Red Rocket

by Raine Miller

  I groan, terribly frustrated, which just makes Viktor chuckle. He gives me a gentle bite at the back of my neck right behind my ear and says, “I will make this so fucking good for you, Scarlett. Be patient.”

  He starts the process once again, his fingers exploring my naked body, my folds, my clit, before finally—thank God—pushing inside me once again. He strokes his long talented fingers in and out with a slow rhythm that works me into a frenzy in no time.

  When his mouth joins his fingers, I gasp. I feel so exposed—so naughty—but if he stops, I might die. This man will have my death on his conscience if he stops.

  Viktor is very talented with his tongue. He sucks on the skin between my legs, on my sensitive clit. His tongue licks at my arousal before he slides that wicked tool of torture up, up, up to the space between my cheeks. Oh my God, he did not. But yes, he did just dip his tongue there, in that most forbidden of places, before moving back to where his fingers are busily stroking in and out of me.

  My body responds as he picks up the pace, the telltale tingle of one spectacular orgasm building inside me. I let out a noise, guttural, animal, and he suddenly flips me onto my back again. I’m naked, panting, baring my teeth. My legs splayed apart in desperate invitation. I don’t even care how I must look to him right now.

  “I want to see you when you come,” he growls, shoving his fingers back inside of me. “Do you want it hard?”

  “Mmmmm,” I moan.

  “Use your words,” he commands.

  “Yes,” I grind out, my hips now pushing against his fingers insistently. “Yes. Hard. Please.”

  “Good girl.”

  In and out. In and out. His fingers plunge into me, hard, fast. My hips push up off the bed, my muscles straining as I thrust my body toward that precipice. My hands grip the soft bed coverings. I shake my head back and forth, the sensation overtaking me as the orgasm rips through me, my inner walls clenching around his fingers, inhuman sounds of pleasure filling the silence around us.

  As the orgasm slows, the aftershocks continue. Viktor keeps pumping his fingers in and out, more slowly now, letting me ride the waves until they cease.

  My eyes are closed for a long time. Endorphins flow through my body. God, I needed that orgasm more than I ever realized. When I open them, I find Viktor staring at me, his eyes reflecting my own lust right back at me. He gives me just the merest grin before dropping his face down to my pussy again, lapping at the proof of my climax with his talented tongue.

  I manage to get out a few words of my own even though it’s darn near impossible to speak with him tonguing my clit so expertly. “Get naked, I want to see you.”

  He pulls away reluctantly. I can tell by his expression. “I find I very much enjoy pleasuring you, Scarlett.”

  “Great.” Sexual satisfaction has made me feel extra confident. “Because I like to be pleasured. But I still want to see you naked. You said you only wore that tux so you could take it off. Your plan worked perfectly. Now take it off.”

  * * *

  Viktor

  * * *

  Scarlett’s heavy, creamy breasts hold my attention as I pull off my jacket and tie. Her nipples are pebbled and pink. I’ve decided to make her come just by playing with those beautiful tits sometime.

  Sometime…

  I will be gone in less than a month. It’s unrealistic to think there will be more time between us after this weekend. But then I think about her words.

  “I want something real. I want a real connection. You’re just another horny player trying to score for the night. And it’s not going to be me!” And yet, here I am. There can’t be more. Focus, Demoskev. Focus on the time between us right now.

  Scarlett’s body is perfect. Her curves are gorgeous, her skin is softer than I even imagined. She keeps her pussy closely managed, but there is a small strip of red hair left for me to appreciate. It’s beautiful the way she’s positioned herself after her orgasm, her legs open, one bent at the knee, allowing me to see…everything. Her clit is swollen, begging for much more attention. Her pussy is slick and wet with the evidence of her pleasure. My mouth and tongue are coated with her scent and taste, which has made my cock turn to iron for wanting her.

  I unbutton my shirt as she watches, her eyelids heavy, her tongue tracing her top lip hungrily. When I pull away my shirt, she smiles. It’s a flirtatious, sexy smile. Like she knew what she would find there.

  “You like what you are seeing, Red Rocket?” I ask as I toe off my shoes.

  “Mmm. Ripped abs. Defined pecs. Big biceps. What’s not to like?” she asks with a giggle. “But what’s under those pants?”

  A laugh escapes through my nose, just a puff of air. The unfamiliar tug at my lips starts up again. I am almost smiling. It has been a long time. I unbutton, unzip, and slip the black trousers down so that they pool on the floor at my feet.

  “Oh!” is Scarlett’s initial reaction. I raise an eyebrow in question. “One, you weren’t lying that you weren’t wearing anything underneath.”

  “I was not. And two?”

  “Your cock is huuuuuggge!” she yells, laughing. It’s a manic, almost nervous laughter. She might still be a little bit drunk.

  “Where do you want this cock?” I stroke it slowly as she stares at me.

  She puts a hand between her legs, her fingers strumming against her clit. Her hips start to move at the attention, and the telltale sheen of wetness increases from her sweet cunt.

  “Let me think,” she says playfully. “What about you? You like what you see?”

  I nod. “I like the way your breasts fall against your body. I like how heavy they are. I like the color of your nipples.”

  She takes her free hand and plays at one breast, tweaking the nipple, rubbing the soft skin around it with her fingertips. My cock starts leaking a few drops from the tip. Sweet Scarlett notices, moving the hand between her legs so she can use both hands to push those two gorgeous tits together. “Come get them,” she says hoarsely.

  I climb on top of her, hovering, positioning my cock between her breasts. The softness of the skin feels good to me, so I push forward and back. Scarlett opens her mouth, her tongue reaching out to taste the head of my cock every time it comes near her mouth.

  When she lets go of her breasts, they fall away and I push upward, meeting her mouth, plunging inside. Her tongue swirls around my shaft, toys with my head. She opens her throat so I can fill her more deeply. I hold the back of her head with my hands and guide her mouth on and off my cock. I fuck her mouth deeply until she starts to gag a little. I let up and allow her to settle before going again. The sight of my dick disappearing into her mouth against those dark pink lips of hers is enough to make me come, but I don’t want the first time I come with Scarlett to be this way.

  It’s been so long that I’m not sure how long I can last. I pull my cock out of her pretty mouth and tell her so, but her reply is, “I don’t care.” She says the same thing again when I tell her I don’t have any condoms. She also mumbles something about a “shot” and thrusts her hips up to grind against me instead. I guess that is the “go-ahead” for fucking. Thank God, because I am desperate to be inside of her. So when I pull away, it earns me a stern protest in the form of a frustrated groan. Scarlett makes a lot of sex noises. Which I like very much. She is very open and animalistic in bed. And I have absolutely no wish to tame her.

  I give myself a moment of recovery by exploring her nipples with my tongue and teeth. She arches her back, pushing toward me, her sounds of pleasure urging me to bite harder, suck harder, pinch harder. When I finally push inside her, she falls apart instantly, coming hard a second time around the shaft of my cock as she moans and whines and thrashes her head.

  “So sexy…your pussy squeezing my cock so tight. With your skin flushed and your tits shaking as you come. You look fucking gorgeous with my dick inside you, Scarlett Woods.”

  “Ohhh yesss…dirrrty talllker,” she moans as she rolls through the end of her orgasm.r />
  “I’m going to fuck you so hard now. Okay?”

  “Hell yes, okay. Yes, fuck me. Fuck me hard. So hard…please.”

  Needing no other confirmation, I pull back and thrust roughly into her. I keep a fast pace of deep, hard stokes to which she cries out, but I know it’s not from pain. No, she loves me fucking her hard, because she’s pulling her legs up and holding her knees, giving me as much access as she can while chanting nonsensical words and sounds. She wants this. Her orgasm never seems to cease, only intensifying as I near my own release.

  Just before I come, I roar as I pull out, spraying her pale skin with cum. She lowers her legs and looks at me as if she’s in pain. I realize she’s still coming. And I’m still hard, so I roll to my back where she wastes no time climbing up to straddle me, impaling herself down hard on my dick.

  Yebena mat’! chert.

  She rides me throughout her orgasms. Only when she is done does she fall to the side, curling up in the crook of my arm, her head on my chest.

  “That was…” she starts to say before a giant yawn takes over.

  Some crazy, messy, superb, fucking. “Amazing,” I finish for her. But she does not say more. I think she is already asleep.

  I allow my eyes to close, as well. We will sort this out later. For now, I just need to sleep with this beauty in my arms and breathe in the air scented from our fucking. As if I could ever forget this night. Or her. Whatever happens, I know I’ll remember this encounter with her always.

  She burrows into my chest and mumbles something unintelligible before falling back into sleep. I kiss her hair and tell her we will deal with the rest of it tomorrow—right after I fuck a good-morning orgasm (or two or three) into her and she is utterly content and satisfied. I say it all in Russian, speaking in whispers. She will not understand what I said, of course, but I still want her to hear the words coming from me in my native tongue.

  When morning comes, however, I am not able to do any of what I promised.

  Scarlett is already gone from the suite.

  * * *

  Scarlett

  * * *

  I can’t believe I did that.

  I slept with Viktor Demoskev.

  And I liked it. More than I care to admit.

  Truth be told, I like him. I do. I know he’s awkward and he barely smiles. He can hardly keep up a conversation. He’s way too direct for his own good. But he’s also very sweet in a caveman kind of way. A gentleman caveman, that’s what he is. He’s certainly sexy and a filthy talker in bed, and boy, can he make a girl come.

  I thought I might never stop, that I might just be in some kind of endless loop of perpetual orgasming. It was tremendously good, but I think it would wreak havoc on my daily life.

  I woke up several hours later, well into the wee hours of morning, and panicked. I totally panicked. Flakes of dried cum on my skin, my crotch sore from all the fun, and maybe just the teeniest bit dehydrated and hung over—I freaked. I grabbed my clothes—everything I brought to the suite—and made my way down to the lobby, doing a total walk of shame in bare feet, with my hair looking like a crazy rat’s nest and my makeup kind of half still on my face from the party.

  People probably thought I was a hooker. Yikes.

  I grabbed a cab and headed home. Yes, I am incapable of facing my decisions head-on. So, I ran away and went home for a long, hot shower. There were like fourteen text messages from Pam. There was one from Holly and even a couple from Sid, who ended up going to the party after all.

  But nope, I didn’t answer any of them because I was up in the suite doing it with a member of the Russian hockey mafia!

  Warm from my shower, I take two Ibuprofen, down a glass of water, and pull on my fuzzy pajamas before falling into my bed. But of course, I can’t fall right to sleep. No such luck. I have to fret about the fact that I totally put my job in jeopardy by screwing a player. And I have to see said player—who I promised myself I wouldn’t screw but did anyway—at Pam and Georg’s other wedding events for the rest of the week.

  Dumb.

  Ugh. That’s me. Scarlett, who wouldn’t know a good decision if it hit her across the face.

  I finally feel my eyes droop after an hour of tossing and turning. My last thought, as I fall asleep, is something I say out loud just because I am all alone in my apartment, and I can.

  “But those orgasms were totally worth it.”

  Twelve

  Ghosted

  Viktor

  “You seem more unhappy than usual,” Tyler says from the lounge chair next to me. “That’s saying a lot.”

  Most of the team is down by the pool right now. When I woke up alone in Scarlett’s suite, I checked my phone first to see if she had left a message. She had not, but my teammates were up early, chatting about heading to the pool to plan Georg’s bachelor party.

  All signs of Scarlett were gone from the room as I walked around. No clothing, no purse, no nothing. Spooked, if I had to guess, but why? From my perspective, we were quite compatible sexually. We were more than compatible. We were combustible.

  “Not talking?” Tyler asks. “Fine. Then I’ll tell you about the threesome I had last night. These two chicks busted in on the party. They totally knew who we were. I ended up in the pool in my underwear and they both stripped to their underwear. I knew my night was picking up then. Ended up having them both in their room. Woke up with bite marks on my cock. Crazy!”

  I puff out my cheeks and let out a sigh. Tyler does love to broadcast his sexual escapades. It is something I would like to train him not to do. “It would not be bad for you to keep such stories to yourself sometimes,” I suggest.

  He scoffs. “Whatever. At least I’m getting laid. Your dick is gonna fall off if you don’t use it soon.”

  “Who says I have not used it?”

  “Well, you never talk about women. Never look at women. Other than that hot chick from Holly’s office—your Red Rocket.”

  “Scarlett.”

  “Scarlett. Yes. What’s up with her? Are you in love?”

  “That is stupid. I have barely only met her.”

  “Your refusal to look me in the eye while you deny having the hots for her tells me you actually have the hots for her,” he insists.

  “You know nothing.” Thank God I do not blush. I would be given away. Also, blushing is for pussies.

  “Okay, if you’re not into her, then pick one of these bikini-clad babes and go talk to her. Maybe get her in the pool for a hand job.”

  I roll my eyes in response.

  “Fine then,” he says. “Then I’ll assume the next wedding we’ll be planning will be yours and Scarlett’s.”

  “You are a child,” I say, shaking my head. “Marriage is not for me. It is also, likely, not for you.”

  “It’s definitely not for me. No fucking way am I letting someone tie me down. I mean, Evan and Georg obviously got the wife lottery anyway. I’d probably end up with some crazy chick who would fuck my best friend and take me for all I’m worth in spousal support.”

  “You are not worth much yet,” I observe. “Barely out of rookie status. Your paycheck is probably very tiny.”

  “Your cock is probably really tiny,” he shoots back.

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “Okay, you’re a big guy. You have a big cock. Got it,” he says, raising both hands as if in surrender.

  “Do you ever stop talking?”

  “Do you ever get laid?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not a lot, though, I’d guess. Or you’d be a happier man.”

  I give up. “I got la—I was with someone last night. Are you happy to now know this private business of mine?”

  “Hallelujah!” Tyler pumps his fist in the air. “Who were you with? Was it good? Why aren’t you happier?”

  I shake my head and close my eyes. Perhaps if I pretend to be asleep, he will go away.

  “Did she ghost you after?”

  I open my eyes, only to narrow them at hi
m as I fold my arms across my chest.

  “She totally did,” he says, conspiracy in his voice. He lowers his volume and asks, “Was it Scarlett?”

  I do not confirm or deny the question, but he makes an affirmative sound, obviously taking my silence as an admission.

  Pamela and Holly arrive on the other side of the pool with the wedding planner in tow. Pamela looks ready for the pool, a light, white dress over top of a bathing suit that ties at the back of her neck. Georg is up out of his chair immediately, bounding over to kiss his fiancée on the lips. Evan’s wife looks miserable, though. She’s in shorts and T-shirt, an overnight bag over her shoulder.

  Evan stands and wanders to her. He pulls her to his chest in a hug. He says something to her, and she shakes her head. They talk for a minute before he kisses her chastely on the lips and she walks away. I watch as he rubs his palms in his eyes, then runs a hand over his beard. He looks tired. No, not tired—he looks weary. Not even one year since he was married, and it seems the honeymoon is over.

  I point at him and tell Tyler, “That is why you do not get married. Do you see him?”

  “He looks like hell. Preaching to the choir, brother. I am never getting married. Hell to the no.”

  Evan looks around and then makes some sort of decision to follow his wife. He’s shirtless and shoeless, but he runs off, obviously chasing after her.

  In watching this scene unfold, I missed the arrival of my Red Rocket who is now standing by Pamela and Georg. Her long hair is in a ponytail, exposing that pretty neck of hers. Wearing a long blue strapless dress with a beaded belt, she is painfully beautiful.

  “I fucking knew it,” Tyler says with a laugh as he noted my stare. “You could set her on fire, looking at her like that.”

  I get up, ignoring him, and walk toward her.