Superfan

by Sarina Bowen

  A pair of soft hands find their way into my hair. “You always were smarter than me.”

  “Not always.” I have plenty of regrets. But now is not the moment to think about them.

  “Do that again,” she says, guiding my head back down to her body.

  You don’t have to ask me twice. I trace her nipple with my lips. Then she gasps as I roll it on my tongue and suck. She whimpers as I kiss my way over to the other breast and do the same all over again.

  I want my mouth on her everywhere at once. Finally getting what you need is a heady experience, and I don’t even know where to start. So I roam every curve with my hands, and I kiss my way down to the apex of her sex. She smells like honey and musk, and my cock leaks on the bed as I part her legs with my hands.

  But Delilah closes her thighs. “Not that,” she whispers, adding, “Ralph.”

  I lift my face and find those giant eyes blinking down at me. “Really? Why not?”

  “Because…I didn’t shave.”

  “Oh, honey.” I drop a single kiss right onto the thicket of hair between her legs. “The way I want you is so much bigger than that. In fact, the messier the better.”

  Her head flops back onto the pillows, and she lets out a little sigh that only serves to show me her perfect breasts in motion. “Come here. Please?”

  I obey. Of course I do. I cover her body with my own and kiss her again. And again.

  Smooth arms come around to hold me. As I stroke her tongue with mine, silken knees rise up to pin my body against hers. My cock settles between her legs, the base cradled against her sweet pussy.

  Her dark eyes flash with pleasure as she moves her hips to strain against me.

  I settle in, kissing her. Loving her body with mine. Trying every combination of skin on skin that I can think of. I roll us to the side, nipping her lip, slipping my hand down between our two bodies. She moans as I drag a fingertip around her opening in a circle. But I don’t venture inside.

  She’s panting and gripping my body with eager fingers. Her eyes dart toward the condoms on the table. But she doesn’t say a word.

  “You want me to fuck you,” I whisper between kisses. “But you won’t ask.”

  “What are you waiting for, if you know me so well?” she returns. Her tone suggests that she’s still angry with me. But she won’t admit that, either.

  I’ll just have to win her trust again, then. But first things first.

  I reach out to grab a condom off the table. I tear the packet with my teeth, flick it away, and then roll it on, one-handed.

  When I pull her into my arms again, her kiss is fierce. It begs me to love her.

  I’m only dimly aware of my surroundings—the fine furnishings, the last of the dusky light filtering through the windows. Time has stopped for us at last. I thought it never would. I palm one of her smooth legs in my hand, and thrust my hips.

  And…finally. With a groan I slide into her tight heat. She moans into my mouth, and we’re a fierce tangle of tongues and teeth and limbs. I rock into her, each stroke more intense than the last. I want to slow down and savor everything. But there’s no way. I’m like a starving man who’s finally been given a meal.

  Delilah doesn’t make it any easier, either. Her nails scrape my back, and her breathing is fast and wild. “Don’t. Stop,” she moans, her eyes dark and hungry.

  “I would never,” I pant, although I’m fast approaching the point of no return. I bite my lip and groan as my need for release mounts.

  Our gazes lock again. My prickly girl can’t look away this time. It’s too right and too good.

  Only pride keeps me going until Delilah makes an achy, desperate noise, her forehead creasing with effort. Like she’s reaching for something just beyond her grasp.

  I lean down and kiss her as softly as I can manage right now. “I’ve got you.” I roll us over, pulling her against my chest. I take a deep breath and thrust lazily. “Let go, sweetheart.”

  “I…” She blinks down at me. “I’m still angry.”

  “I know. Not just at me. At the whole world.” I thrust my hips off the bed and she closes her eyes with pleasure. “Show me how mad you are.”

  “You’re…”

  I reach up and take her breasts in my hands, my thumbs circling her nipples.

  “You…” She leans down and kisses me instead of finishing that sentence. And then she sinks down on my cock and moans deeply. As our tongues slide together, her body quakes around mine.

  I can’t hold back any longer. I sit up fast, catching her in my arms and pumping her hips onto mine one more time. And then I groan into her neck as I empty my soul inside her.

  “Good. Lord,” she pants a moment later, her body slumped against mine.

  “Still remember why you’re mad at me?” I tease, my hand rubbing circles on her soft skin.

  “No,” she grunts. “But I’m still calling you Ralph.”

  “Okay,” I say, smiling into her hair. “I deserve it.” She moves her hips an inch and I groan at the beautiful contact. “Going somewhere?”

  Yes, apparently. She disengages suddenly and studies me.

  “What?”

  She shakes her head. “You still get to me. I don’t know what it is that makes you so appealing.”

  “Clean living.” I fall back onto the pillows with a happy sigh. “I swear I have plenty of stamina. I just need a little rest before I can prove it.” I open my arms. “Come here.”

  She only hesitates for a second before joining me on the pillows.

  My arms close around her, and now I have everything I need.

  Delilah

  In the morning, I wake up to the sound of texts hitting my phone, one after the other. Becky, I realize as my eyes fly open. She and I were supposed to have breakfast. Whoops!

  She’ll forgive me when she learns why I’m not available.

  Beside me, Silas rolls over. He opens one eye, shuts it again, and then smiles at me with his eyes closed. And my poor stupid heart melts a little further. He looks so boyish right now. So cute.

  He catches my feet with his under the covers, and then drapes a sleepy hand onto my hip. “Morning,” he mumbles, as if this were a perfectly normal way to wake up together.

  I don’t even have words for some of the ways we touched last night.

  “Morning,” I repeat, as my phone dances a jig on the bedside table. “Sorry. Let me tell Becky that I’m not coming to breakfast.”

  “Mmm, breakfast,” he says with a happy sigh. “Want to go out and get some greasy diner food? We need sustenance.”

  He’s not wrong. There was a round two in the shower. And a round three on the side of the bed.

  But I don’t answer him for a second, because I’m texting Becky. Go without me. Still busy here.

  OMG! she manages to text back before I shut the phone all the way down.

  “Sorry, you were saying?” I turn my attention back to the sleepy hunk in my bed. And—wow—in the daylight he’s even more impressive, crazy bedhead and all.

  “Pancakes and bacon?” He yawns. “No—bagels and salmon. And coffee.” His stomach actually rumbles audibly.

  “Well, going out to eat with me isn’t that much fun,” I hedge.

  His eyes open all the way. “Do fans pester you?”

  Yes. “Sometimes. And I’m not in the mood for that right now.” Not to mention that Mr. Muscles would be sitting at the next table, eavesdropping.

  Usually there’s not much happening in my life to overhear. But the things that Silas and I say to each other are private. They’re not for anyone else’s ears. “How about I order room service?” I offer. “They have good bagels here. From H&H.” I sit up.

  “Okay,” he says easily, catching my hand. “Don’t be gone too long.”

  My poor heart can’t take this much niceness, I swear.

  I slip my hand out of his, grab a plush bathrobe out of the master bath, and order breakfast. When I get back, Silas is squinting at his phone with a
scowl on his face.

  “Something wrong?” I ask, sitting on the bed, smiling at him.

  He looks up at me and his expression softens. “You look so relaxed this morning.”

  “Are you looking for compliments?” I ask, giving him a poke in the hip.

  “No!” He snorts. “Just saying.” His phone buzzes on his chest. “Let me just tell my roommate I’m not dead.”

  “You have a roommate?” I flop back on the pillows, where his screen is visible to me.

  “Yeah. I actually have two at the moment, because his girlfriend moved in. Now there’s a long story…” He unlocks his phone and checks the messages.

  And—good lord—there are bunches. I swear, a dozen people are all pinging him. “Your phone is like LAX on a Friday night.”

  He sighs. “Teammates. They’re nosy.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, realizing that I’m being rude. “I won’t look over your shoulder.”

  “Hey, I don’t care.” He reaches up and tugs me back down again, arranging me under one arm. I never met anyone as tactile as him. He makes cuddling seem inevitable. “I don’t need to answer all of these, anyway. Let me just check this one.” He taps a face, which belongs to a woman named Georgia.

  I’m standing in your apartment and you’re not here, she writes.

  “Uh-oh,” Silas says.

  My stomach drops. “Who’s Georgia?” I ask. Could he have a girlfriend? It’s not like I asked.

  “My publicist—the one who set up the ball game.”

  “Does she always make house calls?”

  He must hear it in my voice, because he turns his head and studies me with those clear, guileless eyes. “We all live in the same building. It’s like a college dorm sometimes. It just didn’t occur to me that Georgia would show up looking for details at…” He checks the time on his phone. “Eight thirty in the morning.”

  “Oh,” I say as my face heats.

  “Yeah.” He reaches out to touch my cheek. “Sorry. She’s going to assume…” He starts to laugh.

  “Well, she’ll be right,” I point out.

  But he doesn’t answer Georgia’s message. He goes back to the main menu. “Georgia is married to Leo.” He points at another face, also with a pending message. Buddy have a great time at the ball game!

  “And my roommate Jason lives with this chick…” He points to a cute blonde woman who has also texted him this morning. “We’re like one giant, gossipy clan. But the only message I need to answer right now is my roommate’s.” He taps on Jason’s face.

  Okay, it’s midnight, Jason writes. Must be extra innings? Bad traffic? Heidi and I are wondering where you are.

  We both snicker.

  And then, an hour later: Dude, wow. I’m impressed. Way to make the date a success.

  “Oh man,” Silas says, while I laugh. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why? Because you have friends who pay attention? That’s kind of their job.” He has no idea how envious I am. Besides—if you want to know whether someone is a good guy, just look at his phone. If he has a dozen friends hazing him at once, then he is obviously loved.

  It’s a shame I didn’t figure that out a long time ago. All of Brett’s messages are from people who fear him or loathe him.

  Jason’s final text has a timestamp from a half hour ago. Wow, man. I didn’t know you were such a stud. A sleepover with your idol? Georgia is here looking for you. She and Heidi are laughing their butts off right now.

  Silas taps out a reply. Shut it down, will you? Can’t you just tell Georgia that I went out for an early run?

  The roommate replies immediately. Too late! He adds a laughing emoji. Georgia and Heidi are reading this over my shoulder.

  “Oh, Jesus.” Silas tosses the phone onto the nightstand again. “I’m never living this down. Totally worth it, though.” He encircles me with both arms.

  I tuck my face into his neck and sigh. It’s odd how comfortable he feels to me right now. I don’t feel as if I’m snuggling an acquaintance I haven’t seen for three years.

  “When am I seeing you again?” he asks me.

  And even I’m not cynical enough to pretend I’m not wondering, too. Not that seeing him again will be easy. “No idea. My life is such a mess right now.”

  “I know.” He strokes my hair. “But here’s the thing. I have six more weeks before training camp starts again. I can travel any time before mid-August. After that, I’m unavailable, except in New York, roughly on alternate weeks.”

  “How do you spend the summers?” I ask, realizing I know so little about his life.

  “Well, I always fly out to Cali and visit my mom. But I did that the week after we got knocked out of the playoffs. Then usually the single guys rent a cottage somewhere, for golf or hiking or whatever. But this year we’re all going to a destination wedding instead.”

  “You visit your mom…in Darlington Beach?” I ask. The idea gives me a chill, because I’ve made frequent visits to Darlington Beach, too. Has he been right there under my nose before?

  “She lives inland, now,” he says, his big hand flattening on my back. “I haven’t been back to Darlington Beach for more than a couple hours.”

  “Oh.” Still. Even a single glimpse of him will always affect me. I know that now. “Want to hear something funny? I’m headlining the Darlington Beach music festival this year.”

  He laughs, and the sound echoes under my ear. “Of course you are. How long will you be in town? Maybe I could arrange to be there at the same time.”

  “It’s not until August,” I point out.

  “Ah. You’re right. If you give me the dates I could try, though.”

  I kiss his neck. He makes a happy sound, so I do it again. Lying here with him makes me feel like a different Delilah—a sweeter, less crabby one.

  A hopeful one.

  He rolls to his side so he can see me, and his eyes are already smiling. “Does this mean I can finally have your phone number?”

  For about a half a second I contemplate teasing him. But I can’t do it. “Sure. Grab your phone,” I say, turning to reach for mine.

  “Sure, she says. Finally.”

  I smile, although I can’t help wondering what life would be like if I’d given it to him years ago. When I refused him before, I was so sure I was protecting myself from confusion and heartache.

  Joke’s on me!

  “What’s your number?” I ask, and he rattles off a 646 number.

  Hi, I text him.

  He texts me back a heart emoji.

  Is there an emoji for a heart exploding? Because I think I need it. “You’re going into my phone as Ralph,” I warn him.

  “I’m fine with that,” he says, putting his phone back on the bedside table. “So long as you call me Silas the next time I’m inside you.” He punctuates this thought by reaching between the halves of my hotel bathrobe and cupping my breast.

  And my body is instantly like one big heart emoji. He smiles, as if he can read my thoughts.

  There’s a knock on the door. “Room service!”

  “Aw.” Silas laughs. “That was fast. But it’s probably for the best. You must be a little sore.”

  It’s true. But I wouldn’t even care. I straddle him and kiss his forehead. “Would you pull on your shorts and get the food?”

  “Of course, girly. But you have to move your hiney off me first.”

  I move away, hiding my smile. I just love the way Silas speaks to me—as if we’re back at Roadie Joe’s. As if I’m still wearing an ironic T-shirt, and he’s cutting up limes. Those were golden hours, and I didn’t understand how special they were.

  Silas departs for the living room, whistling, wearing shorts and nothing else. I admire the muscles in his back as he crosses the thick carpet and answers the door. And I step out of sight, because I don’t want to show off my sex hair to the hotel staff.

  “Just leave it here on the table,” Silas says.

  “Can I take this away for you?” a voic
e inquires, probably in reference to our discarded takeout containers from last night.

  “Oh, would you? Thanks a lot. You have a nice day.” He speaks to the porter the way everyone should—like he’s done that job himself before, and he remembers how it is. But then I hear him say, in a different voice, “What are you looking at?”

  It’s Mr. Muscles’s murmur that follows.

  “Do me a favor? Delete my ID from your phone after I leave in an hour.”

  I can’t hear my bodyguard’s reply.

  The door closes again. “Breakfast is served,” Silas calls out.

  I show myself. “What was that about?” I whisper.

  “Nothing,” he mouths. “Coffee?”

  “That’s for you. This is for me.” I pluck a sealed bottle of orange juice off the tray. “And this is for you.” There’s another glass, this one with a paper hat as its only cover. “Fresh squeezed.”

  He looks from his juice to mine. “Still opening all your own bottles?”

  “Habit,” I say, popping the lid off of mine. Although we both know that phobia is more accurate.

  He watches me take a sip, but he doesn’t say anything more about it. He sits down on the sofa with his glass, and pats the cushion beside him.

  “Can’t believe I have to fly out this morning. I’ll have to leave here in forty-five minutes.” I put a hand on his knee and squeeze. Not like it’s easy. His leg muscles are like iron.

  He covers my hand with his. “What’s your least favorite airport?” he asks. “Let’s compare notes.

  “Boston!” I say immediately. “And Fort Lauderdale.”

  “I dislike Chicago, myself,” he says. “Bagel?” He hands me a plate with an easy smile.

  And I fall for him a little harder.

  Delilah

  On the flight home, I’m all keyed up inside.

  “I say this with love,” Becky starts from the generously sized seat beside mine. “Stop tapping your heel or I’ll throw those shoes into the first-class toilet.”

  My feet go silent for a minute or two, but then start up again when I return to thinking about Brett and his stupid meeting.

  I have to get my songs back from that man. I just don’t know how.