by Goode, Ella
“I’ll get you creme brulee, baby, but first I’m going to taste your cream.” I sink my teeth into his neck as the elevator dings. All those years of being an athlete come into play. In record time Booker has me in our room. Before I can get my bearings, he’s pulling my jean shorts and panties down my legs. He goes for my shirt next. I swear it only takes seconds for him to have me completely naked. Booker stands at the edge of the bed, his eyes eating up every inch of me. Shyness hits me until Booker opens his mouth again, taking my breath away.
“Even your body is a piece of art.”
Chapter Thirteen
Booker
I want to throw her on to the bed and fuck her so fast and hard that our heads spin. At the same time, I want to savor this. Lick my way from her forehead to her feet and find out what secret spots make her toes curl and her spine arch.
“I want to eat you up.”
She takes a shaky breath. “Okay but can you do it with fewer clothes on? I feel weird being the only one naked.”
“Noted and solved.” I whip off my clothes, tearing the shirt off my back with one hand, attacking my jeans, kicking off my boots. Carrie’s eyes light up as her gaze skates over my body like an actual caress. I’m glad that I work out regularly and that my years of baseball have left me toned and fit. Her hungry expression turns to slight alarm when she stops at my cock.
“Um, maybe we should rethink this.”
“Him?” I grab my dick and give him a tight squeeze so I don’t come just from her looking at me, which might be a real possibility. I can feel the pressure at the base of my spine, and with the slightest encouragement, I could spend all over her pretty tits. “He’s harmless,” I lie.
“Somehow I don’t believe you.” She’d back up, but her legs are already pressed against the mattress.
“It’ll fit.”
“I can barely put a tampon in.”
“It’ll fit.” I place my hands on her shoulders and slide my fingers down the outside of her arms until I reach her wrists. There’s a tender spot at the base of her palm. Her breath hitches as I rub there. “I promise it won’t hurt…much.”
“You just said that your giant monster snake thingy is harmless. Look at it.”
“I can’t. Knowing you’re staring is making it hard for me to breathe.” I lower myself to my knees. “Open up for me. I’ll show you how well we fit.”
I nudge her legs apart until the pink of her vagina is visible. Her outer lips are drenched with her own arousal, decorating her cunt like diamonds. I push her back until her ass hits the bed. “You’ll like this part.”
The minute my tongue hits her clit, she jumps. Her hands crash down on my head, and for a half second I wonder if she’s going to shove me off, but instead her nails curl into my scalp and pull me closer. I dive in deeper, tonguing her from clit to asshole. She starts moving her hips as I feast on her juicy cunt. That’s right baby, fuck my face.
I slide two fingers inside and let her clutch me tight.
“Booker, I…need…more,” she gasps.
My scalp stings from the force of her grip, but it’s a good pain. I rise up from between her legs, swipe my hand across my mouth, and take my throbbing cock in hand.
“You ready then?” She nods. The red flush of excitement extends from her cheeks to her chest. “Gorgeous. You’re fucking gorgeous.” I place the thick head of my cock at her entrance. “Hold on to me. We’re going to go slow.”
I plant one hand by her head to brace myself. She’s tight and hot, and I about shoot my load the minute that my heavy cock meets her slick channel.
“Ahhh, this feels…good.” Carrie sounds slightly surprised.
I choke back a laugh. “Just good? I’m going to have to work harder, I see.”
“No. No. It’s just not what I expected.” She lets out a light laugh herself. “I thought it would hurt more and it wouldn’t feel so…I don’t know how to describe it. I never liked wearing tampons. I never thought putting things inside me would be like this, but when you move…I…my whole body feels it. I want more.” She looks at me through her eyelashes.
More? I grind my teeth together to keep from ramming inside of her. Her innocent desire is making me want to explode. “I’ll give it to you, Carrie. I’ll give you everything. I promise you that.”
She’s so small and so untouched that I can only move short distances at a time. Sweat drips down my face. I lean down and crush her mouth with mine. Her legs fall farther open as I push forward, the weight of my body forcing my cock inside her tiny, saturated pussy until I’m finally, finally fully encased.
I press my forehead against hers. “You feel me?”
“Yes. You’re so big. I can’t believe you fit.”
“It’s not me fitting. It’s us fitting. We belong together. A set.”
“I know. I believe you.”
“Good.” I grip her hip. “You ready? I want you to come for me.”
“I was born ready,” she replies with the cockiest fucking grin I’ve ever seen on her face.
It sets me off like a rocket. I pound into her, driving her body across the mattress with such force we almost fall off. I dig a knee into the bed, using it for leverage, and power into her, dragging my cock along her sensitive nerves, devouring her lips and then her exposed neck as she arches under my thrusts. Her moans mingle with my shouts of encouragement. Lust fogs my vision. I can barely see or think. My head is full of her—her bouncy, lush tits, her bee-sting swollen lips, her hot, sexy cunt.
I pinch her nipple, tongue her mouth, and fuck her until she screams her release in my ear. I keep going, rhythmically fucking, finding unknown stamina in the dark recesses of my mind, driving into her until she comes again.
I let myself go, jetting rivers of cum inside of her, filling her up, making her mine. No one will ever take her from me. I’ve marked her now. She’s mine. Forever.
Chapter Fourteen
Carrie
“Care-bear,” Booker says against my mouth. The smell of Booker and mint wraps around me. I let out a sigh, not ready to get up yet. There are small aches all over my body. I’m glad Booker insisted that I go into the bathroom last night and take a long soak in the giant tub with him. I lay against him while he massaged me. It quickly turned into another round of sex. Not that I’m complaining.
“No. I don’t wanna.” I try to pull the blanket over my head. I’m not a morning person. Clearly Booker is. I usually need a minute to get myself going.
“I got you brunch. You didn’t eat last night.” He tugs the blanket back down. I peek one eye open to see he’s standing on the side of the bed leaning over me. He’s got a bright, chipper smile on his face.
“Why are you smiling so big?”
“I woke up with you wrapped around me naked. I’m on cloud nine. I’ve been dreaming about this for years.”
“Years!” He tugs on the blanket, revealing my breasts more to him. “I had no idea.” How did I miss that? I mean sure, he’s always been attentive and there for me whenever I need him, but I didn’t realize it was in a more than just friends way.
“I didn’t want to send you running.”
“Why now?” He keeps pulling the blanket down my body. I can see the outline of his cock pressed against his boxer briefs. He’s hard. Last night I was scared of his cock. Now I’m not sure I could live without it. Booker gave me pleasure I didn’t even know existed.
“It's the last year of high school. I figured it was now or never.”
“I was so sure you only saw me as a friend.” He lets out a bark of laughter. “What? That’s how all the boys at school treat me.” Not that I hang out with them, but when I did go to parties and such they never hit on me or anything.
“Yeah, because they knew I’d fuck their world up if they so much as touched you.” Booker slips into the bed, coming down over me.
“You warned them off me?” I let out a small laugh. I should be mad, but I’m not. It’s not as though I wanted to date any o
f them.
“When it comes to you, I find I’m a bit possessive and don’t care to share.”
“You’re lucky you weren't hooking up with random chicks while warning everyone off of me or I’d have your balls right now.” Now that would have made me pissed.
“Babe, you’ve had my balls for years.” He gives me a real kiss this time. I moan into his mouth, wanting more. “We can’t. You’ll be too sore. You have a show tonight.”
I huff, knowing he’s right, though.
“Are you always grumpy in the morning?” he asks.
“No!” He fights a smile that only makes me glare at him. “Okay, maybe.”
“I think I have a trick for that.” He slips down my body.
“I thought you said….” My words trail off when he spreads my legs to make room for his broad frame, his tongue circling my clit. “Booker.” I moan his name, my fingers digging into his hair.
“You taste so damn good.”
He licks and sucks, easily hitting me with one orgasm. He doesn’t stop there. His mouth is relentless and greedy for me. My legs start to shake. I’m not sure I can take much more. He sucks my clit into his mouth, taking hard pulls as he flicks it back and forth. I scream out his name as another orgasm rushes through my body. I melt into the bed, not sure how I’m ever going to get up.
“There’s that smile I love.” He presses his mouth against mine. My heart flutters at the word love coming from him. I want those words from him, which scares the crap out of me. We’ve gone from zero to a hundred in the blink of an eye.
It reminds me of how my mom is with the men she’s dating. She’s all in and then a few weeks later she’ll be over it and onto the next. I’ve always had the fear that I’d be that way. I push the thought away, not wanting to let my mind go there. I keep trying to come up with reasons Booker and I can’t be together. I need to enjoy the moment and the time I do have with him. It’s already too late for my heart at this point.
“What about you?” I ask, running my hands up his bare chest to wrap around his neck. His cock is pressed against my sex. I’m sure I’m getting him wet. Not that Booker cares. He’d think it was a badge of honor.
“I need to feed you.” I try to protest, but a doorbell sounds through the suite. “Right on time.” He presses his mouth against mine in one last kiss before he springs from the bed.
“Clothes!” I hiss at him when he starts to head out of the room. “It could be some girl. She’s not seeing all that.” I motion up and down his body with my hand.
“I like your possessive side.”
“You’re going to get it.” I growl at him.
“I already got it, and I’m going to get it again,” he teases me before grabbing a robe out of the bathroom. I slip off the bed and pull on his shirt that is lying on the floor before I follow after him.
When I step out of the room, I see it’s a man that brought the food. Booker is helping him set it out on the table.
“Morning ma’am,” the man says when he sees me standing there.
“Morning,” I say back. Booker glances over his shoulder. They are both staring at me. The playfulness drops from Booker’s handsome face, his eyes going to my bare legs.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” Booker snaps at the man. He jerks his head the other way. “You can go,” Booker dismisses him after he signs the check and all but pushes the man out of the hotel room.
“You don’t have anything on under there. I can see your nipples poking through.”
I put my hands over my breasts. “Oops?” I really hadn't noticed.
“Eat.” He points to one of the chairs.
“Are you mad at me?” I pull at the tie of his robe, enjoying the sight of him.
“No, but I am going to fuck the hell out of you after you eat to remind you this body is mine and only mine.”
I suck in a breath. “I think I’ll enjoy that reminder.” I smirk, dropping down into the chair. He mumbles something about me being the death of him before he sits down with me to eat.
“Nervous about the showcase tonight?”
“Actually, no,” I admit. I’d kind of forget about it there for a moment being so lost in Booker. Normally I’d be freaking out and unable to sleep. That wasn't the case this time. I’d slept wonderfully in bed with Booker. It’s going to suck when we have to go back home.
“Good, you have no reason to be.” He has such faith in me.
“Thank you for this.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I’m your man. This is what I do.”
“My man?”
“Eat,” he orders me again. I fight a smile, picking up my fork to dig into my breakfast. Excitement fills me. There is no dread or worry tonight. Whatever happens, happens. At least I’ll have Booker at my side.
Chapter Fifteen
Booker
“You squeeze your fingers any tighter and they’re going to fall off.” I pull into an empty parking space outside the exhibition hall and cover her hand with mine. “There’s no competition here. It’s an exhibition, right?”
Carrie stares out the window. “Maybe we should go home.”
“We will.”
“No. Like now.” She turns to me. “I’m feeling sick.” She brings my hand to her forehead. “Don’t I feel hot to you? Feverish?”
“Not really.”
She pushes my hand aside and presses a palm against her cheek. “I’m burning up. At least one hundred degrees. And I have stomach pains. My appendix could’ve just burst.”
I narrow my eyes. “If your appendix burst, you’d be screaming in pain.”
She opens her mouth, but before she can let out a fake scream, I say, “What’s going on here? It is an exhibition, right? It says it in the name—The Eighteenth Annual Cheshire Emerging Artist Exhibition.”
“It is but it isn’t.” She makes a funny face, frowning with her teeth clenched together. “No one is officially judged here, but the art is all for sale, so people know whose stuff is the best. Some of the artists, like Whitney, have buyers already. He sold his first work at thirteen and has a dedicated following, so he will sell all of his work for sure. And there are a couple of other artists who have sold before this show too. I shouldn’t have applied,” she wails.
“Whoa, Care-bear, if you weren’t good enough, they wouldn’t have accepted you. It’s not like this is a big exhibition. Twenty artists, right?” She nods. “And lots of applicants?” She nods again. “And you got picked.” Another nod. I wipe my fingers across her cheeks and cup her face. “No doubts, then. You belong here. We better get inside so that you’re there when someone buys your pieces.”
She giggles at my enthusiasm. “You don’t actually process the purchase there. The buyer goes to the organizers and makes the purchase through them. Someone goes through and puts on a sold sticker. We all want that sold sticker, even the ones who say they are above commercialism.”
“Capitalism is a drug, Care-bear. Let’s go inside and do a couple lines of it.”
This earns me a full belly laugh.
Inside, classical music is piped through the speakers, and there’s a nervous tension in the air. Carrie’s good mood slowly drains away and is replaced by the same anxious energy from the car. I scan the room and notice that a few of the artist stations have visitors but most are empty like Carrie’s. Whitney is talking to an older woman who has a bag under her arm that I recognize as my mom’s favorite brand—Hermes. Those bags cost over ten grand, so the art lover must be a whale. She’s a perfect target for Carrie’s work.
“I’m going to piss. I’ll be right back.” I give Carrie a quick kiss on her ice-cold cheek. My girl needs a sold sticker and she needs one now. As I close in on Whitney, part of his conversation drifts over.
“That color is gorgeous on you. It makes me think of the cerulean blue that Michelangelo used at the Sistine Chapel—bright, vibrant, uplifting.” He waves his hands around her shoulders. “I want to paint you like that.”
&
nbsp; I stop walking and hang back just beyond the two. Paint? The guy doesn’t have one drawing up in his booth. I smell a fraud. The Hermes lady coos. “Have you been to the Vatican?”
“No.” Whitney shakes his head. “I’m saving up so I can go, though. That’s why I’m showing at this smaller exhibition. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t because it’s for beginners, but I do need the money. Isn’t it shameful that money could stand between me and the furthering of my art? What I wouldn’t give for actual freedom. I think I’d do anything.”
He emphasizes that last word, and Hermes lady isn’t slow. She takes a step closer. “I’ve heard that you can be very grateful.”
Heard??? That implies there are others that have experienced his artistry personally.
A cocky grin spreads across his face. “There have been no complaints.”
“How much is this work did you say?”
“This one is five hundred, but you can get a custom version for a little more.”
“I don’t want to wait. How much for the whole booth?”
“T-t-the whole booth?” he stutters.
“I have specific needs, though, and all of the installation of your pieces will need to be personally overseen by you this week. My husband returns from Paris next Friday. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes.”
I step away and walk out the doors to find the organizer of this cursed place. No way is my Care-bear getting shown up by this asswipe who’s literally selling himself to come out on top. I grab the first nametag-wearing person I see.
“Who’s in charge here?” I ask the guy in the navy shirt and pants with the same color tie. His permed hair looks like the top of a carrot.
