by Piper Rayne
“What can I say? I'm a closet romantic.”
There go her eyes again, rolling to the back of her head. “Well, I'm not exactly looking for any type of relationship after my most recent experience and the sex between us is a great way to ease some of the pressure of the games, so what the hell? Okay.”
“Okay?” I ask, biting my lip and double-checking.
She nods. “You must’ve caught me at a weak moment.”
“So, can we get this started now?” I slide closer, my hands moving her legs apart.
“I was taking a nap...”
She doesn't fight me and her legs part, opening for me to slide between as my lips move to hers.
Just as I'm about to taste the latest flavor of her lip balm a finger lands on my lips. “Dax?”
My eyes open. “Yeah?”
“This is over when I say so, okay?”
“Of course. You're the boss.” I press my lips to hers, and she doesn't stop me this time.
In fact, I’d say she was jonesing for me as much as I was for her because she flips me on my back, straddling me and stripping off her sweatshirt and tank top.
My hands instantly mold themselves to her straining tits and I bite my lip from the image in front of me.
Where's a camera when you need one?
“I'm a fucking genius,” I say, and she giggles as she falls on top of me, her lips crashing into mine.
Chapter Seven
“So, you took my advice,” Beckett hops on the treadmill next to me.
I look to my left. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“Demi? Your lucky charm.”
I whip my head behind me to make sure no one is around. “We've come to an agreement, yes.” I up my incline.
“That's what I heard. You couldn't commit to trying a relationship?”
I distort my face so he knows I think he's crazy as fuck. “I'm not a relationship type of guy. Don't enter the jewelry store unless you're buying a ring.”
“You really need to work on your idioms.”
“Do you not understand what I'm saying?” I click up another level on my incline, my thighs already feeling the usual burn.
“I get what you're saying because I'm your friend, but—”
“You do know you're in a relationship, right?”
Beckett glances over, grabbing his water bottle and taking a swig. “Then someone should tell my dick because it's not getting any action.”
“That's exactly my point. You have all the responsibilities of one and none of the fun.”
The sound of our feet pounding on the treadmill echoes out as he’s quiet for a minute before responding. “And you think you're getting all the fun and no responsibilities.”
“What's up guys?” Grady hops up onto the machine on the other side of me.
“What am I missing? You two shitheads are done with your events. You should be banging your girlfriend and you should be banging your pseudo girlfriend,” I say to them, my head volleying between the two.
“I’m not resting until you're done. What do we have, four days?” Grady asks, instantly accelerating to his jogging rhythm. The man is a machine I swear.
“Qualifiers in four, finals in five. How is it that Demi and I got screwed this year? She competes on the second to last day.”
“Hey, last time it was me.” Beckett points to himself, grabbing the hem of his shirt and wiping his face.
“So, we all celebrate after. The night of the closing ceremony,” Grady says.
I shake my head at the two of them, clicking the incline button another time. “If I were you guys, I'd be locked in my hotel room with room service delivering on the hour and my girl naked next to me.”
Grady laughs. “Nice friend you are.” He looks past me to Beckett.
They know I'm full of shit. There isn't much I wouldn't do for the guys on either side of me.
“Is your family coming?” Beckett asks, he's about the only one who can ask me questions like that because he has as many family issues as I have.
“Nah. They'll watch on the television.”
He nods and lets the topic die there where it should.
“Mia and I are heading into Seoul tomorrow. Any takers?”
Beckett's eyes light up. “Me and Sky were thinking about it, too. Supposedly, Demi's got two tickets to some Korean game show.”
“What?” I whip my head in his direction and he laughs.
“What the hell? Did I just say fried chicken or some shit?”
Grady laughs. “Man, he really must be missing all that junk food.”
“Have you guys seen the Korean game shows? I gotta score a ticket.” I pluck my phone out from the holder. I'm a master at texting and running.
“Since you're her orgasm inducer I'm fairly sure you can get one,” Beckett says.
“What's this? What am I missing?” I feel Grady's eyes on me, but I'm too busy texting to care.
“Oh, let me fill you in, Rogue.” Then Beckett starts telling him everything that he heard from Skylar, who heard it from Demi.
* * *
Me: I just heard a rumor about you.
Demi: Well, I am fabulous so I'm not surprised people are talking about me.
Me: You're gorgeous, smart, funny, and sexy as all hell.
Demi: ... Dax? What do you want now?
I laugh.
Me: I heard you have two tickets to a game show in Seoul?
Demi: I should’ve known you only compliment me when you want something.
Me: Wrong. I told you what a great ass you had the other day right before I slapped it.
Demi: Semantics
Me: And what about when I said I loved how tight your pussy is?
Demi: Okay, okay... the ticket is yours. How do you expect to pay?
I can practically hear her purring in her text.
Me: I'll be over in an hour. I'm assuming some quality time between those delectable thighs will be an acceptable form of payment?
Demi: That's a start.
Me: Be there in an hour.
I drop my phone back into the holder on the treadmill, both my buddies staring at either side of my face.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Beckett says, shaking his head.
“Not really worth a conversation.” Grady slows the treadmill. “He'll only deny it.”
Beckett slows his, too, and soon they're each walking away from me.
“See you, Soups,” Grady says.
“What the fuck? What just happened? What happened to sticking together?”
I'm screaming to myself because they stop and talk to a few other athletes heading into the workout room.
Whatever.
I up my incline again, increasing the speed. The faster I finish this workout, the faster I'll be buried deep inside of Demi which is the only place I want to be right now.
* * *
I knock on her door. Footsteps pad across the floor and the door opens. I step in and reach my hands out to grab the woman's hips.
“Ugh, no.” Skylar puts her hand up in the air. “We're really not hard to tell apart.”
I walk past her and throw myself on the bed.
“Where's your roommate? I need to pay her.”
“Ew, I don't want to know.” She busies herself at her desk, packing up a bag.
“You didn't mind sharing all our sordid details with Hoff.”
She twists around, resting her back on the desk, crossing her arms over her USA sweatshirt.
“You wanna know what I think?”
I lean up on my elbows, my ankles crossed.
“I think that the two of you are playing with fire.” She points her finger at me. “I think that you'll hurt her again. I love you, Dax.”
“Awe,” I place my hand over my heart. “I love you too, Skylar.”
She rolls her eyes.
“I love you, but you’re like a four-year-old sometimes. Pushing and bulldozing your way through life
without caring about who or what you’ve left in your wake.” She grabs a backpack and hitches it over her shoulder.
I sit up and stare directly into her eyes. “If you think that, you don't know me at all.”
“Maybe I don't. It's just been my observation and I think this is all fun and games right now, but in the end, it’ll be Demi that’s destroyed.”
Demi walks in, her cheeks rosy from the cold. “What?”
“Hey, Beckett and I are going to catch a hockey game. I'll be back later.” She pats her friend’s shoulder while looking at me.
“Have fun,” Demi says, removing her gloves and hat, depositing them on the table.
“Give your friend my best. Maybe spend the night, but that's probably crossing the line, right?” I sneer. If she's going to throw daggers, I'll throw them back.
“Bye.” Skylar shuts the door.
“What was that?” Demi asks, unzipping her coat.
I lay back down on the bed. “Nothing. I'm here to pay my debt.”
She smiles, the one where her entire mouth opens and shows all her white teeth. The one I don’t get to see nearly enough.
“Yeah, sorry, I was just getting off the hill when you texted me. I have to shower quick. My mom, ugh, she just won't let me rest for a moment.”
“Pushing you, huh?” Guessing that we won't be getting down and dirty under the sheets for a while, I sit up and rest my back on her headboard.
She hangs up her jacket and then bends over to take off her boots. God, her ass is on point.
“She expects perfection, you know? Like I get it that she medaled in three Classics and that she's an excellent skier, but I have coaches. Coaches that are a hell of a lot more patient with me.”
Off go her socks, and then her shirt.
I sit back admiring the strip show she's giving me without her realizing.
Her thumbs hook into her yoga pants. “I mean, does she think I'm out there trying to fuck up? I'm flying down a hill at seventy miles per hour. I want to say yes, I did that move so I could straddle the line between paralyzation or death. UGH!” She stands there in only her bra and panties. A matching blue set that makes my dick twitch in my pants.
“Your mom just wants you to do well.”
She looks me directly in the eyes, her two hands reaching behind her back and then the blue fabric glides down her arms until she throws it into her hamper. “For her or me?”
Her nipples are hard and ready for me, and my mouth salivates, wanting so badly to lick the budded peaks.
“You. I'm sure it's for you,” I say when she doesn’t respond.
She shakes her head, her hands sliding her panties down as she steps out of them, throwing them to join her other dirty clothes.
“Come here.” I hold my hand out for her.
She takes the elastic out of her hair, the long reddish strands falling over her freckled shoulders.
“I'm dirty and I probably smell.”
I grab hold of her hand and yank her to me.
“Did you really think you could strip in front of me and I'd just sit here and wait for you to shower?”
Her million-dollar smile warms her face. “You could join me.”
“I was wondering when you'd ask.”
Chapter Eight
The hot water feels like heaven as it streams down my back, but an even better feeling is my face between Demi's legs. With one of the smallest showers known to man, we had to be inventive. Her one leg is propped up on the bench, her back is flat against the wall with one hand fisted in my hair.
“Don't stop,” she cries out right when I flatten my tongue and suck her clit into my mouth.
My scalp burns from her pulls on my hair, but that only spurs me on to make this experience that much more groundbreaking. Taking one hand off her thigh, I push a finger in and out of her in a quick motion.
“Ohh,” she moans.
I look up from between her legs to find her eyes closed. Hopefully all that shit her mother is putting her through is long forgotten.
My tongue twirls her clit around in my mouth, and I plunge a second finger inside of her.
Her body rises and then falls from surprise and her hand moves off my hair, reaching and grasping for anything to hang on to. She finds a soap dish, her knuckles white from gripping it so tight, and I smile up over her mound at her.
Now is not the time to make this semi-climatic so I focus back on my goal, swinging her leg over my shoulder so both my hands are free, I slither my free hand up her ribcage until it finds her tit. Rolling her nipple between my thumb and forefinger is her undoing. She hits the tile wall, grinding into my mouth and hand, moans and groans tumbling from her lips.
“Dax,” she sighs, her breathing rushed and hiccupped.
Not about to move my mouth, I keep doing what I'm doing so I don’t mess with her orgasm. One minute later, the soap dish she was gripping falls to my feet and she clings to the showerhead.
“You're so fucking good.” All the tension evaporates from her stiff body.
I slow my motions to let the waves of her climax retreat, then I lower her leg to the ground, raise up and cup her cheeks and let her taste herself on my tongue. She kisses me back, her fingers weaving through my blond hair as I pull her body flush with mine.
Moments later, I draw back, resting my forehead on hers. “Payment accepted?”
She giggles, her green eyes lighting up. “Yeah. Payment definitely cleared.”
An hour later, we're getting dressed. “You wanna head to the hockey game?” Demi throws on her sweater, covering up the body I just devoured for the past hour.
“Who's playing?” I ask, bending down to put my socks on.
We haven't really been doing anything outside the bedroom and I'm a little nervous that an outing together could set us back to square one. She always seems annoyed by my humor unless—she's about to get laid—she might very well push me off a mountaintop if I gave her the chance.
“Canada and I don't remember who, but it might be fun. Competing at the end of the Classics kind of sucks, you know?”
I couldn't be in more agreement. The waiting and still training while our four other friends are done and soaking up the sights blows.
“Kind of wish I'd planned to stay back a few days,” I say, straightening my shirt.
She buttons her jeans and then sits down in front of the mirror, putting on her makeup.
I guess she's going whether I go or not. I don’t know why that bothers me. It shouldn’t.
“You still could.” She closes one eye to put liner on.
“Not really, I have to get home.”
She turns in her seat, pushing and pulling a mascara wand in and out of the tube. My dick twitches for what reason I don't know. I just blew a load.
“Is your family not coming?” she asks.
I put my shirt on, and button my pants. “No. They like to watch from home.”
Simple, right? She studies me for a minute and I try to keep my face as straight as I can. Like it's no big deal.
“Oh. I wish my mom had stayed home.”
Grabbing my jacket, I swing my arms through the sleeves. “Ah, she loves you.”
She finishes putting on her mascara, stands and goes to the dresser. Fishing out a pair of socks, she sits back down, pulling her legs to her chest. I smile at her toenails that are painted into little American flags.
“I meant to tell you, nice toes.”
A soft blush creeps up her neck. “Thanks. They'll be ruined by the end of the Classics, but I do love them.” She wiggles them before covering the masterpieces with her socks.
I pull up the information for the game on my phone. “Canada versus Sweden.”
She looks up to me for a second, puzzled.
“The hockey game.”
She shakes her head and smiles. “Sorry, my mind kind of drifted there for a second.”
Grabbing her boots, she steps into them and then pulls her coat from the hanger. “You game
?”
I nod. What else am I gonna do tonight?
“As long as we don't sit by Skylar and Beckett, I'm cool.”
She shoots me that puzzled look once more. “Let's go then.”
I open her door and hold my hand out for her to go first.
“Such a gentleman.”
“Don't get too used to it.”
She giggles and falls into step with me. “I’d never expect anything from you, Dax, don’t worry.”
Her words hit me, right in the fucking gut. I take a break from putting my gloves on to cover my stomach with one hand. What the hell was that?
Chapter Nine
“GO CANADA!” Demi screams, standing up in her seat, her fist raised.
“You do know they're our competitors, right?” I lean back into my nosebleed seat. This is what happens when you decide an hour before the puck drops to come see the gold medal hockey game.
She looks over her shoulder. “We don't play hockey.”
“Yeah, well I got a Canadian riding my ass this Classics.”
She plops back down after Sweden slaps the puck the away from their goal line. “They're North America, right?”
I shrug. She's got a point I suppose. And here I thought my only entertainment in coming here would be the fights and maybe ruining my diet with nachos.
“You have to cheer for someone otherwise it’s boring.” She pops a piece of popcorn in her mouth.
She surprised me. Her diet’s gone to hell since we’ve been here. She's even halfway through a beer.
“Do you diet?”
She looks over to me, narrowing her eyes then crossing her legs and leaning in close. “Do you think I need to diet?”
I can't help but laugh at how cute she looks right now. “No.”
She nods. “Good answer.” She places a piece of popcorn on her tongue and pulls it back into her mouth. That delectable mouth that holds the tongue that twirls around dick like it’s an ice cream cone.
Damn. Once again, I'm ready to go.
“If you mean do I not eat junk food. Yeah. My mom manages my diet most times and I'm like a teenager when she’s watching me.” She leans in close to me again, the scent of the watermelon from her lip balm lingering around us like an aphrodisiac. “I have a secret drawer,” she whispers.
