“Jealous?” I tease.
“Yes. One hundred percent. And I’m confident enough to admit I’m also a tiny bit terrified that one of Jameson’s pro-golfer friends is going to take one look at you and stop at nothing to make you his.”
I laugh at the ridiculous notion, and Carter grabs me around the waist.
“I’m serious, Kels. They’d be idiots not to on a normal day, but with you in that little black skirt?” He bites his lip, and I feel his body go taut.
“It’s a skort,” I whisper in his ear, laughing when he realizes I didn’t actually say anything sexy.
“I like a challenge,” he says, lifting me over his shoulder and carrying me back to our room.
“I’ve got to go, Puff!” I say, slapping him on his ass as I hang over his shoulder.
“They can wait five minutes. I’ve got plans.”
“Plans that only take five minutes?” I ask as he opens the door to our room.
“Well, that’s mostly up to you, babe,” Carter says as he sets me on the floor. “I’mnot going to take the whole time.”
“You’ve got five minutes,” I say, dropping my hands to trace the outline of his bulge. “Don’t let me down.”
“You’re so beautiful.” Carter buries his nose in my hair. “I can’t wait to show you just how much I want you.”
He kisses his way from my neck down the front of my shirt before dropping his hands to the hem of my shirt.
“Not enough time,” I say, shaking my head.
His eyes meet mine, a soft intensity filling them. “There is always enough time to make sure you get what you need.”
With a conceding grin, I lift my arms over my head, my collared shirt quickly following. He leans in and licks a line from my collarbone down to my nonexistent cleavage. Goose bumps spill over me, my nipples hardening. Using his thumb, he pushes down one side of my bra, lightly licking my right nipple before sucking it—hard.
I moan, and he presses me against the mirror in the entryway, my back flat against the cold glass.
“Hurry,” I manage to get out.
He glares at me as if I’m ridiculous for even suggesting he not take his time.
“Carter,” I demand.
He pulls my black skort down in one swift movement, and I kick it off from around my ankles as his mouth devours mine. Sliding a hand around the back of my legs, he lifts me, notching my center directly against his bulge.
He lets out a hiss as I press myself against him.
“Less clothes,” I say on a gasp.
He props my back against the mirror, holding me as he pulls his pants and boxer briefs down just enough for his cock to spring free. I grab the wallet out of his back pocket and extract the condom from there. I rip the package with my teeth and slowly wrap him.
Gripping my hips with enough pressure I know I’ll have marks, he lifts me up, sliding my heat against his erection. Once. Twice. Three times.
“Touch yourself,” he whispers in my ear. “My hands are full, and I need you to feel good.”
I reach down, placing two fingers over my clit.
“Good girl.”
With that, he lifts me again, slamming home inside me with a low moan.
My body begins to tremble as my orgasm builds inside me. The heels of my tennis shoes are digging into the back of his legs. I scrape my fingers along his broad back, a laugh escaping me as his hips spasm at the light pain.
