Are we talking about secrets or body parts? I have no fucking idea, and I don’t care. The urge to take her over my shoulder and into one of Tyler’s many spare bedrooms crosses my mind. I think she’d be down for it. Or at least I hope. Time to man-up and find out.
Chapter 2
Sydney
Where in the fuckety fuck is Carter Donovan’s sexy as fuck beard?
Damn him for shaving that off before our date. I am so pissed now that I want to mess with him the rest of the night just for the hell of it. I blew past him when I walked into the house, acted as if I had not seen him. But Carter is hard to miss. He reminds me of The Incredible Hulk with his large frame, those strong shoulders and arms, the muscle ripped down to his thighs.
My God, he is hot as puck. This man does things between my legs without even touching me. Leaning over him on the couch, I cannot stop myself from staring down, wondering if his package matches the rest of him. I sure hope so because he turns me on just by sitting next to me. I tease him when I press my lips to his ear, asking him to spill his secrets.
Tugging at his earlobe with my teeth, I suck on his ear, breathing heavy against his skin. He stills for a few seconds and draws in some air, holding it far too long before he lets it out.
“Do I make you hard, Carter,” I whisper when he doesn’t react to my first statement about sharing our secrets. “Do you want to shove your big, fat cock inside me?”
I have to admit I enjoy this more than I should.
He turns his head just enough so our eyes meet. “Keep talking like that, Princess, and I’m going to bend you over this couch and fuck you in front of everyone.”
His voice is so deep and manly I close my eyes and imagine him doing what he promised. A challenge. I like it. Apparently, this could work between us.
Most of the time, I do things like this to test men and their limits. The pussies usually back off right away, where the real men follow Carter’s lead and show me what they have to offer.
I run my fingers along his arm, feeling down his body, stopping when I reach his thigh. It’s as if his legs are chiseled from stone. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Oh, yeah.” He pulls me into his arms so that I fall helplessly like a ragdoll onto his lap. “Don’t dare me to do something you can’t follow through on. Because I will spread you out and fuck you senseless.”
“That’s fucking hot. You sure know how to treat a lady.” A tiny moan escapes my mouth. Combined with the hockey game playing over the loud speakers and the couple next to us devouring each other, no one notices. Not that I would care if they heard us. I write far worse things in my romance books.
The house is full of deviants, with my best friend upstairs fucking Tyler, and Coach and Alex two seconds away from joining them, not even paying attention to the game everyone came here to watch. This is my kind of crowd. I could care less about hockey or any sport for that matter. But when it comes to sex—my favorite sport—I am all-in. And Carter is game.
I sit up, holding onto his shoulder for support. He’s so thick I couldn’t move him if I tried. Loving the way his muscles feel beneath my fingers, I trace the outline of his tattoos. Some have color, but most are black ink.
“I like your tats,” I tell him. “Do they have any meaning behind them?”
“Yeah, they do.” He leaves it at that, which makes me want to learn more about him and the sleeves of ink marking his body.
I run my fingers through his dark hair, pressing my chest into his arm. “That’s all you’re going to give me, big guy?”
“Stop calling me that,” he says, annoyed, staring down at my cleavage. The girls are out and on display for him tonight. Maybe I can coax him into doing what I want by giving him a sneak preview.
“Stop calling me Princess,” I spit back, pretending to be annoyed with him. I could care less. My father had called me that since I was born.
He shrugs, moving me along with his shoulders. “If the shoes fits.”
“Touché, Carter.” I roll my eyes and think of what to say to him next.
He shut me down over his tattoos. What the fuck could be so important about them that he turned into a jerk?
“What does this one mean?” I point at the words Lux in tenebris on his wrist, which I already know is Latin, but I have no idea what it says. Foreign languages were not one of my strong suits in high school. I was too busy hooking up with my English teacher to pay attention.
“Light in the darkness,” he says, failing to follow it up with anything specific. He has what appear to be tribal markings and various symbols and words on his arms.
Funny how fast he changes from hot to cold over something so silly. Obviously, the meaning behind his tats is not. There’s more to the man than what meets the eye. And I plan to find out what Carter is hiding.
“Give me something,” I murmur against his ear, rubbing his thigh.
Yes, I scream on the inside when I feel his massive cock semi-hard against his leg. I was afraid he was one of those tall guys with a small dick. That’s the worst when you’re busy sizing up their shoes and hands, only to find out there is not much happening between the legs. Total lady boner killer. But not Carter, he’s like a walking hard-on, the cure for all female orgasms.
“How about a tour of the house?” He deadpans, stroking the side of my breast with his big hand. I let him. Why not? It feels good.
I sit back just enough to give him the evil eye. “Are you trying to get me into bed just so you can ignore my question?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. How about you come with me and find out.”
He leans forward and grips my sides, lifting me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as he gets up from the couch. I have no time to protest because I’m already clinging to him for dear life, afraid he’ll drop me on my ass. With his attitude, he might do just that.
As he slides me down his chest, I wrap my arms around his neck to hold on. What is with these guys and manhandling their women? All I know is I’m not complaining. The heat burning between our bodies sends a brush of fire up my arms. My nipples harden being this close to Carter. I hate that he has an instant effect on me that goes straight to my pussy.
“Do you think you can put me down, big guy?” I say in a playful tone, knowing it will piss him off even more. He’s big, and he’s a guy, so I fail to see the issue with the nickname. And I plan to make him my big guy if he plays his cards right. “You’re squeezing me to death, and my tits are too big to be mashed together like this. Let go of me before they are of no use to you.”
He laughs and walks out of the living room and into the long, marble hallway, headed toward the stairs. “It’s not like they’re going to pop. They look pretty real to me. Don’t worry, Princess. I can rub them once I figure out where to take you.”
“I’ll hold you to it.” I plant a kiss on his cheek, smearing my lip gloss on his face. He looks sexy-as-fuck with the outline of my lips on his skin. I kissed him. Now, he’s mine.
We reach the second floor landing in record time, my insides fueled by adrenaline and the excitement of the unknown. I want Carter to ravage me, make me his tonight. But I have rules. While he may think he’s getting lucky right now, that is far from true. I talk a good game but rarely back it up on the first date.
Now, if I were drunk, that would be a whole other story. Carter could have me anyway he wants, and I would not stop him. That’s also why I no longer drink on dates. I can be such a skank when I get tipsy, leading to plenty of mornings full of upset and awkwardness. Kennedy thinks every man says yes to me and falls at my feet. Plenty of them do, not that I am bragging, but most men have that stupid rule about not calling if you sleep with them the first night.
Since I like Carter already, I sure as hell do not want to spoil this with a meaningless night of sex. I can tell there is more to his story. And I want to be the one to figure out what makes Carter tick.
When we reach the last door at the end of the hall, Carter sets me
down, placing his hands on my shoulders. He stares into my eyes, the connection between us so strong my breath hitches.
Carter leans down to kiss me, and as he does, I turn my head to the side, causing him to plant a peck on my cheek.
“Really?” He sounds confused, as he should be. “You’re not going to let me kiss you?”
He is one sexy hunk of man. I could let him take me right here in this hallway and have the best night of my life, or I can wait him out, make him beg me for more. Option B is the one I’m going with tonight. Because unlike most of the guys I meet, I want to see Carter again.
“Not tonight. But I’d still like the tour of the house if you want to show it to me.”
Scrunching his nose, he looks away from me and down the hall. “Um…”
Carter has me so off my game. I guess I also have him off his. Not what he was expecting. Always keep men on their toes. And bring them to their knees.
“What do you want to see? It’s just a bunch of rooms.”
“As you know, I am a romance author. Why don’t you take me into each room and tell me a story.”
“A story?” He narrows his eyes at me. “About what?”
“About us and what we would do in each of them if you had the chance to do as you wish with me.”
He snorts. “You’re joking me, right?”
I shake my head. “Nope, I’m dead serious. I like games. This one will be fun. Live a little, Carter. Just try it out. It will help us get to know one another. You’ll see.”
“Okay,” he says, opening the door to the bedroom in front of us. “I’m not sure what you want me to say…”
The guest room has high ceilings, same as the rest of the house, and boasts large mahogany furniture, an oversized four-poster bed with a canopy, and has a couch along the wall next to a walk-in closet.
Tyler must’ve hired an interior designer because there is no way a man picked out the window treatments or bedding, especially not a man like Tyler. From what Kennedy has told me, Tyler doesn’t even remember to keep food in his cabinets.
“Use your imagination.” I stroll over to the bed and pat my hand on the silky blue comforter. “What would we be doing right this second if I were to hike up my skirt, take off my thong, and spread my legs for you?”
He gives me a wicked grin, coming closer and closing the gap between us. “Can I get a little encouragement?” Carter is so close he’s practically between my thighs. “Maybe a little preview of what’s to come?”
“Oh, you’ll be coming all right, big guy. That much I can promise. But not tonight. First, you have to learn some self-control. One thing I learned from writing romance is that sex is about control and power. We need to be on equal footing when we go into this, or it will not work.”
“I see you have given this a lot of thought.”
I shrug, unaffected by his comment. “I’m a writer. That’s what I do. Thinking is part of my job. Plotting out a novel is sort of like planning a game and making sure all the pieces fit in place so that everyone wins.”
“You can’t always have a winner or a happy ending,” he challenges, throwing me off when he lifts my leg and caresses my skin with his hand, holding my thigh against his hip.
“I write romance, Carter. The characters always have a happily ever after. Otherwise, readers would hunt me down and burn my apartment to the ground.”
He laughs. “That’s a bit dramatic. Don’t you think?”
I roll my eyes at him. Stop challenging me.
“Fine. I’ll give you that. But no one wants to read a romance novel with an ending like Romeo and Juliet. While millions of people love that play, it would not work in a book.” His eyes travel from my face to my breasts, so I snap my fingers in front of him. “Can you focus, please? You are supposed to be narrating our scene together.”
“Oh, I’m focused,” he says, rubbing my inner thigh. “I’m focused on you and ready to make use of this bed. How’s that for a sex scene?”
Carter makes it impossible for me to function properly. My mind goes blank, thoughts of Carter fucking me run through my head all at once. It’s been a while since I last had sex. The last encounter had ended up as a fuck and dash scenario. I am not in the market for another one of those. There comes the point in your life when you get too old for shit like that, and I have hit my threshold of one-night stands and morning afters.
“Not what I had in mind.” I clutch his shirt in my hands and pull him closer.
He falls forward, pretending like it’s an accident when he’s using this as an excuse to pin me against the mattress. With his forearms on both sides of me, he lifts his hand to twirl one of my curls between his fingers, gazing into my eyes. Everything about him is so intense. I want to kiss him. But I won’t.
Breathing against my lips, he says, “Is this what you had in mind?”
“Nope. But we can go through the motions without actually following through. I have rules I want you to follow. We can have a lot of fun with this. Are you down?”
“Whatever you want, Princess.” He grins, his cock growing hard against my leg. Fuck. Me. Literally.
Doing my best to ignore his massive erection, I take a second to compose myself. A small part of me wants to reach into his sweatpants and whip that baby out just to get a better look. But I have to behave myself tonight. Or maybe I can kill two birds with one stone.
“Good.” I smile so wide my jaw hurts. “Now get off me and remove your pants.”
He scratches the dark stubble on his chin, perplexed. I confuse men on purpose. The look on his handsome face is the norm. And without further instruction, he presses his palm down on the bed for support and lifts himself up.
Pushing his sweats over his hips, I get more than I had bargained. Because Carter is not wearing any underwear. He did this on purpose.
What the puck!
My mouth opens wide enough to fit his massive cock. How do I even react to his size? Kennedy and I wrote an article about that months ago, and I sure as hell don’t have to act like I just unwrapped a Christmas present I don’t like. Not even close. Carter is so big my ovaries are high-fiving each other in appreciation.
Now soaking wet, my pussy throbs, wishing he would fill me up. I reach between my legs without even thinking and stop myself when my hand lands on my upper thigh. What is he doing to me?
“I know you like what you see, Princess.” He smirks, like a cocky motherfucker, because he knows that his equipment is the shit. It’s more than the shit. Carter has the Holy Grail of sticks.
At first, I think I see a mirage. He’s so big it’s as if I have double vision. I want to touch him, make sure it’s real. Give him a thorough inspection.
“I showed you mine. Now show me yours,” Carter says, his voice rough and sensual.
So, not what I had in mind at all. But not a bad change of plans either. I’m beyond horny, sex deprived, and the lack of oxygen to my brain is lowering my willpower.
“Sit down,” I order, pointing at the couch along the wall behind him that faces the bed. “Rule number one. You can look, but you can’t touch.”
Running his fingers through his hair, he blows out a puff of air. “You’re crazy, woman.”
“Lucky for you, my brand of crazy has perks. As long as you’re a good boy and do what I say, you will get something in return.”
I get an eye roll that only makes me want to fuck him even more. But he doesn’t protest again. “This better be good.”
“Trust me, big guy. I am worth it.”
He kicks off his sneakers and pants, giving me a nice view of his ass, as he struts over to the sofa. His legs are so thick and long, like his cock, his arms bulging with muscle in all the right places. His cut-off shirt needs to go because I need to see more of him. I have never seen this much definition on a man before. And I dated some real meatheads.
He sits on the plush sofa with his legs open and his hand on his shaft. “What now, Princess?”
“Take off your s
hirt.” I bark the order, but he just sits there.
“What’s next?” He asks, ignoring my request.
I love that he’s down with my impromptu role play. It’s too bad he’s being stubborn about taking off his shirt. I bet his abs are just as ripped as the rest of him.
While this may seem odd, nights like this help me with my writing. A lot of my books come from personal experiences.
“Now, we finish our scene,” I tell him, my eyes locked on what I can see of his gorgeous body.
I scoot down toward the footboard, hiking up my skirt just enough so that he can see my hot pink thong. It’s see through lace, leaving little to the imagination, but I want him to get the full show. He needs to give in to me before I submit to him completely. I’m a freak like that, and if he doesn’t like it, he can go. I doubt he will. He wants me too much to bail already. And I like that he’s a willing participant in this weird ass game. It’s better this way.
“What exactly does that entail?” He seems amused.
The amount of self-control he exudes excites me, turns me on so much that I push my panties to the side to give him a peek. I wish I could say this is one of the most erotic things I’ve ever done. That would be a lie. My level of kinkiness mostly likely exceeds Carter’s.
He seems like the bark out orders, bend me over, and fuck me from behind type of caveman. I want that side of him for sure. But we need to learn more about each other first. What better way to do that than to masturbate in front of each other?
He licks his lips, stroking himself gently as his gaze falls between my legs. “Spread those pussy lips for me, Princess.”
I hesitate, biting down on my bottom lip before I make my decision. Carter wins. I guess. Because I do as he says even though it’s what I had wanted to do the second I saw his cock.
“So, tell me,” I say, shoving two fingers inside my wetness. I’m so fucking wet I could come on the spot. “Do you like what you see, big guy?”
Donovan (Face-Off Series Book 3) Page 2