Making a Play

by Victoria Denault

  My hand moves back to her hip and I reposition her leg over both of mine and push my groin into her. My dick is throbbing and now she knows it. Her response is to move her hand away from my face, to my back and then my ass. She cups my ass and pulls me into her again, grinding her hips against my cock at the same time.

  Our kissing turns from sensual and slow to needy and passionate. The need and want are pulling me from the reverie. My hand slides over her abdomen and moves upward, under her shirt, without hesitation. Her lips leave mine and move to my jaw, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses. I cup her bare breast and roll a thumb over her nipple. She gasps in my ear and pushes that hot little space between her legs into my erection again.

  “Fleur,” I whisper.

  “Don’t…” she murmurs, her lips moving over my neck. “Don’t wake up.”

  My head rolls back involuntarily as her hand slides from my ass to the front of my shorts and skims my hard cock through the soft material. Upon first touch she freezes momentarily, and for a split second I worry despite her own command—she’s waking up from our erotic dream. But then she exhales, slips her tiny hand under my waistband, wraps it around my package and squeezes lightly. A breathy grunt rumbles in my throat.

  My hand moves from her breasts southward down her torso and I slip my fingers under the lace. I brush by the small patch of hair and keep moving lower to her slit. She’s wet. Really wet. I made her wet. I’ve dreamed of this—over and over, so many times—and now it’s real. Or is it? Am I dreaming?

  My eyes flutter open. Hers are open now too—barely, but they are. I don’t say anything. She doesn’t say anything. She just strokes me, once. Then twice. I slide a finger inside her. Her dark eyes flicker shut again and so do mine. This has to be a dream.

  Chapter 20

  Rose

  I don’t know how this happened—is it happening? Is Luc’s finger inside me? It is. And it feels better than any dream… and there have been so many dreams.

  But this is real, my brain screams through the haze as his thumb finds my clit and pushes gently against it as he slides in and out with two fingers now. My hand slides upward over his thick, long shaft… so long and thick… I didn’t even dare dream that…

  My own thumb rolls over his tip, which is slick with his own desire. Desire for me. We play with each other, slowly, erotically and sleepily for minutes—long, timeless minutes. His slow prodding of my body has me tingling. I bend, my head pushing back into the pillow. I have never felt such an intense ripple of pleasure. Our lips are pulled apart by my movement and he doesn’t like it. He lets out a hiss of air and strains, moving his body up and over—closer—forcing our hands away from each other’s bodies.

  He’s lying on top of me now, as he pushes his hands into my hair and covers my mouth with his. We grind into each other. Our hands start roaming with more urgency than before. He’s touching me everywhere—my neck, my belly, my hip, my breasts. I’m running my hands over every inch of his bare flesh too—his back, his biceps, and his ass. Somehow, at some point, he’s slid my underwear down my thighs and I’ve tugged his shorts to his knees. And I’m panting but still lost in a sleepy euphoria with heavy, closed eyelids and a foggy brain.

  I bend a knee and my lace boy shorts slip to my ankle and then one leg is free. My leg slides back up and hooks around his waist. He puts his hand on the inside of my other thigh and pushes it sideways, making room for his legs between mine. We kiss more… again… still… it’s all so confusing and I’m overwhelmed by the fact I have never wanted anyone more in my entire life. Luc—my Luc—is naked on top of me, begging for entrance.

  His lips kiss my temple as he pushes slowly—so slowly—into me. He’s big and thick. He has to slowly rock in and out a few times before I can welcome him completely, but then it happens—Luc Richard is inside me. Every nerve ending in my entire body flares and sparks at the feeling, the emotion. My eyes slowly open and he’s looking down at me through half-open lids.

  I curl my head into his shoulder and nuzzle him. He kisses me and our tongues dance. He softly runs his hands into my hair and I cup the back of his neck and our bodies don’t move. We’re just joined, unmoving, like statues.

  Eventually, I don’t know how much later, Luc slides out a little and back in. And when he does it I tilt my hips under him. And this slow dance goes on for an eternity. A torturous, decadent eternity. But as our breathing picks up so does our pace. It’s not fast or furious; it’s still delicate and deliciously erotic, just with more direct intent. It’s like subconsciously we’ve come to terms with what we’re doing and we both are reaching for the common goal. He keeps his body flush over mine, our skin touching everywhere, our groins creating a glorious friction. His pelvic bone rubs my clit with every push into me.

  “Ma Fleur…” he pants softly, his lips at my ear.

  “Mmm” is all I can get out because the friction on my clit is all-consuming and I’m barreling toward the blissful, black oblivion of orgasm. It ripples through me violently and everything—every part of me—deliciously clenches. He lets out a small, deep moan and every part of his body quivers as he comes, pushing into me with three last hard thrusts. Just as suddenly my muscles liquefy and his must too because his body is limp on top of me. I kiss his shoulder and he gently kisses my cheek as his head slips onto the pillow beside me. He’s still inside me. I never want him to leave.

  His heartbeat hammers against mine, which is hammering back. It feels like two people pounding on a door from different sides. That’s my last thought as his breathing slows and mine does too and we slip back into sleep.

  Chapter 21

  Rose

  When I wake up I’m filled with so much happiness, it makes my heart swell. Last night… Luc… kissing me… touching me… inside me. My eyes flutter open, squinting against the light pouring in from the window. My right leg is over the back of his thighs as he lies on his stomach. His right arm is wedged under the pillow his head is resting on and his left is thrown over my middle.

  His hair is all over the place and his dark lashes skim his olive skin. He’s so unbelievably gorgeous to me, so breathtakingly hot. I gently slide my leg off of him and roll onto my back. He stirs, his arm on my middle pulling me toward him as he rolls onto his side, facing me. His body curls into mine gently.

  “Rosie…” he mumbles in a groggy whisper.

  I run my palm over the side of his face, cupping it softly, and he nuzzles into my hair and neck like a sleepy puppy. One single solitary thought reverberates in my head—Oh my God, I love him. And then everything goes to hell.

  His phone starts ringing from the bedside table. I jump, but he doesn’t move. I have no idea how he can sleep through the sound. The phone must be on the highest volume possible because it’s as loud as a smoke detector. I reach for it to silence it but see the name on the display: “Paul Owens.” It’s his agent. I shake Luc.

  “Luc! Wake up!”

  His eyes flutter open and focus on me. His gaze turns from sleepy to confused to stunned. I’m assuming the events of last night are flooding his memory. He blinks a few times and then he smiles. It’s soft, warm, sexy and oh so perfectly Luc. I giggle and smile back.

  He reaches for the phone without looking at the caller ID.

  “What?” he barks, annoyed by the intrusion. “Paul! Sorry. I didn’t know it was you… I was sleeping.”

  He drops his eyes from mine and rolls away, sitting up. His shoulders pull together as he tenses. “What? Where? When?”

  He’s quiet for a second as he listens to whatever his agent is saying. I can’t make out his words but I can hear his agent’s voice through the phone and it sounds angry. Luc covers the phone with his hand and glances over his shoulder at me. His brown eyes are serious and apologetic. “Can you… I’m sorry, I just need a minute.”

  “Oh! Sure. Of course.” I nod and I grope under the sheets for my underwear and pull them on. And just in case I wasn’t starting to feel humiliated, there’
s a knock on the door.

  “Luc!” It’s Jessie. “Is Rosie in there?”

  His head spins my way and he glances at the door, then at me, then at the sheets covering what I know is his completely naked lower half. “It’s okay,” I mouth and grab my clothes and throw them back on, tossing the T-shirt I slept in on the bed.

  “What?” Luc says into the phone. “Sorry. I’m having trouble concentrating. What? You can’t be serious? Paul…”

  Jessie bangs on the door again. “Luc!”

  Fully clothed now, I run to the door, open it and slip out. Jessie and Jordan are standing in front of me, dressed for the beach. They look all sparkly and fresh, which makes me feel even more bedraggled. Jordan takes in my appearance and smirks. Jessie blinks and smiles.

  “You spent the night with Luc?” Jessie asks, not even trying to keep the excitement from her voice.

  “What was I supposed to do? Sleep in the hall?” I ask indignantly. “Or bunk with you two?”

  “Did he give you a birthday gift?” Jordan questions, grinning suggestively.

  “You’re a child, you know that? Why does everything have to be about sex?” I ask him angrily and push past both of them to do the shortest walk of shame in history.

  I bang on the door to my own room, waiting for Callie to let me in.

  “So no sex? Bummer,” Jordan says and he honestly looks disappointed. Jessie, on the other hand, looks skeptical. She knows me too well. She knows that wasn’t a flat-out denial.

  Callie opens the door with a bright smile. She’s in a towel and her hair is wet.

  “Happy birthday, baby sister!” She reaches out to hug me but I push past her.

  “Next time, use his room. His big, empty room!”

  “Oh, there won’t be a next time,” Callie responds firmly. “You know me. I don’t do repeats.”

  “I’m surprised you just don’t murder them after they’ve served their purpose, like a black widow spider,” Jordan snickers, leaning against the doorframe.

  “If it was legal I probably would.” Callie winks.

  Jessie walks farther into the room and grabs my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. “Happy birthday, Rose!”

  I give her a quick squeeze back but pull away. I’m scared she can smell Luc all over me. I need a shower, not just so I can look presentable again, but so I can have a moment to myself to think. I have no idea what is going to happen next. Everything feels so overwhelming suddenly.

  “We’re going to the beach. Cole and Leah are off doing some couples thing,” Jordan explains. “Join us?”

  “Sure,” Callie says. “You can wait here while I change or let us meet you there.”

  Jordan shields his eyes and lets out a terrified little scream as Callie pretends to drop her towel. Jessie rolls her eyes, spins him around and guides him out the door.

  “See you down there,” she calls over her shoulder. “And Rosie, I have an awesome gift for you!”

  I beeline for the bathroom, kicking the door half closed behind me. Callie talks to me from the hotel room as I strip naked and climb in the shower. The water feels great. Not as great as Luc felt, but still pretty good.

  Callie is rambling on about Avery and how athletic the sex was and how great he was at oral. I barely register what she’s saying because my mind is on Luc. On how warm his skin was and how good it felt to be tangled up with him. It was so natural, we weren’t thinking or speaking or rushing—everything just happened. And it was so… right.

  I spent more time than I cared to admit, even to myself, dreaming of my first time with Luc, but in my imagination it was very different. In my daydreams he wooed me somehow—brought me flowers, took me on a moonlight walk or a picnic by the lake—and then we ended up back at his place and there were candles and wine and soft music and he told me he loved me. I thought that was the most perfect way it could happen. Instead, our first time was in a dark hotel room, fragmented by sleep with no real words—just pants and moans and grinding—that was perfection. I don’t regret one single thing about it. In fact, I want it to happen again. It was amazing. We are amazing.

  Everything is different now. I don’t have to hold back. I can finally just tell him. I’ve been in love with him for years. I want him more than I have ever wanted anyone—and I think he finally wants me too.

  When I get out of the shower, Callie’s lying across her bed wearing a dark red bikini. It’s got a bandeau top and a very low-rise bottom. She also has on sunglasses and black Ugg boots for some reason. She’s a hot mess, as usual.

  “So if Avery was so good, why not do him again?” I ask when she finally finishes her story about doing him reverse cowboy style. I don’t know what that is and I don’t bother asking.

  “Because I like my life as it is,” Callie explains. “When you date a guy you have to give stuff up. You have to change. Make sacrifices. I’m not doing that for anyone. Ever. No matter how good they are with their tongue.”

  I just nod. Callie is who she is. Sometimes I worry about her. I don’t want her to end up alone. I honestly don’t think she would be happy that way, no matter what she says. I think she’s just scared. But for right now, I let it be.

  She looks up at me and slides her shades down her nose as I put on my more modest blue gingham bikini. I don’t want every guy’s attention on the beach today, just Luc’s.

  “So did Luc let you sleep in the bed?” Callie wants to know, and I nod. “Did he keep one foot on the floor like a gentleman?”

  I laugh at that. It sounds high-pitched and awkward, even to me. She sits up and shoves her sunglasses on top of her head. She’s staring at me like I’m the bearded lady at a freak show.

  “What?”

  “You know, you two really will have to bang the crap out of each other eventually,” Callie states matter-of-factly. “It’s fate, karma, kismet, whatever romantic word you want to call it. The fact is it has to happen.”

  I can’t help but give her a quizzical look. “You don’t believe in karma or fate or romance or any of that.”

  “Not for me, no,” Callie admits as she gets off the bed and grabs her beach bag. “And if it were me, I would just fuck his brains out one glorious time and never look back. But you and him… You two look at each other and it’s all destiny and violins and crap. Even I can see that.”

  “Good to know.” I bite my lip. I want to tell her so badly but I can’t. Not until I talk to Luc.

  “I’m going to invite Luc to the beach,” I tell her as we head out the door of our hotel room. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Unless you decide to fuck him instead…” Callie says in a singsong voice as she walks toward the elevators.

  Ignoring her, I shuffle the short distance to his hotel room door and realize I hadn’t shut it tightly. It’s not locked, just kind of jutted up against the frame. I push it open. He’s got his shorts back on now and he’s standing by the window looking out, his back to me. The phone is still pressed to his ear.

  “It’s not fucking like that, Paul. How many times do I have to tell you?” He lets out a long, heavy breath. “Well, then tell them!”

  I’m halfway into the room, my emotions swinging between happy and hopeful for our future and concerned and confused by how angry he currently seems.

  “Then I’ll tell them! I’ll call the owner myself and tell them she’s just a fucking childhood friend. I’ll tell them it meant nothing!”

  It’s like someone kicked me in the gut. I let out a whoosh of air and then I can’t catch my breath. Luc turns and our eyes lock for a second before mine blur with tears. I retreat out of the room before he can hang up.

  I almost run down the hall to the elevator. I want to cry, but I can’t. It’s like I’m in shock. The elevator doors open and I’m about to slip in and escape when I feel his arms around my torso. I pull away but there’s no escape.

  “Luc! Let me go!” My voice is nothing more than a broken whisper. Oh God, I do not want to cry in front of him. I’m humil
iated enough.

  He lifts me off my feet with the one arm around my torso and storms back to his room, only placing my feet on the ground when we’re inside and he’s kicked the door closed. His cell phone is still in his left hand and he’s still wearing nothing but his nylon workout shorts. “Let me explain.”

  I try to slide by him, toward the door, wanting to leave so badly it aches, but he blocks my path and gently pushes me up against the wall by the bathroom. He presses his whole body gently against mine, pinning me to the wall. The heat of his skin, the way it makes my whole body tingle with desire, is like a slap to the face. I just heard him announce I was nothing—we were nothing—and yet my body still responds like my blood is gasoline and he’s a lit match.

  “Fleur, don’t run,” he whispers against my cheek, so close his lips ghost my skin. “That tactic didn’t work for Jessie and Jordan.”

  He’s got a point, but I suddenly understand why my oldest sister took off to college without confronting Jordan when she thought he was still involved with his ex, Hannah. The idea that I’m going to have to stand here while he explains to my face why he doesn’t want me is torturous.

  “Fleur.” He swallows hard and scoops my hand into his. I look down at our hands and back up at him. “Someone photographed us.”

  “What?!”

  My brain feels like someone just threw it on a Tilt-a-Whirl. What is he talking about? He looks down at his phone and starts scrolling through stuff on his screen. A second later, he holds up a picture of the two of us from our first night here, tangled up in each other on the dance floor, his lips on my collarbone, my eyes closed, hands above my head. It looks incredibly dirty… and hot. And my blood runs cold, then blistering hot at the realization that this is on the Internet for the world to see.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Someone sent it to TMZ Sports,” he explains. “They posted it this morning and my agent is furious. The team management is furious. I’m supposed to be lying low, staying out of the public eye.”