Scored

by Lily Harlem

  I slid my hand down between our bodies and squeezed his shaft through his jeans, firm and confident, then gave a small upward stroke that was a promise of what was to come.

  He groaned into my mouth. “That feels so good but I want to touch you too.”

  “Touch away.” I was pressing and stroking his cock now. Loving how it felt so rock-solid beneath the denim as though bursting to be free.

  He released my buttocks, found the zipper at the top of my dress and whizzed it open.

  I was aware of the material loosening then falling away as he smoothed the straps over my shoulders and down my arms.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, casting his gaze over my body.

  I was forced to move my attentions from his cock as he slipped the dress off me completely and let it puddle on the floor at my feet. The air was cool stroking my skin, but I was glad of it. I was on fire and the flames needed tending to—now.

  “Lewis, I—” I reached for him again.

  “Wait.” He held me at arm’s length, his eyelids heavy and his lips parted. “Let me look at you. You just about blew my mind down at the pool the other day. Not grabbing you and making you mine was nothing short of torture.” He tightened his grip on my shoulders. “That would have made quite a spectacle of in front of the guys, though.”

  “Yes, it certainly would have.” I couldn’t help but eye the impressive bulge at his groin. I was itching to get a hold of him again.

  “Don’t throw the white bikini away, will you?” he said.

  “Why not? It’s useless.”

  “It’s perfect, but just not for wearing in public.” He pulled me close and the sensation of his clothes scratching against my bare flesh was divine.

  “Well that’s the only time I swim, in public. I don’t have a private pool, you know.”

  “I have.”

  Of course he did. Duh.

  “And if we go for a swim together in private, I’m going to insist you wear that bikini.”

  “Oh, will you now.” My breasts were engorged with longing and my nipples tight little twists that ached for stimulation.

  “Yeah, because next time I see you in that bikini I’m not going to be able to stop myself from attending to the raging hard-on it gives me.” He scooped my breast into his hand, caught my nipple between his fingers and tugged slightly.

  I watched, fascinated, and let pleasure wash through me. “Is that so?”

  “You’d better believe it.” He caught my mouth in a sudden ravenous kiss. I clung to his shoulders, bowled over by determination that had apparently robbed him of patience.

  Which was good, because my patience was all used up too.

  I was practically naked.

  He soon would be.

  Then we would fuck.

  It was the only thing that could happen next. My sanity depended upon it.

  Chapter Six

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  “Fuck what was that?” Lewis pulled back, his lips shiny from our kiss and his breaths short, sharp pants.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  “Tate, open this door. I need to speak to you.”

  My stomach lurched. “It’s Fellows,” I whispered.

  “Damn it.” Lewis released me. “But he’s banging on my door not yours.”

  I reached down for my dress and held it against my naked chest. “Shit.”

  He rested his hand on the side of my head, over my ear. “It will be fine. I’ll handle it.”

  “But what are you going to do?”

  “Nothing for now. I’ll wait until he’s gone.” He moved over to the door and peered through the spy hole. Turned to me with his index finger pressed over his lips.

  “What?” I mouthed.

  Lewis tugged his ear and pointed to the door, indicating that Fellows was listening.

  “Really?” I said without sound.

  He nodded.

  A quiver attacked my belly. Fuck, what a nightmare situation. Seconds ago I thought all my birthdays and Christmases were about to come at once, now, if things went wrong I would have the whole nation after my blood. I spotted the toweling robe I’d discarded earlier in the day and pulled it on. Realized that I was still wearing my stilettos and looked ridiculous. Toed them off.

  Lewis looked back through the spy hole then turned to me again. “He’s gone.”

  “Thank goodness for that,” I said, my voice still low.

  He rolled his eyes. “Shit, I’m really sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.” I turned down the music and set the remote control on the table. When I looked up he was next to me.

  “I have to go.” He frowned. “Fuck, I don’t want to, but I can’t afford for the shit to hit the fan this week.”

  “Of course, I understand. But what will you do?”

  “I dunno. I suppose I’ll go find him and tell him I was in the bathroom when he knocked on my door.”

  Disappointment deflated me like a torn balloon. “Yeah, that should cover your tracks.” I couldn’t control a shaky sigh.

  “Believe me, this is a more painful decision for me than it is for you.” He shoved a hand down his pants and adjusted himself. His face contorted in discomfort and he gritted his teeth.

  “I’m sorry,” I managed.

  “What for?” He removed his hands and rested them on my shoulders. His face semi-relaxed.

  “For causing you pain.”

  “It was a sweeter-than-sweet pain a few minutes ago and I was thoroughly looking forward to some serious healing with you. But…”

  He touched the tip of his nose onto mine.

  “But what?” I asked.

  “But keep those sexy thoughts alive, honey, because if you know anything about me, you’ll know that I always get the results I set out to achieve.”

  He kissed me, once, hard, and then he was gone and I was left looking at the door again.

  I was perfectly still but my body was a mass of unsatisfied urges, my blood set to boiling point. If I was going to avoid spontaneously combusting there was only one thing for it.

  Big Ben.

  Hastily I attached the door chain, dimmed the lights and rummaged in my case for my vibrator. I flicked the switch. Nothing. Damn. Then I remembered I’d removed the batteries to avoid any more sudden outbursts from him at inopportune moments.

  After a quick search, I found the batteries and slipped them in. I sighed. It would have to do. Not as good as a real cock and nowhere near as fine as Lewis Tate’s but still, it was all I had if I wanted to remove even an ounce of my frustration.

  I shoved my knickers off and dropped onto the bed, my back melting into the pile of plush pillows and the robe flinging open wantonly. I drew up my knees and coated Big Ben’s smooth head with my juices, skimming him up and down my labia and tickling around my entrance. I was so turned on, so ready for penetration. The scent of my arousal was musky and my clit buzzed with anticipation. I squeezed my eyes shut, pictured Lewis hovering over me, naked, sweaty, and wearing that damn determined expression that made me so hot.

  I rammed Big Ben into my pussy. Biting my lip, I curled forward. A sudden filling always gave me a delicious feeling of fullness that bordered on pain. Erotic pain. It was a heavenly moment and one I always wished would linger longer. It never did.

  Without giving my pussy time to adjust to Big Ben’s invasion, I flicked the switch to bring him to life. “Oh, yes,” I gasped, tearing open my eyes and seeing his little blue ears hovering over my clit. Deep inside, he was rotating his hard beads over my G-spot with devastating accuracy.

  I pulled him out a little, smoothed him back in, teasing myself. But who was I kidding? I needed to climax like I needed to take my next breath. There was no two ways about it.

  My clit was peeking out now, shiny and pale, and I settled Big Ben’s ears around it. Heavenly vibrations scorched through me. I dropped back and pressed my palm over my clit, holding the ears firm and where I needed them most. My whole body jerked, insid
e and out. Brilliant lights burst behind my eyelids and the sound of my pulse in my ears deafened me.

  I thrust my hips upward for more, clenched my internal muscles around the solid length of silicone shafting in and out, whirring and droning. An orgasm was racing toward me, growing and blooming, preparing to ravage my body.

  Lewis’ name was on my lips. His face filled my mind. I imagined his sex-sweat mixing with mine. How would we smell together, how we would sound? Wild and animalistic, desperate in our search for satisfaction. Our kisses frantic, our bodies as one.

  It was hard to contain a sob of disappointment that we weren’t fucking for real and as I teetered on the edge of orgasm I panted his name. “Lewis, Lewis, oh yes, ah, ah, ah…” I was flung into a million different directions. Neurons and nerves took on a life of their own as my brain sparkled and my pussy went into a sequence of powerful contractions, hugging and squeezing the shaft and sending shockwaves of bliss to every corner of my body.

  Hurriedly I turned off the vibrator and lifted the wickedly exuberant ears from my clit. The stimulation was too intense now that I’d come. I couldn’t cope.

  I opened my eyes and was almost surprised to find myself in a hotel room. For a moment I’d been in a completely different dimension, thoroughly enjoying my fantasy of Lewis fucking me until I could barely remember my own name.

  Slowly I pulled Big Ben out. His shaft was slick and shiny and the blueness of it struck me as bizarre. Why hadn’t I chosen a flesh-colored one? I couldn’t remember, it was ages since I’d bought Big Ben and even longer since I’d been bowled over with passion and longing the way I’d been earlier this evening.

  Lewis coming back to ensure the results he wanted were gained, couldn’t come soon enough.

  The next day once again dawned bright and sunny in Donetsk. With no match and the team at a training session—I’d seen the bus collect them from the front of the hotel—I decided to do some shopping. It had been a while since I’d flexed the plastic, plus I hadn’t brought anything other than plain practical underwear, and if I was going to be ready for Lewis to come back and finish what he’d started something pretty and lacy would be in order.

  I hit the main precinct and soon discovered bartering was the name of the game. It was fun and I had quite a knack despite not speaking Ukrainian. Money talked and that was our common language.

  Before long I had several new sets of undies, a black satin negligee and a new lipstick called Seduction Red. I wondered about splashing out on a dress but decided against it. I couldn’t really see myself getting the chance to wear one, and besides, Lewis had seemed to enjoy taking my little black dress off.

  Eventually I headed back to the hotel laden with bags and also several photographs on my iPhone. I’d decided to write an article on shopping in Donetsk and see if I could sell it to a travel website I sometimes submitted to. That would mean my day had been doubly productive if I could class it as research as well as shopping.

  Again I flashed my identification to security then headed up to my room. I was joined in the elevator by a German couple. They had their arms linked and as the doors slid shut she touched his hair and spoke softly into his ear. I stared straight ahead and heard him reply in words that made no sense to me. In the smoky reflection of the doors I noticed he’d slid his hands to her bum and was squeezing her close.

  She giggled and I had to suppress a pang of envy. I wished Lewis was in the elevator with me, kissing me, holding me. This couple didn’t know how lucky they were that nothing was preventing them being together. They could touch and kiss without repercussion, without the threat of a whole nation turning on them.

  Level three arrived and I stepped out. They followed, the trundle of their suitcases echoing along the long stretch of carpeted corridor.

  I paused at my door and sought out my keycard. They too halted, right next to me.

  “Schneller,” the woman said. “Ich will dich jetzt.”

  The tone of her voice told me what she wanted, even if I didn’t understand the words. Because it was what I wanted too, but had been denied the evening before.

  The man chuckled and I turned just in time to see them disappear into Lewis’ room with a flourish. The door banged shut, I heard another clunk, like something banging against a wall, and then silence.

  Staring at the door, I realized it was no longer Lewis’ room. He’d moved. He was back with his team in a suite that was fitting of his position. Of course, I knew it would happen, having him opposite had been like a miraculous twist in destiny or fate or luck, one of the three or perhaps all of them. It had been wonderful while it lasted but reality had returned.

  But now how would he finish what he’d started? My heart sank, and a hollowness grew in my belly. I had to face the truth. He wouldn’t be back to finish what he’d started. How could he? I would only see him on the pitch or at press conferences. Other than that I was confident Fellows would ensure our paths didn’t cross in the hotel. Lewis would be kept occupied at all times and kept away from the terrible influences of the female reporter who dared stay at the Donbass.

  With my mood dragging on the floor, I ordered room service and picked at a salad. I had to force myself to write my report on shopping in Donetsk. But when I read it back I really hadn’t done the city justice. My somber mood leaked out in every adjective and I was sure potential tourists would steer clear by miles. It would need more attention when I was feeling brighter.

  A knock on the door startled me. Gathering my wits, I jumped up. Checked my teeth for stray lettuce and prayed I’d see Lewis looking nervously around when I peered through the spy hole.

  But it wasn’t him. It was a waiter in a neat white suit and a trimmed black mustache.

  I opened the door.

  “I’ve come to collect your room service trolley, madam.”

  “Thank you,” I said, forcing a smile.

  He stepped in, reached the trolley and walked back toward me. When level he paused, reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope as white as the gloves he wore. “You are Miss Nicky Thomas?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I have this for you.” He offered the envelope forward.

  “Oh, thanks.” I looked at it. There was no name on the front.

  “Who’s it from?”

  “He said you would know.”

  He.

  Oh, my goodness. Was it from Lewis? As soon as the waiter had gone, I leaned against the wall and ripped at the seal. Pulled out a sheet of paper that held the hotel logo at the top and stared at the words written in blue biro.

  Cathedral. 9 a.m.

  The knowledge that Lewis had gone out of his way to contact me, and not only that he wanted to see me, had my mood sky-rocketing. However, the switch from the doldrums to euphoria had given rise to insomnia and I hardly slept all night. But I wasn’t complaining. I was more than happy to set my alarm, get up, shower and curl my hair. Because getting ready to meet the man my obsessive brain had fixated on was hardly a chore. It was a pleasure, an excitement, and I had to force myself to nibble on a biscuit as I dressed, knowing if I didn’t eat I would feel nauseous by midmorning.

  A quick cab ride took me to the cathedral, delivering me a few minutes before nine. I paid the driver, alighted and stood at the base of the steps leading up to the grand entrance. I rolled my lips in on themselves. The color of my new lipstick wasn’t exactly suitable for a place of worship but then neither was my underwear—a sexy pink and black lace-trimmed set with tiny bows on the cups and thonged panties.

  But it didn’t matter because praying wasn’t on my mind today, neither was looking at the magnificent architecture. This morning my hedonistic thoughts were going to be directed at a certain captain I hoped would already be waiting for me inside this holy building.

  Did I feel sinful? Hell yeah. I would have to make up for it later and be sure to do some extra good deeds.

  The entrance was quiet and still. Through the second set of heavy doors it was even
more so. The atmosphere heavy, cool and silent. At first I thought the pews were deserted, but as I walked down the aisle, my soft shoes silent, I spotted a figure partially obscured by a thick pillar.

  Lewis?

  He wore a hoody again, the dark material pulled up and over his head so his face wasn’t visible. He was looking downward, as though studying his clasped hands and deep in prayer.

  It had to be Lewis.

  I sidled along the pew toward him. Hyper aware of every noise in the silence—my breathing, my hands on the wood, the beat of my heart.

  He didn’t look up.

  I edged closer.

  Suddenly my confidence started to slip. What if it wasn’t him? Perhaps it was some hobo who used the cathedral for shelter. He might have a knife, want to rob me, rape me, kill me, and here was I offering myself up to him like a sacrificial lamb.

  No. I was being silly. Lewis had worn a hoody like that when he’d come to the cathedral before. It had to be him. I tried to flush macabre images from my mind and hold onto a thread of sensibility. I had arranged to meet him here, at nine. He was here, that was all, nothing to fear.

  A sudden loud clanging vibrated through my head and I froze. My body tensed and my legs trembled—fight or flight? Panic rolled up from my feet to the top of my head and for a second my focus fuzzed.

  I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. It was the bells in the high-domed steeple clanging out that it was nine o’clock. I waited, I don’t know why, until the ninth ring, then continued toward what I hoped was Lewis.

  I stopped just two meters from the man, pretty sure it was him. But I didn’t dare speak. I just stood, waiting for him to acknowledge me.

  Eventually he turned and the hood covering his face shifted. He had on black shades and sported a good growth of light brown stubble that sat heavier in the dink in his chin.

  “Oh, it is you,” I said on a sigh and sat down.

  He removed his glasses. “Well if you had to get this close to realize then my crude attempt at disguise is obviously working.” His voice was low and hushed.