by Piper Rayne
“Thanks.”
“So, get changed and I'll be back to take you to set. As far as I know, you’re the first to arrive.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
She stands there, rocking back on her Converse, her eyes looking me over like I’m a lollipop in her favorite flavor. Someone should tell her it won't take too many licks to get to my center.
My hand rests on the doorknob and I smile and nod. Spending the day flirting with a piece of eye candy is one thing, but I don’t need any bad press right now, nor do I have the time or headspace to deal with dating someone before the Winter Classics are over.
She scurries away, looking a little embarrassed that I caught her checking me out. I blow out a sigh and open the door to a fucking wet dream. The blonde might not do it for me, but I wouldn’t mind the naked brunette in front of me getting to the center. Sad to say, it might only take her one lick.
“Get the fuck out!” Mia screams and I swing the door shut just as something hits the other side of it.
The door may be closed, but my mind won't erase what it just saw. I’ll be meditating on that mental picture the next time I beat off. Definite medibation material. Get what I did there?
Mia Salter has definitely grown up. Her tits would fill my hands, and the curves of her hips beg me to hold them as she rides me. Her pale skin revealing she spent most of her summer in New Zealand training.
I wait a minute and knock.
“Come in,” she says, and I’ve known her long enough to know it’s through gritted teeth.
I cover my eyes, pretending I'm not looking and step into the room.
“I'm dressed,” she spits out.
My hand falls and sure enough, she's now decked out in her designated snow gear for the Winter Classics and all those curves and perfect tits are hidden away under layers of warmth.
“I was hoping we were playing a game of I'll show you mine if you show me yours.” I can’t help but tease her. It comes naturally to me since it was how it always was between us growing up. I’m surprised that even after all this time, that hasn’t changed.
Her face twists into a ‘get a life’ expression and she sits down in front of the make-up chair, brushing out her long brown hair.
“You forget, I've seen yours.” She raises her eyebrows as she stares at me through the reflection in the mirror.
I cock my head. It takes a minute for me to figure out when Mia would’ve seen my goods. Then the whole dare to streak board down the bunny hill when we were younger floats to the surface of my brain. Damn that brother of hers.
By the time I've remembered, my gaze finds hers and her face bears a smug expression.
“I've grown—considerably since then. In all the ways that count.”
To my surprise, she giggles and her hairbrush stops moving. “I do vaguely remember you mentioning something about ten inches…you know, those that talk about it are usually the ones with a four-inch pickle.” Pickle pops out of her mouth with emphasis.
“Want me to grab a ruler?” Grabbing the hem of my T-shirt, I strip it off my body and my fingers go for the button on my jeans.
She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the pink flush to her cheeks. Mia stands, rounding the makeup chair and visions of her falling to her knees to inspect my dick size surface before she opens the door and walks out.
I'm pretty sure she's not getting a ruler.
* * *
After getting myself dressed, I step out of the dressing room. I can see why Mia went the nude route under the outfit. It's hot as shit, I'm sweating to death in my boxers.
The small blonde runs down the hallway, relief washing through her non-verbal signals. “There you are. Mia said you weren't coming out until someone found a ruler or something?” Her face is scrunched up in confusion.
I bite back a grin.
“Do you need one? I've searched everywhere and all I can find is a measuring tape. Will that do?” She pulls a metal retractable measuring tape out of her pocket.
“No, that most definitely won't do.”
Her lips turn down. “I'm sorry. I can go out and buy one...”
“No worries, I'm good.”
Her entire body shifts from iron rod back to jelly goo. “Phew. I was so worried.”
“What would’ve happened if I wanted a ruler and you couldn't find one?”
She stares up at me like she's trying to figure out a hard math problem. “I guess I thought you'd be mad.”
“Over a ruler?”
She shrugs and stammers a bit before she finally says, “Miss Salter…she said that you can get really irate if I don’t do everything exactly how you want it…I didn’t want to mess up.”
I chuckle. The poor thing. “Miss Salter is fucking with you. Actually, she’s fucking with me. Ignore anything she says.”
She lets out a stream of air and seems to relax a bit. “Oh, thank goodness.”
“What do you say we get this over with?”
She nods and I step around the shy blonde I think might be having her first day on the job, and head straight to the photo shoot. Mia's already posing with her board, a smile that's never directed my way, lighting up her face.
It hits me like a fist to the center of my chest, stealing my breath, how truly beautiful she is now that she’s a woman. Instead of scolding her for telling stories to the assistant, I want to spank her. Her features are soft, the camera flashes illuminate her soft brown eyes that still hold a hint of mischief to them. She's a grown-up version of her younger self. The girl I remember with braids in her hair now has cascading dark brown waves falling past her shoulders. Her teeth are as white as newly fallen snow and straight as the steep cliffs of the mountains.
I should look away. Any minute now she's going to glance over to me and see me gawking at her. But I can’t pull my gaze away because a part of me wants to bottle up this moment and carry it with me, so I can pull it out and relive it whenever I want.
As I predicted, her head turns my way and I don't react fast enough. Bam, her eyes are seared to mine.
Look away.
Fucking, look away.
As much as I scream at myself in my head, my gaze won't leave hers and the weird thing is, hers isn't leaving mine. Her tongue slides out of her mouth and my dick grows an inch. A wet path coats her lips and my taste buds kick into overdrive, desperate to know what she tastes like. Is she a mint or cinnamon girl? While all these questions are swirling in my head and I’m trying to decide what I would taste if my lips could land on hers, a man pops up in front of me with a sponge with some brown shit on it.
“What the?” I dodge his approach.
Mia's laughter rings throughout the big open space and the cameras click away. That’ll probably be the best picture out of the bunch.
“Makeup,” the tall, platinum blond guy says to me, the sponge inching closer to my face.
“I’m good, man.” I raise my hand in front of me hoping he’ll back off.
“Well, you’re very white. Let's try to get some rosy cheeks.” His smile does nothing to ease me.
“I'm a snowboarder.”
“Exactly, the sun still shines on you up on those mountains,” he says, finally landing the sponge on my forehead. The gook slides around my face, his pressure a little firmer around my nose and eyes. How do women wear this shit?
“I didn’t realize this photoshoot was going to turn me into a Ken doll.”
He stops and steps back, placing his free hand on his hip. “Now don't be such a crank. My job is to make you gorgeous and I never fail at my job.”
“Oh, I don't know, James, some would say he's already gorgeous.” Mia takes a seat in the chair next to me.
“He's got that rugged male appeal, I’ll give him that.” James leans back, appraising me once more like he might have missed an attractive feature or two on the first look. “Half boy next door, half mountain man.”
Without another word, he pulls out a brush and starts putting more shit on my face
.
“I remember when that face couldn't even grow any facial hair.” Mia giggles next to me, bringing the coffee cup to her lips.
“I remember when you stuffed your bra.”
She chokes on the coffee, leaning forward and letting it drop to the floor.
“Man, you guys really are enemies, huh?” James asks.
Neither of us says anything for a beat.
“She's not my enemy,” I murmur.
The truth is I don’t know what she is these days. Growing up, I always had a fondness for Brandon’s little sister. She was four years younger than us and constantly trying to keep up with our shenanigans. I looked out for her the same way her own brother did and if anyone was stupid enough to mess with her I would have fucked them up. After the accident…well, truth is I made it a point never to see them. Any of the Salters. I didn’t want to make an already difficult situation more difficult. And the odd time over the past couple of years that I’ve run into Mia, it’s been clear she hates me for what happened to her brother. Which is totally justified. Which means I have no idea why I’m just noticing now the woman that Mia has developed into.
The blonde from earlier rushes over with a wad of paper towels, cleaning up the mess.
“I'm sorry,” Mia says, “but you can blame him.” She thumbs toward me and the blonde's eyes cast my way for a second and then back to the floor.
“It's okay. Um... Grady, you're up soon.” Eyeing Mia's cup, she directs all attention to her. “Did you want more?”
“No, thank you, Nel, too much caffeine and I'll be bouncing off the walls.”
The blonde who I now know is Nel, laughs. “Well, let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks.” Mia leans back. “Oh wait, did you ever find that ruler for Grady, Nel?” she asks.
“Ruler?” James mumbles, his fresh minty breath centimeters away from me, that annoying brush still dabbing here and there on my skin.
“Jesus.” I roll my eyes.
Mia glances at me beside her, a smile teasing her lips.
“No, but Mr. Kale said it was okay, he didn't need one,” Nel responds in a polite and professional voice.
“Oh, okay then. Thanks, Nel.” Mia turns her attention to the man currently trying to poke my eye out with a make-up brush. “Tell me, James. Is it a male thing to measure your dick?”
The small brush pokes me in the eye.
“Motherfuc—”
“Shit. Sorry. Keep your eye closed.” James’s thumb traps my eyelid closed. “And sweetie, no, it's not like you walk into a gay bar and the bouncers measure your dick before you get in. They come in all shapes and sizes, but what really matters is what you do with it.”
“Well, this guy here thinks his is perfect.”
James's eyes dip down between my legs. “I wouldn't bet against him, darling.”
Mia rolls her eyes, but the pink flush of her cheeks can't be missed and I can’t help but wonder—why is she still talking about my dick?
Chapter Seven
With my face feeling like it's covered in dried-out cake frosting, I grab hold of the snowboard and step into the photo shoot area. Mia joins me minutes later with a fresh coat of makeup on her face. Not like she needed it.
“Give me a minute to set up your shot.” The photographer moves between the camera and the lights, talking with his assistant.
The two of us stand there with the green screen behind us, looking anywhere but at each other.
“You training later?” I ask, hoping to fill the void of awkward silence that’s developed between us.
She glances at me and then the ground. “No, the halfpipe has been a killer to get on at night. Not worth it to wait forever for only one run.”
That was the wrong question to ask since I've been boarding down my own halfpipe Gasoline Energy Drinks built for me the past few days. Now I'm going to seem like a dick if I don't invite her. Not that I think she’d take me up on the offer. She's stubborn, but she'd be an idiot not to at least use me for that.
“I saw your buddy the other day,” she says.
“Who? Dax?”
She shakes her head, a smirk playing on her lips.
“Well, I guess I'm using the word buddy loosely.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Peterson. He's really trying to nail that trick he's calling Peterson’s Bag of Nuts.”
Mia's not the first to fill me in on Peterson's endeavor to complete a new trick in order to win gold. If I said I wasn't scared of standing to his right on a platform at the Winter Classics, I'd be lying.
Mark my words, he'll never be invited to my halfpipe.
“Well, I wish him luck.”
I check the photographer's progress with the hopes he'll be ready to click his camera so we can get on with this and I get back to my halfpipe and out of my head.
“No, you don't.” She laughs. “Come on. He's your biggest competition and he's half your age.”
I sit down on the stoop that’s there for us to put our leg up. “Watch it with the age. I just turned twenty-six.”
She laughs again, a sweet sing-song type of laugh that sends a rush of exhilaration through my veins. “That just about makes you a dinosaur in this world. Peterson's a child, but he's got just enough guts to pull off that trick and you know it.”
I shrug. Does she really expect me to admit it?
“I have guts, too.”
Her eyes widen and she sits down in front of me. “Yeah you do, but he's got the whole teenage ‘I’m invincible’ belief that we don't have anymore.”
I nod. She's got a point.
“I'm the reigning champ. I'm not worried about some newbie that’ll probably choke when his big moment arrives.” The lie comes out convincingly enough.
“Ready guys,” the photographer announces.
Thank God.
Mia gets up on her hands and knees, crawling my way and then slowly rises up to her feet. “You as confident in that bet as the other one?” Her eyes dip between my legs.
“I'd take that bet every day and twice on Sunday.”
“Guess we’ll find out who's the best in front of millions of people.” She rests her arm on her board and her finger pats her lips. “How’s your shoulder?”
I stand and the photographer’s assistant takes Mia’s board from her momentarily.
“Is that concern I detect in your tone?” Could it be that Mia doesn’t hate me as much as I thought?
She laughs but this time it holds an evil edge. “No, I just want to make sure you don't drop me when I'm on your back.”
She nods towards the photographer’s set-up.
“So, Grady you stand in front of the stool, Mia you step up and onto Grady's back,” the photographer says. “I want huge smiles, and Mia, make sure you do your signature hang ten sign.”
Mia shoots me smug look and I get myself into position. She hops onto my back, her weight barely registering, but when I have her legs hooked in my arms, the smell of honey that can only be her, has my dick waking up in my pants.
The assistant hands Mia her board and she positions it in front of us.
“Why don't you head over to my halfpipe with me tomorrow?”
“Nooo...” She draws out in a breathy whisper in my ear.
“All right, if you don't want to join, cool.”
Her legs tighten around my waist and the photographer’s assistant rushes toward us with some contraption he’s using to measure the light or something. I mean I can hold Mia until the cows come home, but neither of these two seem like they’re in any particular hurry to get this over with.
“I didn't say that,” she snaps.
“If you're waiting for me to beg you, it's not going to happen.” I adjust her body and get her higher up my back.
“I still don't like you.”
“Noted. See you at seven am tomorrow?”
“Fine.”
“Okay, big smiles now, you guys. Pretend you just won gold.” The photographer positions himself beh
ind the camera and begins clicking away.
Mia moves the snowboard in her hands around in a few different positions. “Oh, and don't worry, I’ll try not to show you up out there tomorrow.”
“Please, you'll be thanking me once I teach you a new thing or two.”
She laughs.
I smile at her cockiness, realizing that I miss the banter between us.
The shutter of the camera clicks away as we smile on.
“Perfect,” the photographer says. “The camera loves you two together. You look like you belong together.”
Clearly the old saying, “The camera doesn’t lie” is completely bogus.
Chapter Eight
The air is crisp, the sun yet to warm up the mountains of Utah. The new fallen snow crunches under my boots as I head to the snowmobile to take me to my halfpipe. After I attach my board to the snowmobile, I sit down and wait.
Fifteen minutes later, I'm still waiting and no sign of Mia, but people are waking up to make their way onto the slopes.
“Fuck this.” I throw away my empty cup of coffee and Mia's still full one.
Roaring the snowmobile to life, I speed up the hill and over to my halfpipe. It's not that secluded, but I'm not one to kick a gift horse in the mouth.
“You've got to be shittin’ me.” I speed up the hill of the slope, kill the engine of the snowmobile and watch Mia fly up each side of the halfpipe, her body twisting and twirling in the air.
It's hard to know if she got her love of riding from Brandon or not. The whole following your big brother around town, or in her case up and down the slopes is the norm for most families. Brandon’s no longer able to go to the Winter Classics, but his baby sister is the top female prospect to claim gold in the halfpipe.
She does the double cork she's been able to do for the past three years and falls into the airbag. She’s too in her head. If she could get out of it and add to that trick she'd be unstoppable.
A minute or so later, she crawls out of the inflatable bag at the end of the halfpipe, two helpers grabbing her board for her. I wait at the top while she hops on a snowmobile. When it reaches the top, she hops off and thanks the guy who drove her up here.
