous and have sex in risky
places.

“Fuck, huh? Someone’s clearly drunk.” He grins ducking in to kiss me and I let him walk me backwards
against a wall, so I can lean against it and keep myself upright. Arrick kisses me passionately, tongue
trailing mine and caressing it. I love how he tastes and feels, his hand cupping my face and sliding into
my hair as he gets more into the kiss and presses his body perfectly to mine.

Try as I might, the hot and horny factor doesn’t kick in like it always does, out here when he kisses me
this way and despite how easily he turned me on in the bar, I want to lay down. It’s the nausea that’s
waving up inside and maybe the fact my head is swirling a little bit, so I try to make the kiss steamier.

I bite his bottom lip and shove my hands under his shirt, raking my nails up that abdomen and tingling
at the sense of power it gives me when his body reacts. Flinching: his bulge in his pants growing
against my pelvis and finally, I start to get that sense of crazy longing between my thighs, even if it’s
more of a slow burning ember than a raging fire.

What the hell is wrong with me?



I have never had issue with him turning me on, ever.

I shove him backwards hard, so he’s knocked off balance, his mouth glued to mine as I keep him
locked there with hands around his head and walk him backwards into a shop window aggressively
that’s opposite the wall he has me against. Maybe I need to take control and unleash the side that likes
to tie him up and make him surrender to me.

Arrick’s startled by the sudden shift, hands sort of fly out before he steadies himself on me, but there’s
not much he can do with my tongue down his throat, forcibly assaulting my boy in a crazy hormonal
way. I just wish my natural instincts were being a little more helpful. Not feeling this how I normally
would. It’s all forced.

Get it together, Sophie.

His body relaxes as he moves into my kiss once more, his back flat to a closed and shuttered window,
his hands back on my face as he takes a little control and runs his tongue along my bottom lip before
sucking it in and kissing me senseless.

I’m a little bit erratic and crazy pawing at him and scratching him up in a bid to really feel this. It’s not
working, I feel guilty that I may be hurting him, even though he seems very into it and normally I have
no qualms about assaulting the shit out of him in the name of hard sex. Arrick is kissing me, groping my
breasts, and making it clear this is working for him. One hand strays over my ass and under the edge
of my skirt so he can lay full palm on naked ass and squeezes it as he yanks my body against his. It
does nothing for me.

Jesus Christ, girl… Get with this! It’s Arrick. He likes this shit, as do you.

I thrust one hand down the front of his jeans and feel him out, not wholly turned on yet but slowly
building to it and I have to admit, having him all hot and hard in my palm, makes it a lot easier to loosen



up. Especially when he breaks free to kiss my neck and my little hand squeeze makes him groan in my
ear, in turn my inners sizzle in reaction.

This is more like it.

“Take me somewhere you can fuck me” I demand hoarsely into his ear as he makes another go at
sucking and nibbling my neck, tingles spreading through me at that little button pusher and his hand
slides between my thighs under my short denim skirt.

I came out in my new shoes and a mini skirt with the full intention of seducing him tonight, wearing
panties that are easy to pull aside. I’m a woman on a mission and I am not even sure what pushed me
to decide this was tonight’s plan. I guess it’s some delayed reaction to today, to Claude and the whole
messy affair. Arrick does so much for me, believes in me and I want him to feel like I appreciate him in
all the ways I do. I guess letting him have a night of wild fun is sort of like a reward.

Arrick doesn’t say anything, just lifts his head to look around and then hauls me with him in the
direction of a nearby alley. It’s in pitch darkness and so narrow between two closed shops that it’s
almost invisible. He pulls me into the tight gap that’s barely big enough for both of us but in here it’s
literally like walking into a black room. He moves me along until we are completely concealed from the
street and hitches me up around his waist in a swift motion, so he can prop me against the freezing
brick wall and wedge us in.

“This do you? Obscured from passers-by.” I can’t see him anymore, only feel his warm breath at my ear

I bite his lip as a response, get a little rough with my wandering hands on his naked skin, concentrating
on keeping myself up here while wiggling my pelvis against his suggestively. If dry humping was an
Olympic sport, then I am making a good play to qualify for contender. I almost have his shirt open when
he catches my wrist and pins it above my head as he pulls away panting. I can feel his shallow breaths



pulsing through me and even though he’s keeping me propped up expertly, it’s obvious he’s struggling
to remain in control. His erection is evident through his jeans, almost trying to burst through.

“Baby, I have no idea what’s gotten into you, but I like it.” He kisses me harder, lets my hand go and
slides down a little to angle me against the wall for better access to my skirt, he slides it up my hips in a
weird wriggling motion and comes back to press hard against me with his body, so he can free his
hands to get at his own jean buttons.

Its only seconds of frantic pawing and clawing, kissing hard, sucking, and biting before he has panties
hooked to the side and he’s feeling me out to see if I am ready. For a second, I screw my eyes shut
and pray that everything is working down there, while my stupid body is malfunctioning in every other
way. He makes me moan with a little finger action and lack of hesitation or discomfort suggests I am
way more into this than I am feeling. He slides inside me easily and I exhale with pleasure.

Okay, definitely feeling it now.

The grunting and hard breathing, as Arrick starts screwing me in our awkward hitched up position
echoes around us lightly. I reach up above my head to catch hold off the top of the wall to keep me up
high enough to let him maneuver himself into thrusts as he pushes inside of me with the full length of
that large Carrero pleasure tool. I start moaning out, not caring if anyone hears when I am reconciled
with my orgasm giver and he covers my mouth with a hand almost immediately, chuckling at my
noises.

Really feeling it now.

Pleasure overtakes me and the need to play hard and rough disperses as his body takes me. Ecstasy
pulsating, warmth and tingles running up and down my legs and abdomen as he hits the right spot over
and over. From slow to work up to this, I’m suddenly consumed with wracking waves of muscle



loosening amazingness and already on the verge of climax. I’m crazily sensitive and wonder if it’s all
connected to being unwell.

It’s fast and hard, reminds me of a long-ago frenzied fuck against his car in what seems like a million
years ago. Before I can catch my breath, I cum stupendously on top of him without warning or even
much of a build-up and it hits me like a freight train. Crying out and biting his fingers in the process
which were trying to shield my mouth and tensing like crazy as it shudders through me in such a good
way, limb from limb. Arrick grips me tight, thrusts through my convulsions before he pours himself into
me and we both sag against the wall in a pretty unsexy way.

“Fuck, Sophie.” Arrick breathes heavily, his voice low and husky as he tries to untangle us without
dropping me. It’s the first time I realize I have on one shoe and my t-shirt is up above my bra with my
breasts popped out of the lacey lingerie I put on for him. Exposed obviously while he was grasping at
them, sucking my nipples and all the while I was completely oblivious to how naked he managed to get
me.

Arrick is top naked from the front as I’ve pushed all his clothes back off his shoulders, unbuttoned and
exposed him too, so they hang around his elbows with all that ripe abdomen on show.

I’m sated, fulfilled. And sadly, so very not good once again. The nausea which didn’t exactly go away
has only increased with the exertion, and my panting breaths during orgasm have made me hot,
flustered, and lightheaded to spectacular levels. I don’t feel right in anyway and it all comes rushing at
me way too fast when I try to pull myself upright properly.

Without any signal whatsoever and only half untangled from my fiancée who is trying to pull his pants
up without releasing me. I wretch, gag and throw up spectacularly with exorcist style vomiting, right
over his shoulder and arm while trying to not aim at his face. Projectile puke, that tastes a lot like wine
and beef stroganoff, in some sort of satanic type scene. It keeps coming until I am sure my entire
alcohol content is on the sidewalk, creating a river in the dark.



Arrick seems frozen, although in the dark, apart from feeling him move me a little mid puking, I can’t
see him to tell how bad it is or how he is even reacting. All I know is that I just threw up on him and now
I am so dizzy I flop back against the wall and start to cry.

“I’m sorry.” I blurt through the last mouthful, wiping my hands across my face in a bid to clean it off. He
slides me down slowly, hands let me go as my eyes try to adjust to the darkness. All I can see is him
pulling off a layer and wiping himself down.

“Baby… You just… Never mind. We will get you home.” He sounds disgusted, shocked. Not that I
blame him. Even with limited vision I know I didn’t turn enough not to get him, I don’t know how bad it
is, or how much he got covered in. I pull my skirt down and adjust myself the best I can to get myself
decent. I can hear him moving away, probably into the light at the end of the alley to see what he’s
doing, and I follow very slowly. Like a baby animal learning to walk and hold onto the wall for support.

Arrick comes back after a moment and catches me by the hand. Guiding me gently yet keeps me at a
distance in case I do it again probably. He sounds weird and cagey when he speaks.

“Let’s not talk about this … Ever! Let’s get you back home and to bed while I take three showers and
burn all my clothes.”


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