Chapter 24: Carter

Coulda person cause their own receding hairline just from rubbing their temples too much? These were the types of things Carter wondered as he bore witness to the Honeymooners tripping over themselves. Like when Leith tried out a new chat-up line or Killian hit self-destruct or when Foster consistently shot his paddle into view, displaying a confidently incorrect answer.

Like when Cora didn't do everything in her power to rein that asshole in so she could stay on the show.

He was prepared to get creative if it came down to it. He'd piss out some bullshit twist and pretend it was for the ratings. It didn't come down to it, though. Miracle of all miracles, they'd made it to their five answers before Lainey had run out of questions but it sure did give Carter heartburn to watch the journey there. And heartburn panic was the kind that made people do irrational things, like yanking Cora back outside into the front yard once she'd re-entered the manor.

"What the hell was that back there?" Carter practically shouted at her, his demands too important to be whispered. Felt like they always were, the way he kept pulling her into semi-privacy anytime anything happened.

Annoyed he hadn't thought to do it before he spoke, he reached around her to divest her of her mic pack and tossed the infernal thing into the bushes below them.

Cora crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against one of the pillars. She settled a foot against the pillar, too, the hiked leg allowing the hem of her fuck-hot pink dress to slide up her thighs. "Some kind of trivia game, I guess. But, damn, did you guys overestimate how much Foster pays attention."

He dropped his hands from where they'd landed on his temple again. "He could have gotten you kicked off the show."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes," he snapped. "And you're fucking lucky."

Cora cocked her head, that hair of hers falling over her shoulder and looking perfectly grabbable. "What's so lucky about it?"

The question took Carter by surprise, like so many of his conversations with Cora had. "What?"

"What's so lucky about it?" she repeated. "I've got no spark with any of the other contestants." Damn fucking right. "No spark means I'm not winning. So that money I just competed for won't be mine. And what else is there to fight for to stay here?"

Carter swallowed his first instinct, to tell her that she should have fought for him. Why the hell would she? He wasn't a contestant. He wasn't prepared to walk back into that manor swinging their hands together and professing their feelings for one another in front of the cameras.

And that was something she needed, wasn't it? At least, something she deserved. To be both wanted and proclaimed as such?

What had Carter done for her thus far anyway, other than make wildly inappropriate comments and continuously put her in a spot where he took advantage of his power over her? What an asshole he was for doing everything he'd done in that diary room.

And everything before.

And everything he already knew he might do after.

Not that Carter could realistically say any of that to her. So he fell back on what he always fell back on: his job.

"You should have done everything in your power to stay. This show doesn't work unless the contestants want to be here," he reminded.

That was not the answer Cora wanted. She dropped her foot and her arms and didn't bother to straighten her dress back out before approaching him—why should she, when he'd already seen all of her? She did not stop until the toes of her shoes were touching his and her soft features had somehow sharpened.

"Oh, really?" she asked in one of those tones that really only served to let men know they were in trouble. "You want me to go back in that manor and put all my effort into Foster, then. You want me to go strip for him and touch myself like I did for you. You want me to say his name when I come and hope the microphones pick it up." These were not questions for him to answer and whatever Carter's face did was an angry triumph for her. "That's what I thought."

"You know I don't want that."

"Then what exactly do you want, Mr. Benton? Should I call you that, now that we're pretending this is all about professionalism?"

"I don't—" Fuck, how could someone so sweet, someone so fucking small, put that amount of fear in him? He wasn't scared of what she would do to him. Not exactly. He was scared that she might walk in that manor and do exactly what she'd proposed. He was scared that she would tell him to leave her the fuck alone.

He was scared that she would leave.

"I'm not ready to lose you yet," Carter admitted, wishing he could just touch her.

"So you want me to go back in there and get enthused about sharing a bed with someone else, just so you don't lose me?" She shook her head and Carter couldn't blame her for the incredulity, even as the scent of cherries hit his nose and had his dick hardening. "Do you get off on watching other people with me, or something? Is that your kink?"

The thought had him choking. "No one else."

"So you're possessive," she conceded. "But you won't actually do anything to possess me."

Carter feared the hold she had on him, for a moment, when his hand shot out to grab her neck and drag her closer to him. He felt so desperately out of control and so pissed at himself for blaming what he did on that.

The truth was, he was in control. He had so much control over the situation, it was fucking stupid. He just refused to extend that control to his emotions, his desires. He wanted her so ferally that it felt criminal to try to restrain it, much as he knew he should. And those allowances had started to cascade.

If he felt this strongly for her, why couldn't he look at her? Why couldn't he watch her? It wasn't like he was touching her.

And if he was already watching her, why couldn't he steal her and speak to her and kiss her, maybe? It wasn't like he was fucking her.

And if he was going to kiss her, why shouldn't he?—

He hadn't kissed her yet.

Christ, he needed to rectify that immediately.

Still with his hand on her neck, Carter pulled her to him. Used his thumb to angle her how he needed her. He did not place soft, exploratory kisses over her like she likely deserved. He attacked. Dove into her lips like he was fucking cliff diving. It was hard and it was furious and she tasted so fucking sweet.

And then her hands were crinkling into his shirt at either side of his waist and she was pressing into him now instead of just standing in front of him.

So what could Carter even do, other than stick his tongue in her mouth?

She opened for him immediately, meeting him with a thrashing. Biting his lip and whimpering when he bit hers back. He broke, bending further to reach her jaw, her neck.

"You want me to possess you, Cora?" he asked, low, against her skin.

"So. Fucking. Badly."

Let the cascading begin, then.

"Do you know what it means to be possessed by me?"

"Show me."

Carter's eyes were wide and dilated, taking her in in the moonlight. He walked her back until she bumped into her vacated pillar, turned until her ass pressed against the railing attached to it. He wished he had a million hands to touch her with, just so he didn't have to release his hold on her neck to grip her hips, her ass. Her thighs. He dragged her up and against him until he could deposit her on the solid stone that made up the railing. Made her straddle it, trapped.

The position left her legs open for him, though not ideal if he ever wanted to get his mouth on her.

Later, Carter told himself. You'll taste her later.

Instead, he used two fingers to drag her little heart-lace panties to the side and tease his fingers through her pussy. Gathering the wetness and spreading it around. Carter went after her mouth with his own again as he teased her clit. Cora tried to whimper but there he was, ready to swallow the sound even as he pinched the bud of sensitive nerves.

She held onto him to keep herself upright and Carter decided he loved being her lifeline.

He was undecided, though, on whether he wanted to watch her face when he plunged fingers into her cunt, or if he wanted to continue feeding off the sounds as they left her.

And there was his control again, urging him to play a little more before he entered her.

He pulled his fingers back, letting the moon highlight the sticky shine.

"You don't get this fucking messy for anyone else, do you? Just me."

Cora shook her head.

Fingers still in the air between them, Carter noticed for the first time that she was attempting to do something with his belt. Namely, unbuckle it.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"It's my turn," she whined. "Or—your turn. I don't know. I want to watch you come."

With his clean hand, he brought her offending one back, up over her head until it scraped against the pillar. "Hands to yourself for now, Cora," he warned. "I'll give you this cock when you're ready. But I don't plan on coming until I've wrung you dry."

Her chin tilted up, enough so she could peer down her nose at him. "You underestimate my libido."

"And you still don't know what it means to be mine." He brought his wet fingers right up to her mouth. Nudged her lips open with them only to shove them nearly to the back of her throat. "Now, suck."

And what a good girl she was, sucking herself right off him.

Because she was such a good girl, he trusted her enough to let go of her hand and ordered her to tug down her top. Ordered her to release those tits he loved so much. They sat so pretty over the bunched fabric of her dress and he couldn't stop himself from plucking his fingers right back out of her mouth to rub her saliva and whatever else she hadn't sucked off onto her skin. Over her tightening nipples.

He'd prepared himself a feast by the time he finally leaned down to take one into his mouth.

Cora squirmed and Carter ran his hands over her. Squeezing her tits and her hips and her thighs. Her hips canted forward, like she might use the railing to get herself off if he wasn't going to be doing it.

He laughed, the sound darker than the sky. "You want these back on your pussy, don't you?"

Her pleading eyes were so gorgeous. Too gorgeous to deny.

And Carter had decided, finally, that he did need to see her face when he entered her for the first time, even if it was just with his fingers. He straightened, his free hand working the nipple he'd abandoned, and he made sure she had a clear view of his eyes when he plunged two fingers inside her. He curled them, like he'd told her to do days ago, pumping so the tips of his fingers dragged against her walls.

Cora's mouth fell open and her eyes rolled. "Your fingers," she panted. "Your fingers."

"Aww," Carter cooed, the satisfaction he felt reducing any chance of his tone coming out sweetly. "You love being my little whore, don't you?"

Her body answered for her. It was unclear, to either of them, he thought, if her orgasm was the result of his still-building pace or if it was the attention on her tits or if it was simply a reaction to his words. Regardless, she gushed onto his fingers in the most delightful way.

It wasn't enough for him to stop. To give up on his fingers in favor of his cock. It was merely enough to make him want to play a little more.

"Good," he purred into her ear. "Let's have another one, yeah?"

"Baby, I can't," she whined.

Now that nearly was enough to make Carter stop. When was the last time someone had called him that? Baby. Years, maybe. And certainly not when he'd been three knuckles deep in their pussy.

Before he could stop himself, he demanded, "Say it again."

"I can't?—"

"Not. That."

Understanding, Cora arched into him and smirked. Pressed her bare tits against him so she could get her lips by his ear. "Baby."

Suddenly, Carter was less inclined to force orgasm after orgasm out of her before finally giving her his cock. Before, perhaps, he'd unconsciously considered this a punishment for Cora. A consequence to her driving him so absolutely mad with desire. A way to spin her out just as she'd spun him.

Baby, though.

The thought of waking up to her in the morning, whispering that stupid word in his ear. The thought of him slinging an arm around her at every mandatory event. The thought of her calling across the room to him, uttering the pet name as easily as she said his name.

It had him wanting to possess her in a different way, now.

Yes, he wanted to use her body. He wanted to explore it and own it and make it feel so fucking good. He wanted to be the only one to ever do it. But, fuck, did he also want her to give it all to him. To trust him with every part of her, not limited to just her body.

Carter slid his fingers from her, instead collecting her legs from either side of the railing and wrapping them around his waist. The work Cora had already done on his trousers and his belt made it easy enough to slip himself free so he could press her fully against that pillar.

"Do you want this cock, Cora?" he found himself asking.

"Yes, baby."

Yes. He almost groaned. "Put me in, then."

Cora reached between them, sliding her hands down his chest and his stomach as she went. He regretted not removing his shirt, not feeling her entirely. Still, regret was the last thing on his mind when she finally wrapped her fingers around his cock. Finally lined him up and sank herself down, just the littlest bit. Enough to notch him in.

The way she felt, trying to suction him in, had him speaking plainly. "I'm so fucking lucky. So fucking lucky you stayed."

"Stayed for you," she whispered.

The admission had him pulling her down entirely, now. Sheathing himself so deep inside her they may as well have been one. She moaned and Carter caught it with his lips in a way he'd never done during sex before. He'd never really had the urge to kiss a woman while he was fucking her. Cora, though. Cora he wanted in every way he could have her, all at the same time.

She wiggled, gliding her swollen clit along the base of his shaft and begging him to move.

He'd give her anything she wanted.

And maybe take what he wanted, too.

"Who's fucking you, Cora?"

She wound her arms around her neck. Holding onto him for balance. Holding him close. "You," she cried. "You are. You're fucking me. Fucking me so good."

He hadn't asked for all that but he would take it. "Who else gets to fuck you?" he growled.

"No one. Just you. You and your big cock." He couldn't tell if she was saying it for his benefit or if she meant the words. He wasn't small—he knew that much—but he hated the thought that she was being performative. Before he could take her mouth again, though, to keep her from saying any more, she whispered, "Only you, baby."

He quickened his pace, fucking her to the rhythm of her dirty mumblings. In his mind, though—at least, when he could use it—only one of those phrases permeated. Swung around endlessly, hitting every inch. It wouldn't leave when they were finished. It'd act like a metronome to all his daily activities. Echoing when he had his morning coffee. When he brushed his teeth or screamed at his staff. When he watched the footage of her with someone else and when he went to sleep, alone.

One phrase that neatly defined nearly every thought he'd had since he'd laid eyes on Cora.

"Only you," he repeated.