by Dana Delamar
“Goodnight, Carter.”
“’Night, Paige.”
I shut the door, then pressed my forehead against it and took a deep breath. I was going to have to start making a list of Carter’s good qualities too.
“Sweet” was going right at the top of the list.
RILEY
God, when was the last time a woman—or a man—had refused to jump into my bed? We’d spent the last two days traveling from London to Scotland, stopping at various castles and manor homes along the way. Again and again, I had tried to get more time with Paige, but she carefully kept me at arm’s length.
I’d forgotten how fun the chase could be, the heady thrill of pursuit, the anticipation of the conquest. Paige was making me work, and I didn’t mind one bit. Well, my dick might beg to differ. But it wasn’t in charge. For once.
I was sprawled across the immense bed in my hotel room in Edinburgh, staring out the window at the city lights below. Energy pulsed inside me. I was itching to do something, to show up at Paige’s door and knock, and keep knocking until she let me in.
But I’d promised to do this on her terms. I picked up my cell phone and flipped through the pictures I’d taken that day. At least half of them featured Paige, though she was usually unaware that the picture was being taken. She really had no idea how lovely she was. I stopped on one I’d captured in York. She was standing by a tree on some estate we’d stopped at, and the wind had blown her hair out of its ponytail. She was re-securing it, and the delicate lines of her neck, her jaw, her collarbone, called to me. I traced them in the photo, remembering the kiss she’d allowed me two days ago, that too-brief moment of bliss and torment.
Had she received the roses yet? Probably. But she hadn’t called.
Well, fuck waiting. I could call her. That wasn’t breaking the rules or pressing too hard.
She picked up on the second ring. “Carter, I was about to call you. They’re lovely.”
“I wasn’t sure what color to get. Pink seems to suit you.”
She laughed, that musical sound I couldn’t get enough of. “I love them. And pink is one of my favorite colors.” She paused, then said, “But you shouldn’t have. You know I can’t take them with me.”
“I know. I just wanted you to have something nice in your room.”
“The whole room is nice, Carter. It’s not like we’re staying at Motel 6.”
“My room is huge. And lonely.”
She sighed. “Mine too.”
“I have the cure for that.” I palmed myself in my slacks, my balls already aching from hearing her voice.
“I bet you do.”
“What are you wearing?” I asked.
She giggled. “I am not having phone sex with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because!”
“No one has to know.”
“It’s not happening, Carter.”
“Even if I beg?”
She snorted. “Incorrigible.”
“And that’s how you like me.” I unzipped my slacks and eased my cock out. “Okay, you talk, and I’ll listen.”
She was silent for a moment. “What do you want me to talk about? And what are you going to be doing while I do?”
“What do you think I’ll be doing?”
“If I know anything about you, my guess is you’ve got your hand in your pants.”
“You do know me, Paige.”
“Good Lord.” She laughed again. “You have no limits, do you?”
“Hey, it was this or go knocking on your door. So don’t lecture me on limits, missy.”
“I’m adding ‘impossible’ to that list.”
“Do you think about it?” I asked, my voice deepening. “About when you kissed me?” She said nothing, so I continued. “I think about it. All the time. How soft and delicate you are. That little noise you made.”
Her breathing hitched. “I do think about it. A lot.”
“Do you touch yourself when you do?” I stroked myself, from the root to the tip, circling my palm over the head, spreading the slickness of my pre-cum. “I do.”
“You aren’t playing fair, Carter Templeton.”
“Never said I would.” I paused, then asked, “So, do you?”
“That’s a very personal question.”
“That’s a yes, then.”
She gasped. “I didn’t say that!”
“But you didn’t deny it. And that’s the same as admitting it.”
“Is not.”
“Come on, Paige. You can tell me.”
She laughed. “I’m hanging up now.”
I sighed. “Not going to indulge me?”
“You’ve got an imagination. Use it.”
“Oh, I will, Paige. I will.”
“Goodnight, Carter. And thanks for the roses.”
“Enjoy.” I ended the call and pictured her leaning forward, her eyes closed, inhaling the scent of the blooms. Then she was on her knees, taking me into her mouth, those petal-pink lips stretched around the tip of my cock, her hazel eyes locked on mine, her right hand disappearing between her legs…
Christ! I came with a low grunt all over my hand, my breath whooshing out in a rush. I’d barely touched myself. Then again, she made me feel like a horny eighteen-year-old, and apparently I’d regressed physically as well as mentally. And we were only on day four of this trip.
Fuck. I’d probably trashed my pants, and I wasn’t about to call down to the concierge for someone who could remove the cum stains.
I shimmied out of my clothes, then went to the bathroom and washed off. I came back with a damp washcloth and inspected the damage. Only a few drops near the zipper. I dabbed at them, grinning like a fool. The day I finally got Paige Sutherland in my bed was going to be one of the highlights of my life. I hadn’t felt like this since… Well, since the day I’d locked eyes with Amber McCallan while teaching Sociology 101.
I looked at the laptop sitting on the desk. An idea was forming… a younger man/older woman story. I’d camouflage the details this time. I’d learned my lesson about putting too much truth on the page. But the essential truth, the truth that mattered?
That could go on the page. It should. It had to.
I took a seat at the desk and pressed the power button on the laptop, my heart drumming in my chest.
For the first time in a long time, I felt the need to write.
CARTER
My lungs pumping as though I’d just run a marathon, I slammed Amber’s Fall shut and set the book on the end table. I arched my back and pushed the heel of my palm down on my straining cock. Reading about Riley in scene after scene of him having sex with Amber, sometimes alone, sometimes with another man or woman, was making me crazy. I’d alternated between being half hard and completely hard since starting the damn book. It was definitely a one-handed read. And there were still two more books to go. Jesus. As though I weren’t missing Riley enough as it was. The five days since he’d left on his trip to Great Britain felt like five hundred.
Of course, I missed the sex, but more importantly, I missed the man. Even though we weren’t living together, the booty calls arrived, without fail, every two or three days. And those times I got to wake up with Riley in my arms were my favorite. I loved curling myself around that long, hard body, the scent of sex and Riley’s cologne teasing my senses.
Christ. How was I going to survive another seventeen days of this? Assuming, of course, that Riley didn’t meet someone who fed his muse better than I did. My chest ached at the thought.
Three months or three years, it didn’t matter. I couldn’t lose Riley without getting my heart broken. Somewhere along the line, I’d fallen and fallen hard. I was already far too invested to give Riley up without a fight.
If you really mean that, call him.
I checked the time. It was five o’clock in Burlington. It would be about ten in the evening in Inverness. Early enough to reach him. Pulling up the video call application on my tablet, I tapped Riley’s name
in my contact list and held my breath. I really wanted to see his gorgeous face.
When said face filled up the screen of my tablet, I blew out a huge sigh of relief and smiled. “Hey, sexy.”
Riley smiled back, a crooked grin that made him look even cockier than usual. “Hey, Carter. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. What’s going on? You look like you just rolled out of bed, even though it’s what? Five o’clock for you?”
I snorted. “It’s your own damn fault.”
“My fault? How so?”
I swiped a hand over my jaw. “You and that book of yours.”
Riley’s laughter, deep, throaty, and sexy as hell, burrowed into my heart. How the fuck had the man gotten so far under my skin in such a short time?
“What chapter are you on?”
“Near the end of the first book. You and Amber just went to the sex club. Gotta tell you, Rye. That was hot as fuck. We should go together someday.”
“Oh yeah? It intrigued you that much, Mr. Upstanding Educator?”
I lifted my hips and pushed my sweats down to my thighs, exposing my straining cock. “I’m getting carpal tunnel and my dick is chapped. See?” After wrapping my fist around the base, I angled the tablet’s camera down so Riley could see me stroke myself.
It felt so good to jerk myself and watch Riley’s face on my screen at the same time. To hear the sharp intake of breath and the low moan he let out.
“Jesus, Carter. You weren’t kidding.” Riley licked his lips, his eyes glued to my cock, where beads of pre-cum slipped from the slit.
“Come on, Rye. Join me.”
For a moment, all I could see was the ceiling of what had to be Riley’s hotel room. Then the screen was filled with the man’s glorious cock.
“Oh God,” I groaned. “Stroke yourself. Pretend it’s me.”
“You too,” Riley said breathlessly.
“Yeah.” I moved my hand up to the head of my cock. Using the pre-cum as lube, I jerked myself slowly, from head to base, back up, adding the twist, right under the head, that I knew drove Riley crazy. The moan that rang out proved me right. But hearing it wasn’t enough. “Move the screen back a little so I can see your face at the same time.”
Riley’s harsh breaths as he shifted the screen of his laptop increased my desire, ratcheting it up to near-unbearable levels. “I need to come so fucking bad.”
Riley nodded. “Show me your face, too. Show me how much you want me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I panted, setting my tablet on the coffee table between my spread legs so my hole was clearly visible, along with my cock, chest, and face. “I’ll show you everything.”
I’d give him everything I had too, everything I was, if only Riley wanted it.
I sucked a finger and began to circle my hole with it.
“Oh shit. Yeah, just like that, Carter.” Riley opened his thighs wide and fingered himself, plunging in up to the second knuckle.
My eyes rolled back in my head at the decadent sight. I’d never get tired of Riley’s body, of feeling it tighten around my fingers or cock. Yet, seeing Riley finger-fucking his own asshole did something else to me. Seeing him spread out and vulnerable, ignited a desire, a need to protect, a possessiveness I’d never experienced before, not even with my ex-wife. “Oh God, Riley. Give it to me. Fuck me.”
Riley’s fingers pistoned in and out of his ass as his other hand gripped his fat cock, stroking almost frantically. Either this was really working for him or he’d already been horny. The thought gave me pause. Riley was at a romance writers’ conference where, undoubtedly, most of the participants would be women. Had he—?
No. I shoved the thought aside. By miracle of the Internet, Riley was with me now. That had to mean he hadn’t given up on me, didn’t it?
“Unh... Oh God. I’m going to come,” Riley said on a moan.
“Do it,” I ordered. “I’m right there with you.”
Seconds later, Riley’s back arched, his breath caught, and he called out, “Carter! Oh God. Carter!”
Cum spurted onto his flat stomach, rope after creamy rope. It was sexier, more perfect, than anything I had ever seen before, in person or in porn. And it pushed me over the edge into my own release.
My cock pulsed, and hot cum coated my hand and abs. The entire time, I kept my gaze fixed on the screen, watching Riley watch me with avid interest.
“Wish I were there to lick it all off you.” His voice was thick, his pupils blown.
My abdomen contracted and another spurt of cum shot out. I shivered. “Jesus, Rye. You’re killing me.”
He chuckled. “Serves you right for booty calling me.”
I pulled off my T-shirt to mop up the rapidly cooling mess I’d made. On the screen, he did the same with a hotel towel. When I was done, I picked up the tablet and set it on my stomach. “Wasn’t the only reason I called you.”
Riley shot me that half-grin again. “But it was part of it.”
“A man can hope.” I loved seeing the light in his eyes, and I realized it had been a while since I’d last seen it. Not since we’d first started dating, in fact. Had he met someone?
“How’s the muse search going?” I asked. When Riley looked away, my stomach lurched. It was one thing to think he might have moved on and that this sexual interlude had just been a convenient diversion; it was another thing entirely to know it. “Forget I asked. It’s none of my business anyway.”
“It kind of is. I mean, if you were serious about what you said before I left.”
When I’d told Riley I was falling for him. “Of course I was.” Suddenly I felt naked and wished I hadn’t used my T-shirt to clean myself up. “Tell me about her. Or is it... him?” I didn’t know why, but in some way, a him might be worse. Maybe it was because we’d shared women before. Only women. Never men.
“Her.”
I swallowed hard. “She another writer?”
“She’s part of the tour,” he said vaguely. His face disappeared from the screen to be replaced by a document containing some sort of outline.
“You’re writing again?”
Riley’s face came back. A big happy grin touched his eyes. He was like a little boy, spying a mountain of presents under the Christmas tree.
“I’m happy for you, Rye.” Why was this so hard? Why did I feel like something had taken a bite out of my side? Tears burned the backs of my eyes. I willed them away before he caught on.
Riley tilted his head, holding his chin in his palm. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I nodded insistently. “It was the purpose of the trip, wasn’t it? To find your muse, to get the words flowing again.”
“I should be able to get the outline to Nora soon. I’ve also written a couple scenes.” He averted his gaze, uncertainty dimming the joy that had lit his face. “It’s not much, but it’s a start. I just hope it’s good.”
I hated the lack of self-confidence in his expression. Amber and Holden had certainly done a number on him. I smiled, despite the pain in my chest. “It’s going to be great. You never write shit.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.”
“I am.”
There was a long pause, because what could you say when the sound of your own heart shattering was all you could hear?
“Carter?”
I looked up at Riley’s soft voice. “Yeah?”
“We aren’t over.”
“You sure about that?”
“I still want you.” He met my gaze, head on. “That’s not about to change.”
I shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “What about her?”
“What about her?” Riley shrugged. “I’ve only known her for five days. Nothing’s happened.”
“Yet. Losing your touch, lover boy?” I teased. He’d had me in bed the first night we’d met. The thought sobered me. Why hadn’t Riley fucked her yet?
“She’s a little skittish.”
“I’m sure you’ll get her, if that’s what you want. You always do.”
“Ha
ve faith in me,” he said softly. “In us.”
Time for a change of subject before I embarrassed myself and started bawling. I cleared my throat. “So, where are you headed to next?”
“Loch Ness. Maybe I’ll get to see if good ol’ Nessie measures up to our Champ.”
“My dad used to swear he’d seen Champ once.” He’d loved telling that story to us when we were kids. Man, I missed him.
“Well, I’ve lived on Lake Champlain my whole life, and I never once saw the fucker.”
“That’s ’cause you scared it away with Little Riley.”
“It’s not Little Riley. Need another look?” He palmed his spent cock.
I laughed. “After Loch Ness, then what?”
“Some Highland games in a village about an hour and a half from Inverness. Should be fun.”
“Scots in kilts. You’re sure to get an eyeful.”
Riley winked. “Don’t I wish. You ever going to wear a kilt for me?”
“If you stick around, I’ll wear whatever you want.” Fuck. Why had I said that? I wished I could pluck the words out of the air and lock them back up in my brain where they belonged. I’d meant it to be light and flirty, not desperate.
“Talk to you soon?”
I plastered a bright smile on my face, one I didn’t feel at all. “You bet.”
After the end of the call, I remained staring at the blank screen of my tablet for several long minutes. What had Riley been getting at? He seemed to be going after this woman. Did that mean he wanted us both, or that this thing with her was just to get his muse going, and they’d part ways at the end of the trip?
My gut rolled. Damn. I hated feeling so out of the loop, so helpless. Like others were controlling my life.
No. If I wanted Riley, I had to fight for him.
Getting up, I went to the kitchen counter and picked up the red brochure that contained the itinerary to Riley’s trip. On day nine, they’d be in Liverpool. What if I joined him there? Would he be happy to see me or pissed that I’d crashed the tour?
If I was making the wrong decision, it could mean the end of a relationship that meant everything to me. Question was: What did it mean to Riley?
