Clean Point

36 Scottie

36

peace – Taylor Swift

‘Coming!’ I shouted, answering the knock at the door of my hotel room. I’d been midway rushing to dry my hair after a long, hot bath to help relax my tight muscles from the match earlier today.

The game was more gruelling on my body that I could ever remember, and since I was playing double the number of matches – taking part in both the singles and the doubles – my body was beginning to suffer. I felt like I should have dark bruises where my body felt strained.

There was a second demanding thump at the door, and I toyed with the idea of leaving it a moment longer, to annoy whoever was so impatient they couldn’t wait another goddamn minute.

Instead, I relented, hair dried, but unstyled, and opened the door, forgetting to look through the peephole to check who it was. I should be used to the stern and stormy angular face of Nico Kotas, his jaw locked so tight I could feel the strain in my own, but somehow it felt an age since I’d been on this side of his irritation. And even worse, at the very sight of him, even the grumpy version of him, my body still ached to melt into his, see if his body heat was enough to help ease those knots in my muscles.

‘I swear, I was on my way down,’ I lied, knowing I was at least fifteen minutes late to meet him at the bar.

‘Did you even check the peephole before opening the door?’ His question caught me off guard, my head pulling back.

‘No? You were a very insistent knocker.’

‘I could’ve been anyone, just waiting for you to open the door.’

I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, confusion twisting as I caught sight of the glass of clear liquid in his hand, remembering our promise to Jon to keep on our best behaviour. ‘Well, Mr Dangerous Stalker Man, would you like to come in?’

He nodded without saying anything, and I moved to the side as he stepped into the plush room.

‘Is that for later?’ I joked, closing the door. As he reached the middle of the room, he turned around, confusion etched on his features. I looked down at his hand. ‘The drink?’

His body tensed as if to remember he was even holding it in the first place, before he stretched it out toward me. ‘I ordered it for you.’

Surprise washed over me as I took it from him, my fingers wrapping around the cool glass. I knew I was late, but he was acting like it was thirty instead of fifteen minutes. I raised the glass to my nose, taking in the orange scent.

‘Tequila old-fashioned,’ he answered without me needing to even ask. ‘That’s your drink, right?’

I grinned at him, taking in the moment before nodding. I looked around the room, although I already knew the answer. ‘We should get you something to drink. How else will we say cheers to our victory?’

He shook his head, body almost rigid, his shoulders pushed back. ‘I don’t think I need another drink.’

I hummed, drumming my fingers on the glass before placing it down. ‘Hold on a moment.’

I walked to the tea station in the corner of the room, finding a clean mug before dipping down to the mini fridge underneath. I turned to him for a moment, noticing that he’d sat down on the bench at the end of my bed.

Nico Kotas on the edge of my bed. What a dangerous thing.

‘Sparkling or still?’

His nose scrunched up at the thought. ‘Still, please.’ I pulled the bottle out and poured the clear liquid into the mug.

‘Thanks.’ He took the white mug from me, his longer fingers spaying around the porcelain, and I tried to push all the dirty thoughts down. Tried to forget how well Nico knew how to use those fingers in very sensitive places, how easily he had me desperate for him. I smiled, pretending there was nothing at all going on in my head, before taking my place next to him, my own drink back in hand.

‘I should offer you a coffee,’ I teased, nudging into his shoulder a little. ‘But then I’d have to tell you where I get it from.’

He huffed, the smallest smile creeping onto his lips. ‘You’re never going to let that one go, are you?’

I bit at my cheek, my broad smile spreading. ‘Cheers to us,’ I said, changing the subject and bringing my drink up to him. The storm on his face broke, and for a moment, like a ray of sunshine peeking through the dark clouds as his mug met mine, the dull clink of porcelain singing against my glass.

‘To us,’ he repeated, his dark eyes not leaving mine. I was mesmerized as the curve of his mouth grew, absentmindedly taking a sip, the sweet citrus agave notes dancing on my tongue. He lifted his mug and took a sip, his shoulders slackening as he relaxed.

All I could think about was the press of his lips against mine, the rub of his stubble, and why on earth we are here in my hotel room when we should’ve been downstairs.

‘Why are you here?’ I asked. ‘I know I was running late, but it was only fifteen minutes.’

His head dipped to the ground, the sunshine disappearing behind storm clouds.

‘I just …’ he trailed off, the line of his jaw going tight. His eyes pressed closed for a moment as he exhaled, as if still trying to calm himself. His grip on the mug tightened, his knuckles almost turning white. ‘I had to see you.’

I was confused for a moment. He had been with me all day, only taking a couple of hours to recover from the match. But then it dawned on me that something in those few hours, in those fifteen minutes, had gone wrong.

He was silent for a moment, his gaze lost somewhere across the hotel room instead of on me. ‘There was a man, a journalist, at the bar.’ He shook his head as a knot appeared in my gut. ‘He wouldn’t stop asking questions, kept saying … things.’

My mind raced with a thousand headlines, a thousand scandalous photos. I’d never regretted doing any of it and had enjoyed it, as a matter of fact. But I’d never considered there’d be somebody like Nico, somebody maybe worth being extra careful for.

My brows pressed together, trying to read the unfinished answers from his face. ‘What did he say?’

He paused, the bob of his throat swallowing as he tried to find the words. ‘He said things about you that I didn’t like. Not at all.’

His entire body was rigid, as if he was holding himself back from something, from storming back downstairs and making a terrible decision. Maybe another terrible decision.

‘Did you …’ I trailed off, almost afraid to finish the sentence. I could see him holding Jon to the wall. If he lost his temper like that again … this would be over. He’d be kicked out of the competition. I didn’t know how to do this without him anymore.

Didn’t want to, either.

I watched as he shook his head, his eyes dipping to the ground. ‘I didn’t do anything. I told him to stop, and I left.’

Relief washed over me in an instant. ‘And that’s all?’

‘I let him get under my skin, Scottie. I gave him what he wanted.’

I didn’t feel anything but sorry. Before me, he didn’t have any of this trouble. He didn’t have journalists hounding him in hotel bars, using me, my history, as a way to irritate him into a quote for their headlines. He wouldn’t know that peace again for as long as he was with me. Another reason to add to the endless list of reasons why ‘we’ were a terrible idea.

My eyes danced over his face, reading the regret, the annoyance across his features.

‘You walked away, right?’ I asked, before finishing the liquid in my glass. His eyes found me, and he simply nodded his head.

I didn’t break his gaze. ‘And you came here instead of doing anything?’

Came here. Found me. Needed me?

He nodded again.

And I couldn’t help myself as I placed the glass on the carpet floor, twisting around to face him. My left hand stretched across to his face, fingers tracing his rough jaw as I pulled his face toward mine. My lips found his, and I kissed him softly, my lips moving against his. I pulled away from him, taking a few millimetres of space, just enough to lift my gaze to meet his. His eyes were lighter, the storm settled.

‘That’s for not doing anything stupid.’

His answer was a hand tangled in my wavy hair, his fingers pulling me crashing back to him, his lips moving urgently against mine with need. My body melted into his as I swung a leg over his lap so I was sat on top of him, his head cradled in my palms. His other hand found my ass, squeezing and pulling me roughly against him.

His lips against mine, my hand on his jaw, the other travelling down and pulling at the edge of his T-shirt, needing more contact. Needing skin. I rocked against him, feeling his thickness pressing between my legs. I couldn’t stop myself as I ground down harder, feeling how perfect he felt against my centre. A moan escaped my lips, and I felt his mouth turn into a grin against mine.

His hand on my ass held me down as I ground again, keeping me hard against him. I moaned again, unable to stop myself. A blush burned on my cheeks, realizing how loud I was being. He pressed again, drawing another noise from me. I buried my head into the space where the wave of his muscled shoulder met his neck, my teeth nibbling lightly against the skin, muffling myself to stop the noise.

His hand on my hair pulled gently so that my head moved back, and my eyes met his again. There was no room for question when he spoke. ‘I fucking love the noises you make. It drives me wild. Be loud. Don’t you dare hide them away.’

With his eyes on mine, he guided my hips down across his length, watching me as my eyes rolled back. I moaned again, loudly this time, losing myself against him.

‘Good girl. Just like that.’ Warmth radiated up at me under the smug curve of his lips, the satisfied gleam in his eyes. ‘Do it again.’

His hips rolled up to meet mine. I moaned again, no longer holding myself back from him. Eventually, he lost his T-shirt, and I lost mine, my hands hauling it off, desperate to feel him against my skin. Chest to chest. My fingers running down his back, tracing his spine, nails digging into the skin as he continued to elicit all sorts of noises from me.

All at once I’d had enough, needing more and too tempted by the promise of the bulge I felt straining against his shorts. I pushed up to my feet, leaving him looking dishevelled, topless with his hair all out of place from my hands, his face full of the same unhinged desperation I felt.

I dropped to my knees, my hand instantly finding the buttons of his shorts, pulling the fly open, fingers pulling at the edges. ‘Take them off,’ I demanded with a hungry smile.

A small laugh escaped him before he did what I said, his hands pushing the material from his raised hips, sliding them down his legs. My hands found his, pulling them the rest of the way. He moved to his briefs, his thumbs tucking under the black Calvin Kleins. But I stopped him.

‘Let me,’ I said on a breath, wanting the delicious privilege of unwrapping him. His smile was a lopsided thing, almost awestruck from seeing me on my knees in front of him.

My hands replaced his, toying with the black elastic, slipping under and feeling the delicate, soft skin where his sculpted stomach met his waist, rolling over the strong bone of his hips. I hooked my fingers and dragged the material down. Slowly. Carefully. Tanned skin gave way to inches of hard, thick flesh. Once free, it sprung back, hitting his belly button.

I swallowed involuntarily, eyes racking up his length. It was a struggle to concentrate on the rest of my task, but I pulled his briefs over his muscular thighs, over the fresh scar on his knee. Then I met his eyes with a grin, and enthusiastically tossed them across the room.

My fingers went to his knee, running to the top of the long red scar. He flinched as I grazed the top of it, and I almost jumped back myself.

‘Sorry!’ The apology fell out of me as I looked back at him. ‘Does that still hurt?’

‘No.’ He shook his head before the lump in his throat bobbed as he swallowed. Despite clearing his throat, his voice still had a hoarse edge when he spoke. ‘You caught me by surprise.’

‘Is it okay if I touch it?’ His only answer was a silent nod, a comforting smile, and a heated gaze. I leaned forward, my lips coming to the top of the scar, and I kissed, leaving a trail down the length of the healed skin. This scar allowed him to be here. It was the reason we eventually met each other. It brought him to me.

His breathing turned deep, the rise and fall of his chest growing, his fingers softening in my hair as if to comfort me. I met his gaze again, checking that he was still okay with this. His expression was so full of awe, so soft. I didn’t think I’d ever felt that special to somebody.

My attention returned as I licked and sucked and kissed my way from his knee, up the inside of his thigh, tracing the thick curve and dip of muscle, all the way to the monster standing at attention in between his legs.

His eyes tracked my every move. Watched as I wrapped my hand around his cock, as I ran my tongue up the length, tasted him like he had tasted me. I kept my eyes on him too, watched arousal wash over him, and saw the moment all control slipped from him as I ran my lips and tongue along his length.

‘Do you like that?’ I asked as if I didn’t already know, teasing and keeping him on the edge. His head fell back, and a breathless moan escaped him as I tried to work my mouth downward, sucking and bobbing, determined to take as much as I could.

His hand rested on my head, knotting in my hair as he used it as leverage, helping me to keep a rhythm and encouraging me to take him deeper. I ignored the tears rising to my eyes, turned mindless with the one sole task at hand, desperate for more of his cock in my mouth, wanting to match that pleasure he had given me.

His hips started to move, his grip in my hair turning tighter as he began to fuck my mouth. I moaned around him, clenching my own thighs together as I grew hungry and impatient for my own pleasure.

‘Look at you,’ he said, his hips bucking, my hand at the base as he reached the back of my throat. ‘So pretty choking on me.’

He delicately brushed the curls of my hair that had slipped into my face, moving them away and taking them in his other hand. His fingers returned to my cheek, wiping away tears that had escaped me.

‘Look at me.’ My eyes met his, and that astonished look was erased from his face. ‘Can I fuck that pretty mouth? Will you be still for me, my love?’

His touch was so soft as I pulled back, preparing myself and switching gears. Then I nodded.

‘Relax your jaw.’ The words were a whisper, so gently spoken as I readied myself for him. ‘Tap my thigh if you want me to stop. Just once, and I’ll stop.’

Then, with his hand on my head, he pushed my head down on his length and I took it greedily as he pulled me back up and down, fucking his length with my mouth.

‘You feel so good,’ he rasped, pulling me deeper and deeper. ‘I’m so lucky. You make me feel so fucking lucky. So good for me.’

I pressed my legs together, feeling how fucking wet I was between my thighs, growing desperate and hungry as he continued to use me. I moaned around his length, enjoying it.

‘You love this, don’t you? Taking my cock in that good girl mouth? It’s driving me insane. I can see it now, you cleaning me up after I fuck you. Tasting yourself. And believe me, love, you taste so fucking good.’

His words kept me going, turning me on so much that my body felt overheated and tight, every muscle aching, begging for release. Tears streamed down my cheeks, not just with the roughness but from the want building, the impossible need for release that my body was begging for.

And then he stopped, pulling my mouth from him. My jaw ached, but I wasn’t complaining. His hand released my hair, and gently he brushed away my tears, rubbed around my swollen lips, and wiped me clean.

‘You are fucking perfect for me.’ With his eyes on mine, pride washed over me as he held my face in both hands. Rough and gentle. Nico Kotas was a potent mix of the two.

‘Now crawl. Get on the bed. Face down.’

I smiled mischievously, my heartbeat pounding. ‘You want me to crawl?’

His hands were still on my face, rubbing gently, when he replied, ‘And I want to watch.’

I took a moment, still processing his words, before I dropped my leggings to the ground, and fell back to my knees. I looked up at him, taking in the delicious sight, the taste of him still on my lips. And then, on all fours, my hands met the carpeted floor and I crawled, pushing myself past him on the bench.

I made my way up to the bed, my aching, needy body keeping my pace slow, but it only served to tease him as I crawled nearly naked into position.

Face down. Ass up.

Nico followed, grabbing a condom from his wallet and coming up behind me as he rolled it on. His hands instantly finding my hips.

‘Fuck,’ he swore under his breath as his groan rubbed against my soaked centre, my body clenching at the contact. ‘You’ve been so good for me. Do you want your reward now?’

I could hardly answer as his arm curled around my thigh, finding my throbbing clit and patting it teasingly with his fingers, every touch sending shockwaves through my heated body.

‘Or do you want me to tease you more? Make you beg?’

His fingers tapped my clit harder, groans of pleasure my reply to his question.

‘I thought that might be your answer.’

And then his spare hand pulled at the hem of my lacy pants, even the friction of the material against my centre leaving me a moaning mess. He was slow, teasing as he pulled them over my ass and down my legs. All the while his fingers were still working against my pussy, wetness soaking down my thighs in anticipation.

As his hand tapped against my clit again, he spanked my ass, the pain and pleasure mixing. He did it again, the palm of his hand stinging against my sensitive cheek, but I was too lost in the feeling, in the indulgence of his touch.

‘Nico,’ I managed, through gasps for air for relief from the need building impossibly tight. ‘Please.’

‘Please what?’ He tapped again against my clit. ‘What do you need? More teasing?’ He thrust his hips forward, so his length rubbed between my legs from behind, the tease of his cock driving all possible responses from my brain. ‘Use your words.’

‘Fuck me,’ I begged, willing to do anything, say anything, for a release. ‘Please, fuck me.’

‘Do you want me inside of you?’

‘Yes.’

And almost as if it were a reward, he thrust between my legs again. ‘Want me to stretch you out?’ he asked. I moaned his name, lost in the anticipation of his suggestion. But he still wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

‘Well?’ He moved again, lined up perfectly behind me, the head of his cock pushing at my entrance. ‘Show me how much you want it. Fuck yourself on me, beautiful.’

I didn’t dare waste another moment, pressing my hips into him. His length slid into me, my eyes rolling as I pushed past the resistance to his girth. I lost myself in the pleasure and pain as I moved against him, taking as much of him as I could. I wanted all of him. Every inch. I would take it all.

He groaned in ecstasy, his hand reaching forward to my hair, and using the tension to help me go deeper, bottoming out in my needy cunt.

We fucked hard, desperate, and loud. His fingers gripped at my body, moving from my hips to my hair to my shoulders, any leverage to keep himself buried deep inside of me. He leaned forward, his hand finding my breast. The feel of his cock inside me was overwhelming with need, with how good we felt together.

I gave into the feeling, to the welcome closeness of his body. As if I’d never feel the same without him anymore. Now that I’d found this missing part, living without it was immeasurably harder. An orgasm finally ripped me open, my fingers curling into the bedsheets, my pussy greedy, taking everything he had to give me.

I swore, his name fell from my lips like a curse, the only tangible thought in my brain as he continued to ride me through the waves. He was so big it filled me up, but even without that, sex had never felt this good before. Not with anyone.

‘You’re so beautiful coming on my cock. You feel too damn good,’ he struggled out between broken groans of pleasure. I scarcely managed a response, mindlessly lost to the feeling of him inside me as he continued the unrelenting pace, nerve endings electrified.

‘Keep going,’ I finally managed, still thrusting my hips to meet him, the intensity of the orgasm already faded, making room for another. His hand on my hips helped me keep up, a grip on my ass, squeezing, driving me wild.

‘I don’t think I can last much longer,’ he confessed with a single laugh. ‘It’s too fucking good with you. Like you’re made for me.’

‘I want you to come. Show me how good I make you feel,’ I ushered, mindlessly urging him on as I came again. ‘I want to take it all, Nico.’

Another wave crashed hard into me as he drove on with fury, and I felt him push deep inside of me as he came. I groaned, overwhelmed all over again by the intensity, by how I felt for him. He rested on my back, the warmth of his body welcome, the heaviness of him against me a reminder that this was real. We were here. We were together. He was mine.

We stayed still for a moment, his chest leaning over my back as we both heaved for air. He turned his head, kissing the centre of my back.

‘Has it ever felt like that for you before?’ he asked, his voice no louder than a whisper.

‘No,’ I confessed, still dazed from the connection between us. ‘You?’

He kissed me again. ‘Never.’