by Piper Rayne
Chapter Nineteen
“Harder!” Demi screams, her thighs clenched so hard along my waist I fear loss of circulation in my toes.
I grind into her and her fingers grip the headboard behind her, keeping her body as stable as possible.
“Damn, how do you get better every time?” She stares up at me with lust-filled eyes and I can't hold myself back.
My hand slides to her neck, and I slam my lips to hers. Our kiss is ravenous and frantic, and we’re unable to get our fill of one another.
She clenches around my cock, and I still inside of her, filling the condom. My lips slow, but don't leave hers, while my chest presses down on hers, my hands brushing the sweaty strands to the side. Never in my life have I come at the same time as my partner.
“So, when were you going to tell me about the dinner?” I ask after we’ve caught our breath.
A sly smile forms on her swollen lips. “My mom?”
I nod. “Your mom.”
“Sorry.” She bites her lip. I bend down, pulling it out from her teeth and licking the flesh. I love the taste of her.
“Were you afraid I wouldn't go?”
She looks to the side and I slowly pull out of her. “Maybe.”
I chuckle. “You're probably right. I don't do parents.”
She pushes on my chest and I roll over to my back. “You don't do parents? Who are you, James Dean?”
I chuckle, heading to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. “Parents don't really like me, and I can definitely confirm that your mom hates me.”
When I return she’s throwing my T-shirt over her bare chest and it doesn’t escape me that it's the first time she's covered herself after sex. Lately, we've talked after or gone for a repeat.
I take a seat on the bed and when she crosses her legs, her knee brushes along my stomach. “My mom hates everyone. Don't take it personally.”
I slide up so my back is against the headboard. I wonder if I just should’ve kept my mouth shut. “I have a feeling we come from very different backgrounds.”
“People are people.” Her finger runs down my thigh over the sheet. The fact she's trying to distract me from having this conversation says my assumptions are correct.
“Were you going to surprise them? Just walk in there with some blue-collar guy on your arm?”
Her jaw drops. Does she not see that she's the princess and I'm the help?
“Dax, my family isn't like that, and I was going to tell you this afternoon.”
“In post-orgasmic bliss?”
“No, that's when you think clearly. I was going to ask you right before you came.” She giggles, moving over to straddle me, and my hands mold to her hips.
“You didn't though.”
She bends down and kisses my lips. “You were too good, and I forgot.” She rests her forehead on mine.
“Now I know you're using all your sexual skills to persuade me.”
“You have such a big and powerful cock, I couldn't even remember what I wanted to tell you.”
I roll her over and trap her hands above her head while she laughs. “Ask me nicely,” I order her.
“Dax Campbell, will you go to dinner with my family tonight?”
My eyes swim with hers, amusement and lust swirled together in her green hues. How could I say no to her beautiful face? “I'd love to.”
“Love to?” She raises one eyebrow.
“Well...”
I lower my mouth to hers and I push away the gut-churning fact I’ll be meeting her dad tonight.
Fuck buddies aren’t supposed to play meet the parents, are they?
* * *
Wearing the one suit I brought for the sponsor’s gala before the games, I knock on Demi's door.
The door swings open right away, and Skylar is standing there with her hair in a high bun, sweatpants and a T-shirt on.
“Prince Charming,” she says. Nothing in her voice sounds cheery or remotely like a Disney movie.
“Wicked Stepmother.” I nod and walk in without waiting for her invitation.
“I'll be right there,” Demi says, peeking out of the bathroom.
She pauses, a slow smile forming on her lips. “You look great.”
We share a moment of locked gazes and since all I've seen is her head, I anticipate seeing the rest of her.
“What are you doing tonight?” I ask Skylar. “Quality time with Hoff? Maybe a chick flick, do each other's makeup, pillow fight?”
She scowls at me. If she stopped giving me the judgmental looks all the time I'd be nicer.
“We're watching movies and ordering food.”
I nod, not even worth my energy.
“You can cut the jokes, you know.” She sits on the edge of her bed close to me and lowers her voice. “I know you seem to think that guys and girls can't be friends, but they can and it's a hell of a lot safer than what you and Demi are doing.”
“Demi and I are in agreement with what we’re doing.”
She rolls her eyes. “That's why you won't let her go out with Julien? The reason you puffed out your chest like a lion protecting your lioness?”
Demi's busy singing to some song playing over her phone in the bathroom. “What do you care?”
I could tell Skylar that she’s right. I was jealous as hell when Julien was sniffing around and it brought out something I would have been better caging, but we’re past that point now. I don’t know any better than Demi what’s happening between us, but we have an agreement and I intend to enjoy it.
“I care because she's my friend and I don’t want to see what happened after the last Classics, happen this time.”
“We had a miscommunication last time. This time we're on the same wavelength.”
Again with the eye roll. What are they, marbles?
“Well.” She pats my leg. “Let me fill you in on some things since you like to speak your unrequested advice. Fuck buddies don't spend the night together, they don't go to dinners, they don't ice bruises, and they sure as hell don't meet the parents.”
She stands up, grabs her jacket, and puts her feet in her boots, poking her head into the bathroom, she exchanges words with Demi about having fun and how she’ll see her tomorrow.
I stand there dumbfounded and then glance to the door where Skylar shoots me a tight-lipped smile that implies I should think about what I’m doing. Can I really blame her? I don't want Demi to be upset either.
“Ready.”
I turn toward the bathroom door and my mouth drops. I want to say I've never seen someone so beautiful. She’s dressed in a blue dress that's fitted to the waist, flaring out over her long thin legs. It's more conservative than other dates I've had, but she's sexy as all hell in it.
Who knew that leaving more to the imagination could be hot as fuck?
I wonder what she's wearing under it?
“That bad?” she asks, her lips turned up into a grin.
I shake my head, standing and linking my hand with hers before pulling her into me. “Not bad one bit. Gorgeous. Breathtakingly gorgeous.”
The blush I've become so familiar with creeps up her neck and floods her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome.” I will my gaze to leave hers, but until she reaches past me for her coat, I don't even realize I've been creepy the way I’ve been taking her in.
“Here.” I take the coat, holding it out for her.
She slides her arms through the sleeves and I place a kiss on the back of her neck before covering it with the coat.
I hold out my arm like the gentleman I am not, and she happily threads her arm through mine.
“Let's go meet the parents.”
She smiles, but there's a tentativeness there I never noticed before, which only makes that gnawing in my stomach worse.
Chapter Twenty
Dinner is at the restaurant in her parents’ hotel. It's supposed to serve American food and it's a tad more elegant than the way I usually dine, but it's not outside of my comfort
zone.
We check our coats and head to the hostess stand. Demi gives the hostess her last name, but I spot her mom waving us over. I'm not sure what I expected, but I didn't expect this. There are more than just her parents here.
Demi grips my hand harder as we approach. The entire table stands and begins clapping. Demi elegantly moves around the table, hugging and kissing the cheeks of who I assume are grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. All these people took time out of their lives to come support her.
When she’s finished making the rounds, she stands to the side of her chair and glances over at me. “This is Dax Campbell, he just won silver at snowboard cross.”
The fact she announces me as a medalist already has me wondering if she thinks that would make a difference as to how I was treated tonight. I try to push back my fears and insecurities of being at a table with people who never in their life have had money problems.
“Dax, this is my dad, Ashton Harrison, Junior.”
Her dad smiles, stands and holds out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Dax.”
He seems friendly enough, I dissect his features trying to find one that matches Demi, but our introduction is over too soon.
I shift my hand to Carla. “Nice to see you again, Carla.”
She smiles, and again with the dainty handshake. “Nice to see you,” she says with a look like she's chomping down on shards of glass.
We all sit down, Demi pointing out all her family members while I exchange waves with them.
“And this is my grandma, Pearl,” she points to the elderly woman next to me.
She smiles a sweet grandmotherly grin with a light but welcoming handshake. “I’m Ashton’s mom.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you,” her tone slightly more seductive than the way I said it. I had to hear that wrong, right?
The waitress comes over and takes our drink orders. Demi just finished ordering a seltzer water with a lime when her mother speaks up.
“Oh, Demi, you know how carbonation makes you. Maybe just distilled water.”
Demi turns back to the waitress. “Distilled water with lime.”
“Oh, maybe lemon,” Carla says. “I know sometimes limes give you heartburn.”
“It's fine, Mom.” Demi looks to the waitress. “Lime, please.”
The waitress nods and looks over to me, but I’m not about to drink when she has to endure this meal sober. “Same.”
“No.” Demi shakes her head, looking to the waitress. “He'll have a Miller Lite.”
“No, I won't. Distilled water with lime sounds great.” I lick my lips and Demi laughs, her head falling to my shoulder.
“You didn't have to,” she says under her breath.
“I want to.”
She gives me one of those you're-my-hero looks that I'm really starting to love. They almost make me believe that maybe I could be a hero to her.
“So, Dax, silver? That's quite an accomplishment,” her dad says from across the table.
I nod and shift in my seat when I find Carla's eyes scrutinizing Demi and me.
“Yeah, I mean I wanted gold of course, but I can’t really complain about silver.”
“Gold is the best,” Carla says.
If you hadn’t already guessed those three medals Carla won? All gold.
“Well, Carla, as you know from being an athlete in the Classics as well, sometimes you work hard and just don't get gold,” I say.
Her eyes narrow. “You were gold last time, correct?”
So, I wasn't the only one googling.
“I did.”
“Do you think you got silver because you were more distracted this time?”
“Mom, let it go,” Demi interrupts.
My hand slides under the table and I squeeze her leg, reassuring her that I can take care of this.
“I think we only get one life. And for me, I've always wanted to live it. Was I disappointed I didn't get gold? Of course. I wouldn't be here if I was okay being second best, but I also wouldn't change anything that's happened this Classics.” I squeeze Demi’s leg again to reassure her that she wasn't a distraction to me. Furthest thing from the truth.
“Well, you and Demi only have a few more of your top years left to compete.”
Is that seriously her comeback?
“True, all the more reason I'm not going to beat myself up about silver. I'm going to work harder this off-season and come back stronger and faster for the next Classics.”
“That's good thinking, Dax,” Ashton says. “I tell Carla all the time to just relax and enjoy it. Her daughter followed in her footsteps, what more could you ask for?” He smiles, raising his drink in the air.
“Ashton was never a competitor, so he doesn't understand,” Carla fires back. “Spreadsheets and numbers don’t bring the same sense of achievement as a gold medal does.” She slides her hand to the back of his head, massaging his neck.
“What is it you do, Mr. Harrison?” I ask.
“Ashton, please. I’m an investment banker.”
I nod, not really understanding the ins and outs of what an investment banker does and not really wanting to.
“I assume my work would seem boring to someone who races down mountains.” He almost seems ashamed of his profession, but from what I can tell from the size of the ring on Carla's finger and the overall outward appearance of them, he does well and should be proud of himself.
“Well, we all have different things that make us tick, right?” I say.
He smiles, raising his glass once more. “I like you, Dax.”
Demi's hand links with mine and she squeezes.
“Me, too.” Grandma Pearl surprises me by placing her head on my shoulder. “You seem good for Demi. Calm her down a bit.”
“Thanks, Grandma.” Demi looks past me to her grandma.
“Sweetie, you're just strung too tight like your mother. You need to loosen up and it seems like this lug could unravel you.” Her voice sounds almost seductive. I crack my neck, thinking I must be hearing things.
“Oh, Pearl, Demi is fine,” Carla says.
Pearl rolls her eyes, and Carla moves on to talk to the waitress about dinner.
“Someone needs to pull the stick from her ass,” Pearl whispers in my ear and my eyes widen, but I try to keep my cool.
I choke out a laugh and Pearl laughs outright, not caring who hears her.
Things with the family are going well, our drinks come, and a meal Carla planned for everyone—some specialty item that would be good for Demi. The only thing halfway appealing is the pasta side dish.
Demi excuses herself, going down the table to talk to her cousins. They're younger, and she sits and colors with them for a bit. They ask her questions about how fast she goes down the hill and she even points to me to say I race people down the hill, too. They all look over with slack jaw expressions like I'm their favorite Disney star.
“So, Dax, may I ask how you invest all your money?” Ashton’s question throws me off a little. “I'm sure you have a guy, but I feel like it's my duty to make sure athletes don't spend all their money and end up with nothing. You guys work hard for it, but you wouldn’t believe how many professional athletes end up bankrupt.” He leans back in his chair, and one of Demi’s uncles comes over and joins the conversation.
“I’ve heard that about professional athletes. Hard to believe,” her uncle says.
Carla, thank God, is talking to the waitress again. Hopefully she tips well.
“I'm good.” My stomach tightens. Not like I’d tell him I give loans to my family with no interest and no plans of ever being repaid.
“So, you got a guy?” he winks. “Good boy.”
He turns to the other guy. “I've set Demi up nicely. Of course, she doesn't even know how to get to her money.” He laughs and the feeling in the pit of my stomach has me excusing myself to the bathroom.
I stand in the bathroom, knowing if someone were at this table they'd know one thing i
sn't like the other. He set her up nicely. Probably made her winnings triple, whereas my mom is calling to see if by getting silver she'll get less from me every month.
I'm not desolate, hell, I've done better than any member of my family, but Demi is on another level. Like the cheerleader in high school—she’s an untouchable, beautiful girl who no one deserves, especially the burnout who cuts class to head to the slopes.
We’re done eating, so this night should be over soon.
Just get through it a little longer.
After tomorrow Demi’s event will be over and there's no reason for us to hook-up anymore. I could leave and go home.
I can’t stand to think of how the thought of that makes me feel, so I do what I do best. Push the feeling to the side and open the door to head back to the table.
“Hey, you.” Demi steps out from under the light in the dark hallway. Like an angel. Not my angel though.
She walks right into me, arms sliding to my back. I hug her to me, her warmth always something I enjoy too much. With her chin resting on my chest and staring up at me she says, “Thank you. I know tonight isn't easy.”
I shrug.
“I selfishly asked you because I didn't want to deal with questions from my aunts and grandma about guys and how I'm getting older.”
I chuckle, my hand running up and down her back. “It's fine. Your mom is a tad intense, but...”
Her arms tighten. “More than a tad.”
“Can I take you home soon?”
She lets her hands slide down, grabbing my ass. “Yes.” She rises up on her tiptoes kissing my neck. A move that's become like crack to me. I can't get enough. “I have some nervous energy I need to dispense before my race tomorrow.”
“I don’t think your mother would approve.” She links her hand in mine, pulling me down the hall.
“My mother doesn't know what you're hiding under those pants.”
