by Shandi Boyes
Pleasing her is.
“Roll onto your stomach, amore mio. Let’s see if the sucks of your mouth are as ravenous as your pussy.”
“Don’t you need me to sign an NDA first, hotshot?”
Although she’s arguing, she rolls onto her stomach.
I fist her hair, then meet her gaze. “Are you going to talk?”
It’s hard for her to shake her head with the hold I have on her hair, but she manages—somewhat. “And have more women tripping over themselves to discover your missing inches? No thanks.”
I feed those so-called missing inches into her mouth, cutting off her witty comment. Despite the stretch of her lips to take my girth, she circles them tightly around my cock before flattening her tongue. I let out a long, ragged groan when she sucks me down deep. Pleasure crackles through me as my grip on her hair tightens.
“La tua bocca è famelica come la tua figa, amore mio. Avido e bagnato.”
Skylar sucks me harder, swallowing down inches upon inches of my cock. She licks, bites, and drags her tongue along the vein feeding my shaft. Even not knowing what I said doesn’t dampen her excitement in the slightest. She knows it was dirty because I’m aware that’s what she likes. Our fuck in the car might have ended sooner than I would have liked, but it revealed her quirks. How she likes dirty thoughts whispered in her ear, how begging to be taken makes her wetter, and that eye contact brings her to climax—as it will me if I don’t concentrate on anything but her big bello eyes peering up at me as she tiptoes me toward hysteria.
A pleasing zap jolts down my spine when she takes me into her mouth further than any woman has before. She sucks me off in a frenzied, fast pace that divulges she has no gag reflex.
I wouldn’t expect any less. God would never be so cruel to give a woman as fierce as her an inability to deep throat.
My thighs wobble when she twirls her tongue around the tip before grazing her teeth over the crown. Her lips rise against the silky-smooth skin angrily stretched across my shaft before her breathy words dry her spit. “Do it, Shortie J. Come in my mouth.”
“It will be my pleasure, amore mio.”
After threading my fingers through her hair, I fuck her face like a maniac. She takes everything I’m giving her. She gulps and sucks and moans until my cum jets into her mouth. And even then, she doesn’t let up. She continues sucking me, drawing me in deeper, claiming every inch of me as I plan to do her.
It’s a fucking glorious few minutes.
Once my shaft is exhausted of cum, Skylar rolls onto her back then glances at me upside down with wide, lust-crammed eyes. “Considering the stamina you displayed in your car, I’m pleased by how quick I got you off.”
Her pupils dilate when I return her serve. “I bet I can finish you off quicker… and I won’t even need my hands or my mouth.”
I move to the side of the bed, drag her across the mattress, then position her so her delectable ass is suspended midair. She stiffens for the quickest second when I brace my still rock-hard cock against the seam of her ass, but she doesn’t voice a protest. I’m not surprised. The fearless don’t feel fear.
A ghost-like smirk touches my lips when she groans about the removal of my cock from her back entrance. It’s quickly chased by a moan when it swipes her throbbing-with-need clit. She’s still swollen, but I have the perfect solution for that.
“Look at me, amore mio.”
When she complies with my request, blinking and beautiful, my body brutally jerks before hot cum streams out of the crest of my cock, landing on her aching clit and tender pussy lips.
“Did you just… did I make you… oh, God…”
The walls of Skylar’s vagina clamp around me when I lunge forward, stuffing her to the brim with my still shuddering cock mid-orgasm. “That’s how beautiful you are, amore mio. Your face alone can make me come.”
Her climax intensifies, my words as arousing to her as the sight of my cock pumping in and out of her slit that’s slick with my seed. I watch the area where our bodies are intimately meeting for the next several minutes. My cum ensures Skylar isn’t feeling any pain, but friction is still in abundance. It’s the kind all couples seek when fucking.
Once her muscles loosen up from her seemingly endless orgasm, I adjust the tilt of her hips before adding a curl to the rock of my hips. “One down, amore mio. At least two more to go.”
Chapter Twenty
Lorenzo
I’d give anything for the sun to pack up and move when my eyes slowly flutter open. I barely touched a drop of alcohol last night, yet my head is thumping. I guess two hours of sleep and three climaxes will do that to you. I don’t regret a single thing—except the unsigned contract glaring at me from the bedside table.
While swishing my tongue around my mouth, hoping to discover a smidge of Skylar’s lip gloss on my lips, I sit up in the bed. My brows furrow when my headcount of the people in my room reaches five. Considering I’m butt-naked, I should be able to say this is the first time I’m awoken with an audience, but unfortunately, that isn’t the case. There are final celebrations I still don’t recall even with the media running the story for the entire offseason.
After sliding in my trousers sans underwear, I join Skylar, Jonah, Willow, Elvis, and Danny at the side of my room. They’re huddled around a frame housing a large wall calendar. Some dates are scribbled out, others are marked with giant red blobs, and a handful have sad faces on them.
“What’s this?” Skylar balks when I curl my arm around her waist and press my lips to her temple. I’m aware the first rule of our contract is no feelings, but she smells too fucking good not to get cozy with her. She smells like sex and me, a combination I’m a fan of.
“This is a compromise you’ll need to agree on if you want me to become your fake girlfriend.” After ushering everyone away from the frame that looks remarkably similar to one coach uses to strategize a game, Skylar points out the dates marked with a blue pen. “Blue is the days I’m available outside of school hours. I have finals coming up, so I can’t be slacking.” When I jerk up my chin in understanding, she points to the days circled in red. “These are witching days—”
“Witching days?”
“The days you must supply her with an endless amount of chocolate, tell her she looks pretty, and allow her to use your body as a pillow for an average of three to five days a month,” Elvis answers on Skylar’s behalf.
Willow rubs Elvis’s tummy like he’s a clever puppy. “Exactly.”
After peering at Willow like she wants a taste of the pie Elvis is feeding her, Skylar devotes her attention back to the calendar. “Black are blackout days. I either have family commitments or cram sessions.” Although there a few more than I would have liked, they’re far and few between, so I’m open to compromise. “And the highlighted section at the bottom are the weeks you’ll need to keep your third leg in your pants once our contract ends.”
My brows furrow. I’m not stupid. I know what her ‘third leg’ reference means. It’s her reasoning behind the blackout I’m confused about.
When Skylar spots my confusion, she tries to ease it. “I might only be your fake girlfriend, Shortie J, but I don’t want people believing I’m so easy to forget, you can return your jackhammer to the market the day following our breakup.”
“That will never happen, amore mio.”
The assurance in my tone sparks excitement through her eyes, but it’s barely seen through the panic clouding them. “Then, you’ll have no hesitation agreeing with my request for a cool-down period once this is all said and done.”
Although I’d like to discuss this matter further, four pairs of beady eyes have me dipping my chin instead of rallying for better terms. It can wait. After the twenty-four hours we’ve just had, I’m confident I can add conditions to our agreement after we’ve signed.
“What are the sad faces?”
Skylar gags before straying her eyes to me. “Jonah synced our calendars. Those are the days I can watch you play soccer.” She
says her last word like it was delivered with a batch of vomit.
I should hate that she dislikes the sport that’s made me a multimillionaire, but for some reason, I don’t.
“How many days am I getting?”
When Skylar murmurs, “Six,” I shake my head. “No. I want at least twelve.”
“Twelve? I’d rather give birth to a cactus than watch you play twelve times. Eight.”
I step closer to her, loving the way the vein in her neck pulses when she smells herself on my skin. “Ten, and you have to wear the getup you do when you watch E play.”
She spreads her hands across her hips, oblivious to the four sets of eyes bouncing between us like they’re at a tennis match. “Nine, and you have to give a shout out to me anytime you score. If I’m going to look ridiculous, I want to be seen on the jumbo screen while doing it.”
“Deal.”
When I thrust out my hand in offering, she accepts it way too excitedly for my liking. “I had signed on for thirteen games, so thanks for the heads-up you were willing to lower the severity of my punishment.”
With a wink that reveals I just got played, she skips to the bedside table to snatch our contract off the chipped wood table before balancing it on the makeshift command center Jonah set up overnight.
The nib of her pen freezes a mere millimeter from the paper as she drifts her bello eyes to mine. “What do you say, Shortie J? Are you ready to be saddled down with me for sixteen weeks before we part ways in an amicable, yet highly publicized way?”
A ‘yes’ sits on the tip of my tongue, but no matter how many times I try to fire it out of my mouth, it refuses to leave. I’m too interested in discovering what caused her change of heart than forcing her to spend time with me.
When I ask Skylar the reason behind her decision, she murmurs, “You mean other than realizing my orgasms aren’t capped to three a night?” You have no idea how hard it is for me not to bang my chest right now, especially when she hits me with a playful wink. “Willow, E, and Jonah pointed out some facts my lust-crazed head hadn’t considered. They swung the pendulum in your favor even more than the pendulum between your legs.”
“I helped, too,” Danny interjects from the corner of the room.
Skylar’s eyes roll skyward. “Sign it or move aside wasn’t helpful, Danny-boy.”
Laughter breaks across the room when Danny replies, “It could have helped me if you had taken my advice.” He awards me the same wink Skylar did, just more skin-crawlingly.
When the room is once again silent, Skylar’s eyes return to mine. “Yes or no, Lorenzo? This is your reputation at stake…”
I snatch the pen out of her hand before all her sentence leaves her mouth. After signing across my section of the contract, I tilt the pen to Skylar. I’m anticipating a delay, so you can imagine my shock when she signs her side of our legally binding document without breaking into a sweat. I shouldn’t be surprised. Last night went above and beyond anything I could have comprehended, so I’m more than willing to give up a lot more than four months of my life for the possibility of it happening again.
I flip over the pages of our contract, so they sit flush, then hand it to Jonah for safekeeping. Before he can take it, a crossed-out section on the very top grabs my attention.
“Why did you cross out the monetary amount?”
Skylar looks more nervous now than she did when she mentioned our cooling-off period. “Because despite how much money Danny assures me I could make if I answered one of the many emails requesting my pricing list after our publicized romp last night, I’m not a prostitute.”
Danny withers like a picked flower left in the sun when I glare at him. I’m confident he was joking, he’s a playful guy, but if he is the reason Skylar isn’t accepting payment for her time, he deserves my wrath. I’m a needy man, so Skylar’s free time won’t just be gobbled up by me, it will be utterly annihilated.
“Amore mio—”
“No,” Skylar interrupts with a stern glare. “This isn’t up for negotiation. Our contract is signed. Discussions are over.” She grabs her coat from the chair Jonah is sitting on before spinning toward the door. “Now, can we get out of here before I begin to wonder where that horrible smell is coming from.”
I feel left out of an insider joke when everyone but Jonah and I snap their eyes to Willow.
“It wasn’t me!” Willow defends, horrified.
After whacking a shuddering Elvis in the gut, Willow hotfoots it outside. When Skylar shadows her, I attempt to follow her out, only stopping when the flash of a camera reminds me I am both shirtless and shoeless, and we won’t mention the fur on my teeth.
They’re in desperate need of a scrub even more than they were after kissing Percy.
“You missed the turn-off. You’ll have to take a right on Lewis then backtrack your steps.”
Skylar either thinks I can’t read English or I’m a moron. The sign to her college is the size of a truck. I missed it on purpose.
“We’re not going to your dorm.” I feel her eyes on me, hot and heavy, but she remains quiet. “The media you were confronted with at the motel will be nothing on the ones waiting for you at your school.”
“I doubt that will be an issue. Will is staying at E’s tonight.”
Her reply makes me smile. She’s so star-struck by all things 69ers, she failed to notice how the press moved from Elvis to me when I joined them outside of the motel.
I could tell her she’s wrong, but I’d rather show her, so with my mouth shut and my lips curling, I take a right on Lewis as requested.
“What the…” Skylar murmurs under her breath when our attempt to drive into her college is thwarted by dozens of media vans.
I’m a little disappointed by the turnout, but only as long as it takes me to remember this isn’t Milan. Here, the press is more subdued with their bad-boy players than my country. There, whether I’m behaving or not, I get trampled everywhere I go.
After gliding through the media contingency at a very slow two miles per hour, I pull into the loading bay at the front of Skylar’s dorm before drifting my eyes to her. Unlike last night, her pupils are full, she’s fidgeting with the hem of her dress, and sweat is beading her brow.
Her dilated gaze strays from the sports journalists capturing her every move to me when I ask, “Did you want me to walk you to your door, or have you got it?”
My question appears to be lost in translation when she endeavors to open her door. While the media screams a range of questions at her from how long we’ve been dating to what I’m like in bed, I lean over and slam her door shut. “You can’t stay here, Sky.”
My use of a nickname stuns her for all of two seconds. “Then where do you anticipate I stay? I’m not made of money, and there are no one-star motels close to my campus, believe me, I checked after Picky McFlicky’s wayward booger landed on my bed.”
I’m dying to ask her what a booger is, however, it will have to wait until we’re not being hounded by the press. “You can stay with me.”
Skylar huffs while folding her arms under her chest. “Sleepovers weren’t a part of our deal.”
I act ignorant of her denial. “I have a spare bedroom, so you don’t need to be worried about me being all up in your business.” I anticipate a laugh for my impersonation of Danny and her during the last half of my sentence, but I don’t even get a smile. “And my hotel has an underground tube to your campus. It’s ideal.”
“You think you have everything planned out, don’t you, Shortie J?”
I pretend to flick tickets off my shoulder. “I don’t think, amore mio, I know…” My pompous words are swallowed by the roar of the paparazzi when Skylar throws open her door and curls out of my car.
What the fuck? This is one event I didn’t anticipate.
After peeling out of the driver’s seat, I shout over the soft-top roof of my Maserati, ensuring Skylar can hear my question over the many the media are hitting her with. “Where are you going?”
Several female members of the contingency surrounding her hum in agreement
After hitting me with a flirty wink, she spins back around. “See you Friday, hotshot.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Skylar
“You’re evil.”
I twist my torso to face Willow, who’s acting ignorant to the many eyes we have on us. “How am I evil? I agreed to be his fuck-buddy for four months, not his live-in screw.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “I understand, but you could have told him that without the media listening in.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Willow rolls her eyes before pulling open the door of our economics class. “He looked like a loser.”
I’m horrible for smiling, but I can’t help it. If I don’t keep Lorenzo on his toes, he’ll grow bored before our contract expires, then I’ll be left looking like a loser, and there’s no chance in hell I’ll let that happen. Just agreeing to his terms already has me at a disadvantage. I can’t let him get more leverage, or my panic about falling for a short guy will come true.
Ignoring the panic roaring through my veins, I walk through the door and head straight to the stairwell at the side of the lecture hall. “Maybe the knock to his ego will deflate his head enough that we can share the airspace on Friday without me getting a kinked neck.”
We climb two dozen stairs before slotting into our spots halfway. After gathering her notebook from her backpack, Willow cracks it open before swiveling in her seat to face me. “What was Friday again? Between your iPeriod app, E’s upcoming training schedule, and our class timetable, all the days are meshing into one.”
