Donovan (Face-Off 3)

“A story?” He narrows his eyes at me. “About what?”

“About us and what we would do in each of them if you had the chance to do as you wish with me.”

He snorts. “You’re joking me, right?”

I shake my head. “Nope, I’m dead serious. I like games. This one will be fun. Live a little, Carter. Just try it out. It will help us get to know one another. You’ll see.”

“Okay,” he says, opening the door to the bedroom in front of us. “I’m not sure what you want me to say…”

The guest room has high ceilings, same as the rest of the house, and boasts large mahogany furniture, an oversized four-poster bed with a canopy, and has a couch along the wall next to a walk-in closet.

Tyler must’ve hired an interior designer because there is no way a man picked out the window treatments or bedding, especially not a man like Tyler. From what Kennedy has told me, Tyler doesn’t even remember to keep food in his cabinets.

“Use your imagination.” I stroll over to the bed and pat my hand on the silky blue comforter. “What would we be doing right this second if I were to hike up my skirt, take off my thong, and spread my legs for you?”

He gives me a wicked grin, coming closer and closing the gap between us. “Can I get a little encouragement?” Carter is so close he’s practically between my thighs. “Maybe a little preview of what’s to come?”

“Oh, you’ll be coming all right, big guy. That much I can promise. But not tonight. First, you have to learn some self-control. One thing I learned from writing romance is that sex is about control and power. We need to be on equal footing when we go into this, or it will not work.”

“I see you have given this a lot of thought.”

I shrug, unaffected by his comment. “I’m a writer. That’s what I do. Thinking is part of my job. Plotting out a novel is sort of like planning a game and making sure all the pieces fit in place so that everyone wins.”

“You can’t always have a winner or a happy ending,” he challenges, throwing me off when he lifts my leg and caresses my skin with his hand, holding my thigh against his hip.

“I write romance, Carter. The characters always have a happily ever after. Otherwise, readers would hunt me down and burn my apartment to the ground.”

He laughs. “That’s a bit dramatic. Don’t you think?”

I roll my eyes at him. Stop challenging me.

“Fine. I’ll give you that. But no one wants to read a romance novel with an ending like Romeo and Juliet. While millions of people love that play, it would not work in a book.” His eyes travel from my face to my breasts, so I snap my fingers in front of him. “Can you focus, please? You are supposed to be narrating our scene together.”

“Oh, I’m focused,” he says, rubbing my inner thigh. “I’m focused on you and ready to make use of this bed. How’s that for a sex scene?”

Carter makes it impossible for me to function properly. My mind goes blank, thoughts of Carter fucking me run through my head all at once. It’s been a while since I last had sex. The last encounter had ended up as a fuck and dash scenario. I am not in the market for another one of those. There comes the point in your life when you get too old for shit like that, and I have hit my threshold of one-night stands and morning afters.

“Not what I had in mind.” I clutch his shirt in my hands and pull him closer.

He falls forward, pretending like it’s an accident when he’s using this as an excuse to pin me against the mattress. With his forearms on both sides of me, he lifts his hand to twirl one of my curls between his fingers, gazing into my eyes. Everything about him is so intense. I want to kiss him. But I won’t.

Breathing against my lips, he says, “Is this what you had in mind?”

“Nope. But we can go through the motions without actually following through. I have rules I want you to follow. We can have a lot of fun with this. Are you down?”

“Whatever you want, Princess.” He grins, his cock growing hard against my leg. Fuck. Me. Literally.

Doing my best to ignore his massive erection, I take a second to compose myself. A small part of me wants to reach into his sweatpants and whip that baby out just to get a better look. But I have to behave myself tonight. Or maybe I can kill two birds with one stone.

“Good.” I smile so wide my jaw hurts. “Now get off me and remove your pants.”

He scratches the dark stubble on his chin, perplexed. I confuse men on purpose. The look on his handsome face is the norm. And without further instruction, he presses his palm down on the bed for support and lifts himself up.

Pushing his sweats over his hips, I get more than I had bargained. Because Carter is not wearing any underwear. He did this on purpose.

What the puck!

My mouth opens wide enough to fit his massive cock. How do I even react to his size? Kennedy and I wrote an article about that months ago, and I sure as hell don’t have to act like I just unwrapped a Christmas present I don’t like. Not even close. Carter is so big my ovaries are high-fiving each other in appreciation.