by C. M. Albert
I took a quick snapshot of the picture and texted it to my graphics partner at work. Rico could sniff out anything and had way better equipment than I did. He’d not only be able to zoom in on the image, but probably find the exact newspaper it was originally printed in.
At least, I hoped so.
I mean, why would Carter have a picture of the men who built The Grove in his apartment unless one of them was related to him? And that wasn’t Carter as a boy in the picture, clearly. I squinted, looking closer. Was that, Bob? It was hard to tell.
“What are you looking at?” Carter asked, making me jump.
“You scared me!” I said, laughing.
“Dinner’s ready.”
“Oh, good. I’m starving.”
“Well, get some calories in, princess, ’cause you’ll be working them off really soon,” he promised.
We dined on the most delicious bacon-wrapped, blue-cheese burgers I’d ever eaten. I polished the whole thing off, along with a chop salad and a bottle of beer.
“You spoiled me with dinner, Carter.”
“I needed to make sure you had enough energy for later,” he said playfully.
“Oh yeah, and why’s that? You think you’re gonna get lucky again?”
His dimples flashed and heat filled his eyes just like that. We’d gone from fairly benign dinner banter to wickedly naughty conversation in the blink of an eye. I didn’t know if this was normal or not, but I loved Carter’s filthy mouth and all the delicious ways he promised to corrupt me.
“Oh, I know I am,” he said confidently. Cocky almost.
“Want to wager a small bet?” I asked, raising a brow.
“Oh yeah, and what’s that?”
“A game of war. If you win, you get lucky.”
“You mean, if I win, you get lucky,” he said and winked.
“Well, true,” I conceded.
“And if you win?”
“You have to watch me pleasure myself, but you don’t get to touch me for the rest of the night.”
“No.”
“Afraid to lose?”
“No, but I’m not taking any chances.”
“But either way, you win. You either get to have my body or get to watch me being pleasured. Win-win, right?”
“Wrong,” he said, pushing his chair back and stalking toward my side of the table. “There is no way I can watch you play with yourself and not touch you.”
He pulled me up from my seat. “If you play with yourself, Presley, it’ll be because I asked you to. And I will watch. But I couldn’t stop my mouth from finding that pussy if you paid me.”
“I think a little self-control would be good for you, Carter.”
“You really want a lesson in self-control, princess? You have no idea what you’re asking for.”
The way he said it made my skin break out in goose bumps. His eyes were dangerously dark, and I knew there was so much to Carter I hadn’t even scratched the surface of yet.
“Show me,” I whispered.
He walked forward, pushing my body back until it collided with the glass wall overlooking the city. His body was hard and sexy as fuck against mine. He leaned down and sucked my bottom lip in, leaving me in a puddle of my own wetness. I pressed my legs together, willing myself to not be so weak around him.
Carter stepped back, walking to the coffee table and picking something up. It was a remote control, and he used it to darken the glass windows so no one could see in.
“Take off your clothes,” he ordered.
He stood across the room from me, his hands in his pockets.
“Now?” I asked, looking down at the city on the other side of the glass.
“Yes, princess. Now.”
“But . . .we haven’t cleaned the dinner dishes up,” I squeaked.
“Fuck the dishes, Presley.”
“Nah, they’re not my type,” I said, stalling.
“Clothes. Off.”
My body gave me no other choice. I was so freaking aroused with his bossiness.
I stared directly into his eyes and rolled the straps of my dress over my shoulders and down my frame. Carter’s eyes raked over my body, his jaw clenching when he realized I’d been naked beneath my dress all evening. The thrill that gave me, of knowing he wanted me just as badly as I wanted him, made my body shiver all over. All I wanted was for him to rush across the room and have his dirty way with me.
Why did I press him on patience and control again?
Carter didn’t storm over. He patiently lowered himself onto his couch and stayed fully clothed as he watched me. The large bulge in his dress pants gave away his desire though. He grinned when he caught me eyeing it. “Like what you see?”
I nodded, already dripping wet with the idea of having Carter sliding back inside me. I mean, how many more positions could there be? I shivered in anticipation.
“Touch your breasts, Presley. I want to watch you play with them.”
I reached my hands up and cupped them, my eyes still trained on his.
“What do you like when I play with them?” he asked.
I swallowed. I would not demure around Carter and lose my edge. “When you tug on them.”
“Show me.”
I pinched the nipples as Carter had done to me many times now and tugged them up until my breasts were like triangles. The combination of pinching and pulling sent a wave of pleasure straight between my legs.
Carter grinned. “That’s my girl. Now walk over to me, Presley.”
I walked as slowly as I could to show him that I had patience and control too. But it was bullshit. I just needed to feel Carter thick inside me. God! I’d gone completely wanton.
I stopped when he told me to, next to the glass coffee table. It had a large, glossy, real wood base, made from an ancient-sized tree trunk. The large oval top twinkled up at me in the reflection of the overhead lighting.
“Lay down, Presley.”
I looked down at the table, then back up to him. Was he serious? He nodded toward the table. I blinked, swallowing my pride as I sat on the cold glass.
“All the way down.”
I reclined until my back was flat. My nipples were rock hard and standing straight up from the cool, teasing sensation of the glass beneath me. He finally stood up and walked around the table, looking down at me.
“Do you do this with women often, Carter?” I asked, flushing at being so open and vulnerable with him.
“Never,” he whispered reverently as he openly worshiped every inch of my body with his eyes. “You seem to bring out the beast in me, Presley.”
I shivered against the glass in anticipation.
“Touch yourself. Like you said you would.”
“But we never played the game, Carter. I said I would if I lost.”
“We’re past that now, aren’t we, P? Now touch yourself. Show me how you like it.”
I swallowed.
Then I reached my hand down. I’d never played with myself in front of a man with the lights on before. Sure, a guy and I had done that a few times together when we were in college, and I hadn’t been ready for anything more than some heavy petting. So, to relieve the itch, we both pleasured ourselves. But it was always in the dark, and under a blanket. Now, here I was, just a few years later, with my legs wide open on a glass table under the watchful, heated gaze of my biggest crush—the one I never thought I would have.
My, how times had changed.
I didn’t know how long they would last, and I wanted to soak up every experience with Carter while I could before he grew bored with the novelty of an inexperienced lover.
I closed my eyes and let my hands slide down my body, to my stomach. One beer had not been enough to give me courage for this. I imagined I was alone, so I wouldn’t worry about doing it “right.” I di
d what felt good. What made me release when I was alone. My fingers parted my folds, teasing the entrance, which was wet under Carter’s intense gaze. I could feel his eyes burn over me as I worked my clit, my legs parting farther.
My breathing grew heavy, and I wanted to slide my fingers all the way inside, but I’d never done that before. Not like I wanted to now. Not as deep as I needed to silence that slow burn aching to be released. My body arched and squirmed on the table as my legs shook, looking for a release I knew I couldn’t get like this.
I shuttered my pride and slid two fingers down, pressing them between my folds. I arched, whimpering with the relief of feeling them inside me. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start. I slid them back and forth, ignoring the slick sounds my pussy was making. I was so close, but I didn’t think I could get there myself.
“I need help,” I groaned, my fingers frantically trying to achieve what Carter could do in one second, it seemed.
“Tell me what you want, my naughty princess.”
“Your mouth.”
“Where?” he demanded.
“On me. Between my legs.”
“I don’t know,” Carter said, considering. “Maybe a little self-control would be good for you, Presley,” he teased.
“Carter!” I cried. “Don’t make me beg. Please . . .”
“Well, since you asked so nicely.”
He was on me in a flash, his arms gripping under my thighs and tugging me to the edge of the table to his waiting mouth. “God you taste so fucking good.”
The sounds of him licking me, the suctioning of his mouth over my clit, the moan against my pussy as he applied pressure with his clasped hands that pinned me down—it overwhelmed my senses to the point of nearly blacking out. I saw lights spark behind my lids as my body convulsed, shuddering like it never had before with an orgasm under Carter’s mouth. And I’d had plenty over the last twenty-four hours.
I felt a flood release within me, and I nearly sobbed in relief.
Carter scooped me up and carried me to his bedroom, where he continued giving me lessons in both patience and control. I’d gone from being a virgin to a sex-craved maniac in less than two days, thanks to Carter. And I didn’t mind it a single bit.
We were both restless that night, and we found ourselves in each other’s arms more often than not. It was as if we were both reaching out to one another even in our sleep, still aching to be closer, closer. Sometime before dawn, I finally fell into a deep and heavy sleep, a smile on my face before I crashed into a dreamless slumber.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Carter
IT WAS WELL after noon by the time I woke up. Lucky for me, it was to the smell of fresh bacon. I hopped in the shower but didn’t take time to shave. I don’t know when or how the hell Presley had crawled under my skin so fast, but she was like a fucking drug. I just wanted more of her.
I made my way to the kitchen and nearly came at the sight of her standing at my stove in a pair of the skimpy, black shorts women sometimes worked out in. She had a workout bra on under a loose tank top, the sides dipping low and revealing a large portion of her soft skin. It gave me all kinds of naughty ideas.
“Morning,” she said with an easy smile before turning back to the stove. “Hope you don’t mind, but I was starving after last night, so I helped myself to your kitchen. Hope you’re hungry.”
I peered over her shoulder at the French toast she was flipping. It smelled like cinnamon and heaven—in other words, like Presley. “Damn those look good.”
I moved her hair over her shoulder and kissed the bare spot near her clavicle. I wasn’t used to such sentimental gestures, but it had somehow become one of my favorite things to do. “Did you sleep okay?”
“I did, actually. Slept like a baby. Well, you know. After the last time we . . .”
“Fucked?” I said suggestively. Clearly, I couldn’t get it off my mind.
“Yeah, that.”
I was grateful to see that Presley was a coffee girl, too, and poured myself a large mug from the Keurig. “Mmm,” I said, closing my eyes. “Good choice on the coffee. Man, do I need this today.”
“Same,” she chuckled. “I actually have a lot of work I have to do, unfortunately. So, after brunch, I’ve gotta head out.”
Well, shoot. I’d been hoping to have another lazy day of making love to her. There were still so many positions we hadn’t tried out. And Presley was . . . insatiable. I freaking loved it. The more we tried, the more she wanted. She was completely at ease with anything and everything we’d done so far. She was every man’s wet dream, if I was being honest with myself. How I had ever been attracted to Lauren all these years was beyond me. She had nothing on Presley. And that felt damn good to say.
It was more than the sex though—and it was everything else that scared me. She was smart as fuck. Educated and thoughtful. Curious. Presley was interested in my answers, too. She had a smart mouth and made me laugh more times than I could count. The best part was she gave it just as easily as she took it.
I was doomed.
“So, what are you working on?” I asked as she handed me my plate. We went and ate at the smaller breakfast table by the windows.
“Well,” she said hesitantly, “it’s something I actually need to talk to you about.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, shoveling a mouthful of French toast into my mouth. “Damn. These are amazing. When did you learn to cook like this?”
“My dad taught me, actually,” she said quietly. “In the summer, when he’d vacation with us, he spent time showing me how to cook his favorite meals. He didn’t get a chance to cook often when we were back at home because he was so busy with work. But the summers were my favorite time of year. That’s when I actually got to spend a lot of one-on-one time with him.”
I nodded. I remembered Presley’s dad well. He’d been a good man. Not like some of the other douche bags who vacationed at The Grove. “He taught you well. These are amazing!”
She didn’t answer, so I knew something was worrying her. I caught the way she nibbled at her lip instead of her breakfast. She cupped her mug of coffee and used it as a shield as she sipped.
“Spill it, P. What’s up?”
“Well, just know this was not my idea. Okay?”
“Uh, okay.”
“Lauren somehow got the idea to do an article on you. I think she saw it as an opportunity to share your story with the world, while ‘helping’ a family friend,” I said, doing the air quotes with my fingers. “She spoke to my boss, Sylvia, who then spoke to me. We just so happen to be spotlighting the top thirty millionaire bachelors under the age of thirty. So, the bottom line is that Finance Times wants to do an online feature article on you for it.”
Well, that wasn’t where I thought this was going. Shit. I set my fork down and rubbed my temples, deciding what to say and how to say it. “Presley, that’s awfully kind of Lauren, and of Sylvia. But I’m gonna have to say no.”
She lowered her fork, her eyes holding fast to mine. “I’m sorry. You’re going to have to say no?”
I nodded, decided. “You heard me. First of all, there’s a conflict of interest now. How can you be unbiased when you’ve let me bury my face in your—”
“Okay, okay. I get it. Is there a second of all?”
“Second, and most important of all, I don’t want the whole world to know my goddamn story. There’s nothing special to tell. I’m a simple guy who runs a simple business. The whole idea is not to have it broadcast, so that people who choose to use my services aren’t embarrassed. I’m not an escort, and I don’t want to put any of my clients in an uncomfortable situation.”
She wiped her mouth with her cloth napkin. “I should have said something sooner, Carter. Before I let things get this far with us. I meant to. On Friday. I had—I had no intention of sleeping with you. You know that. I can recuse myse
lf and get another writer to cover the story. But I don’t think it was a question. I think Sylvia wants to cover your story now. And she doesn’t need your permission to do a piece—it would just be helpful if she did so that you could be presented fairly and accurately. So you’re not written off as an escort. I know that’s not what you do, Carter.”
Fuck. This was the last kind of attention I wanted to draw to myself. “Why? I just don’t get it. I’m nothing special, Presley. I’m just a guy who came from nothing. Yeah, I’m doing okay by my standards. But compared to the Kincaids and the Truitts of New York, my portfolio is a joke.”
“That’s not true, Carter. Most people will never become millionaires in their lifetimes. You’ve managed to do that before you even turn thirty!”
“Yeah, well, the clock’s ticking on that too.”
“I know,” she said. “Which is why we want to do the article ASAP, before your thirtieth birthday.”
“That’s less than a month away,” I pointed out.
“There’s time, especially with it being an online exclusive.”
I sighed. My heart and my head were at war with themselves. “Fine. But I won’t do it unless you agree to a few terms.”
“I’ll have to run them by Sylvia, but I’m open to hearing them,” she said as she set her napkin on the table. “Should I get something to take notes on?”
