30. Carter #2
Her hair is damp and braided back from her head. I take in her outfit as she steps out into full view, her face flushing a deep crimson as her mouth drops open. “I—what are you doing here? Why aren’t you in Montreal?”
Dropping the bag, I slide my hands into my pockets and try to act casually. “Well. The game’s not until tomorrow. Tonight’s a free night for everyone. I want to spend mine here.”
I study her face. “With you.”
Her color deepens. “You came back?”
“Yeah.” My fingers close around the bag I picked up at the service station, and I tug it free, holding the Sour Patch Kids up to show her. “Thought you might want to share these with me.”
She’s wearing my jersey. My old one. My first one, the one I was given when I was drafted to the Titans. I can’t remember the last time I saw it. “C’mere, Ro.”
Her face crumples, but my arms are already open.
The sweets fall to the floor as she takes off, flying through the air between us and jumping for me.
Rosie’s tears soak my neck as she buries her face, and I cup the back of her head.
Her quiet sobs fucking shred me, and my head turns to find the side of her head with my lips. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”
I say it over and over again as she buries herself in me. Her lips find my skin, my neck, the stubble that’ll grow out if we make it through the regular season. When she presses her lips to mine, I’m right there with her in messy, shaking movements.
My shoulder twinges in warning, but I ignore it. If I can’t carry my own omega, there’s no fucking use for me at all. Walking us down the hall, I head toward her nest, but she shakes her head. “Your room.”
Wherever I can be close to her. Kicking open my door, I make for the bed and settle her down into a familiar bottle green comforter. “You were sleeping in here?”
When she nods, my heart cracks a little more. Rosie reaches for me, her hands fumbling with the buttons on my shirt as my hands run up her stomach, seeking the soft skin beneath my jersey. “Wear this more. Looks far better on you than it ever did on me.”
Our lips collide again. Rosie uses her hands around my neck to lift herself into me, my name a plea. “Carter.”
“I know,” I breathe. “I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight. Tell me what you want, Ro. Whatever you want.”
She takes my hand and runs it over the jersey, not looking away from her face. My breathing turns unsteady as my fingers brush her breast, her nipple pebbled beneath the fabric.
“We should talk.” Fuck. My voice cracks as she pushes herself into my touch, still watching me. “First. Talk first.”
But Rosie shakes her head. “I can’t.”
Her head tips back in silent invitation. My finger moves up, tracing the perfect lines of her neck, feeling the faint beat of her pulse beneath my touch. I circle a space, and her eyes crack open. “Right here. That’s where it’s gonna go.”
I’m going to marry this girl under an arch of flowers. More flowers than anyone’s ever seen. An eighties arrangement on a violin. A singer. And the family we’ve built are going to fill the pews and watch us make it official. Ryker can be a flower girl.
And at the end of a perfect day, I’m going to lay her down and mark her as mine, like I knew I would the first time I fucking saw her.
I want her to have everything. Every single fucking thing. I drop my nose to the soft roundness of her stomach, trying to find any hint of cherries and almonds around the de-scenter I’m planning on throwing in the trash the next time I see it.
I’m so close. So close to everything I promised her when we had nothing but bruises and hope. I’m going to give her the whole damn world. Even an Everly Cup, and when I’m done, there’s only one thing I want.
Her.
“Carter,” she whispers. My cheeks feel damp as she cups them.
Still holding every part of me together. “Rosie.”
Her name is guttural. A plea and a prayer and my own salvation. Her hands are unsteady on my belt, unbuckling it and yanking it free, shoving my trousers down until I’m tangled in them as she starts fighting to get my shirt off me. It’s harder when I refuse to remove my hands from her skin.
I can’t get enough. I’ll never get enough, and I’m so tired of pretending that anything else matters. She raises her hands and I slide my palms up her soft stomach, nudging the jersey over her head until it’s a pile on the bed beside me.
My mouth finds hers, and I murmur into it. “Lay down.”
Rosie curls her hands upward, toward the headboard as she arches her back for me. My thumb plays with her nipples, flicking them lightly as I soak in the approving murmurs from her lips, tasting each one. “Such a perfect, pretty shade of brown.”
After grazing them with my teeth, I move down. My fingers toy with dark red curls, tugging them gently before I spread her open and settle down between her thighs, one hand spreading over her hip to hold her still.
Her hands bury themselves in my hair, gripping it as her back bows beneath a long, slow lick. “Oh—”
I’m not holding back. I push my tongue as deep into her as I can get, chasing every single drop. Rosie bucks and keens beneath me, her hands yanking my hair, and I groan into her pussy. “Keep pulling, baby. Tells me I’m doing it right.”
I tease her clit with the tip of my tongue, circling it gently before laving at it. Her thighs clamp my head when I wrap my lips around it and suck. Softly, then harder before slowing again, teasing and playing with her until her thighs are trembling and my face is soaked.
When I pull away, her head pops up. Her chest is slicked with sweat, strands of hair coating her forehead. Fucking beautiful, and more so when she looks furious. “Tell me you didn’t stop.”
Wiping my face, I climb over her, gently pressing her down with my hips. She sucks in a breath as my cock—solid and heavy and fucking aching—presses against her. “Never mind. That. Please.”
Hooking my hand beneath her knee, I lift it up and out and push inside her in a single thrust, catching her cry with my lips and swallowing it because it belongs to me.
She’s mine, and I don’t intend to let her forget it. “Breathe, baby.”
She sucks in a ragged breath. My knot is already swelling, already ready to sink inside her. Pressing our damp foreheads together, I pull back my hips and drive into her again.
Over and over again. Her body bounces beneath mine, my eyes trying to take in every part of her at once. Her hands grip my shoulders, nails digging in perfect crescents. “That’s it, baby. Leave all your marks on me.”
The small bite of pain, the deep ache that tries to push into my mind, I shove it all away and focus on her until the headboard bangs against the wall and Rosie’s breathing is little more than choked cries.
Curving my hand beneath her neck, I tilt her head toward me. Her eyes are glazed over. “Going to bury myself so fucking deep inside you, Ro. You’re gonna feel it tomorrow.”
Her pussy tightens around me, clenching and pulling me deeper as I pick up the pace. Her entire focus is on me. I push in one more, deep enough that our hips meet, and she trembles beneath me as my knot demands entry. Fuck. “Gonna lock you onto me so tight.”
No better feeling in the world. I drop my head, and her teeth graze my neck.
A warning and a plea, and I can’t hold back any longer.
Shifting us, I hold her thighs steady and look down, watching as my knot vanishes inch by inch inside her heat.
Rosie tips her head back, gasping as I stroke her thighs.
Every tendon in my neck tightens. “That’s it, baby. Taking it so well.”
Clamping me so fucking tight that I can’t hold back any longer. That familiar feeling drives down my spine with the force of a fucking cannon, and my trembling hands tighten on Rosie’s thighs as my knot seals inside my omega and I feel my release erupting. “Jesus fuck.”
Half-delirious, I run my hands over her sweat-slicked skin.
Burying myself inside her is an addiction I’ll never shake.
My thumb finds her clit, finds that swollen part of her, and I rub at it in increasingly hard circles.
She can’t move. Can’t pull free of the knot that locks us together, and her hands scrunch into my bedding as she moans and tries to twist away.
Fuck me, but I’m purring as I watch her fight her own orgasm, trying to draw it out.
“Let it go, baby. Can feel you fluttering around me.”
She arches with a sharp, sweet cry, and my cock twitches inside her as her slick joins the party, her pussy tightening over and over again until she’s a boneless, heavy-eyed omega eyeing me with satisfaction.
I stay exactly where I am. My smile is wolfish. “Looks like we’re staying here for a while.”
When I brush the faintest pad of my finger over her, she tries to twist away. But I see her smiling, even as she tries to hide it. “No more. I am wrung out. Empty. Closed for business.”
“One more.” I tease her a little more. “And you’re not closed yet.”
I squeeze the inside of her thighs gently, making my point. “I’m making you come again before you’re allowed off the knot.”
Her mouth parts. “Is that right?”
“Umhmm.” I drag the edge of my nail carefully over her bud. “Then shower. Gonna wash you all over, make sure you’re clean. Then I’m gonna cook you some dinner.”
“I look forward to my toast,” she teases. But her attention is riveted on my hand. “What else?”
“There’s a packet of Sour Patch Kids with our name on it.” She grins at that. “And then I think we need to look at what’s inside those bags in the hall.”
Her smile wavers as I increase my touches, stoking her back to another release. “Carter—”
But whatever she was going to say is lost beneath her low, drawn-out moan.