Clickbait

by Lisa Suzanne

  But, I do it anyway, because holy shit when you’re part of that couple who has so much passion they can’t even make it back to the car, it’s the hottest damn thing in the world and you want to shout it from the rooftops.

  So consider this my shouting.

  If you don’t want to see it, stay out of the back alleys of the downtown shops of Coronado Island. There are some doorways back there really working as aphrodisiacs, specifically the back door of Tony Rocco’s Woodfire Pizza—which, by the way, comes highly recommended from some people we saw leaving out the front door after our little session in that back alley.

  And that’s all you’re getting from me on this one.

  CHAPTER 12

  It’s Carter’s last day in town, and he’s off signing some paperwork for his new house before our last date tonight. We’ve spent as much time together as we could during the short time he’s been here.

  I just dropped Shelby off at Harrison’s after taking her for a quick walk, and on my way home, I stop by The Port. I plop down at the bar and order a coffee to go from Danny, one of the daytime bartenders. Axel sidles up and sits on the empty stool next to me.

  “What’s going on with you and Carter?” he demands.

  “What’s going on with you and Emme?” I match his tone.

  “Touché. I don’t know.”

  “Same answer.”

  “It’s, like, just fun between you two…right?”

  I shrug. “For now. Why?”

  “I don’t think he’s over his ex.”

  I stiffen at Axel’s words. Danny sets my coffee in front of me, and I pop off the lid to blow on the steaming liquid before taking a sip.

  “And I know he’s family, but so are you, Court. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “It’s fine,” I say, shoving down my disappointment as hard as I can. “We’re just having fun. Nothing serious. In fact, he pretty much irritates the piss out of me, and I’m glad he’s leaving.”

  There—lashing out, that’s the solution. I feel so much better now.

  Only I really don’t. I feel sadness creeping in, and I hate that I’m already feeling all sorts of attachment to him. The sadness isn’t necessarily because of Axel’s words, though. It’s because I’m not ready to let Carter go.

  But what if he’s right? What if Carter is still hung up on some other woman?

  The pang in my chest tells me everything I need to know. I don’t want to lose him and what we could potentially be together, but I don’t know him well enough yet to be able to compete with his past.

  Axel chuckles. “Good, then.”

  “Now tell me what’s going on with you and Emme.”

  He sighs and looks up at the bottles on the top shelf behind the bar—or maybe he’s looking up toward the heavens. Maybe the bottles are his heaven.

  His gaze finally returns to me, and I can’t help but notice the misery in his eyes. “Ask her.” He stands. “Have fun tonight,” he says as he walks away.

  I leave a few bills on the counter to cover my coffee and head home, thinking about Emme and Axel in between thinking of Carter, who hasn’t left my mind since I first ran into him on Dog Beach—well, except when Liam was inside of me. I wasn’t really thinking about Carter then.

  A little later, I take one last glance in the mirror after I hear him knock on my door.

  This is it, our last date before Carter goes back to New York. We’ve had a good time together. We’ve talked, gotten to know bits and pieces about one another, and I’ve found myself thinking about him when I shouldn’t be.

  I’ve got it bad for him, but I keep assuring myself it’s nothing more than a serious crush.

  Axel’s words play at the forefront of my mind. Carter doesn’t appear to be hung up on his ex, but there’s still so much about him I don’t know.

  I hate that he’s leaving right when things are really getting fired up between the two of us. He will be back, sure, but I don’t know when, and I don’t know what’ll change between us when he’s gone.

  I finally rush over to the door and open it, and there he stands looking like sex on a platter served up just for me. He’s wearing jeans and a black shirt, and the dark shirt makes his dark eyes look like he’s holding a secret. He sucks in a sharp breath, and I watch as lust splays across his face when he eyes my black dress.

  “How hungry are you?” he asks, his eyes hot on mine.

  No hello or anything, just right to the questions.

  I lift a shoulder. “Not very. Why?”

  He stalks into my condo and kicks the door shut behind him. I instinctively back up a step and find myself against a wall. He moves quickly toward me, and then he has me pinned against the wall.

  My breath rushes out of me at his proximity. It’s all overwhelming—his masculine scent, his hot body pressed up against me, his carnal eyes boring down into mine. My breathing labors and I look up timidly at him.

  “Because I want to skip dinner and spend the night fucking you instead,” he says, his voice quiet and direct. “I want to get inside your tight body and stay there until I have to leave to catch my flight in the morning.”

  I gasp at his words, but truthfully, that sounds like heaven.

  I don’t answer verbally. Instead, I lean my head back to give him access to my mouth as my hand develops a mind of its own, cupping him through his jeans. He’s hard—steel hard—and ready for me.

  Just one look at him paired with his dirty words and I am ready for him, too. We can skip the foreplay; he can get right down to the business of sexing me for the rest of the night.

  He growls before his mouth meets mine, and then his hands are all over my body at once while his mouth works my own.

  He reaches under my dress and wastes no time before shoving aside my panties, and then two of his long, perfect fingers are plunging into me. The slick sound of his fingers moving in and out of me fills the room, and a feral moan rumbles up through my chest. I cup his package harder through his jeans, and he whimpers. I force my eyes open even though he’s hitting every pleasure point within me.

  “Take off your pants,” I demand, and he starts working his pants with one hand while continuing to finger me with the other. I help with both of my hands—one helping unbuckle his belt, the other pushing against his hand to force his fingers deeper inside.

  “Oh my God,” I yell, unable to take the load of pleasure. My legs start to shake, and I know I won’t be able to hold myself upright for much longer. I keep the hand that’s pushing his farther into me right where it is, but I use my other hand to brace myself against the wall as the Epic Quake hits me. I grasp for something to hold on to, but I just end up shoving his hand even harder against me. I let go of the wall and grab his arm, squeezing it as tightly as my fingers will allow as my orgasm washes over me.

  Once it tapers, I lean forward into him. His pants are undone and his dick is hanging out, pointing up at me, but I need a second because I can’t even stand at the moment.

  He grabs me up in his arms and carries me over to my couch. “How was that?” he asks once I’m sitting on my own. He stands in front of me, and his gorgeous dick and just a hint of the abs above it are directly in my field of vision.

  Words elude me. Some noise that’s a cross between a moan and gibberish escapes me, and he chuckles.

  I grab him and take him all the way to the back of my throat, and he’s not chuckling so much anymore.

  * * *

  We need fuel, so I allow him to take care of ordering some food while I clean myself up. We’ve only fucked once so far, and I’m already exhausted. Despite the fact that we’ve only actually done the deed one time, he’s given me three Epic Quakes in the short time since he arrived tonight.

  He only allowed me to orally pleasure him for a few minutes before he mounted me right there on my couch, and now we both need a quick break and some food to recharge for round two.

  I take my time cleaning up, wanting to make sure I’m fresh for him f
or the next round. I’ve had sex marathons before, but never like this. I’m almost thinking a cup of coffee might help, because I want to be sure I’m wide awake and ready for every bit of pleasure he has to deliver.

  And my God, can he deliver.

  Just thinking about it has me getting all revved up again…and then my overthinking brain starts getting involved. Why does Axel think Carter’s not over his ex? Is he?

  Why do I care?

  What is this between the two of us? If it’s just sex, that’s fine, but I feel like it’s a lot more than just sex.

  Sex this good has to be more than just sex.

  “What did you order?” I ask. He’s sprawled out on my couch in just his boxer shorts, and the view is simply gorgeous. My eyes land on those carved abs. I count the muscles, and I definitely see more than six.

  “It’s a surprise. Come sit by me—or on my face.”

  I giggle. “I thought we were waiting for dinner before we did more of that. You want some coffee?”

  “No, but do you have any soda?”

  I check my fridge and find one can of Pepsi and a few bottles of Diet Mountain Dew. I bring them over and offer him his choices.

  “Seriously? Pepsi and diet soda? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “What?” I ask, totally confused.

  “Coke is king, for one thing, and diet soda sucks.”

  “You know what? You suck.”

  He smirks at me. “Actually, you were the one doing the sucking.”

  “I hate you.”

  “I’ll take the Pepsi, but if we’re going to keep doing this, you’re going to need to stock some better soda in your fridge.”

  I throw the can at him, and he smoothly catches it.

  I unscrew the lid of the Mountain Dew and take a long sip. “Ahh,” I say. “Can we talk for a minute?”

  He shrugs. “About what?” He opens his can and gulps some soda down, making a face like it’s the grossest thing ever.

  “Axel said something today that’s been kind of bothering me.”

  “What did he say?” He sets his can down and looks at me with concern.

  “He said he doesn’t think you’re over your ex.”

  Carter rolls his eyes. “Oh did he?”

  I nod. “What happened with you two?”

  “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  I feel a little blown off by his immediate denial of my request for information. I thought we were getting closer, and then he pulls right back again, right after he just made a comment about the two of us continuing to see each other.

  Every time I think we’re getting somewhere, I realize how very much we’re just…not.

  “It’s just…you know every detail about my exes. I know nothing about yours. I’d like to even the playing field.”

  He smirks. “It’s your choice to write about it, Court.”

  I press my lips together. He’s right. I showcase my love life for the world to see, and while it makes me a lot of money, it doesn’t always bring me the sort of happiness I want and deserve.

  “And it’s your choice to keep yourself from me. I won’t press, Carter, because this is just casual.” It’s sort of a dare. I want him to tell me it’s not just casual, that I’m starting to mean more to him than amazing sex.

  “Thank you,” he says. He doesn’t take my bait, and I’m just left feeling empty. I suppose that’s what playing games will do to a girl. He must read my disappointment, because he adds, “It just…doesn’t paint me in the best light,” he says. “It’s a story for another time. I’m not saying never; I’m just saying not right now. Just trust me when I say it’s over with Amanda.”

  I gaze at him for a few beats, hoping I’ll make him uncomfortable enough to give me more than that. His word choice echoes in my mind: it’s over. He didn’t say he’s over her. In my mind, those are two vastly different things.

  Then there’s a knock at my door, and the spell is broken.

  “Dinner’s here,” he says, standing and pulling on his jeans.

  “What did you order?” I ask.

  He grins wickedly. “You’ll see.” He grabs his wallet and answers my door.

  I’m sitting in my bra and panties on the couch in my family room when he comes back in with a pizza box.

  “Are you serious right now?” I whine.

  He laughs. “I told you I’d get you to like it, and if it’s your only meal choice for the night, looks like you’re sort of stuck.”

  “You’re the absolute worst.”

  He winks at me. “Just try it. It’s not like you’re allergic to it.”

  “I’m starting to feel a little allergic to you.”

  “Where do you keep your plates and napkins?”

  I roll my eyes and push up to my feet. “I’ll get them.”

  He tosses the box on the table and I grab my dress on the way. If I’m eating hot, greasy pizza, I’d prefer not to do it in my underwear.

  I toss a plate and a napkin at him, and he chuckles. “I can’t believe you don’t like pizza.”

  “I can’t believe you know I don’t like it and ordered it anyway.”

  “Believe it, woman.” He flips open the lid of the pizza box, and all I see is carbs and fat. To be fair, there are mushrooms on there, too, so at least there are some vegetables, but it’s hard to find them amid the bacon, sausage, pepperoni, cheese, and tomato sauce. “Ladies first.”

  “By all means, you go first. You choose my piece for me.”

  He laughs. “We’ll start small because this is the best pizza in San Diego and I don’t want to see it go to waste—not that it will. You’re going to fall in love with it.”

  I feel a little taken aback at his words. Fall in love and Carter King don’t fit together in the same sentence, even if he’s not using the phrase to describe himself.

  “The pizza has a better chance than you,” I blurt. Heat creeps into my cheeks. I can’t believe I actually said that.

  He ignores me. “So here’s what you do,” he says. He pulls out a slice, and it’s super thin. It must be hot, because strings of cheese follow it. He pulls until the cheese breaks, and then he sets it on a plate and hands it to me. Then he grabs another slice for himself.

  “I know how to eat pizza,” I say. “I just prefer not to.”

  “Do you have any ranch dressing?” he asks.

  “You couldn’t have asked me that when I was in the kitchen getting you plates and napkins?”

  He laughs. “Where is it? I’ll get it.”

  “Fridge.”

  He sets his plate down and disappears, and then he reappears with the dressing. “Low fat?” he whines.

  I plaster on a fake grin.

  “If this is going to be a thing, we have got to get you to a grocery store.”

  “One, it’s not going to be a thing because you go back to New York tomorrow, and two, how the hell do you have abs that look like that if you eat pizza and ranch dressing all the time?”

  He chuckles but doesn’t answer my question. Instead, he squirts some ranch onto his plate, dips his pizza into it, and then takes a bite. His eyes roll back in his head as if it is the best thing he has ever eaten in his life. “Oh God,” he murmurs, and it’s actually fairly reminiscent of what happened about an hour earlier when he blew his load.

  I can’t help my giggle.

  “You try it,” he says.

  “Ranch,” I say, and he dutifully squirts a dollop onto my plate. I dip the very edge of my crust into the creamy dressing and then take the teeniest, tiniest bite I can manage.

  “Well?” he asks as I chew.

  I swallow. “It’s okay,” I say with a shrug.

  It’s a lie, but I can’t admit it to him. I’ve spent my whole life being the stubborn brat who would never eat pizza. It’s a signature part of who I am. Everyone knows me as the girl who doesn’t eat pizza.

  If I admit that pizza dipped in ranch dressing is actually the most delicious thing I’ve eaten in a
long-ass time, it’s like I’m giving away a little piece of myself to Carter.

  I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for him to possess a piece of me.

  Not yet.

  * * *

  It’s dark when my eyes pop open and I’m forced from my dream, which is a bummer, because it was a good one. Carter was just pushing into me after he’d spent hours licking, sucking, and kissing my lady bits.

  It was a dream firmly based in reality, because it was what he did to me for a good portion of the night.

  “Shit,” Carter mutters.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “Sorry. I was trying not to wake you and I knocked something off the nightstand.”

  “Fail.” I sit up and rub my eyes. The only light in the room is from the screen of Carter’s cell phone.

  “I have to go.”

  My eyes are adjusting to the darkness, and I can tell he’s pulling on his clothes. I, however, am still buck naked. “Do you have time for one more quickie?”

  He walks over to my side of the bed and sits, then grabs one of my boobs in his hand and leans forward to give it a hard suck. I moan, loudly. “Fuck, I wish I did. I already overslept. I blame you for that, by the way. I still have to get my bags before I catch my flight, and my mom will kill me if I’m late.”

  I’ll miss you. I want to say it so badly, because I already know I will. I’ll miss his body driving into me. I’ll miss his tongue sliding against mine.

  I’ll miss his unexpected warmth and the way he manages to press my buttons—all of them, both good and bad.

  But I don’t say it. It’s too soon, and part of me doesn’t want to scare him off—or push him back into the arms of his ex.

  “When will I see you again?” I ask instead.

  “I’ve got a benefit my parents are forcing me to attend tonight and then a few things to take care of this week, but I should be back within a week.”

  I nod. I wish I could see him better. I want to get a read on him, to see his eyes and determine if they tell me he’s feeling the same sense of loss that’s darting through me, but the room is too dark and I’m sleepy after a night filled with sex.