Chapter 8 | Brooklyn #2
Incensed, I jumped in front of Carter, threw the gift in the parking lot, and punched Bishop twice in the nose and jaw.
My knuckle hurt, but I tried to punch him again.
This time, Carter grabbed me around my waist, lifting me off my feet as I shouted, “It’s not your house.
You gave me the down payment, and I’ve been paying the mortgage for years by myself.
You want the down payment back, I’ll fucking give it to you.
” I hissed as Carter hauled me away from a growing crowd, still shouting, “Have you lost your mind? I don’t give a fuck what you feel you need to say, and if you come to my job or my house again, I’m calling the police. ”
A stunned Bishop held his nose and stomped to retrieve his discarded gift. Carter put me back on my feet and opened my door. “If I see him again, he’s dead. You understand me?”
He stormed to the driver’s side without another word.
“Carter, I haven’t spoken to him in three years.”
He started the car and peeled out of the parking lot. “Why does he still have the key to your house?”
“I never bothered to change the locks. I assumed there was no point.” That sounded weak to my ears.
“Or you hoped he would use it one day.” He angrily pulled onto the street. His knuckles were tight over the steering wheel, and he refused to look at me during the tense ride home.
“At first, I did. Kept thinking he would walk through the door with more of an explanation than he wasn’t ready. It fucks with you when someone who was supposed to share your life suddenly ghosts you.”
“The fact that he left you at the altar wasn’t enough of a fucking explanation?” He roared. “You dodged a fucking bullet, and instead of being grateful that God kept you from that marriage that would’ve been hell, you become this shell of a person.”
“I’m not a shell of a person,” I yelled back. “I just focused on myself and refused to deal with bullshit men.”
“No, you refused to deal with any man. You allowed that man to steal who you really are,” he pounded the console with his fist.
I wilted in the passenger seat and hugged my knees.
Carter had never been angry around me. Rarely irritable.
Easy going. He welcomed my touch or kiss anytime.
And now I wondered if I would ever snuggle against him again.
Carter had become a different man. An iceberg radiated from him, and I didn’t know how to melt him.
When he pulled into my driveway, Carter kept the car running.
“Why are you leaving? You saw my anger, and you heard our conversation.”
He tersely nodded. “I did. He came here at some point. Used his key to his house. You were holding his gift when I walked up. He said he’d been reaching out, and you’ve been ignoring him. Why didn’t you tell me that when I shared my past with you?”
“Because he isn’t relevant.” I hit the back of my hand into my palm.
Carter pointed at the front door. “You sure? You loved him at one point. My ex told me she was selling the house we lived in because she didn’t want to sleep in the same bed we shared.
You’ve been here three years in the house he bought, and you seem really comfortable.
Don’t you want to know why he ghosted you at the altar?
You might as well go and see if you can catch up with him.
He came back after all this time. Maybe he has a good reason.
” He revved the engine. “I know how this ends. There’s no reason for me to go inside. ”
His words triggered why he was so upset, and I became contrite. “I’m not your ex.”
“Which one?” Carter scoffed. “Right now, you all seem the same.”
The engine still ran quietly as he opened the door and walked around to my side, and desperation hit me. I jumped out of the car and threw my arms around him. “Baby, please listen. Please.”
“Move, Brooklyn. This man walked into your house on Christmas and showed up at your job like it was his right. What am I missing?”
“Nothing. I swear. Check my phone or do whatever you need to do to believe me.” I frantically kissed his lips and his neck. He moved his head with irritation, though I heard the hitch in his breath. A chip melted.
I reached down to cup him, and his dick responded to my hand.
“I can’t stand the thought of never feeling this again and being with you.
Please stay. I love you. Only you.” Uncaring that we were outside in view of my neighbors, I lifted his sweater and licked his nipples and his chest, begging him with every touch of my mouth on his beautiful body.
And his urgency to leave became the need to fuck.
Kicking the car door closed, he lifted me, stormed through my house, and tossed me on the bed. Carter pushed down his pants, and his dick sprang out. Hard, long, and thick. Ready to fuck. “Turn over.”
“No.” I slid out of my bottoms and panties and opened my legs, wanting him to see me and not just fuck me because his dick was hard.
Carter’s chest heaved up and down as he stroked his dick, watching me.
I reached down between my legs and spread my slick inner lips for his viewing pleasure. “I’m so fucking wet for you. I want to feel you, skin to skin.”
He gripped my thighs and spread them wider as he thrust deep inside of me. The force and the feel of him stretching me, skin against mine, started my spiral into orgasmic release. He jerked the back of my hair and growled, “You better not come yet.”
I bit his shoulder to tame the need to scream at the intense pressure of his steady, hard strokes.
Carter was rough and wild, needing to punish me the only way he could, without physically hitting me.
He fucked me and fucked me. The minute I came, he would coax my body back into readiness with his tongue or his fingers.
His dick remained erect, determined to take my all before he released.
My body was sore from the sex after the third time, and I pleaded, “Baby, I need to rest.”
He nodded, though he remained hard and rolled over.
I closed my eyes, though I couldn’t sleep, knowing he was unsatisfied and that he was still hurt.
I tugged on his shoulder and pressed him flat on his back.
Carter’s palm curved to my face, and I kissed the inside of his hand before lowering my head to kiss his lips.
We kissed slowly, and our tongues entwined and danced.
I grew wet and ready for him again, and I eased his dick inside of me.
I grimaced at the soreness while anticipating his strokes to replace the pain with pleasure.
He felt so damn good as he allowed me to move up and down at my pace until his body needed more.
I didn’t resist when he flipped me over and entered me from the back, moving faster and harder.
His hands on my hips, banging me against him over and over until Carter released deep inside of me as my body reached its pinnacle for the fourth time.
He collapsed beside me on his stomach, and I curved myself to him.
“Brooklyn, you need to wake up, or you’re going to be late.” His voice sounded far away. Usually, a kiss or a caress of my breast awakened me. He had become my alarm clock in our brief time of togetherness.
The familiar ache of not enough sleep kept my eyelids closed. “One more minute.”
“It’s already after eight.”
Groaning, I pushed up to rest against my headboard. “Yeah, I’m not doing another year. I’m exhausted.”
“Another year?”
I slowly opened my eyes, and Carter rested on my loveseat in the corner of the room. “Did you sleep over there?”
He shrugged. “Never went to sleep. What do you mean, I’m not doing another year?”
“My residency.”
“Don’t change anything on my account.”
“I know that Carter.” I retorted. “Definitely learned my lesson about changing plans for a man.”
“Listen, I need to go to the house. My mother is there waiting for me. She has errands to run.” He stood up. “Think you can drive yourself to work?”
“Been doing it for years,” I flipped my legs over the bed. “Can we take a beat and talk?”
“You don’t have time.” He ran his hand over his beard.
“What if I drove out to you when I get off?”
“It’ll be late. I’m not sure when we’ll make it back home. Supposed to hang out in L.A with the fam.”
“I can call now and see if I can be late or not come in at all?”
“No need. I have plans already.” His tone remained neutral. Unyielding.
“Shit, Carter,” I yelled. “You’re not even trying. Bishop means nothing to me.”
His eyes narrowed, though he replied, “It’s bad timing. You have work, and I have my family. We’ll talk at some point.” He took my hand and pulled me out of bed. “You need to shower. We fucked a lot last night.”
I clung to him. “Take a shower with me.”
“I already did. And we don’t have time.” Carter gently extracted himself. “I have an hour drive. Your scrubs are over there on the arm of the sofa.” He’d laid out my scrubs for me to wear. Tears threatened to fall. He really did take care of me. It was who he was.
“Can you wait until I finish? I won’t take long.” Before he could protest, I added, “I love you, and I don’t want you to leave with this distance between us.”
He sighed, “Okay.”
I jumped into the shower, trying not to cry. The shower could hide the streaks, not the redness. Timing was everything, and what did it mean that my past crashed into my present? Carter didn’t want to be here anymore. Whether it was temporary or permanent, he didn’t want to be here.
With me.
When I stepped out of my bedroom, I smelled bacon. I walked to my kitchen. He’d prepared pancakes and bacon, and a plate waited for me on the table. “Already made the batter when I couldn’t sleep.”
“Thank you.”
He kissed my temple. “I’ll call you later. Will eat brunch with my mother.”
“Carter...” I held his wrist.
“Brooklyn, now isn’t the time, okay?” he pushed my plate to me. “Eat.”
“I don’t care about eating.”
He picked up the fork and pressed it into my hand. “You have a long day. Eat.”