14. Carter
Chapter fourteen
Carter
I park behind Murphy’s—no easy feat since half the roads in town are blocked for this damn race—wondering how the hell I let Sloan talk me into this. He may have a point about getting to know the townspeople, but I didn’t realize he meant all of them at once. Based on the crowds I had to navigate to get here, I think that’s what this is.
A knock on the car window makes my heart skip as air lodges in my throat. Turning to the sound, my breath catches again when I register Sloan in a red leather bodysuit with black gun holsters on the hips. Goddamn . The two of us pretending to be just friends is going to be one hell of an act with him dressed like that.
“What are you supposed to be?” I plaster myself to the door of the car after I shut it, a desperate attempt to keep from reaching for him.
“Deadpool.”
I give him a slow once over, trying to appear more intrigued than horny. “I thought Ironman wore the red leather?”
“What” His mouth bobs comically as he glances down at his outfit. “Please tell me you’re joking. Ironman wears a metal suit. And it’s maroon, not red. ”
“Sorry.” I can’t keep my eyes from wandering down his sexy as sin outfit. “I’m not an expert on Superheroes.”
His cheeks flush in the adorable way I’m growing used to as he observes me ogling. “Don’t tell my sister you don’t know which costume is which. It’ll crush her.”
“Huh?” What does his sister have to do with it?
He must catalog my confusion, saying, “Ally takes her costumes very seriously. Speaking of, here’s yours.” He holds his arm out, a red and blue stretchy thing that sort of resembles a ski racing suit, dangling from his fingers.
“Spiderman? You remember how I said he’s my least favorite superhero.”
“This is the only costume left.” He shakes his arm again, like I haven’t noticed what he’s holding. I noticed, I just don’t want to take it.
“Can’t I just wear this?” I glance down at my t-shirt and jeans.
“Trust me, you’ll look less out of place in the costume. Where’s your bike?” He swings his head from side-to-side, looking for a set of wheels that doesn’t exist.
“I don’t have one.”
“You came to a bike race without a bike?” His jaw drops open.
“I came to see you without a bike. I’m not racing.”
“Everyone races.”
“I thought we established it’d be silly for me to do pledge laps when I can just write a big check.” I cross my arms stubbornly. “I’ll just stand on the side and watch. I’ll even cheer for you if you want.”
“Nice try. We established that you can ride and write a check. Bathroom’s in there, go change.” He jerks his head toward the back door of the restaurant and thrusts the damn costume into my hands. I take it with a scowl and head to a stall to change, shedding my comfy clothes for the near skintight suit. Good thing I grew up wearing shit like this for races. I wouldn’t be caught dead in something like this otherwise.
On the plus side, the outfit earns me an appreciative glance when Sloan sees me strolling back to the car. On the negative side, I still have no bike, so he ushers me to a nearby rental shop. It’s crowded and stuffy as people clamber in and out, getting last-minute gear to join the race.
“That guy just bought a bell and a cupholder.” My eyes track the customer in front of us as he leaves. “Why would anyone put that on a racing bike?”
Sloan covers his mouth to muffle his laugh. “Remember, it’s not a race for time, it’s for distance. Distance means comfort.”
We step up to the counter and Sloan tells the guy we need a bike. He sizes me up quickly and comes back with what’s technically got two wheels, although it looks like the thing people attach giant plastic child seats to so they can ride their kids around the block. “A beach cruiser?” I give Sloan a doubtful look.
“We call them Townies here. Trust me, you’ll be glad to have it in a few hours.” He pats the admittedly cushy seat before pointing to the handlebars that are outfitted with—wait for it—a cupholder.
“Forty bucks,” the cashier says.
“Can you put that on Finn’s tab and I’ll drop cash off tomorrow? I don’t have any pockets in this thing.” Sloan gestures to his costume.
“Right. Right.” The guy nods his head. “Nice costumes. I heard the Marvel group outdid themselves this year.”
“Yeah, Ally went all out.”
The cashier pulls his eyes from Sloan to look at me. “Dude, you’ve got a costume in a costume.”
“I what ? ”
“You’re Spiderman, but instead of Peter Parker as your alter ego you look like that guy who runs the mountain. What’s his name? Carter?” He laughs at his own joke, holding his fist out for me to bump. “Nice one.”
“Uh, thanks.” I shoot Sloan a look that says, ‘Don’t even think about it,’ as I reluctantly bring our knuckles together, then steer the bike to the door. When we get outside his laughter overtakes him.
“It wasn’t that funny.” I weave my way toward a side street to get out of the foot traffic around the store.
“Oh, but it was.” Sloan walks his own bike behind me. “I bet he’s not the only one to make that comparison today since that Carter guy doesn’t get out much.”
“You should be nicer to your boss.” I cast him a devious grin.
“You should forget you are the boss. At least for the day. Come on.” He climbs on his bike. “The rest of the group are meeting us at The Underground.”
“The Underground?”
“Dex’s bar. I think we need to get you something for that cupholder before we start our laps.”
We bike a few blocks and dismount by a set of stairs leading to the basement level of a retail shop. Sloan leans his bike against a tree and walks toward the door while I gape at him.
“Shouldn’t we lock these up or something?”
“You’ve lived here a year and don’t know that no one locks anything around here?” He shakes his head like he’s disappointed, though he’s wearing a hint of a smile. “You’re worse off than I thought.” He heads for a flight of stairs, leaving me no choice but to prop my bike along his and follow.
Downstairs is a dark room in mostly red with black furniture. An ornate wood bar lines the back wall, liquor bottles stacked to the ceiling, which isn’t all that high, so the display is a tad underwhelming. A group of superheroes sit on the barstools, shouting and laughing until one notices me. Then they all go quiet.
“Everyone, Carter. Carter, everyone,” Sloan hollers as he strides into the room, leaving me lingering awkwardly in the doorway. It’s an effective way to make it look like he got saddled with me against his will. I sort of hate it even though I know it’s for the best.
As the crowd turns back to their drinks I chase after him to an empty spot near the bar. A large bald man with a bow and arrow on his back comes over to take our order. I vaguely remember an Avenger with a bow, but not a bald one. I must be staring because he grunts at me. “Hawkeye. Wigs too fuckin’ hot to wear in here.”
I point to my outfit. “This is too fuckin’ hot to wear in here. I’m not taking it off though.” That earns me a nod of approval, I think.
“Two beers please, Dex. In a plastic cup if you don’t mind, so we can take them on the bike.”
“Are we trying to conceal the fact we’re riding with open containers?” I arch a thick brow in his direction.
“We are.” He grins back at me. “Not that anyone would care since this is all for a good cause, but there’s no need to make it obvious.”
As we wait, a red-haired girl in an equally red outfit comes up to us. “Finally. As soon as you’ve got drinks, we’re doing ten laps as a group.” She turns to leave then abruptly stops and faces me, as if she either just noticed me or just decided to notice me, hand extended. “Ally.”
“Carter.” We shake once before she pulls her hand back.
“Fits okay?” She gestures at my costume.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“It might be hard to see with the mask on but try to pull it down when we ride past the finish line. That’s where we’ll be the most visible. ”
“Is that where the judges are? What’s the prize for best costumes?”
She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “There’s no prize.”
“Why do all this then?”
“Bragging rights.” She shrugs and drifts off.
I watch her go for a few paces then turn to face Sloan. “That’s?...”
“My sister. Yep.” He sips her beer.
“You two look nothing alike. You don’t really act alike, either.”
“Different dads,” he says that like it’s all the explanation needed. “If Ally didn’t live here for Finn’s career, she’d be a fashion designer. Since she isn’t, she lives for these dress up events.”
An unexpected pang of sympathy rattles through my chest for Ally. I’m doing everything I can not to give up my dream career, and it sounds like she willingly forfeited hers for her husband. The man I haven’t really treated like a partner. No wonder she’s leery of me. I resolve to get better about utilizing Finn’s skills going forward.
“Let’s have a round of Wet Pussies before we ride!” shouts a brown-haired man at the end of the bar, causing me to choke on my beer.
“Did he just?...”
“Yep.” Sloan gives me an apologetic look. “It’s sort of hard to explain.”
“Is that the best you can do, Deacon?” A sandy blonde-haired man asks as he strides into the room with another blonde man, fingers lovingly entwined. Maddox and Cade.
I’m not one to let on when I’m uncomfortable, but I breathe a little easier seeing two familiar faces. We aren’t friends, not exactly, but they don’t resent me the way some of the others do.
“I’m not competing, cousin. I just want a good shot before I go,” Deacon says .
“Then you want a Leg Spreader. Best shot there is, no competition.” Cade slaps him on the back with a sly grin.
“One of each then!” Deacon shoots a seductive look toward a woman lingering near the bar.
“Is this a pickup game?” I watch Deacon sidle over to the woman, who doesn’t appear to be part of the group since she’s not in costume.
“It’s a…” Sloan flicks his wrist toward the guys, his cheeks heating up as his eyes meet mine. “You know what. I’ll let them explain it.”
Dex places a shot on the bar for each of us—not sure which one but it’s definitely delicious—then we all head out to do our laps. Cade drags his cousin along at Ally’s insistence, something about a full cast, although I think the man who ordered the shots would prefer to keep hitting on the woman.
Once on the street we cluster together as a group, Sloan and I lingering slightly toward the back with Cade and Maddox. Onlookers cheer as we ride past, as if we’re in a parade, and fellow racers toast us as we pedal along, which seems to mean ‘ nice costume .’ I follow suit, raising my cup each time I see an outfit that looks like it took a lot of effort.
Cade points out different landmarks as we ride; the oldest building in town, the first restaurant, which has a newspaper article to validate it once served Billy the Kid, and artwork from a famous local sculptor. He also shares stories about growing up in Katah Vista and sneaking into Dex’s bar when he was underage so he could play pool.
It sounds like such a normal childhood that for a moment, I’m envious. Even though I was just up the mountain at training camp, I didn’t have much opportunity to run around town as a kid. My days were filled with skiing and homework, and most of the time if we left the mountain, it was to attend competitions at other resorts. Maybe if I’d been here in the summer I’d have come into town more, but summers are when I went home. I suppose that might be why I didn’t put much effort into socializing when I first got here; I never quite learned how to do it since the only friends I had were also teammates and roommates. Yet when I tell him about traveling the world for races, he’s the one who seems to think I had the better childhood, since he’s only ever been to the beach to visit his cousins.
“How come you didn’t end up going pro in anything?” I ask Cade. “Living here with access to some of the best terrain there is, I’m sure you easily could have.”
“Probably.” He raises his prop shield and pretends to throw it for some kids who chant ‘Cap.’ “I tried to focus on one specific thing, but there’s so much to do here. I couldn’t pick just one sport. Depending on how much snow we get or where we get it, I might ski, snowboard or snowmobile. I’d rather do them all than focus on one as a career… Hey, that reminds me. You ever been snowmobiling out here?”
I shake my head no.
“We’ll have to do that this winter. I promise you’ll love it.” He puts some more effort into pedaling to catch up to his cousin, Deacon, who’s offering him a beer from a cooler strapped to his bike. That leaves me with Sloan and Maddox, who are deep in conversation about a sore muscle Maddox has, until Finn drops next to me.
“Sorry you got the leotard costume.” He jerks his chin at me and looks pointedly at the mask now dangling from my handlebars.
“I don’t mind. It’s oddly familiar, like a racing suit.”
“So ah, Sloan probably mentioned it, but Ally’s sort of… particular about this event. She spends months on costumes for all of us, so, you filling in was sort of a…”
“Last resort?” I try to finish his sentence and lift my brows, shooting him a knowing look .
Finn coughs up an embarrassed little laugh. “I was gonna say cool favor, but that too. How’d Sloan talk you into it? This doesn’t really seem like your thing.”
Reading between the lines, I suspect he wants to know just how well I know his brother-in-law. Hopefully, I can sidetrack him. “Having fun doesn’t seem like my thing?”
“Not really, no.”
I chew my lip, wondering how best to respond to that. “It hasn’t been in a long time. Seemed like there was too much work to be done and I didn’t want the distraction.” He goes quiet as if weighing whether my commitment to the resort makes up for shutting him out and being a recluse up to this point.
“And now?” His tone is flat, which I think means he’s giving me the benefit of the doubt.
“Now my masseuse thinks all that time I spend in the office is catching up to me. This gets him off my case.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to mention he’s the one who encouraged me to bring in my team , but that would suggest a level of familiarity we both want to avoid. I pluck my drink from the cupholder and take a sip, hoping I’m as good an actor as I was a skier.
Finn opens his mouth, but before he can ask anything else, his friend Ryder drifts back to introduce himself. He clinks his cup against mine and asks about my plans for the resort. I’ve got a rehearsed answer for this question, although I don’t have to give it since Finn jumps in to say there’s no work talk on the bike. I tip my chin up in thanks, and the three of us spend the rest of our laps debating whether skiing or snowboarding is the better sport.
All in all, it’s… fun.
** *
Sloan makes his way into the bedroom just as I’m getting out of the shower. “Finn and Ally think you’re watching Blake’s place?” I hate the ruse, but it makes more sense than leaving the race together.
“They do.” His eyes drift down my torso, coming to rest on the towel hanging precariously on my hips.
“I have you all night then, Deadpool?” Actually, in my bedroom the red bodysuit screams sexy devil , but I keep that to myself.
“If you want.” He sucks in a breath and holds it.
“I want.” I step to him and spin him around so I can pull down the zipper on his back. “Been thinking about this all day,” I growl against his neck.
He tilts his head to give me better access. “Been waiting for this all day.”
I push the top off his shoulders, kissing along them as I go. “Been thinking about something else all day long, too.”
“What’s that?” His breathless voice makes my cock swell.
“Wet Pussy.” I nibble at his neck as the bodysuit falls to the floor. “Well, the equivalent. And Leg Spreaders. I’m dying to know the explanation.”
“Cade didn’t tell you what that was about?” He lifts his shoulders when I hit a ticklish spot.
“Obviously they’re shots, but I have a feeling there’s more to it.”
“The guys play a game to see who can string together the most dirty shot names in a way that makes a sentence.” He reaches his arms around my neck to play with my hair as my hands roam over his torso.
“So, there’s lots of dirty shot names then? Any that involve nipples?” I give his a firm pinch.
He gasps, arching his pecs into my palms. “Angel’s Tit, or Slippery Nipple. ”
“Mmm.” I let my hands drift lower. “And this?” My finger ghosts over his rigid shaft.
He lifts his hips to meet my touch, thrusting slowly to force the digit to glide over his skin, chasing his pleasure. “Magic Boner Iced Tea. Or maybe it’s lemonade. There’s also Dick Sucker. I can’t think straight.”
“Either way, I know what I want.” I carry him to the bed, laying him out with his knees parted. Using my hands to keep him spread wide, I admire the hard length standing proud between his legs. It’s a soft peach color except at the crown, which is a dusty pink, though I’m hoping it will be red and throbbing by the time I’m done.
I start slow, swiping the tip of my tongue gently along the underside of his length and around the head. Sloan bucks violently when I make contact, which only fuels my desire to play with him more. With light strokes I swipe my tongue over his slit, barely making contact, but that slight friction has him moaning my name while his hands clutch the sheets.
Tiny beads of precum seep from his hole, and I greedily lap them up while still scarcely touching him. It’s a cruel tease, but it’s all he’s getting since I intend to take my time.
Sloan’s head rocks from side to side on the pillow, frustrated, though it’s not until he starts panting that I give him more pressure, swirling my tongue around his crown in rhythm with his pumping hips. His thighs tense under my hands, readying to thrust himself inside my mouth, but I press down firmly and command him to stay still.
“More,” he gasps for air. “I need more.”
“You’ll get it.” I wrap a loose fist over his shaft and give him a leisurely stroke “But there’s no need to rush right now, so I’m going to take my time.” I give him a slow lick, and he cries out in response, so I show him a little mercy by taking him to the back of my throat.
Sloan’s hips punch forward as a near feral groan rumbles up his throat. “I’m gonna come. I want you inside me when I do.” He threads his fingers in my hair and gives it a firm tug, lifting my head. “Give me your cock.”
“Plenty of time for that, too. Let me have my fun.” I bury my head again, soaking up every whimper, every moan, every gasp, as I tease his dick.
Though it makes me impossibly hard, I can’t get enough of his musky taste. Drifting lower, I kiss, lick and even suck his heavy balls, swirling my tongue around them with a contented hum that has him panting with need as he tries to hump the air, though under my firm grip he can barely move his hips. I take mercy on him and relax my hands as I lick up his shaft, closing my mouth around his length, and suck. Hard .
Sloan responds immediately, lurching his hips off the bed as his thighs bear down around my head. I wrap my arms under his legs and use my hands to try to steady his hips, but he’s too far gone to take the hint, fucking up into my face like he’ll combust if I don’t let him tip over the edge. Beautiful .
It doesn’t take long. He hits the back of my throat once, twice before his legs go rigid, and his dick spasms inside my mouth. It makes me so hot I have to pinch the base of my own to keep from coming myself as I swallow every last drop, then I literally have to pry his legs open to move my head.
He’s staring up at the ceiling, chest heaving, a fistful of sheets in each hand. I’ve never felt more powerful in my life, nor have I ever felt so desperate to push my dick inside someone.
Using more patience than should be humanly possible, I work the lube into his tight hole, making sure he’s ready for me, and crawl up his body to line my cock up to his entrance. When he gives me a breathless little whimper, I slide home.