The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood Book 2)

by Nikki Sloane

  “So, how do you want it?”

  It felt like someone else was in command when I stared at his sheathed dick, awaiting me to climb on, and his direct question unleashed my thoughts. “I want your mouth on my tits as you fuck me.”

  Air left him in a sharp exhale and desire consumed his face. My words had surprised him, and he not only approved, he looked utterly thrilled. As I rose onto my knees and turned to straddle him, he pushed a hand inside my open robe to grasp my hip and help guide me.

  The sheathed tip of him began to intrude, and I gasped with pleasure.

  The stretch of my body around his cock filled me with delicious tension. The sensation went on endlessly as I slowly yielded to him, taking more and more and more.

  We breathed together in a shuddering breath as I slid down. My warm skin was flattened against his. It was a lot to take, and I controlled my breathing, struggling to adjust. Holy shit, there was someone else inside my body.

  Troy’s head thudded against the back of the couch for a second as pleasure ripped through his expression, and it was as if he needed a moment to regroup. To mentally prepare for what we were about to do.

  He straightened with focus in his eyes.

  I was the one on top, yet he was the one in command. Beneath me, the muscles in his thighs went taut and he flexed up into me. His hands were firm on my waist, urging me to rock back and forth and ride him. It flipped a switch in me, and unstoppable moans swelled up from my throat.

  Was it supposed to feel this amazing? Or had it simply just been so long I’d forgotten?

  We must have had the thought at the same moment because our hands tangled as we tried to get the robe off my shoulders. It hung on my elbows as Troy abandoned that task and cupped my breasts in his hands. He squeezed and massaged, his thumbs brushing over my hardened nipples, but it was the caress of his gaze I enjoyed the most.

  He licked his lips before nuzzling into me, his hot mouth latching on and sucking until I whimpered with satisfaction. The way he feasted on me was pornographic. Better than any fantasy my mind could have cooked up.

  Time lost all meaning as we ground our bodies together, taking pleasure from each other. I shed the robe completely and shivered in enjoyment as the dull edges of his fingernails raked down my bare back. His short beard grazed over my nipples and was followed by the gentle bite of his teeth. It poured heat into me, swirling like an inferno.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead, but he didn’t slow his thrusts, some of them so powerful they nearly lifted me off the couch. Tingles washed over my legs. The friction of our bodies rubbing together was stimulating my clit, just enough to make me think another orgasm could be in my future.

  But it’d need help.

  I leaned back, bracing a hand behind me on his knee, and walked the fingers of my other hand down to where we were connected. Troy’s eyes widened with excitement as he realized what I was doing.

  His voice rasped like it’d been dragged over gravel. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

  I rubbed myself as his compliment caused sparks to fire inside my body. He was doing more of the work than I was, but it still required a ton of exertion from me, and I was grateful I was in the best shape of my life. Sex with him would leave me blissfully sore all over.

  “Tell me you’re close,” he demanded.

  I was, but I slowed the roll of my body and peeled my lips back in a victorious smile. “Maybe I want to enjoy you like this for a little while longer. You can keep up, can’t you, Troy?”

  Dark heat flashed in his eyes. “Yeah, I fucking can.”

  “It’s okay if you can’t,” I whispered, stunned by my mocking tone. “I have a drawer of toys that I can always—”

  His fingers bit into my waist, commanding me to move. “Maybe you don’t need them anymore. You want to get off? I’m right here.”

  He licked the pad of his thumb, shoved it between my legs, and pushed my hand out of the way. The way he touched me was indecent. Shocks ran along the insides of my thighs.

  His tone reflected his ruthless determination. “You like the sound of that? Me being your personal sex toy?”

  “Fuck,” I cried. My mind went white-hot at the idea.

  “Yeah, I thought so.” He rubbed circles on my swollen clit while he continued to pound at me from beneath. “You can use me however you want to.”

  My heart sprinted frantically, flying toward explosion. Even though I wasn’t scared, something like panic filled my voice. “You’re going to make me come.”

  “You’re goddamn right,” he growled.

  Pleasure gripped my body and mind so all I could do was endure the sensations flooding through my limbs. The orgasm swept through me so abruptly, I gave a choked-off cry and collapsed on him, my legs quaking.

  His arms locked around me to hold me still as he found his end. I was still falling apart with ecstasy as he joined me, slowing to a stop, and throbbing deep inside. Our gasps for breath were loud in each other’s ears, and beneath my palm on his chest, I could feel his heart racing.

  Our bodies cooled as he held me shuddering in his arms.

  It felt so good tears pricked at my eyes, but I hid it by pressing my lips against the spot in his neck where his quick pulse was beginning to ease.

  My voice was so quiet, it was barely audible. “You’re kind of amazing.”

  His chest lifted with a deep breath. “I was hoping you thought so.”

  ELEVEN

  Erika

  When Troy returned from the bathroom, he dropped down beside me and cast a thick arm over the back of the couch. It was meant to look casual, but there was a subtle possessiveness to it that I adored. It made it easy to fit myself against him.

  How long would this last, where every little thing he did revealed how much I’d been missing?

  I tentatively used a fingertip to trace a pattern on his thigh. “We never made it to the bedroom.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Got sidetracked. Next time.”

  His statement hung in the silence of the room. Not because there wouldn’t be a next time, but because I had guilt knowing that there would be one. It seemed inevitable. I’d given in to all my desires, and I was sure I’d only crave him more now.

  When Jenna found out, I was going to lose her. And I deserved to, didn’t I?

  I didn’t want to think about it right now. The guilt would come soon enough, and it’d be crushing.

  The electronic trill of my phone came from my bedroom, and for a moment I considered ignoring that too and staying cozied up under Troy’s arm. But it was likely Ardy, wanting to know how my meeting had gone with the potential new client. He didn’t like how mysterious I’d been, and curiosity was eating him up.

  “I should get that,” I said, reaching for my robe.

  Only when I dashed into my room, picked up my cell phone, and saw the caller ID, I rolled my eyes. What the fuck was Clark’s deal? I punched the screen to send the call to voicemail. He wouldn’t leave a voicemail and was incapable of sending a text message. I suspected he didn’t want to put anything in writing or a recording. Had he forgotten the divorce was official?

  When I came back to the living room, Troy had pulled on his shorts and was knotting the strings at his waist. It gave me a view of his sculpted chest and the ridges of muscles surrounding his rib cage.

  He was in such great shape, maybe I should suggest we work out together sometime.

  What do you think you just did?

  “Didn’t recognize the number?” he asked, since he knew I hadn’t taken the call.

  I skewed my mouth to one side. “No, I recognized it.”

  His shoulders lifted with a deep breath. “Ah. You weren’t kidding. He does call a lot.” He set his hands on his waist. “What does he want?”

  “The fuck if I know,” I admitted. “I don’t answer, and he never leaves messages.”

  A dark cast fell over Troy’s face. “So . . . he’s, like, harassing you?”

  “No,
no.” I frowned. Clark’s calls were annoying, but calling them harassment felt extreme. “It’s no big deal. He’ll give up eventually.”

  Troy was skeptical. “You know you can block his number, right?”

  I despised how feeble my voice sounded. “Yeah, of course.”

  Yet I hadn’t been able to bring myself to do it. It didn’t make sense why I couldn’t cut him off. I didn’t love Clark anymore, but I’d spent so much of my life with him, it was impossible not to care, at least a little. I kept telling myself that if it was important enough to get ahold of me, he’d leave a message or text me.

  What it boiled down to was I wasn’t ready to shut him out forever.

  It looked like Troy wasn’t all that satisfied with my answer but he wasn’t going to push either. He motioned toward the phone in my hand. “I left my cell in my car. What time is it?”

  “Quarter to five.”

  His posture went stiff. “Fuck. Really?” He didn’t wait for confirmation. Instead, he scooped up his t-shirt and jerked it on. “I was supposed to help Bill with cabinets at four. He’s going to be so pissed.” He raked a hand through his wavy brown hair and focused on me. “I should probably go.”

  I nodded in understanding, but he didn’t move. He stood beside the couch, hesitating. I was about to ask him what was wrong when he strode to me, grabbed the knot of my robe, and hauled me into his hurried kiss.

  “I meant it,” he said. “You call me next time you’re thinking about reaching into that drawer.”

  Thankfully, he couldn’t see beneath my robe, otherwise he might have noticed the shiver he caused. I smiled provocatively. “I will.”

  He grinned as he backed away, not taking his eyes off me until the final second—and then disappeared through the door.

  It was late when I climbed into bed. I’d put it off all evening, unsure of how to broach the subject with Troy after what we’d done today.

  Me: Are you still awake? Everything work out with Bill and the cabinets?

  Troy: I’m up and yeah.

  Me: That’s good. We didn’t get a chance to talk business this afternoon.

  Troy: We can now. Wanna call me?

  I swallowed a breath, tapped his name, and waited nervously like a schoolgirl for him to answer.

  “Hey,” he said over the sound of gunfire and explosions.

  “Hi.” The background noise became more bombastic. “Are you watching a movie?”

  He sounded distracted. “No, it’s Call of Duty. Just a second.” The sound cut off, and I pictured him pausing the video game. “What’s up?”

  I sat up straighter in my bed and forced myself into professional mode. “I was thinking we could operate with a verbal agreement until your audition. Assuming you’re on board with me acting on your behalf until you officially sign.”

  He said it like I’d caught him off guard and now he was playing catch-up. “Yeah, sure. That sounds good.”

  “Do you have a demo you can send me?”

  There was a pause. “Uh—”

  “Or a recording? I’d like to have a sample on hand for Ardy. He’s Stella’s manager.”

  “I can record something on my phone,” he said.

  I smiled at his eager tone. He was trying to be helpful, but it wasn’t needed. “No, let’s have you come by the office. There’s a small studio setup we can use. What’s your schedule tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be at the gym until noon, then I’m supposed to help Bill with demo at one o’clock. That’ll take the rest of the day.”

  He was going to spend all morning at the gym? No wonder he looked so good. “Can you shave an hour off your gym time, so we can lock down a track?”

  “Not really, unless I can come by early? My class is at ten, and I have two clients after.”

  Class? Clients? “You’re taking a class?”

  He chuckled. “No, I’m leading it. I do the Bootcamp Burn on Wednesdays.” When I didn’t say anything, it prompted him to continue. “I’m one of the trainers at Motivation Gym.”

  Fuck me, he was a pool boy and a personal trainer. I was like the ultimate cougar, snatching up the hottest boy toy. “I didn’t know you did that.”

  “Yeah. My degree is in Athletic Training. Being a personal trainer ain’t exactly what I had in mind, but it’s a start.”

  My laugh was tight with embarrassment. “I almost asked you today if you wanted to work out together sometime.”

  “Totally. I’m always looking for new clients.” He said it laced with innuendo. “I could even give you a discount.”

  Was I blushing right now? At least he wouldn’t be able to tell. His effect on me was powerful, and I sucked in a preparing breath. “Hey, listen. Since we’re going to be working together, we need to talk boundaries.”

  The single word from him made it impossible to tell how he felt about my statement. “Yeah?”

  “Is it stupid to think we can keep business separate from what we did today?”

  His answer came quick. “No, it’s not stupid.” He paused, likely composing what to say next. “Boundaries. What did you have in mind?”

  I pressed my lips together. I hadn’t dated anyone in forever—not that what we were doing was dating anyway—but I was horribly out of practice. He had far more experience than I did in this department. That imbalance left me unsure, but there was a bigger issue at work too. “No one can know. If word got out I was sleeping with a client, it could be bad for my career.”

  “Erika,” he said, his voice deadly serious, “I’m not going to say anything. You can trust me.”

  It felt as if my heart were made of rubber bands, and his words stretched the outer band until it was taut. If he let go, it’d snap back with a sharp, stinging pain. All the trust I’d poured into my marriage had been rewarded with heartache.

  “Okay,” I said quickly, trying to gloss over my anxiety. “But just to be safe, can we keep it professional anytime we’re not alone? Or talking business?”

  He paused for so long, I wasn’t sure if we’d been disconnected, but then his tone was rich, telling me he was smiling on the other end. “Are you telling me not to flirt with you?”

  I tried to be practical. “I need to deal with Troy ‘the artist’ right now, not Troy ‘the guy I’m banging.’”

  His laugh was loud. “Banging,” he repeated. “Okay, okay.” He settled, and his sigh was colored with amusement. “I get it. When you want it strictly business, you let me know and I’ll give you that.”

  “Good,” I said, feeling a sliver of relief. “I need it business tonight because we’re behind where we should be. The audition is in a week.”

  “Oh.” He’d said it the same way I expected he said ‘oh, shit.’

  “Yeah. I’d like to schedule you for as many performances as we can before then. Get you as comfortable as possible with your material in front of a crowd.” There was nothing like the pressure of an audition, but I’d do my best to prepare him. “We can talk specifics about that tomorrow. Can you come in at eight?”

  To the rest of the artists I dealt with, eight in the morning was an unheard of time. Ungodly early for the people who were up late every night. But Troy didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, sure.”

  We talked a bit more about how the audition would be handled and the web series Stella was planning to run, and true to his word, he never slipped out of professional mode. We didn’t talk about the crazy hot sex we’d had, or when it was going to happen again, or whether he was currently having crazy hot sex with anyone else.

  Just the idea of that soured my stomach. After we said goodbye and I’d hung up, that was the thing that needled at me. What if I asked him if he was seeing anyone else, and he said yes?

  Would I be able to believe him if he said no? He hadn’t done anything to make me distrust him, but I was plenty aware at how good he was at keeping secrets.

  I focused elsewhere. Tomorrow he’d come into the studio, record a sample, and Ardy would help evaluate. Then I’d know for
certain the talent I’d seen in Troy was real, and not clouded by my personal feelings.

  As predicted, my pool boy and personal sex toy had left me blissfully sore. I gingerly slid under the sheets, tired but sexually satisfied for once, turned out the light, and laid my head down on the pillow.

  I’d only just shut my eyes when the melody echoed in my mind. It was only a few notes, barely two measures, but I blinked in surprise. And as I stared into the darkness of the room, the melodic line fleshed itself out and took further shape. I heard it as plain as day, the up-tempo music with a sexy, playful vibe.

  Like Troy in the form of music.

  I bolted upright in the bed, reaching blindly for the lamp switch, and blinked rapidly against the overly bright light as I clicked it back on. I was breathing hard, but sat utterly motionless, worried if I moved, the music would flit away like a scared bird.

  But it stayed.

  My heart lurched forward with excitement as I launched myself from the bed and hurried toward my home office where my acoustic guitar waited for me on its stand.

  A new song.

  TWELVE

  Troy

  Warbler Talent was easier to find than a place to park once I got there. I considered driving my Jeep right over the Toyota Yaris someone had parked like an asshole, taking up a space and a half of valuable street parking. Which was impressive because the car was stupid tiny.

  It was too early for that shit, but I tried not to get pissed off because this meeting was important. I grabbed the strap on my guitar case and crossed the quiet street, heading for the agency’s entrance.

  I was in jeans and a button-down shirt and already sweating, but it wasn’t the heat causing it. It was normal for my nerves to act up right before a performance, but usually it was more excitement than anxiety.

  Today was . . . different.

  One bad show wouldn’t hurt me. It definitely wouldn’t make or break whatever ‘career’ I thought was possible for me. But this? If I sucked or didn’t impress Erika’s boss, she’d pump the brakes on the whole thing. I understood this was an audition I had to nail before I could get the real audition.