by Lily Harlem
I caught my panties and shoved them into the pocket on the robe, remembering how he’d dragged them from me in a frenzy the evening before.
“Keep quiet,” he said, pressing his index finger to his lips.
I nodded.
Once again he shut the bedroom door and I tiptoed over to listen. I wanted to figure out who it was visiting him this time. I took a towel so I could sneeze into it if I needed to, but luckily the tingling had abated. Perhaps I would get away with it.
“Hey, Taylor, how are you?” Lewis asked.
“I’m alright, boss.”
“Sure? You look a bit pissed off.”
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Come in and sit down.”
There was a pause.
“So you gonna tell me what’s up?”
“It’s just…” Taylor said and then paused.
I could just imagine him sitting on the sofa, his hair short and spiked in a young trendy style and the trademark silver earring he always wore when he wasn’t on the pitch flashing in the sunlight.
“Just tell me, mate. What’s happened?” Lewis’ voice, uncharacteristically soft.
“I had to phone home last night. It was my mam’s birthday but there was some bad news.”
“What kind of bad news?”
“It’s my nan, she’s been taken into hospital.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What’s up with her?”
“They don’t know, she’s eighty-five, not as strong as she used to be, and her chest gets bad in the winter. But it’s not winter now, the weather is great over there, so I don’t really know what’s happened.”
I could hear the upset in Taylor’s voice. He was just a kid and he’d had a mountain of pressure dropped on him by being on the starting line-up each match. And now this. Worries at home.
“My mam’s gone to visit her today,” he went on. “You know, to find out a bit more from the doctors.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Lewis asked.
“Nah, I just wanted to let you know. I don’t want to be distracted. Really I don’t. This is too important. Fuck, it’s the chance of a lifetime and I know I can’t go dashing back to see her. That’s out of the question, isn’t it?”
“It is, at least for another couple of days. But she’s not on the critical list or anything, is she?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Well in that case, don’t go pressing any panic buttons. Call home again later and hopefully there’ll be more information to go on. But traveling back to England before Tuesday is contractually out of the question and also it will play havoc with team training.”
“I know and I’m not asking for that—”
“But,” Lewis interrupted. “If the news is bad tonight, we’ll figure something out. Okay.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I’ll talk to Fellows and the powers that be. We’ll use a private jet. But hopefully it won’t come to that.”
“Yeah, hopefully she’ll perk up. Sometimes she just doesn’t take enough care of herself. I keep offering to pay for someone to go in and cook for her. But she won’t have it, too independent.”
“They get like that. My grandfather did.”
There was a pause. “But thanks, though, boss. You know, for understanding.”
“Anytime, and I’m glad you let me know. There’s no point trying to cope with something like that when you have people here who care about you.”
“I appreciate it.”
There was another bang on the door.
“Bloody hell,” Lewis said. “It’s like Piccadilly Circus here today.”
“I’ll get going. Leave you to it,” Taylor said.
I heard the shuffle of feet and the door opened.
“Room service.”
“Oh, so you’re not eating breakfast with us?” Taylor said.
“I’ve got some calls to make. Thought I would do the two jobs at once. I’ll see you at training in an hour.”
“Okay.”
“Where would you like your breakfast tray, sir?”
I was pretty sure that was Bohdan’s voice.
“In the lounge will be fine.”
I decided to freshen up and brush my teeth. When I came out of the en-suite the bedroom door was open.
“Come get your breakfast,” Lewis called.
I grabbed my phone and wandered into the lounge area. The doors were flung open and the fresh morning air fluttered into the room bringing with it the sounds of the city.
Lewis was sitting, in just his jeans, on the sofa tucking into a plate of scrambled eggs.
“Dig in,” he said, gesturing to the table.
I looked at the choices. Fruit, croissants, muffins, toast, bacon and eggs. Also a huge pot of tea and a jug of tomato juice.
“This looks nourishing,” I said, sitting on the sofa opposite him. “And an awful lot for one person.”
“Bohdan knows he’s feeding two up here. I just asked him to be a little discreet about the amount of crockery and cutlery he piled on the tray.”
“How did you get him on your side like this?”
Lewis shrugged. “Like I said, money talks.” He scooped in more egg. When he’d swallowed he said, “But even if he hadn’t been willing to help me out, I would still have sneaked you up here somehow. The risk is more than worth it.”
“I’m glad you think so.” I poured two cups of tea then broke into a croissant. It was still warm and smelled divine. “Is Taylor all right?”
“You heard, huh?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, these things happen. Contrary to what Fellows believes, life doesn’t stop just because there’s a tournament.”
“You were sweet with him.”
“That bloody word again.” He set down his empty plate and picked up his tea. “I am not sweet.”
I grinned. “You are a little bit.”
He frowned and rested back on the sofa, sipped his tea and crossed his ankle over his opposite knee. “I think I may have to change your perception of me later.”
“Why? What’s wrong with being sweet?”
“It’s not the image I want to project.” His phone jiggled on the table and he reached for it. “Sorry, hang on.” He studied the screen for a moment. “Nothing important.” He paused and held it up. “Smile, honey.”
There was an electrical click as he took a shot of me.
“Hey, really, while I look like the wild woman of Borneo?”
“I like you wild.”
“Huh.” I reached for my phone. “Two can play take-the-morning-photo game.”
He grinned, rested back again and held up his tea. I captured a shot of him looking impossibly gorgeous and relaxed. His broad bare chest golden, a slight crease in his belly because of the way he was casually propped on the sofa, and his long legs crossed. But it was his expression as well as his pose that struck me. His smile was easy and soft, the skin around his eyes crinkled slightly, and he had a delicious coating of morning stubble. He looked as relaxed as Lewis Tate ever was.
“I best get going,” he said, taking a slurp of his tea. “I really do have a couple of phone calls to make and the coach takes us off to the training ground at nine-thirty.” He stood and reached for a banana. “Will you be okay for a few hours?”
“What, hanging out in my luxury tower?” I grinned. “Of course. I’ll be absolutely fine.”
Chapter Ten
Wandering around the enormous suite on my own was like living someone else’s life. I didn’t belong here. I could never afford to stay somewhere like this. It probably cost my year’s rent for one night.
But I wanted to make the most of it. So I had a deep bubble bath, again. Flicked through the sports channels, caught up with a couple of emails, and finally a little before noon settled down on the chaise to read and let my hair dry naturally.
I’d pulled on the pretty black lace negligee and matching thong after my bath, and because
the day was hot and the terrace private, I soon discarded the robe and sunned myself like an indulged cat. The heat warmed my bones and caressed my flesh.
I was lost in my Gascoigne biography when I heard the door slam. I turned and saw Lewis striding past the large dining table and into the lounge. He tossed his phone and a pair of shades onto the table.
He looked hot and sweaty, his knees muddy and his red and white top stuck to his body. A streak of mud sat on his cheek and there was a graze on his right elbow.
“Hi,” I said, shifting on the chaise.
He stopped, his eyes narrowed, and he swept his tongue over his bottom lip.
“Good training session?” I asked.
“Stand up.”
“What.”
His eyes narrowed further.
I placed down my Kindle and stood. “What?” My heart stuttered as I took a step toward him.
“Where did you get that?” He nodded at my negligee.
“What, this old thing.” I jutted out my hip and fingered the lace at the hem. Threw him a sexy grin that I hoped was a little more confident than I felt. “Do you like it?”
“Too damned much.” He moved close and the raw scent of mud and sweat filled the air between us. “Are you trying to finish me off? I’ve just done a three-hour workout. You really think I can cope with more?” He pinched my chin between his thumb and index finger and pressed his lips to mine.
He tasted hot and salty.
“Turn around,” he ordered in a hoarse voice.
I hesitated.
“Turn around and bend over the end of the chaise, Nicky. Now.”
A bolt of excitement shot through me at the dominant tone of his voice. My pussy was already dampening, a knot of desire growing in my stomach. I held his steady gaze for a long moment then turned, feeling very naked in my sheer negligee and sinfully tiny thong. I rested my hands on the curled back of the chaise, looked out over the rooftops.
“I said bend over.” He pressed the center of my back, forcing me double. “I’m going to fuck you from behind. You reckon you can handle it?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck me from behind. Say it.”
“Fuck me from behind, Lewis. Please.” I shifted my butt left to right, as though inviting him.
He lifted the scrappy material I was wearing up to my waist, exposing my buttocks.
“Your bum is so cute,” he said, smoothing the globes of flesh, massaging and rubbing, stretching my cleft. “I can’t wait to see it shake as I ram into you.”
“Yes, please.” I went to straighten but the pressure on my back increased and he bent me further over the chaise.
“Keep still,” he said. “Or I’ll tie you to the damn thing.”
Oh, sweet Jesus.
Sweat prickled on my flesh as he peeled down my thong. I was humming for him. Desperate for the first touch of his fingers on my needy body.
“Wider,” he said, using his foot to encourage my legs apart.
God, I was so open to him. So exposed and vulnerable.
“Yes, that’s it, let’s see if you’ve been thinking dirty thoughts, shall we?” He ran his finger down the groove between my cheeks, over the puckered skin of my anus and into my folds. “Ah, you’re so wet. Fuck, I can smell your arousal.”
“Really, over your sweat?”
He grunted. “Yeah, honey, even over my sweat. You really want it, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
I shoved my hips backward, hoping to impale myself on his fingers. He obliged and penetrated me knuckle deep, his deft fingertips stroking my G-spot.
I screwed my eyes shut and sighed. The filling sensation was wonderful as was the pressure. But it only lasted a moment, because then he pulled out.
“No,” I whimpered.
“Shh, this is what you really want.” The head of his cock prodded at my hot, wet entrance. “Tell me, Nicky, is this what you want?”
“Fuck yes. Please. Fuck me.”
“Because you asked so nicely.” He tightened his hold on me and rammed in.
I cried out but the sound was cut off by Lewis pressing his hand over my mouth. “Shh,” he said. “The windows are open.”
Nodding, I bit down on my lip and tried to straighten. He let go of my mouth and pushed my back harder, so I was much more than ninety degrees over the chaise. The position of his cock inside me shifted. From this angle he was penetrating me deeper than ever. It was wonderful.
“Ah, yeah, that feels so good. Is it good for you?”
“Yes, yes,” I managed “So good.”
He gripped my hips, tight, pulled out and steamed back in. I jerked forward, my hair flapping around my face and my breasts jolting. He repeated the action over and over. The brutal fucking was gloriously carnal. I was at his mercy—again.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “You look incredible like this, taking me so deep into your pretty pussy.”
I couldn’t answer. The air was being knocked from me with the force of his thrusts.
“So deep, so hot. Fuck, you’re amazing, perfect. Ah, don’t take long, will you.”
Releasing my grip on the chaise, I reached between my legs and sought out my clit. Rubbed and fretted, combined the growing sensation with the pressure forming in my pussy. The orgasm racing toward me was like a freight train out of control; it threatened to de-rail me. I let my body hang limply, held up by Lewis and the chaise. I couldn’t support myself, not when a wild storm was about to blast through me.
“That’s it, touch yourself. Just how you want it,” he said in a deep, growling voice.
“Lewis, please, don’t stop. I’m so…nearly…there.”
“Just keep it quiet. We don’t want anyone running in to see who I’m murdering.”
“Okay…okay,” I panted then bit down on my lip.
He grabbed my hair, scooped it into a rough ponytail and tugged, hard, extending my spine and neck. The extra sensation sent me spinning into ecstasy. My pussy erupted and my clit shot burning fingers of bliss to every corner of my body.
But I didn’t shout out. I internalized my delight, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood. My spine was arched like a bow string. My pussy spasming and thumping around his cock.
“Fuck, I can feel you coming, squeezing my dick,” he said and gave one almighty thrust that lifted my feet from the ground and tipped me almost over the chaise. I had to use both hands to stop myself from flying forward. Though in reality Lewis had such a tight hold on me, my hair and my hip, I was going nowhere.
“Ah, ah, yes, oh yes.” He groaned and warmth gushed inside me. High, deep in my core.
He released my hair. I tipped forward and struggled to catch my breath. Opened my eyes and was disoriented for a moment by my upside down world.
“Bloody hell, come here,” he said, turning me and lifting me into his arms.
I locked my fingers behind his neck and hung on. My knees were weak; there was a definite shake in my thighs.
“That was fucking incredible,” he said, kissing me.
I kissed him back, enjoying the fact that I was sweaty too.
“I don’t think I will ever get enough of feeling you orgasm while I’m deep inside you. It feels amazing.”
“I agree.”
A frown plowed across his forehead. “Is it really?”
“Yes, absolutely.” The mud on his cheek was beginning to liquefy. “Come on, let’s shower. You’re dirty in the literal sense.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. You were irresistible.”
“I aim to please.”
He waggled his brows. “You most certainly succeeded.”
I led him into the en-suite and flicked on the water. By the time I’d stripped off my negligee he was naked but looking decidedly patchy with streaks of the training pitch spread over him like licks of paint.
“Come on, I’ll soap you down.”
“That sounds too good an invitation to refuse.�
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I stepped into the curtain of steaming water and he followed. He reached for me but I batted his hands away. “You need cleaning up, Mr. Tate, so keep still.”
He frowned but did as I asked. I filled up a washcloth with hotel shower gel, rubbed it until the froth over-spilled my hands then wiped it over his chest, his neck and his cheek, carefully removing the mud and grime. His skin shone, and the suds collected in his chest hair, the hair on his belly and his groin. With gentle strokes I cleaned the graze on his arm. Not that he appeared to notice he was injured. He just stood very still, watching me closely.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” he asked eventually.
“What do you mean?”
“If we fuck wildly like that. It’s only a turn-on for me if I you enjoy it too.”
“Yes I enjoy it plenty.”
“It’s just…”
“What?”
“It’s just I’ve always had a good appetite for sex. Not that I am a lothario or a player or anything. But when I like someone, a lot, it just seems to flick a switch in me. I want to fuck. I want to give and receive pleasure and sometimes it just takes over the moment. I would hate myself if I hurt you.”
He suddenly looked vulnerable and I realized he was bearing his soul to me. A deep part of himself that I was sure few people had been lucky enough to see. “I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. A few years back I was in a relationship. Nice guy, too nice really. Sex was okay, but not exactly exciting. One day I said to him, just grab me and fuck me, I won’t break and…” I hesitated. I hadn’t spoken to anyone about this before.
“And what?”
“He looked at me like I was weird or something. As if I’d just confessed to some crazy kink or fetish. But all I really wanted was to be with someone who wasn’t afraid of passion, of taking what they wanted and could understand that I wasn’t a china doll.” I shrugged. “We never made love again and split up a couple of weeks later.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not, we were hardly compatible, not like…”
“Us.”
