Hit the Spot

by J. Daniels

  He was relaxing. Jamie was done eating, but he wasn’t heading out. He was getting comfortable. In my house. On my couch. With his loser feet up on my coffee table.

  No. Absolutely not.

  I stood up, sat my bowl down, grabbed the remote he’d dropped between us, and turned the TV off.

  “What the hell, babe?”

  “It’s time for you to go,” I told him, knocking his feet off the coffee table and then shoving it back into position. “You ate your pie. Said you’d be leaving after you ate it. It’s eaten, so you’re set to leave.”

  I stood there waiting for him to get up, arms crossed over my chest while my foot tapped impatiently.

  Jamie smiled and tipped his head back, keeping his arms exactly where they were. “I’m beat. Wanted to watch a little TV before I settled in,” he shared.

  My brows lifted. “Excuse me?”

  “Beat,” he repeated.

  “I heard that part. Then I heard something about settling in.”

  “Yeah. That’ll be happenin’ after I watch a show with you.”

  “Settling in where, exactly?” I questioned, needing clarification more than my next breath.

  I had a terrifying feeling I knew exactly where Jamie was planning on getting settled, and that feeling was only confirmed when he cranked that smile up in brightness, stretched his legs out again, crossed his feet at the ankles, and propped them up on the edge of the coffee table as he switched the TV back on.

  Panic twisted my stomach into a tight knot. This wasn’t just settling in. He was pulling an all-nighter.

  Jamie McCade intended to sleep over at my house, and if that wasn’t alarming enough, I didn’t see an overnight bag, meaning he wasn’t packing pajamas.

  Suddenly getting an eyeful of Jamie’s penis became the least of my worries. I might actually have to share a bed with it.

  Oh, God.

  I left all rational thought in the living room, and instead of demanding Jamie remove himself from my house or else, like a sane person, I freaked and took off running.

  Again. It was becoming a pattern.

  I grabbed hold of my dress to make sure I didn’t trip on the hem and darted fast up the stairs, getting to my room out of breath and, in my mind, out of options.

  He wouldn’t leave if I asked, let alone demanded. I was sure of it.

  So I did what I had to do.

  “Legs!” Jamie hollered out from a floor below.

  I shut and locked my bedroom door, then I took three steps backward until my calves hit mattress, scrambled onto the center of the bed, pulled my knees against my chest, and hugged them while keeping an anxious eye out.

  My heart was pounding so loud I could hear the blood rushing in my ears.

  Jamie was playing the game and he was playing it dirty. And I knew sitting on my bed and staring at that door, waiting for the knob to rattle, that he’d continue playing dirty, and knowing him, this was just the tip of the iceberg.

  Things were going to get much, much worse.

  So I made a choice that night, and I made that choice after an hour of waiting for him to force himself into my room, then investigating and finding my house empty, the front door locked, his bike gone from my driveway, and my pie rewrapped in cellophane and placed on a shelf in the fridge.

  I was done running away and hiding when Jamie got to me, and I was done waiting around to see what else he was going to do.

  I affected him. He was hard up. He’d admitted it a hundred times.

  Meaning I had all the power and had it in me to take him down. I just needed to yield that power.

  And I was ready. I could do this. I could win.

  It was time I started playing the game, and if I had any chance at beating Jamie McCade and proving he was the one who wanted me enough to beg for this, not the other way around, there was only one way to play it.

  Dirtier.

  Chapter Four

  JAMIE

  Jesus. That fucking body…

  Smirk twisting across my mouth, I shook my head and watched as Tori made her way toward me on the beach wearing the smallest goddamned bikini ever, black and bloodshot like the devil herself, with three triangles and some motherfucking dental floss holding shit in place, not concealing much but, instead, enhancing every knockout curve she had.

  She was carrying herself like she’d worn it a hundred times before and knew the reaction it got her, meaning she was wearing it now for one reason and to get one reaction.

  Mine.

  Damn. All that tanned skin showing…

  Motherfucker.

  This was some strategic, mind-game shit right here. Something I would’ve done and did do, just last night. Showing up at her house uninvited and planting the idea that I was settling in and staying over got the reaction I was expecting out of Legs.

  She didn’t want in on this bet. Made that clear more than once. And she was quickly finding out just how far I was willing to take things and freaking out about it in the process.

  That was all anticipated. I had her pegged. Knew she’d go running ’cause that was her thing. Wasn’t the first time she ran away from me.

  But this? No fucking way was I expecting this.

  It was Monday afternoon, nearly three o’clock, and up until a minute ago I was standing by my board on the beach, a short walk down from Wax, the surf shop Dash and I owned together, and I was watching out for this chick I was supposed to be giving a lesson to.

  Then red caught my eye, and I gave up watching out.

  Couldn’t believe what I was seeing at first. Legs never came around this spot. I would know. I was down here nearly every day instructing, and if she had been around, I would’ve noticed.

  Then I got a good look at what she was wearing and I knew…

  Game fucking on. Legs was here to play.

  Her hair was up in a ponytail and blowing in the wind coming off the water, sending stray blond pieces into her face. She had a beach towel tucked under her arm, a bag over her shoulder, and big, red, retro-style sunglasses keeping her eyes hidden as she moved closer, but it didn’t matter. I knew where she was looking. I knew exactly where she was looking.

  And I was looking right on back.

  So much for not wanting in on this bet. Now Tori was seeking to plant herself in my line of sight and make sure she had my full attention.

  Well, mission accomplished. She was getting it.

  Honestly, she could’ve stopped a mile down and would’ve had it then.

  Fuck. I kept staring. I had to. Chest expanding with a deep breath, I watched her move closer, taking her in.

  Taking it all in.

  Hips swaying. Tits bouncing. All that smooth skin showing. Perfect legs. Toned stomach. And that bright red lip curving up.

  Damn.

  That fucking body.

  Yeah…Mind-game shit right here.

  Looks-to-fucking-kill came to a stop a foot away from where I was standing and pushed her sunglasses on top of her head.

  “Huh. Small world,” she said, feigning surprise at seeing me as she looked me over from my face to my board shorts and back up, doing it quickly so her gaze didn’t linger.

  And I knew it wanted to linger. She wasn’t fooling anyone.

  My smirk expanded. “You’re kidding me with this shit, right?” I asked, wanting her to know I was aware of what she was doing.

  “With what shit?” Tori asked back, tilting her head a little and squinting in the sun. “I’m just here to enjoy this beautiful weather on my day off. I don’t see how that classifies as shit. Lots of people are enjoying it, if you didn’t notice. It’s a public beach. I know you probably think you own it, Jamie, but news flash, you don’t.”

  I chuckled. Christ. Her fucking mouth was a major turn-on. She didn’t even need the damn bikini.

  Not that I’d stop her from wearing it. Ever.

  “Who’d you call, Legs? Sunshine? She tell you I have a lesson today, right fuckin’ now after verifying that
with Dash? Or did you call Wax yourself and get the info you needed.” I stepped closer and bent down, putting my face in hers and bringing my arms across my chest. “You ain’t foolin’ me, babe. I know exactly the shit you’re pullin’,” I promised.

  “Oh? And what exactly am I pullin’?”

  “The bikini.”

  “What about it?”

  “What about it?” I echoed, dipping my eyes for a quick look down the front of her. “The wind picks up even the slightest bit and you’re fucked, babe. I’m not even sure that classifies as swimwear.”

  Her blue eyes flashed bigger, filling with triumph.

  “And what do you care what I’m wearing? You’re done waitin’ around for me, right? You’re not interested anymore. Isn’t that what you said?”

  I straightened up, admitting, “Yeah, that’s what I said,” ’cause I had said it. No point in lying now.

  How much truth I had wrapped up in that statement, I wasn’t sure about.

  And that I kept to myself.

  Her mouth tipped up in the corner. “Then I’m not seeing what shit you think I’m pullin’ here or why anything I do would have any effect on you, Jamie,” she fired back. “Unless…” Tori took a step back, dropped her bag in the sand, and started shaking out her towel. “You still want it,” she offered, turning her head and flashing an ear-to-ear smile.

  I started breathing slower.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  There it was. The first goddamned genuine smile she’d ever actually given me, and it was good.

  No. It was damn good.

  Better than the ones I took from her. The ones I stole from her. The ones she was always putting on others.

  At Whitecaps. Hanging around at Dash’s place on Sundays. To strangers or to people she knew, and her friends, the ones she really cared about.

  I saw a lot of smiles from Tori Rivera. Real ones. She never faked it. Her smile lit her up. It was a beautiful fucking thing to watch. And what I felt witnessing her give that smile to other people is what kept me coming back after nine months of waiting and getting jack shit in return.

  But now? Getting it put on me? Fuck. Yeah…it was good.

  “Wow, Jamie, look at you.” Tori laughed, jarring my focus. “You close to begging yet?”

  I kept staring, liking the confidence growing in her voice and the way her hair looked, breeze-blown and light against her skin.

  But I kept that to myself. I was winning this shit.

  “You’re pushin’ it, babe,” I told her. “Fair warning. Take it places you can handle. You don’t…” I shrugged. “That’s on you.”

  “I think I’m handling things just fine. More than fine, actually.”

  “Yeah?” I paused for a breath, waiting for hesitation to tighten her smile ’cause I had her pegged, and when it did, giving her a grin of my own before adding, “We’ll see about that.”

  Handling things fine, my ass. She had no idea what I was capable of.

  Legs covered her tell and rolled her eyes, uttering a quiet “whatever” before bending over and spreading out her beach towel in a spot where there wasn’t much room for another beach towel considering the crowd. Didn’t matter, though. She was making room ’cause she was on her little mind-fuck mission to distract me.

  Whatever.

  I shook my head and laughed, then turned away to watch out for this girl I was waiting on.

  I had all afternoon to stare.

  “Well?”

  My head swiveled back around at the sound of the voice over my shoulder.

  Tori was standing in front of me again with her hands on her hips, feet spread, head cocked, and brows lifted expectantly. Like she was waiting for me to do something.

  Do what, exactly, I had no idea.

  “Well, what?”

  She smiled big, drawing my eyes down to the cute curve in her mouth. “I’m ready for my lesson,” she informed me.

  My eyes snapped back up to meet hers again and quickly narrowed. “Your what?”

  “My lesson.”

  “What lesson?”

  “I’m your three o’clock.”

  What the fuck?

  “No, you’re not.”

  She kept smiling at me, arguing, “Yeah, I am,” as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, swaying her hips a little.

  I cocked an eyebrow, thinking she was acting weird. “Quit playin’. You ain’t my three o’clock.”

  “Actually, yeah, it totally is me.”

  My jaw clenched. Jesus. I turned and squared off with her, facing her fully now and only keeping breath between us I was standing so close.

  “Legs, for real, arguin’ with me ain’t gonna do shit,” I informed her, watching that damn smile of hers keep. “You’re not my three o’clock.”

  “Yes, I am your three o’clock. I swear I am. Promise.”

  I breathed slowly, keeping annoyance at bay and the urge to toss her hot little ass into the ocean under control while thinking back to the name printed on the sign-up sheet.

  I’d checked it this morning before heading out. I knew who my lesson was with.

  Then seeing that name materialize in my head, I allowed my face to relax, gave her a smile back, and shared, “Nice try, babe. Seriously. Like the effort you’re putting out, too, but you want a lesson with me, you need to call the shop. My three o’clock is with a Mira.” I tipped my head at her towel, ordering, “Have a seat. You can watch me with her. Know that’s what you’re really here for anyway. Not this bullshit about enjoying the weather.”

  “It’s My-ra. Like My Girl,” she said, tilting her head side to side for emphasis.

  My brow tightened again.

  “Say what?”

  Tori giggled. Her hand came up and swept some stray hair out of her face, tucking the strand behind her ear.

  “Aw, look at you. So confused. Myra is my middle name. Tori Myra Rivera.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “It’s terrible, I know, but I had to use it. If I would’ve called and told Cole the lesson was for Tori, or Legs, you would’ve known who to expect and I didn’t want you expecting anything.” She tipped her chin up. “You know, for the sake of the bet.”

  I stared down at her, blinking as everything—the timing, the location, this entire sex-shop bikini charade—started coming together in perfect fuck-me unison.

  “Are you shittin’ me? You’re Myra?”

  Tori’s eyes went round as she pinched her lips together, fighting laughter.

  “Straight up?” I pressed.

  “What? You can’t handle it?” she questioned. Her voice was pure innocence. “Is there a problem with me getting a lesson from you or something?”

  I felt my chest quake with a laugh. Jesus. She was giving me a run.

  Good. I liked that.

  “Babe, you messed up,” I told her, smiling at her reaction and the lengths she’d gone to.

  Her eyebrows lifted in question. She wanted to know what I meant.

  Fine.

  Never had a problem being up-front with Legs before when it came to what to expect out of me. Sure as fuck didn’t have a problem being up-front about it now either.

  There was no way I was losing this bet. So I shared.

  “Not sure how Cole does it or anyone else for that matter, but the way I give lessons, I’m hands on with it. Not with everyone. Sure as fuck not with another dude lookin’ to learn, but you?” I let my gaze dip down the length of her, getting an eyeful before settling on her face. “Straight up. My hands are gonna be all over you for the next hour and don’t even think for one second I’m not gonna take advantage. You wave opportunity in my face, and babe, I’m takin’ that opportunity, meaning you’re fucked, Legs. Just bein’ around me gets to you. Now you’re offerin’ this? You might as well throw in the towel now. Or just start moaning right here. We both know that’s comin’.”

  When I finished speaking, I noticed she was no longer fighting laughter. In fact, she was back to looking at me the
way she always looked at me—like everything I said pissed her the hell off.

  And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t missed that look a little. Pissed-off Tori was sexy as shit.

  “Is this part of the lesson?” she griped. “Listening to you build your ego up? ’Cause honestly? It’s not worth the money I paid.”

  I chuckled. Fuck. I could go all day with her. And she was setting me up for it too.

  “Only thing buildin’ during this lesson is gonna be your need to rub one out later,” I shot back. “Which, you do that, and you’re callin’ in the bet, meanin’ I win.”

  “That won’t be happening,” she snapped. “The building part or you winning anything. You see what I’m wearing.”

  And there it was.

  Game plan revealed.

  I smiled big, confirming, “Yeah, I see it. I see a lot of bikinis doin’ what I do. And I get your play here, Legs, but for real, you are out of your fuckin’ mind wearin’ that to surf.”

  No joke. I was predicting a minute in the water before something shifted and popped out.

  “I think I’ll manage,” Tori argued, reaching around her neck to loosen the strings of her top.

  She pulled them tight and went about reinforcing the tie, thinking she was making things more secure but really only causing her tits to bounce and push up higher.

  I watched this happen. I had to.

  Jesus.

  Guys typically had a preference when it came to size. Big. Small. Not me, though. Tits were tits. I liked them big. I liked them small. I liked them spilling out of my hands and fitting into my mouth. Whatever. But seeing Tori’s tits in the getup she was wearing? Getting the view I was getting right now? Yeah…now I had a fucking preference.

  Hers.

  I stared openly at the shadow of her cleavage until her arms dropped to her sides, signaling she was finished, and still, I stared for another full second before lifting my head.