by G. , Whitney
As if his desire was to tease me—to give me a sample of how good he would be, he slowly licked his lips before leaning down and sucking my right nipple into his mouth.
He darted his tongue against it in a slow, yet firm rhythm—turning me on with so much ease that he could probably make me orgasm that way.
“I want you to fuck me slower and with your mouth,” I said, finally. “That’s what’s I want.”
“Good girl.” He pushed me back onto the mattress.
Moving on top of me, he kissed a scorching hot trail of kisses between my breasts, then he took his time moving his mouth down to my stomach.
Then lower …
He was staring at me with every move he made, silently demanding me to submit as he tightly grabbed my ankles.
When he blew a long kiss against my clit, I damn near lost it.
He teased me with another one, sliding two fingers deep inside of me and pushing me into a zone of pleasure I’d never ventured to before.
“I want you to look at me, Penelope,” he said. “Look at me while I eat your pussy.”
I opened my eyes, and he smiled. Then he blew a soft, warm kiss against my inner thigh.
Without any warning, he spat directly onto my clit, and I gasped at the sight of him burying his head between my thighs and devouring me—rendering me utterly useless.
Fuck. “Hayden…” I gripped his hair and screamed as he controlled my entire body with his mouth. As he owned me like no man had ever done before.
“Ahhhh.” I clawed my nails into his shoulders, but he didn’t respond to the pain. He only responded by devouring me more.
The tremors inside of me were building, building, and building as he kept the same dominant tempo. My body was reacting more to him, than to my pleas to hold on just a little longer.
As he darted his tongue against my clit at just the right angle—just the right spot, I lost all control.
“Oh godddd, Haydennnn!” I screamed his name at the top of my lungs as I reached an orgasms and came in his mouth.
He didn’t let me go. He he continued rolling his tongue against my pussy for several minutes after, until I’d completely stopped shaking.
When he finally stood to his feet, I lay against the mattress, panting and sweating, trying to come down from a high I’d never experienced before.
The sound of running water suddenly filled the room, and it took all my energy to sit up a bit.
Hayden returned to the bedroom and stared into my eyes. “You’re fucking gorgeous when you come. Do know that?”
I blushed. All sense of conversation was eluding me at this moment.
I motioned for him to lay next to me, and he shook his head.
“I’m not done with you,” he said, moving on top of me. “I’m just getting started.”
He covered my lips with his, pulling me under his spell, and I became lost in him all over again.
For the rest of the night, he explored every inch of me—bringing me to orgasm after orgasm. Never letting up, never letting go.
Twenty-Eight
Present Day
Hayden
When I woke up in the morning, Penelope was no longer in my arms.
Her dress from the gala lay in a silk pool on the floor, and my shirt was hanging from the window sill.
I sat up, slightly confused.
She’d come in my mouth multiple times—screaming my name so loudly that I had to press my palm against her mouth so none of her neighbors would hear.
The look in her eyes when we were entwined, when I was buried deep inside of her, was something I’d never forget.
I was still replaying the way she looked the moment she stepped inside the ballroom, how every man she passed did a not-so-subtle double take. How I knew, the moment her eyes met mine, that I wasn’t letting her leave with Simon.
Every move she made with him on the dance floor cut me, confirming what I’d felt for the past several weeks.
Years, even.
And because I knew her down to her marrow, I could tell that she was going to fight like hell to run away from this.
Twenty-Nine
Present Day
Penelope
“Come on, come on.” I pushed the fire escape window as hard as I could, but it wasn’t budging. “Please.”
I needed to breathe. Then I needed to analyze every single second of last night, preferably someplace alone before Hayden woke up.
“Need some help?” His deep voice was suddenly behind me.
“No.” I jumped, but I didn’t turn around. “I’m fine.”
He kissed the back of my neck and stepped in front of me anyway, pushing it open with ease.
“Thank you.” I started to step out, but he slipped an arm around my waist and spun me around to face him.
Bare chested and wearing his pants from the night before, he was turning me on all over again with ease.
“Want to talk about it?” He smiled.
“I don’t think there’s anything to say.” I crossed my arms. “We were drunk and we got carried away.”
“I was one hundred percent sober.”
So was I. “Well, I wasn’t, so … ”
“So, what?”
“I’m willing to forget all about it and act like it never happened if you are.”
He let out a low laugh and picked me up in one smooth motion, carrying me out onto the fire escape. He gently set me down on the iron and trailed his finger against my exposed collarbone.
“Coffee?” he asked.
“Yes, please.”
He disappeared for several minutes, and I tried to focus on the slow trudge of morning traffic below.
When he returned, he was holding a blanket and two huge mugs.
Taking a seat next to me, he wrapped the blanket around my shoulders.
We sat in silence while we sipped our coffee, and I struggled to find something to say. I felt him staring at me, watching my every move and waiting to look his way, but I kept my gaze toward the cars.
“I can’t wait to see what gala picture Page Six and Sinful Suit pick for their front covers this weekend. My money is on one of you standing under the awning of lights. Either that, or you giving your usual grand speech after the fireworks.”
“I didn’t give a speech after the fireworks this time,” he said.
“What?” I finally faced him. “Why not?”
“There was something far more important that I needed to address.”
Silence.
“Lawrence and Sarah gave the speech on my behalf,” he said. “I’m sure they did fine without me.”
“Did any photogs follow you here?” I was suddenly paranoid for the first time. “What if—”
“No one saw me leave.” He assured me. “And I drove Lawrence’s car here. He didn’t ask me any questions when I told him I needed to go.”
“Did you tell him why?”
“I think he knew.”
“I can’t do a friends with benefits thing with you.” I couldn’t help but blurt out the words. “That’s just not for me. I’m sorry.”
“Penelope …” He sighed, tilting my chin up with my fingertips. “I meant every word that I said to you last night. I want to be with you, and you belong with me. No one else. Don’t you believe me?”
Tell him that last night was just a heat of the moment mistake.
“It wasn’t a heat of the moment mistake,” he said, reading me easily. “What else are you thinking?”
“You’re my best friend,” I said. “Like, my best fucking friend, and even if I do believe you, I can’t vet you like I do with anyone else and that scares the hell out of me.”
“Okay.” He trailed a finger against my lips. “Let’s vet me, then. Tell me the pros and cons of being in a relationship with the guy you were with last night.”
“I can’t think of any pros right now.”
“Then tell me the cons.”
“He’s never been in a monogamous relations
hip.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s incapable of being faithful.”
“You’re not supposed to take his side,” I said. “You have to let me finish and stay neutral.”
“Okay.” He brushed a few stray hairs from my forehead. “Give me the next one.”
“This guy is close friends with my brother, and my brother wouldn’t approve of me dating him at all.”
“I don’t see why you would suddenly have the need to tell your brother anything. It’s none of his business.”
“You think I should wait until the wedding?”
“Since when did the guy in question ask you to marry him?” He smirked. “I believe he only wants to be your boyfriend. Next con.”
“He’s famous.”
“That’s a fact, not a con.”
“I wouldn’t want to deal with the press hounding me or making up rumors just because I was dating him.”
“I think the press would continue to assume that there’s nothing going on,” he said. “It’s not like the guy we’re talking about would ever touch you in public. No matter how badly he wants to. Is there another con?”
“I’m just terrified of getting hurt.” I looked into his eyes. “I can’t stress that enough. If you hurt me, I have no other best guy friend to talk about the breakup with, and I lose everything.”
“I can promise you that won’t ever happen,” he said. “Now that we’re done with the cons, allow me to list out the pros for you.”
I opened my mouth to interject, but he pressed a finger against my lips.
“One, I know you better than any other guy you’ve ever dated.”
“You didn’t know about Simon or the voodoo doll.”
“Only one of those things will ever be discussed again.” He held back a laugh. “Two, I’m not going to watch you date any other guys.”
“That sounds like more of a threat than a pro.”
“It’s a guarantee.” He kissed my forehead. “Three, I think that deep down you want me as much as I want you, and that we can work very well together.”
“I only think that there’s a chance.”
“All the more reason that you should give it to me.”
“Three pros?” I asked. “That’s all you have?”
“It’s not like too much would change between us, Penelope.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “We talk to each other every day already, and we see each other whenever we want.”
“We weren’t having sex before.”
“And I never want to know what that’s like again.” He smiled. “I promise I won’t hurt you, Penelope. Give me a chance.”
I stared at him for several seconds, not saying a word.
“Penelope?” He looked concerned. “What do you say?”
“Okay.”
“Okay yes, or okay you need to think about it?”
“Okay, it depends on how good the next round of sex is.” I smiled. “I’m not sure if it’s as good as I remember.”
“Fair enough.” He laughed and clasped my hands, pulling me up against him. “Quick question. You really never thought about sex with me until you saw my leaked pictures?”
“Seriously? That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”
“I’m just curious.”
“Yes, Hayden.” I only managed to get a few words out before he assaulted me with another kiss. “That was my first time …”
Break Up #13
The One That Was Someone Else
Penelope
Back Then
“What I’m about to say is highly inappropriate, so I’ll deny it if you try to repeat it later.” My coach places his hands on my shoulders and looks deep into my eyes. “You’re sucking ass out there.”
“You gave me a perfect score thirty minutes ago.”
“To see if that would inspire some life into your performance.” He shook his head. “You’re not getting any better, so I’m giving you the spoiler: You’re going to lose tomorrow morning, and some other girl will be standing at the top of that podium. ”
I bite my tongue to prevent myself from saying something sarcastic. “I’m really doing the best I can, Coach.”
“No, this is your worst.” He scoffs. “You’re out there skating like you’ve never been fucked before.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
“I said what I said.” He shrugs. “You had the audacity to tell me that you’re on the chase for twenty-eight championships so you can beat your late mother’s record? Well, I hate to break it to you, but you’re eight short, and if you want to even think about achieving that, you can’t afford to lose for two years.”
My blood boils as he berates me in front of my competition.
Before I can tell him that I’m done listening to him for the day, he lowers his voice and softens his tone.
“You’re the best damn singles skater that I’ve ever had the honor of training, but you have to want this shit more than I want it for you, and you can’t cut corners … Even if you have more talent than anyone else.”
I want to tell him that I’m trying my best, but deep down I know that’s not true. I’ve been on auto-pilot ever since Canada.
I’ve done my best to forget about wasting my first time on an asshole, and I’ve spun through a few other first dates—landing on a guy who believes in romance for a change, but my skating has hit a robotic, complacent plateau.
“You want to continue reigning at number one?” My coach interrupts my thoughts. “You want to cement your legacy as only here to get first place and being the best skater to hit the ice since they invented this goddamn sport?”
“Yes.”
“Then tomorrow morning, I want to see you go out there and shut your eyes. Dig deep into your best thoughts of you and your boyfriend Francis—”
“Frankie. His name is Frankie.”
“Really? That name is even worse than Francis.” He shudders. “Anyway, go out there and pretend like every move is a passionate plea for Frankie when he’s making love to you. Get the hell out of my sight until then.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Skate America,” a loud voice comes through the speakers at Washington Arena in the morning.
Far across from me, in the front row, Frankie is wearing a bright blue “Go Penelope!” sweatshirt. Several rows behind him, Hayden is attracting the attention of every woman in a hundred feet radius as usual, but his eyes are locked on mine.
He waves, mouthing, “Travis says sorry he couldn’t be here. Raincheck?”
I wave back. “It is what it is.”
Frankie blows me a kiss, and I smile and hold onto it—not wanting that to get misdirected. Ever.
For half an hour, I watch my competitors dance on the ice with my heart locked in my throat.
It’s as if they’ve all noticed my slight slump into complacency, and they’ve raised the bar in hopes of finally dethroning me.
Especially Tatiana Brave.
When it’s my turn, I glide to the center and shut my eyes.
Think about Frankie. Be passionate about Frankie.
An instrumental version of “Time After Time” sifts through the speakers, and I push off backwards—launching into my routine.
My light blue skirt flutters as I spin around on the ice, as I jump into a triple axel, and again when I complete a double lutz. Instead of following my already-challenging program to the letter, I replace every double jump with a triple salchow or the ever-elusive quad that’s always come so easily to me.
Gasps from the crowd fill the arena with my every move, and I keep picturing Frankie kissing in my bedroom, him slowly pulling off my clothes and making love to me.
I know without a doubt that every move is perfect, that by the time the song ends and I complete a final Hamill spin that I haven’t made a single mistake.
Except when I finish and the crowd—judges included, are standing to their feet and clapping, I realize that it’s not Frankie who I was envisioning making love to
me.
It was Hayden.
Thirty
Present Day
Hayden
Boston, Massachusetts
If it weren’t for the fact that I was adamant about keeping my promises, I would’ve spent the rest of my weekend in bed with Penelope instead of chartering a mid-day flight to Boston.
Alas, this date was set months in advance, and I’d always agreed to show up to the opening ceremonies for Travis’s chain of workout gyms. It was something that ensured that even in our busiest years, we scheduled the time to support each other.
By the time my plane landed and the town car whisked me down Newbury Street, I was twenty minutes late.
I rode a private elevator to the top floor of the building, finding the usual suits already lined up for the photo.
Forcing a smile at the anxious press, I took my place right next to Travis.
“Thank you for blessing us all with your presence today,” he muttered. “So glad that I’m worthy of your time.”
“You’re not,” I said. “I’d much rather be in New York.”
He laughed. “Penelope said she was coming, but apparently she’s too sick to make it.”
No, she’s too sore to make it. “I’ll check on her when I get back.”
“Thank you.”
“On the count of three, say, ‘Congratulations on location number seven, Mr. Carter,’ everyone!” The photog saved me from letting that conversation go anywhere else.
“One … two … three!”
“Congratulations on location number seven, Mr. Carter!”
Everyone smiled as Travis held a pair of oversized scissors above a red ribbon.
With the photogs trailing our every move, we walked around the gym and posed for perfectly curated shots for the next hour and a half.
“Which penthouse suite did you book for the weekend?” Travis tossed me a free weight after they snapped the final picture.
