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Me: How’s your day going, sweetheart?
Carly: Meh. Considering I’m currently lying on my rock-hard mattress watching reruns of Below Deck on my laptop, it’s safe to say it could be better.
She’s not kidding that the mattress in her mom’s guest room is rock hard.
I know this because she snuck me in through the window two nights ago, and the instant my back hit that fucking mattress, I felt like I bruised my spine.
Also, I’m not one-hundred-percent sure what Below Deck means, but knowing Carly, it revolves around some kind of reality show. They’re her guilty pleasure through and through.
Me: I thought you had to take Stella somewhere?
Carly: I did. To some kind of club meeting for crafters…or maybe it’s knitters? Hell, I don’t know. I drove her to the clubhouse for the big event about twenty minutes ago in the cart.
Me: When are you picking her up?
Carly: In about two hours.
Two hours? That’s plenty of time.
Not to mention, once Sal gives in to a midafternoon nap, he generally stays down for the count for three or four hours.
Decision made, I head back into the dining room, send my assistant a short message that something’s come up and I’ll be unavailable for a few hours, and then, once my laptop is in sleep mode, I quietly make my way out the front door and lock it after I carefully click it shut.
Once I reach Stella’s front door, I rap my knuckles several times.
But when there’s no sign of Carly, I smirk and ring the doorbell.
And when there’s still no response, I press my finger to that fucker and let it ring until she gets her cute ass out of bed.
“Hold your horses, you lunatic! Just a minute!” Her voice fills my ears, and the sounds of her footsteps across the tile follow. “What on earth cou—?” she starts to question as she swings open the door, but the second her gaze locks with mine, her jaw damn near hits the tips of her pink-painted toes. “Ryan? What are you—?”
In one stride, I’m inside the door, my arms wrapped around her waist, and I’m cutting her off by pressing my mouth to hers.
Thankfully, she doesn’t balk or question. No way. In record time, her arms are around my neck and her legs are wrapped tightly around my hips.
This just might be one of my favorite things about her. Wild, impulsive, down for anything, Carly is the spontaneity and irresistible chaos to my predictability and order.
A moan reverberates from her lungs, and I step inside the house, kicking the door shut once I’ve cleared the threshold.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled you’re here, but I thought your day was jam-packed?” she asks breathlessly against my lips.
“Oh, trust me, I have a ton of fucking work to do.”
She leans back and meets my eyes. “But you decided to come do me instead?”
I chuckle at that. “Yeah, actually, that’s pretty much what happened.”
“Ryan Miller is playing hooky again?” Carly rubs her nose against mine. “For me?”
“Like I’ve said before, you’re a horrible influence.”
She grins at that, but also hops out of my arms, grabs me by the tie, and drags me away from the entryway.
“You in a rush, sweetheart?” I question on a laugh once we hurry through the living room and start a path down the hallway that leads to the bedrooms.
“We have less than two hours, Ryan,” she comments. “Less than two hours for you to take out that big, beautiful cock of yours and fuck my brains out.”
I grin. “Well, by all means, lead the way, sweetheart.”
“Wait…” She stops halfway down the hall and turns to face me. “You’re letting me boss you around for once?”
I quirk a brow. “As opposed to me being the one who does the bossing?”
She nods and licks her lips. “Uh-huh.”
“You think I boss you around when we’re having sex?”
“In a sexy Dom sort of way?” she retorts. “Oh, hell yes.”
“A Dom?” I repeat. “As in BDSM?”
“You heard me right…” Carly pauses and smirks like a mischievous, obstinate child. “Sir.”
It makes me hard as hell.
“Oh, I see what you’re doing,” I retort. “You’re looking for trouble, aren’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replies and flips her hair over her shoulder as she turns her body back toward the entrance of her bedroom.
But I’m already hip to her game and more than ready to give in to her little demands. If she wants me to punish her with my tongue and cock, I take zero issue with it.
I’d be obliged, in fact, to punish Carly in the form of making her lose her fucking mind.
The instant she steps foot in her messy bedroom, I force my type A personality to ignore the clutter of her suitcase and clothes strewn all over the fucking place and hop on the bed before she can beat me to the punch.
