So, no. I didn’t care about the theoretical man I was going to sleep with tonight. But Carter wasn’t theoretical. Carter was fucking Carter Buchanan. Billionaire. Bad boy. Man-whore. And so far out of my league, even having this conversation was a joke. So, technically, Carter was no different than any other man in that stupid club. But that was the problem. That was it. I wanted him to be different. I wanted him to be so much more. And there were those pesky emotions again.
He looked at me cautiously, as if afraid I'd dash out into the street and get run over if he so much as blinked wrong.
“You don't want this, I'll take you home. I'll say goodnight at the door.” He raised a hand to my cheek, his touch gentle, reverent, like I mattered. God, he was dangerous. “But I think you want this as much as I do, Emma. Say yes. Let me take you home with me.”
I stared up at him, into his gorgeous face and tried to remember why this was a bad idea. “Carter, I just don’t think this, us, is a good idea.”
“Why not?” His thumb brushed over my lip and his gaze dropped to my mouth before returning to my eyes with complete focus. It was like no one else in the world existed.
Hell. Now I was in trouble. I couldn’t tell him the truth. Well, Carter, I’m half in love with you already, and if you pop my cherry and walk away, you’ll break my heart.
I took a step back, breaking contact, so I could think. “I’m not…I don’t…”
He stood still and waited, so confident, so damn sure of himself. That was why he owned the company, and that was why I was so nervous. He knew what he was doing in the business world, and with women. I knew hardly anything about men. But I knew enough to know that Carter Buchanan was way out of my league. And yet he made me so hot I could barely breathe.
This was what I'd wanted, a one-night stand, and he was willing to give it to me. He wasn't a faceless man. He was the one man I'd wanted to sleep with. Based on the feel of his cock as he'd leaned into me in the bathroom, he was big and hard. Really big. And really hard.
I could do this. I could fuck Carter. He'd make my first time good. Our first time, hell, our only time. I was a big girl. I’d heard all the rumors about Carter Buchanan. Playboy. I would be one of many. It shouldn't bother me, especially since whatever random guy I might have picked up at the bar would have a history, too. A history I wasn't interested in. So, was it fair to hold Carter to a higher standard than a stranger? Was I denying myself the experience of a lifetime if I said no?
He was standing in front of me, patiently waiting for me to say yes. While he was gentleman enough to gain my consent, I knew he'd be anything but gentle once we got into bed.
The thought made my core clench and my pulse race. I wanted him. That was the bottom line. Time to cowgirl up. I could do this. I could fuck him and leave him. No emotional bullshit. One night.
End. Of. Fucking. Story.
But it would be one hell of a night and when the sun came up, I'd no longer be a virgin. Just what I'd wanted. I'd know what it felt like to be fucked by Mr. Carter Buchanan, get the orgasms I wanted—based on the way he mastered me with just his hand, I had no doubt he'd give me more—and leave.
One night.
A valet held the passenger door to a luxury sedan open for me. Carter tipped him and took my hand to help me into the passenger seat. The car was expensive, Italian, the supple leather taunting me to enter my own personal purgatory. My hand burned where he touched me and I looked at him, burying all the doubts I had about this deep so they wouldn’t show in my eyes. “Your house or mine?”
Carter waved off the valet and used his hold on my hand to pull me closer, to press my body to his, the hard bulge of his cock clearly evident between us.
One night. I could play the game. I could do a one night stand. I'd take what I wanted from Carter and walk away. Probably a little bow legged, but I'd walk away. Head held high and my V card punched.
“Yours.”
Chapter Five
Carter
I deserved a gold medal. My cock was so hard it was going to rip through the fabric of my pants. I'd had my finger inside Emma. Felt her hot and tight little pussy, felt her fucking hymen and knew it was all mine. She'd all but creamed over my hand as I made her come. The surprise and passion on her face when I got her off had been the most beautiful sight. And when I tasted her, licked her juices from my fingers, I almost came in my pants. Her honey sweet taste was all for me.
Even now, driving toward my house, I could still taste her. I could smell her arousal lingering on my fingers, drifting from her body. She was quiet, looked out her window as I drove a little too fast toward my house. If I got pulled over, the cop would understand. I needed to be buried inside my woman, feel her ripple and pulse around me as I took her virginity. Needed her to milk the seed from my balls.