Donovan (Face-Off 3)

After the number Carter just did on me, I cannot possibly sit here like this for the rest of the night. I should let him take care of what he started, but he needs to finish the conversation before I give him more.

“You’re crazy woman, you know that?” He calls out from behind me.

His comment brings a smile to my face. Of course, I know that. “While that may be true, you cannot get enough of my extra special brand of crazy.”

He grunts in agreement, and I laugh to myself as I enter my bedroom, wondering how long it will take him to grow back his beard and start opening up to me. Let the countdown begin.

Chapter 5

Carter

Sydney Carroway is the fucking crowned Queen of Blue Balls. All hail the Queen. She has me so goddamn horny, taunting me with her giant rack and tight ass, and loving every minute of my pain. I wish women knew the real meaning of blue balls. They have no idea the physical agony. Not that it compares to child birth, but still…my sack is about two seconds away from shriveling up and falling the hell off if I have to endure another night of Sydney flaunting her assets in my face.

I have never had a problem getting laid. Well, at least not since I grew into my baby fat from high school and joined the hockey team. Now, all I have to do is dial one of the girls on my list, and they come running over like Domino’s Pizza—hot, ready, and here within thirty minutes. Not Sydney, though, she gets her rocks off on fucking with me.

Sydney comes out from the bedroom with a satisfied smile on her face. Either she just got herself off, or she’s enjoying this torture. I know she wants me. Her nipples were hard and popping through her top when I kissed her neck. She stopped breathing for so long that I thought she had run out of air. Then, she flipped the switch on me.

I’m still hard, despite my best attempts not to think about her tits or that perfect ass. Good thing I’m wearing jeans this time though I’m sure knowing how turned on I am will only cause her to smile more. She enjoys this shit too much. I knew going into this that Kennedy had played with Tyler, all at the request of Sydney. But the moment I laid eyes on her, I had to get her in bed. If only she’d let me get that far.

Sydney walks into the kitchen, throwing her black curls over her shoulder and flashing me a sexy smirk. I hate that she takes pleasure in my pain. She’s a fucking sadist. So am I. She just doesn’t know it yet.

I like her. There’s something about this woman that I find so intriguing. I cannot put my finger on it. She’s a mystery, impossible to figure out. And that makes me work harder to find out what she’s hiding from me.

Why does she enjoy these games so much?

I never met a woman like her before. Most girls throw themselves at me and want to tie themselves to a rich hockey player, but not Sydney. Everything she does is planned out, calculated, yet makes no sense at the same time. She confuses the fuck out of me.

“Here you go,” Sydney says, handing me a bottle of beer, shaking her tits in my face as she leans over.

I take the beer with one hand and grab her by the waist with the other. She doesn’t swat me away. Shocker. Instead, she sucks in a deep breath, her eyes closed and chin pointed up to the ceiling.

If she wants this, then why does she fight it so much?

It’s obvious that she’s attracted to me. With a girl like Sydney, I would not even be here if she wasn’t interested. She’s the kind of woman that summons you, tells you when it’s okay to step into her world. I dated a few girls like her over the years but none to this extreme. The game of hers is on a whole new level.

“Carter,” she moans, allowing me to scoop her up and set her down on my lap. Her eyes finally open and she locks onto me with those big blue irises that had caught my attention the first time we met.

Before she can say another word, I lean over to put my beer on the table in front of me, reaching around Sydney and in the process pulling her closer. As I run my hands down her arms, her skin pricks with little bumps. She wants this more than she will ever admit. Her nipples poke through the thin material of her tank once more. And this time, I cup her breast in my hand, feeling her through the shirt. She didn’t even bother to put her bra back on.

“Carter,” she says, licking her lips as I look up at her.

“You want this, baby. Stop fighting me.”

“Mmm,” she says, as I pull down her shirt, exposing her breast to the cold air, causing the tiny bud to harder even more. “We shouldn

’t…”

“We should,” I tell her with confidence before I roll my tongue over her nipple. “Fuck the rules.”

She runs her fingers through my hair. The noises that escape her lips are so fucking sexy they’re worth the last few days of never-ending blue balls. A man can only jerk off so many times before he needs the real thing. Pushing down her shirt further, I take her other breast in my hand, massaging it as I suck on her nipple, giving it a little bite.

That earns me another cry of pleasure, and she grips my hair tighter. Her breasts are so big even my hands are not large enough to cover all the square footage. And the best part about them is that they’re real. I love big tits as much as the next man, but there’s something about real, full breasts that are so much better than implants. This is a nice change of pace after the last few girls.

Moving my hand down her stomach and between her legs, I continue planting kisses on her skin, forcing her body to tremble. I spread her legs in one swift motion, then, I make my way up her thigh, stopping for a second to peel back her silky panties before I plunge a finger inside her wetness.

She calls out my name, this time through clenched teeth, her voice almost a whisper.

“My God, baby. Look how wet you are for me. I knew you wanted this.”