Didn't Mean To Love You (Serendipitous Love Book 2) Page 8

  Carter lowered himself so that my breasts were pressed against him, my piercings making little divots in his hard chest as he buried himself in me over and over, deeper and deeper like he was trying to get himself lost. Hell, maybe that was the point, because I was certainly stimulated past the point of knowing or caring what happened next, as long as he didn’t stop what he was doing.

  “Oh my God,” I groaned, shivering as he hooked my leg over his shoulder to push further. “Carter…”

  “Yeah Beautiful?” he asked, kissing my neck. “You good?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  He looked up, smiling. “It’s good?”

  “Yes, it’s good,” I purred, returning his smile.

  “Tell me again.”

  “It’s good.”

  “Again.”

  “It’s so good.”

  I pulled him down by his locs again so we could kiss, melting together as I moved my hands to dig my nails into the deliciously firm flesh of his butt cheeks. Carter was reaching places I didn’t even know I had, tugging my earlobe between his teeth, his hips grinding into mine, all a carefully orchestrated seduction to make waves of intoxicating heat rush over me as he pushed me closer to yet another climax.

  “Goddamnit, Frenchy,” he muttered into my hair, his breathing ragged as he gripped my butt to pull me closer, drive deeper, and propel me over the cliff into overwhelming pleasure, just before he reached his own release, thrusting into me with enough force that it probably would have hurt if it didn’t feel so damned good.

  Carter rolled to the side so he wouldn’t crush me under his weight by collapsing on top of me. Wrapping his arms around me from behind, he pulled me close, brushing aside my hair so he could kiss the back of my neck. I’m not sure if I drifted off to sleep or not, but when I opened my eyes again, the clock on his nightstand told me it was barely ten minutes later, and Carter was hard against my back, nudging my thighs apart with his knees.

  “Again?” I groaned, already feeling pleasantly sore.

  He grinned, then lay back, pulling me on top of him. “Frenchy… we’re just getting started.”

  — & —

  “They” say that sex changes everything, and I was certainly finding that to be true.

  Luckily for me — for now, at least — the shift that it brought about in my “friendship” with Carter was… refreshing. Now, whenever the undeniable sexual attraction between us bubbled to the surface, instead of pushing me away, he pulled me aside and kissed me until I was out of breath. Or, sometimes if I teased hard enough, and we could find a place private enough, he would slip his fingers inside me, stroking and caressing me into a secret little semi-public orgasm. Then, when we got to one of our apartments that night, we would make good love in whatever way the mood struck us.

  It took us all of a week to fall into a routine, and by a week after that, we were at it every night, blissfully oblivious to the aches and pains of putting our bodies through such… vigorous work.

  And that was just talking about the sex itself, not what happened before and after.

  Carter was touchy-feely with me, which was surprising, but something I didn’t mind at all. I thrived on it, especially when we were alone, and he would rub my feet until I fell asleep, or want me in his lap while we watched a movie. He did insanely sweet things like feed and talk to me while I spent hours detangling my curls, or rescue my poor tortured plant from my neglectful care. No big, grand gestures, just little things that told me, without him saying so, that whatever we were doing was about more than just sex for him.

  But, I wanted it to be just about sex. Friends who have sex is ideally what we would be, but there was no ignoring the fact that my heart only felt satiated when he was around. I knew I needed to pull back, put some distance between us to cool my raging hormones, but how was I supposed to do that when it was three in the morning, and he was knocking on my door because he couldn’t sleep?

  “I’m getting right back in the bed, Carter,” I told him, yawning as I stepped aside to let him through the door. I closed and locked it behind him, then true to my word, headed into my bedroom with him close behind. I climbed into the bed, then turned to watch him as he pulled his tee shirt over his head and crawled in behind me, pulling the covers over both of us before he reached to turn off the lamp.

  When the room was bathed in darkness, Carter slipped his arms around my waist and scooted closer, so that his body was flush with mine. His hardness pressed against me as he covered the back of my neck with lingering, deliberate kisses intended to make me forget that it was three in the morning and I had to be up at seven to be at the shop at eight, and had barely gotten any sleep myself.

  “Carter… seriously. Sleep.”

  “You’re telling me I’m not dreaming right now?”

  “Carter.”

  “Okay, Frenchy.” He kissed my shoulder. “I’m sorry. Sleep, it is.”

  I rolled my eyes when he slipped his hand under my tee-shirt to cup one of my breasts, but he didn’t do anything more than hold it as he nuzzled his face against the back of my neck.

  “You smell good,” he said taking a deep inhale of the scented coconut oil I’d rubbed on my skin after my shower.

  “Do I usually stink?”

  I closed my eyes as he chuckled, then placed another kiss at the base of my neck. “No. You always smell good enough to eat… as a matter of fact, I could…but nah, you said you wanted to go to sleep.”

  “I hope you don’t think I’m gonna fall for that,” I said, smiling into the dark.

  “I know. I’m messing with you.”

  “Mmhmm. Why couldn’t you sleep tonight?”

  He didn’t respond, instead running a thumb across my nipple in an attempt to distract me. I pushed his hand away and turned to him. The streetlamps filtered yellow strips of light through my not-quite-closed blinds, casting enough of a glow on Carter’s face that I could see the fatigue in his eyes, and the weariness etched in the lines of his jaw.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” I whispered, running my hand over the broad plane of his chest, down to the ridges of his abs. He sighed, then moved closer, resting his head on my breasts.

  “Rod got in trouble again.” His voice was tired, edged with frustration. “Shoplifting, of all things. It’s like… goddamn, do you not understand that black kids end up getting killed for that shit?”

  “I thought he was coming to stay with you anyway? What happened to that?”

  He shook his head. “My mom wasn’t sure about him being in the city, but now I’m insisting. He got lucky again, since the shop owner knows mom and decided not to press charges, but this could have been his last strike. Always over some dumb shit.” He groaned, then continued. “Anyway, I’m gonna get him up here, make him get a job. He would need a license to work at the shop, but I’ll get it figured out. Make him get his GED since he got his silly ass expelled senior year. You know he was set to be valedictorian? And fucked it up!”

  I buried my fingers in his locs to massage his scalp, waiting until some of the tension left his body before I said anything. “Well, if he needs to, he can come and work for me. I think that once he gets here, with someone he can look up to, and relate to, he’ll be fine, Carter. Really.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Neither of us spoke again as we drifted off to sleep. A few hours later, my alarm went off, and I extricated myself from Carter’s arms to get ready to leave. He was still dreaming when I was about to walk out of the door, a deep, restful sleep that I hated to interrupt, because I knew he was emotionally drained from the mess with his brother.

  “Carter,” I said, gently shaking his shoulder as I leaned over him. He grunted an acknowledgement, but didn’t open his eyes. “I’m about to go, okay? There’s a spare key in the bottom of the basket under the wine rack in my kitchen… can you lock up when you leave?”

  Another grunt, which I took as a yes. I kissed him on the cheek, then turned to head out, stopping
when I remembered something else. “Hey,” I said, returning to my crouched position beside him. “Are you still coming to look at my inventory system and stuff for me today?” Carter nodded, and I laughed when he grabbed my pillow, pulling it against his chest.

  At Guilty Pleasures, I pinned up and covered my hair, then put on my chef’s coat and got to work making several batches of fudge. One for Roman’s daughter, Zahra, to contribute to her school’s dessert fundraiser, and the others would be for sale in the shop. I was pouring the molten, freshly-cooked mixture into buttered pans when Eddie walked in.

  “Good morning, Candy Lady,” he said, kissing my cheek as he gave me a side hug. “I feel like I barely see you anymore.” His tone was impassive, expression deadpan as he pulled away, feigning interest in the bowls of chopped nuts on the counter.

  “Ohh, here we go.” I grinned as I pushed the pans of fudge to the middle of the counter, sprinkling them with handfuls of the different nuts as they cooled. “Am I in trouble?”

  He shrugged. “In trouble for wha— oh, you mean because you’ve completely abandoned your friends so you can get dicked down?”

  Rolling my eyes, I pulled the pair of disposable rubber gloves from my hands to begin cleaning up my workspace. “Now you and I both know that’s not true. I haven’t been around as much, but we’ve still hung out at UG, we’ve still had our weekly wine and cheese date with Simone, and we have a chips and margaritas date coming up. And Eddie… did I not spend two hours last night listening to you cry over the phone because this week’s girlfriend dumped you?”

  “I wasn’t crying, and I dumped her. But yeah, you did. Still… I don’t like how fast you and the barber are doing… whatever it is you’re doing.

  “We’re not doing anything….” I shot Eddie a look, quieting him when Carter’s voice carried from the front of the shop as he spoke to the cashier. A few seconds later, he appeared at the door to the kitchen, bringing with him the barely-constrained sense of arousal I felt whenever he was around.

  He spoke to Eddie first, since he was closer to the door, briefly making small talk before he turned to me with a smile. It only took a moment for him to close the distance between us, and he hooked an arm around my waist to embrace me, then lowered his mouth for a kiss. I obliged, feeling the cold bite of metal in my hand as he returned my key.

  I shook my head, pressing it back into his palm. “Keep it. In case you can’t sleep again.”

  Carter’s lips parted, eyebrows raised before he nodded. “Okay.” He cupped my face, biting his lip before he kissed me again, slow and sweet. Behind us, Eddie cleared his throat, and we reluctantly pulled away. “I’ll see you later,” Carter mumbled in my ear, slipping my key into his pocket before he turned to go to his original destination — my office — to make some programming changes to my electronic inventory system.

  When I turned back to Eddie, he had his chin clasped in his hand, eyebrows pulled down in a scowl. “Call me crazy, but that didn’t look like “not doing anything” to me.”

  “We’re friends.”

  Eddie sucked his teeth. “Oh, please. You and I are friends. That,” he said, pointing in the direction Carter had gone, “Is your damned man.”

  “Keep your voice down,” I hissed, pulling him into the far corner of the kitchen. “It’s not like that, seriously. I mean yeah, I enjoy being around him, and the sex is… phenomenal, but we really are just friends.”

  “He didn’t look at you like “just a friend”, Viv. And was that a key to your place?”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “It’s such a big deal.” Eddie grabbed my hands, squeezing them between his as he pulled them up to his mouth to kiss. His eyes were filled with concern as he continued. “Two weeks ago, you were mad at him. Last week, you were sleeping with him. This week, you’re giving him a key to your place. Are you even thinking about what you’re doing?”

  No.

  I wasn’t thinking, I was just feeling, and Carter made me feel amazing.

  “There’s… no pressure,” I said aloud as Eddie released my hands. “No expectations, no rules. He listens to me, and kisses me in public, and makes sure that I come first when we make love. He helps me clean, and takes out my trash, makes me laugh, he cooks me pancakes, he… he makes me happy, Eddie.”

  Eddie smiled, but shook his head. “Look, I like Carter, I think he’s a good dude. I just want you to be careful, Viv. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Later that night, I found myself on Carter’s couch beside him, wearing nothing but a tee shirt, trying my best to distract him from the TV screen without being obvious. I slid my bare feet into his lap, rolling my eyes when he didn’t even miss a beat on the game he was playing. I let out a quiet huff, then pulled my feet back so that I could sit up on my knees.

  Pressing my chest against his shoulder, I leaned forward, gently nipping his earlobe with my teeth. He jerked his head away from me, eyes still glued to the screen, but I persisted, slipping my hand into his lap. Despite his seeming lack of interest, his erection came to life and he laughed, finally turning to me.

  “Frenchy, would you —” I cut him off, taking advantage of the moment by kissing him, sliding my tongue into his mouth as I pushed my fingers under the waistband of his pants and boxers to stroke him. He dropped the controller to grip me by the hips, pulling me into his lap. Over my shoulder, there was a commotion on the screen, and we both looked to see that a black overlay, along with the words “Game Over!” in bright red had covered the screen. “See what you did?” he asked, smacking me firmly on the butt.

  I giggled, then bit my lip as I pulled him free from his pants. “I needed your attention.”

  Carter closed his eyes, groaning in appreciation as I sank down on him. He gripped my hips, slowly guiding me up and down to set the pace he wanted before pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it to the floor.

  “You’ve got it.”

  When we were done, neither of us moved for a while. His fingers grazed my scalp as our heartbeats returned to their normal pace. I tipped my head back for him to kiss me, then buried my face in his neck again, relishing the feeling of him, still erect inside of me.

  “Thank goodness for birth control,” I said, giggling as he began thrusting upward again. “Or I would be pregnant with about fifteen of your babies by now.”

  He laughed, keeping me clutched against his chest as he pressed a kiss to the side of my head. “Maybe one day.”

  Carter didn’t seem to notice that I froze, paralyzed by the implication of what he’d said.

  You’re overthinking it, Viv.

  It was probably nothing.

  He had to be kidding.

  Right?

  This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Mentioning the possibility of babies. Knocking on her door at three in the morning to sleep. Just to sleep. Accepting a key to her place. Using a key to her place, to get into her door because she wasn’t at her shop when I knew her usual schedule like the back of my hand, and she hadn’t responded to a phone call or text all day.

  I mean, not that it was a problem to be worried about her. It was normal to be concerned, because she was a friend. But the empty agitation that filled my chest because I hadn’t heard from her all day… that was a problem. That was a concern. The lightheadedness, the weak knees, the gratitude I felt when I walked into her apartment and found her sitting at her kitchen counter, alive, safe, and seemingly healthy?

  Big. Fucking. Problem.

  I knew that. But … still. When she turned those big brown tear-filled eyes up at me in surprise at my sudden appearance in her apartment, I didn’t turn and get the hell out of there like I knew I should have. I dug deeper.

  “Frenchy… what’s wrong?” I asked, noticing — but not saying anything about — the two huge bouquets of roses on her counter.

  She shook her head as I approached. “Nothing. Foolish things, that should not even affect me anymore, but I am silly enough to allow them to do so a
nyway.” She sniffled, then pulled a tissue from a box on the counter to blow her nose. “You probably think I am such a crybaby. Always emotional about something.”

  “Nah, you’re good. I do want you to tell me what’s wrong though.” I sat down at the barstool next to her, and turned so that we were facing each other.

  Viv gave a heavy sigh, then nodded her head in the direction of the flowers. “The white ones are from Darren. Because he is a… a pig,” she spat, her mouth twisted in disgust, “and he saw the spread in Sugar&Spice. The gist of the actual message was that he and his fiancée are no more, and he realized what a mistake he made, especially after he saw the pictures in the magazine.”

  My pulse raced as I imagined myself shoving those flowers down Darren’s throat, but I remained quiet as she continued. “The red ones are from my father. Or rather, from my father’s assistant, on his behalf, because he is still upset with me, and so instead of calling me today, which would have meant so much to me, I get meaningless flowers, and a meaningless diamond bracelet, and I really want to just flush all of this down the toilet. I would have rather received nothing than this reminder that while he is my father, and supposedly loves me… he does not care for me. Not at all.”

  She dropped her face into her hands, and I had to swallow very hard to get past the lump in my throat as I pulled her against my chest to let her sob. “I know exactly how you feel, Frenchy. You’ve just gotta remind yourself it’s not about you. It’s about them.”

  “Does that actually work?” she asked, tears streaking her face when she looked up.

  I shrugged, then gave her a smile. “I tell you what… I’ll let you know, okay?” She laughed as I took her face in my hands, kissing the faint line of the scar on her forehead. “Today hasn’t been all bad, has it?”