Scored (23 page)

“Keep still,” he said. “Or I’ll tie you to the damn thing.”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

Sweat prickled on my flesh as he peeled down my thong. I was humming for him. Desperate for the first touch of his fingers on my needy body.

“Wider,” he said, using his foot to encourage my legs apart.

God, I was so open to him. So exposed and vulnerable.

“Yes, that’s it, let’s see if you’ve been thinking dirty thoughts, shall we?” He ran his finger down the groove between my cheeks, over the puckered skin of my anus and into my folds. “Ah, you’re so wet. Fuck, I can smell your arousal.”

“Really, over your sweat?”

He grunted. “Yeah, honey, even over my sweat. You really want it, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

I shoved my hips backward, hoping to impale myself on his fingers. He obliged and penetrated me knuckle deep, his deft fingertips stroking my G-spot.

I screwed my eyes shut and sighed. The filling sensation was wonderful as was the pressure. But it only lasted a moment, because then he pulled out.

“No,” I whimpered.

“Shh, this is what you really want.” The head of his cock prodded at my hot, wet entrance. “Tell me, Nicky, is this what you want?”

“Fuck yes. Please. Fuck me.”

“Because you asked so nicely.” He tightened his hold on me and rammed in.

I cried out but the sound was cut off by Lewis pressing his hand over my mouth. “Shh,” he said. “The windows are open.”

Nodding, I bit down on my lip and tried to straighten. He let go of my mouth and pushed my back harder, so I was much more than ninety degrees over the chaise. The position of his cock inside me shifted. From this angle he was penetrating me deeper than ever. It was wonderful.

“Ah, yeah, that feels so good. Is it good for you?”

“Yes, yes,” I managed “So good.”

He gripped my hips, tight, pulled out and steamed back in. I jerked forward, my hair flapping around my face and my breasts jolting. He repeated the action over and over. The brutal fucking was gloriously carnal. I was at his mercy—again.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “You look incredible like this, taking me so deep into your pretty pussy.”

I couldn’t answer. The air was being knocked from me with the force of his thrusts.

“So deep, so hot. Fuck, you’re amazing, perfect. Ah, don’t take long, will you.”

Releasing my grip on the chaise, I reached between my legs and sought out my clit. Rubbed and fretted, combined the growing sensation with the pressure forming in my pussy. The orgasm racing toward me was like a freight train out of control; it threatened to de-rail me. I let my body hang limply, held up by Lewis and the chaise. I couldn’t support myself, not when a wild storm was about to blast through me.

“That’s it, touch yourself. Just how you want it,” he said in a deep, growling voice.

“Lewis, please, don’t stop. I’m so…nearly…there.”

“Just keep it quiet. We don’t want anyone running in to see who I’m murdering.”

“Okay…okay,” I panted then bit down on my lip.

He grabbed my hair, scooped it into a rough ponytail and tugged, hard, extending my spine and neck. The extra sensation sent me spinning into ecstasy. My pussy erupted and my clit shot burning fingers of bliss to every corner of my body.

But I didn’t shout out. I internalized my delight, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood. My spine was arched like a bow string. My pussy spasming and thumping around his cock.

“Fuck, I can feel you coming, squeezing my dick,” he said and gave one almighty thrust that lifted my feet from the ground and tipped me almost over the chaise. I had to use both hands to stop myself from flying forward. Though in reality Lewis had such a tight hold on me, my hair and my hip, I was going nowhere.

“Ah, ah, yes, oh yes.” He groaned and warmth gushed inside me. High, deep in my core.

He released my hair. I tipped forward and struggled to catch my breath. Opened my eyes and was disoriented for a moment by my upside down world.

“Bloody hell, come here,” he said, turning me and lifting me into his arms.

I locked my fingers behind his neck and hung on. My knees were weak; there was a definite shake in my thighs.

“That was fucking incredible,” he said, kissing me.

I kissed him back, enjoying the fact that I was sweaty too.

“I don’t think I will ever get enough of feeling you orgasm while I’m deep inside you. It feels amazing.”

“I agree.”

A frown plowed across his forehead. “Is it really?”

“Yes, absolutely.” The mud on his cheek was beginning to liquefy. “Come on, let’s shower. You’re dirty in the literal sense.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. You were irresistible.”

“I aim to please.”

He waggled his brows. “You most certainly succeeded.”

I led him into the en-suite and flicked on the water. By the time I’d stripped off my negligee he was naked but looking decidedly patchy with streaks of the training pitch spread over him like licks of paint.

“Come on, I’ll soap you down.”

“That sounds too good an invitation to refuse.”

I stepped into the curtain of steaming water and he followed. He reached for me but I batted his hands away. “You need cleaning up, Mr. Tate, so keep still.”

He frowned but did as I asked. I filled up a washcloth with hotel shower gel, rubbed it until the froth over-spilled my hands then wiped it over his chest, his neck and his cheek, carefully removing the mud and grime. His skin shone, and the suds collected in his chest hair, the hair on his belly and his groin. With gentle strokes I cleaned the graze on his arm. Not that he appeared to notice he was injured. He just stood very still, watching me closely.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” he asked eventually.

“What do you mean?”

“If we fuck wildly like that. It’s only a turn-on for me if I you enjoy it too.”

“Yes I enjoy it plenty.”

“It’s just…”

“What?”

“It’s just I’ve always had a good appetite for sex. Not that I am a lothario or a player or anything. But when I like someone, a lot, it just seems to flick a switch in me. I want to fuck. I want to give and receive pleasure and sometimes it just takes over the moment. I would hate myself if I hurt you.”

He suddenly looked vulnerable and I realized he was bearing his soul to me. A deep part of himself that I was sure few people had been lucky enough to see. “I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. A few years back I was in a relationship. Nice guy, too nice really. Sex was okay, but not exactly exciting. One day I said to him, just grab me and fuck me, I won’t break and…” I hesitated. I hadn’t spoken to anyone about this before.

“And what?”

“He looked at me like I was weird or something. As if I’d just confessed to some crazy kink or fetish. But all I really wanted was to be with someone who wasn’t afraid of passion, of taking what they wanted and could understand that I wasn’t a china doll.” I shrugged. “We never made love again and split up a couple of weeks later.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not, we were hardly compatible, not like…”

“Us.”

“Yeah, not like us.” I filled my hand up with shampoo. “Turn around.”

He did and I reached up and lathered his hair until it was thick with bubbles. Carefully, I let all the strands run through my fingers before rinsing the froth away and smoothing it down his neck.

“Thank you,” he said, turning and tugging me close. “No one has ever cared for me like that before after a hard training session.”

The next two days passed in a whirr of sex and delicious food, sex and bathing, sex and sleeping. I was immersed in my own erotic fairytale.

But, of course, it had to end and now I was alone in the Presidential Suite. England had won their match against the Ukraine and the squad had left straight for Kiev to get themselves ready for the quarterfinals. Lewis had, however, booked the suite for an extra night, for me, so I could sleep here after the press conference. I wasn’t in hiding any longer. I was just a regular guest staying in the best room in the building.

Phil was collecting me the next day for the return trip to Kiev. Although the journey was a pain it was thrilling to be through to the knockout stages of the tournament.

The suite was strange without Lewis. So many memories had been made in just a few short hours. Sexy, fun, indulgent memories that would stay with me for as long as I lived. I took a last look around. Smiled fondly at the chaise and wondered if I could squeeze one into my flat somewhere. Glanced at the four-poster and the wooden pillars that had held me secure as Lewis had taken me to Heaven and back. I picked my purse up from the dining room table. Looked at the polished wood and remembered how it had steamed up when we’d fucked on it in the middle of dinner the night before.

My body tingled and a shot of pleasure buzzed through my pussy. I tried to beat it down. The competition had hotted up and chances of Lewis and I actually getting together were slim to none over the next few weeks. Still, at least we would see each other at the press conference in four day’s time and he said he’d call me each evening if he could.

I grabbed my case and wheeled it toward the hallway. Phil would be in the lobby in ten minutes. I ought to get going.

Bang. Bang.

I froze. Someone was at the door.

I walked to it in silence. Peered through the spy hole.

A big brown eye stared straight back at me.

“Nicky. Is that you? Open up?”

Shit. It was Phil.

“Nicky. I just saw your eye. Let me in.”

I slipped the chain and pulled it open.

“Bloody hell,” he said. “I was early and thought I’d come and carry your case. The girl at reception said you were in the Presidential Suite. What the fuck? You just won the lottery or something?” He stepped in and looked around, eyes wide, mouth a perfect ‘O’. “Blimey, shaft me sideways, this is amazing.”

“Yes, it is nice.” Damn I knew it had been a mistake for Lewis to give reception my full name. But he’d insisted in case of an emergency.

“How come you’re in this posh pad?” He touched a gold-gilded frame and peered into the huge living area.

“Oh, you know, just one of those things.”

“No, I don’t bloody know. How come I’ve been in some flea-invested dump when you’ve been living like the queen?”

“Well it was only for one night. My bathroom, er, flooded. The hotel was very apologetic and moved me into their last available room, which just happened to be this one.”

“Wow, talk about lucky.” He was in the bedroom now, nosing about. “You should have called me, I would have come over. We could have partied like rock stars, baby.” He laughed and grabbed an apple out the fruit bowl. Bit into it.

“Yes, I suppose I should have. But it was late. After the match and the PR stuff, I was beat. I just crashed.”