After All by Kristen Proby Page 0,24
eyes are fixed on mine as he pulls his hips back, and as the tip of his cock finds my entrance, I close my eyes on a sigh.
“Eyes open,” he says, and I comply. “I want to see what this does to you.”
And he sinks inside me, all the way.
“Oh God,” I moan and wrap my legs around his waist, keeping him seated fully inside me. “Carter.”
“Yes,” he murmurs and kisses my lips softly. He’s cradling my head with both hands, his thumbs are brushing strands of hair off my cheeks. “God, you’re incredible. So damn tight.”
“Don’t move yet.”
He kisses my nose. He’s so damn loving, it almost breaks my heart. So gentle. So sweet.
“You are incredible,” he whispers against my lips before kissing me deeply. His tongue tickles the corner of my lips, and as I open my mouth to the kiss, he moves his hips, just rocking a bit to give us some friction. “So damn good.”
I can’t stop touching him as his movements become more hurried, chasing the orgasm building for both of us.
I bear down, and he tips his forehead against mine.
“Fuck, Nora.”
“I don’t think that’s what this is,” I whisper, making his lips tip up in a sweet smile, that dimple in his left cheek winking at me. I kiss him there and watch in fascination as he succumbs, falling over the edge and taking me with him.
“Why don’t you have Swiss?” Carter asks with a frown as he stares in my fridge. We’ve gone two rounds in the bedroom so far this afternoon, and we’re both starving. He’s decided we need grilled cheese sandwiches.
I think that’s a brilliant idea.
“Well, I didn’t know that you’d be craving Swiss on your grilled cheese after we had sex,” I say with a saucy grin. “But you can bet your fine ass it’s now on my grocery list.”
“Sassy.” He pulls me against him and kisses me long and slow. “I love it when you’re sassy.”
“That’s good.” My hand drifts up and down his naked spine. He’s only wearing his slacks because I stole his button-down. “Because I’m sassy eighty-seven percent of the time.”
“I’d bet it’s more than that.”
“Probably.”
He kisses me again, and suddenly my front door is opened, and in comes Christopher. It’s like Kramer on Seinfeld.
“I have to tell you—” He stops cold and stares in surprise at Carter. He hasn’t loosened his hold on me. If anything, he’s tightened it territorially. “Well. Sorry, I didn’t know I was interrupting anything.”
“Does he always barge in like this, darling?” Carter asks me, as if Chris isn’t even here.
“Sometimes.”
“Not anymore,” Chris says. “Or you could just put a sock on the doorknob whenever the sexy lawyer’s here.”
I glare at Chris, who has yet to look away from Carter.
“Hey. Eyes over here, buddy. This one’s taken.”
“Right.” Chris looks at me as Carter lets go and continues to build the grilled cheeses, turning his back to Chris.
Chris mouths, OH MY GOD! HE’S SO FUCKING HOT! And then makes obscene finger gestures, making it very difficult for me to not bust up laughing.
“So what did you have to tell me?” I ask him and shake my head, giving the signal for STOP IT.
“I have no idea.”
“It was forty seconds ago,” I say, frowning.
“Yeah, well, a lot’s happened in forty seconds. And I should go because while you two don’t seem to mind having a chat in basically nothing, I’m not supercomfortable.”
“You’re kidding.”
Chris shakes his head and holds his hands up in surrender. “It’s kinda weird feeling like the third wheel. So call me when lover boy here leaves, and then you can give me all the dirty details. Toodles!”
He waves, and just as dramatically as he entered, he leaves the apartment.
“Interesting friends you have, darling.”
“You have no idea.”
“Hungry?”
“Starved.”
He passes me a fresh-off-the-griddle sandwich.
“I suppose this will do,” I say with a wink. But before I can eat it, Carter slings me over his shoulder and stomps back to the bedroom. “Hey! My sandwich is gonna get cold.”
“I’ll make you a new one later.”
Chapter Seven
~Carter~
I frown at the caller ID and answer the call on the third ring.
“Hello, Dad.”
“Oh, hi there. I was expecting to leave a message.” He clears his throat. “Your mother and I are having our estate planning reworked, and I need to mark down Gabby’s birthday. I think it’s March fifteenth, and your mother thinks it’s March seventeenth.”
I want to rip my hair out of my skull.
“You could have texted me.”
“Well, this is just as easy, isn’t it? So