by Erin Noelle
“Yeah, I remember how you introduced her,” I interject with flared nostrils. “I also remember how you introduced me. I guess all the chicks you fuck wear multiple hats.”
Again, he steps toward me, but this time when I try to retreat, I find my back pressed up against the metal fence. Shit. I’m pinned in. My stare is glued to the ground as I focus on breathing.
Lifting his hand under my chin, he slowly tilts my face up until our gazes meet, causing my stomach to backflip. “Give me five minutes to talk, to explain. If you still want nothing to do with me after, I’ll buy you a first-class ticket back to Denver tonight. I promise.”
I open my mouth to tell him to go ahead and book the ticket, but instead, I blurt out, “You’ve got two minutes, starting now.”
He doesn’t waste a single second. “Mercedes is my agent and manager. She’s the one responsible for getting my three biggest sponsors, and I owe her a lot for taking a chance on me before my career really took off. Yes, we’ve slept together on several occasions, but it’s never been anything serious. She’s been known to get a little possessive whenever she sees me with anyone else, but I swear that’s a her thing. I’ve never led her to believe we’re anything except what we are.”
Pausing briefly for a deep breath, he continues to talk, never once pulling his eyes from mine. “I meant to warn you about her before we got here, but honestly, I’m having so much damn fun with you, and then that thing you did with your mouth before we got dressed . . . I just fucking forgot.”
“And what about Dallas? Why didn’t you tell me you saw her there?”
“Because there was nothing to tell about Dallas!” he insists, frustration etching in his forehead. “I sat in a meeting with her, her brother, and some ad executives for an hour talking about shooting a commercial. When the meeting was over, I came straight back to you. Nothing happened between us then, not even a hug. I told you while you’re in my bed there wouldn’t be anyone else, and I didn’t fucking lie, Dakota!”
Why do I want to believe him? Why is everything he’s saying making sense? Wait . . .
“That still doesn’t explain why you’d introduce me as your massage therapist. I mean, shit, I think I’d have rather been called your flavor of the week or something. It was like you were purposely insinuating to her that we aren’t fucking,” I spout, raising my hands up between our bodies to his chest, readying myself to shove him away.
He sighs as he lowers his forehead to mine. “I fucked up,” he admits. “I freaked out, because I didn’t want her to be a bitch to you. If she knew you meant something to me, she’d get nasty, and knowing you and your feisty personality, you’d get even nastier, and then shit would get crazy. We’ve only got four full days left together, and I didn’t want to spend those dealing with her shit. So I freaked out, and I fucked up.” Bringing his other hand to my face, he cradles my jaw in his palms as his thumbs brush soft strokes back and forth across my cheeks. “I’m sorry, Sunshine. I’ll fix this; just don’t leave yet. I want you here with me. Fuck . . . please.”
Something about the way he adds that ‘fuck’ just before the ‘please’ does me in. It’s exactly what I needed to make me believe one-hundred-and-ten-percent that he’s telling the truth. That, and the look in his eyes.
“Okay, I’ll stay,” I agree, leaning my face into his touch. “Just no more surprises, Hulk.”
Feathering his lips over mine, he whispers, “I promise,” then claims them more forcefully in a kiss that reiterates his apology a thousand times over.
When we eventually break apart, I assume we’re going back into the party to find Emilia, Gunner, and their friend, Rhino, but Levi has other plans. He snakes his hands downward, intentionally dragging directly over the swell of my breasts, flicking the barbells that adorn my pebbled pink buds, and finally stopping at my hips.
“Need you right now.” His voice rumbles in my ear as he spins me around and presses his cock against the cleft of my ass. “I can’t wait any longer.”
“James,” I hiss, grabbing hold of the top rail. “Anyone can walk out here.”
Slowly, he glides a hand up my inner thigh while he peppers an assortment of kisses and nibbles along the back of my neck and across my shoulder. “And?” he dares.
My legs spread on their own accord, giving him access to my throbbing center. Shocks of electricity tingle beneath my skin when he gently strokes my seam, and when he spreads my slick lower lips and dips a finger into my core, I moan with delight.
“I don’t give a fuck who sees us, Sunshine,” he murmurs against my sensitive flesh. “They all need to know you’re mine.”
The sound of his zipper being undone slices through the summer night’s air. “Every.”
My skirt bunches up around my waist. “Fucking.”
The crown of his cock rubs up and down my slit, ass to clit, several times before stopping lined up perfectly with my dripping cunt. “Inch.”
Plunging inside me with one stroke, I muffle back a scream as he growls fiercely, “Mine!”
And he’s right.
I am.
SATURDAY, JUNE 30
WAFFLES AND FRIED CHICKEN. A pairing I never would’ve put together myself, but as I lounge in the middle of the big, comfy bed, flipping through my girly magazines while I eat, I decide it’s the best breakfast duo ever. Seriously. It’s fucking phenomenal.
Usually, I’m more of a cereal, granola, and fruit kind of girl—which is substantially cheaper (and healthier) than the scrumptious combination of the crunchy, syrupy heart-attack-on-a-plate in front of me. But lately, I’ve been splurging on my menu selections, trying a little bit of everything this four-diamond establishment has to offer, ever since I learned one of Levi’s sponsors is footing the bill for the room and food. He told me to get what I want, and this morning, I wanted waffles and fried chicken.
A knock at the door disturbs my mind-blowing foodgasm, and already I hate whoever it is. Don’t they know I’m busy in here? Can they not see the Privacy please door hanger? It’s a good thing I hadn’t started rubbing maple syrup all over my body.
There’s a second knock, followed by a third, each a bit more forceful than the last before I hear a feminine voice call out. “Levi? Levi, are you in there?”
And that gets my ass moving.
Scrambling off the mattress, my feet somehow twist up in the sheets, and I take a nosedive onto the floor with a thud, but I recover quickly and somehow manage to make it to the door in one piece. I don’t even think about what I’m wearing—or not wearing, for that matter—when I swing the door open to find exactly who I expected to be there.
“Mercedes,” I state flatly, giving her my best bored face. After her numerous attempts over the last couple of days to irritate the fuck out of me, I don’t want her to have the pleasure of getting a reaction out of me.
Wearing her signature fake-ass smile, she gives me a complete once-over then shakes her head in disbelief. “Do you always greet guests without pants on?”
I glance down at my attire, which is made up of one of Levi’s silky jerseys that barely covers the lacy thong underneath, and knee-high skater socks that I’d bought with Emilia during our shopping excursion earlier in the week. For not even trying, I look pretty fucking hot.
My lips curl up in a cocky smirk as I bring my gaze back to her. “When I feel like it,” I retort. “Now what do you want?”
“Levi. Is he here?” Lifting up on her toes, her eyes dart around the room behind me, searching for him.
“No. He’s out.” I close the door so that there’s only room for my narrow frame in the doorway, limiting her view.
Rolling her eyes, she crosses her arms over her boobs, which are as fake as her stupid smile. “Do you know if he has his phone or when he’ll be back? I’ve been trying to call him all morning, and I need to talk to him as soon as possible.”
“I have no idea what his schedule is or if he has his phone. I’m not his personal assistant,” I snap.
> “Oh, that’s right; you’re the massage therapist.” Malice sparks in her eyes as the callous words tumble from her red-painted lips. “I was meaning to ask you the other night before you ran off if I could schedule an appointment before you leave. It’s hard to find good service attendants when I’m on the road.”
Snickering, I give my head a quick shake. “I’m sorry, honey, but you can’t afford my services.”
She scoffs, tossing her dark, shiny hair behind her shoulder. “Honey,” she mocks, “surely Levi has told you who I am and the family I come from. I’ve got more money in my purse right now than you’ll probably ever make in your lifetime. I can afford anything I want.”
“The only form of payment I’m currently accepting is cock. Long, thick, hard cock.” My eyes drift down to her crotch. “So unless you’ve got something hidden in between there, you can’t afford me.”
Snorting out a laugh, she moves her hands from her chest to her hips, cocked with attitude. “You just admitted you’re a whore, you stupid cunt.”
“If that’s what you want to call me . . . if that’s what makes you feel better, knowing the entire time we’re here I’m the one sleeping in Levi’s bed, then go right ahead, sweetheart,” I quip flippantly. “But much like you, I’m an active trader of service in an open marketplace. And as far as I can tell,” I tap my hand on the door to the suite, glance over my shoulder at the room behind me, and then smile victoriously at her, “the returns this quarter are quite impressive. My stock is definitely on the rise.”
Her face contorts into something ugly . . . something that mirrors her insides. “You know he’ll just throw you away when he gets tired of you, right? This is all a game to him.”
“Oh, bless your heart, you think I’m like you. You think I need a man’s approval and commitment in order to validate my self-worth.” A snide chuckle escapes. “Sweetheart, the day I decide to settle down and get serious with someone, it won’t be because I need James Levi or any other guy to prove I’m a badass bitch worth keeping . . . and that is what makes me a badass bitch worth keeping.”
I give her a few seconds to absorb the words, before continuing, “Now, if you’ll get the fuck out of my face, I need to rest. I’m sure Levi will be keeping me up late tonight, celebrating his big win.”
Allowing the door to slam in her face, I prance back to the bed, only to find my breakfast is cold and gross. Stupid bitch. I’ll just have to place another order.
The door to the suite opens and Levi walks in, smelling of the track. Earthy, gritty, sweaty. Manly with a capital M. It’s a scent I’ve become surprisingly fond of in the last couple of weeks, typically because when he returns from his morning rides, he’s happy, hungry, and horny. I get a good, rough fucking followed by a big, yummy lunch, and life is good.
“Hey, gorgeous.” He smiles, dropping his wallet and phone on the coffee table. “How was your morning?
I still haven’t moved off the bed, my attention no longer on magazines, but now on an old romantic comedy with Mila Kunis and Justin Timberlake. It’s a pretty cute movie with a decent storyline and mediocre acting, but hey . . . it’s Justin Fucking Timberlake. He brings sexy back every goddamn day.
Tearing my gaze from the TV screen, I toss him a lazy grin. “Hiya, hot stuff. It’s been good. I’ve been a grade-A lazy ass. How ’bout you? Are you ready for the big thingy tonight?”
“The big thingy, huh?” After bending down to kiss me hello, he strips out of all his clothes except his black boxers and then belly flops on the bed next to me. “Sunshine, you know I’m always ready. After I kick Foss’ ass tonight, I’m gonna do it again at the World Championships in October. He may as well just retire now.”
He rolls over on his side to face me, one hand propping his head up while the other splays across my bare thigh. Boldly sweeping his eyes over my body—still only in his jersey, panties, and socks—he groans and digs his fingertips into my smooth skin, kindling a flame of yearning in my core.
“So I got a call from Mercedes on my way back to the hotel,” he announces dryly, leaving his hand in the same place.
Her name is like a bucket of ice-cold water being dumped on my lust-fueled fire. God, I can’t stand that chick.
“Did you?” I ask, my face impassive.
A mischievous smirk plays at the corners of his mouth. “I did.” He pauses as if he’s choosing his next words carefully. “She mentioned she stopped by the room earlier, and that the two of you had a little chat.”
“Did she?” Weaving my fingers through his tousled hair, I massage the pressure points on his scalp and he sighs contently, scooting closer to lay his head on my lower abdomen, facing outward.
“She did. She said the whore in my hotel room told her to get the fuck out of her face before slamming the door.” His hand begins to slowly inch up my leg, which I take to mean he’s not that upset with me for telling his bitch of an agent off. But even if he was, I’d do it again a thousand times. Nobody’s going to talk down to me like that.
“Did I?” I twirl some of the dark, wavy strands around the tip of my index finger then release them, surprisingly giddy when they stay curled in ringlets.
His fingertips reach the apex of my thighs, feathering over the black lace of my panties. “Something tells me you probably did,” he chuckles when my knees fall open with a whimper, “but only after she said something to provoke you. She’s been trying to get you alone ever since I told her you’re my girl and that she needed to back off. I don’t think she took too well to being rejected, and she probably thought she could send you packing if you felt threatened.”
I’d laugh at the utter absurdity of her thinking she could scare me away, but I’m too busy moaning as Levi slips his hand under the thin fabric and lightly skims over my sweet spot.
“I didn’t tell her anything she didn’t need to hear—oh!” I gasp at the initial invasion of his first finger but am ready when the second one glides in next to it. “Fuck, baby, that feels good,” I purr.
Neither of us says anything for a couple of minutes as he works me into a moaning, writhing mess of desire, but as soon as I feel the climax beginning to build, he removes his hand and crawls on top of me, framing my hips with his knees as his hands pin mine above my head.
“Need you to make me a promise, Sunshine,” he says, nudging the head of his steeled cock, still restricted by his boxers, against my opening. God, he’s really not playing fair right now.
Lifting my hips up to meet his, I groan with frustration. “What promise?”
“No matter what she says or does tonight, I need you to promise you won’t get in a physical fight with her.” He rocks forward, his thick shaft pressing against my sex. Bastard. “She’s gonna try and bait you, ’cause she wants you to react, but I need you to not play her game. You can say whatever you want, but do not touch her. She will press charges just to make a point.”
I mumble out a somewhat understandable okay. I’ve always preferred to fight my battles with the sharp blade of my tongue anyway. I mean, I’m pushing five feet tall and barely a sack of potatoes at just over a hundred pounds, so it’s not like I’m exactly physically intimidating to anyone over the age of ten.
“We have plans tomorrow,” he adds, “and I don’t want to spend the night bailing you out of jail.”
“Plans?” I croak, intrigued by this unexpected news. Magically, my panties disappear, and seconds later, he’s naked and kneeling on the mattress between my quivering thighs. He strokes his cock, and my gaze jumps back and forth between his smoldering stare and his hand working his dick. “Do these plans involve Thor?”
When he slaps the purple head hard against my swollen, hypersensitive bundle of nerves, I suck in a sharp breath of air as my hips buck up off the sheets. “It seems all our plans end up involving Thor the Great and Princess Lizzie,” he teases.
Something in my chest flutters wildly when he uses the names we agreed on after a lengthy discussion about naming your genitals the other
night in bed. After I spent thirty minutes convincing him why it’s important to be on a first name basis with the part of your body that can bring you the most pleasure, we then spent the next hour reading names aloud to his naked cock from a baby-naming website, seeing if it responded with a flinch or a twitch to any of them. In the end, Thor was victorious, and he then decided adding ‘the Great’ to it made it sound more daunting. I’m not sure why anyone would want a daunting penis, but whatever . . . I’m still thrilled to be getting stuffed with a superhero.
In that same conversation, he also determined that Queen Elizabeth sounded too much like an old, shriveled up prune, so he renamed my crown jewel Princess Lizzie. “It sounds young and fresh and a little feisty,” he’d said while burying his head between my legs, “just like you taste right now. A little bit of sunshine and whiskey.” Yeah, I came on the spot when he said that.
As he presses past my slick folds, I’m jolted back to the present. Damn, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that sensation. Skin-on-burning skin, fusing together as one breathing unit in the most intimate union between two people. After the night on the patio, when both of us were so caught up in the passion of the moment that neither of us thought twice about not using a condom, we talked about my birth control and how neither of us had ever been without protection, deciding unanimously to continue riding bareback. It’s right up there with waffles and fried chicken.
“So tomorrow, I’ve got the whole day free,” he returns to the conversation we strayed from, as he leisurely thrusts in and out of me, “and it’s gonna be a lot of you, me, and The Big Easy. I don’t care what we do, as long as we’re doing it together.”
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I lock my feet behind his back as I grab on to the headboard above my head, an explosive orgasm swelling quickly in my molten center. It amazes me what this guy can do to my body with a few simple words.
“Hulk!” I cry out, my back bowing off the bed as the first wave of ecstasy ripples through me. “Harder . . . I need more!”
