24. Athena
CHAPTER 24
Athena
JANUARY 7TH
H ow four days have felt like forty, I’ll never know. I’ve rubbed my clit raw for days and I can’t get any relief. It’s like he took the remote control to my body away to Ireland with him, and I can’t use it manually.
He should have landed by now. He should be back on US soil. Baggage claim at CID never takes that long, but I bet today is the one day in history there’s a baggage delay.
Will he come here when he gets back? Will he call? Will he go home to the hockey house first and shower? Where’s his car?
My cell vibrates in my butt pocket as I pace my apartment like some kind of doe-eyed, lovesick puppy. It’s disgusting, the very thing I’ve made fun of Vannah for in the recent past. I hate this out of control feeling, but the more I think about Scott the more my heart gets that weird tingly feeling that suggests I’m either ass-over-tits in love, or I need to go see a cardiologist.
I stop dead in my tracks. Did my brothers figure out he’s trying to defile me and kill him?
I laugh out loud in my empty apartment. They may be knuckleheads sometimes, but they know better than to get involved in anything regarding my body, especially my vagina. When we were younger, one night Ares told me my skirt was too short before I went out. I gave him a bloody nose and told him never to comment on my body or appearance again.
When I asked, “Too short for what?” he didn’t have an answer for me.
To be honest, I don’t give a flying fucksicle if Scott told their nosy asses the things he wants to do to me, in great detail, as long as when he gets back, he still wants to.
He won’t have changed his mind, right?
I shake my head, getting more and more pissed off at myself for being one of those girls who go ditzy over her man. But maybe this is love, insecurity, crazed self-talk while pacing your apartment, and trying to watch the door and your phone at the same time so you won’t miss the instant they appear back in your life.
Patética.
My phone vibrates in my butt pocket again, and my soul damn near leaves my body.
Savannah: What are you up to? I feel a coffee coming on…
I love my best friend, I truly do. But at this moment, I want to throw my phone at her. Not because she invited me for coffee, because that’s nice, and if I wasn’t burning alive from the inside, I’d take her up on it.
Do I text Scott? I don’t want to seem needy, or clingy, or like that girl who can’t let her boyfriend—dios mío. Novio .
Boyfriend.
I’ve changed my clothes three times so far. Like I said, pathetic. He’s seen me lounging around in yoga pants, unkempt hair, and no make-up, and it’s never been an issue. In fact, I’ve never given it a second thought. And yet, here we are, me waiting for him to return from abroad, and worried about what I look like when he sees me.
“Hey, Bright Eyes.” His voice fills the room from behind me. I recently gave him a key for emergencies, but this, letting himself in after a trip across the world, it’s different. It’s more.
Before I even acknowledge his existence, I tell Savannah I’m busy, because no matter how much I want to get railed by Scott Raine, no matter how excited I am to see him, my rule is, and will always be, chicks before dicks. And if he has a problem with that then I’m not the right woman for him.
I tuck my phone into my back pocket and turn to face the man who took my heart to Ireland. “You let yourself into my apartment.” I can’t even pretend to keep a straight face, his lopsided smile is infectious, and the energy radiating from him tickles me from across the room.
“I did.” He drops his bag and takes a step toward me. “Problem?” He raises his brows.
I shake my head. “You came straight here.” I gesture at the duffel on the floor.
“I did,” he repeats, taking another step closer. The air gets thicker, his eyes flicker. “Problem?”
Another shake of my head. “I figured you’d want a shower.” I’m leading him, we both know what I want him to say, and I don’t care that I sound needy.
“I wanted to see you more.” Another step in my direction, he opens his arms to me, and I charge the six feet toward him and launch myself onto him like a spider monkey, or a koala, or something else that closes their body around something and makes it impossibly hard for them to escape.
His strong arms band around my back as I hug him tightly. “I missed you, Gizmo.” I drop a chaste kiss on his cheek before burrowing my head into the space where his shoulder and neck meet. “I’m glad you came here first.”
“Maybe I could shower here?”
“Maybe we could shower together?”
He’s already striding toward my main bathroom before I finish my sentence, with me still attached to his chest. When I slide down his body, I get momentarily stuck on his very happy-to-see-me cock. I give it a pat. “Soon, my friend.”
A feral noise comes from him as he wiggles his pants and underwear down his legs. The tip of his dick is already glistening. The way he drops his shirt on the floor and stands naked in front of me throws me back to the night he got drunk and told me he loved me. Do I mention it?
Before I can answer my own question, he cups my face with both hands and kisses me deeply. It’s not an animalistic kiss, it’s not demanding, or aggressive, it’s possessive, it’s enthralling, burning and so full of love. When his thumbs brush my cheekbones, I shiver, and despite him not having any clothes on for me to grab, I claw at his body to get him closer to me.
He pulls back. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
“I know, gimme a sec.” I hold up a hand, like if he comes closer my breathlessness may get worse. “I need you to know something.”
His face and shoulders fall.
“It’s nothing bad.” I kiss him again as I scoot my pants to the floor. I shouldn’t have worried about what I wore since it lasted less than five minutes on my body. I shake my head.
“What?” He tilts his head, still clearly concerned about what I have to say. He toes at the pile of clothes on my plush, cream carpet, looking over my shoulder to the floor length mirror behind me. “Also, your ass looks fantastic.”
I laugh. “I was just thinking that I spent so much time trying to pick something to wear for you coming over.” I gesture at the pants on the floor. “Seems I shouldn’t have bothered.”
Something comes into his features I can’t place as he cups my face. “You never have to pick something to wear for me, Bright Eyes.”
“I wanted to look nice for you.” I shrug, suddenly uncomfortable by his attention.
“You always look nice, for you. You could wear a trash bag with holes cut out for arms, and you’d still be the most beautiful person on the planet. What were you going to say?”
I toe at the pile of clothes on the ground again. “This reminds me of the night you got drunk and stripped off in front of me in your room.”
He groans, instantly turning a dark shade of red that’s quite adorable. “Can we not?”
“We must.”
Another pained sound comes from him, I’m not sure if it’s because of his embarrassment, or because he’s still hard as fucking diamond and wants to get me fully naked and into the shower.
“You told me you loved me that night.”
His head snaps up. Yup, there goes the bugging-out eye bulge, and somehow his face goes darker red.
“You’re kidding.” He looks so dismayed that I reach out and put my palm over his owl tattoo to try to help ease his anxiety.
“I’m not. If memory serves, what you actually said was that you hated having to pretend you didn’t love me.”
His jaw drops. “I don’t remember.”
“I do.”
“I’ve loved you since I met you, Bright Eyes. It’s been painful keeping it inside.” He covers my hand on his chest with his.
Nothing else is said aloud. He tugs at the hem of my cashmere sweater, dragging the soft material up my body revealing my already bare breasts.
He arches a questioning brow.
“I guessed you might want easy access.”
He licks his lips as he stares at my perky breasts before jerking his head to the shower. He barely misses a step as he throws me over his shoulder and strides toward my bathroom, giving my ass a slap and making me squeal for good measure.
Again, when I slide down his body to stand, his cock presses against me and now I want to dry hump him. Or hump, hump him. I want to do all the things to him and have him do all the things to me.
“Are you wet for me, Bright Eyes?”
A ‘no shit’ kind of sound bursts from me, and we both laugh.
“I’m wetter than you are hard.”
He turns on the water, checking with his hand every couple seconds to see if it’s warmed up. He leans against the glass wall of my shower. It’s one of my favorite parts of the house. A superior shower the brochure said. Aluminum with frameless glass, safety grab handles both inside and outside, and instead of the foldable seat that came with it, I had a bench installed.
“Your floor is warm.”
I got heated floors, too.
The tub on the other side of the bathroom catches his eyes, and he lets out a low whistle. “I’ve never investigated your bedroom and beyond, Athena. This is… wow. You have a fireplace in your bathroom. And that tub. What the hell, woman?”
“I wanted a soaking tub.”
“You could fit four people in there.”
That makes my nipples tingle, and I suck in a sharp breath. “If you’re lucky.”
He takes my hand and steps from the warm floor tiles into the now steaming shower. “Even your gray tiles are bougie.” He shakes his head like he’s in disbelief but also like he’s not at all surprised at the same time.
This is my favorite room. It’s the best bathroom I’ve ever seen. Instead of getting under the jets of water, he walks the length of the shower, trails a hand along the bench then goes back and drags his fingers over the graphite marble lining the wall.
“I love this. I may never leave.”
The awe in his voice, the wonder in his eyes makes me feel all manner of guilty, and embarrassed, and a wave of gratitude for being able to purchase a place like this crashes into me as the water pours down my body.
When he turns to look at me, flames of lust join the wonder in his eyes. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Athena.”
He stalks the few feet toward me, holding his hands out, but I’m not sure where he’s going to touch first. To be honest, I’m not sure he is either.
He pinches my already hard nipple sending sharp jolts of pain radiating through my breast. I tip my head back against the marble for a moment, but ever since he left, I’ve had a very clear vision in my head of how his return would go.
I take his hand from my body, guide him to sit on the bench, and when he’s seated, I turn the shower head toward him before turning on the second shower head as well.
He groans. “Two?”
I wait for the water to warm up before tilting it to where Scott is sitting. His hockey player chest is broad, his biceps are thicc, and his thighs are chunky as hell. My man is built. He could crush a watermelon with his thighs, maybe even with his arms, too.
I half expect him to lean his head back, close his eyes, and enjoy the hot spray, but he doesn’t. He watches me, that unbridled look of want. I could take my time, I could slather water all over my body and make a scene, but I simply don’t have the patience, I want him too much to perform this time.
I kneel between his knees, not taking my eyes off him. His jaw twitches, so does his steel-rod stiff cock. Fuck. I can’t wait to get that on my tongue.
I don’t move until he nods at me, then I grip his shaft with both hands, enjoying the slow hiss of release from him. I want nothing more than to make him feel good. I bet being cramped on that flight left him tight and stiff, and I’m going to help him relax.
Both hands pumping his cock in sync, I cover his tip with my mouth and find a rhythm, hands and mouth bobbing in perfect sync up and down his girthy dick.
He’s making all the right noises as the hot water streams down onto both of us. He slides his hips forward on the bench like he’s wanting me to go deeper, so I move one hand to his balls and take him further down my throat.
“Fuck, Athena. Shit.”
I can’t help smiling, I like making him lose himself. He puts his hand on my head but doesn’t push, he just holds it as I hollow out my cheeks and suck him hard while fondling his balls.
The water’s hot on my back, and Scott’s skin isn’t quite as slippery or easy to maneuver when it’s wet but I’m not stopping until jets of thick hot cum shoot down my throat.
I move my hand curled around his shaft and press his hand onto my head. “Mmm you want me to take a little control, do you Bright Eyes?”
Nodding makes me gag on his cock which only seems to make him harder against the back of my throat. He pushes his hand against my head, gently at first, but after a minute or so he starts thrusting against the back of my throat in earnest.
“Fuck. I’m going to come. If you don’t want it down your throat you’d better—” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because I suck him hard, swirling my tongue around his dick while I trace my nails gently over his balls.
His eyes roll back, his muscles tense, he moves his knees slightly apart, and he nuts right down my throat on a grunt. I kneel back, brush my soaking hair out of my face, and catch my breath.
When he opens his eyes, the relief, the satisfaction, the blissed-out expression I expect is only partially there. It’s now accompanied by a look verging on demented. I think it’s his ‘I’m going to make you come until you can’t feel your legs’ look, but I can’t be sure yet since we’re still getting to know each other in this setting.
He grabs my hair, twists it around his fist and hauls me to my feet. “Such a dirty little thing, aren’t you, Athena? Sucks cock like a champ. Bet you take it like a champ too, don’t you?”
I’m pretty sure that noise that came out of me can only be described as a whimper. As a strong and independent woman in a man’s world, I’m tired. I’m tired of being in charge, making decisions, being strong, telling people what to do.
Turns out, I’m hot for Scott being bossy, and from the smirk he just gave me, he knows it. Instead of fingering me, instead of getting on his knees and eating me out, he lathers up my loofa and washes me from head to fucking toe.
In fact, he takes so long on the floor washing my feet that I’m starting to think he has a foot fetish. No judgment, I like my feet, but I’m hot, and not because of the water.
He holds his hand out for my shampoo and starts lathering up my hair. Fucking hell his fingers digging into my scalp may send me over the edge at this rate. He stands so close to me his cock brushes against my ass. He’s perked up again, he’s more than ready, but Scott is determined to take his time, wash me thoroughly.
After a rinse, he moves to the conditioner, then gives himself a quick wash while I rinse out the conditioner in my hair.
He’s going to smell of lemon and tangerine, but he doesn’t seem to give a shit. He steps out of the shower first, grabs a towel and holds it out for me to walk into, as I spin, he wraps me in the plush grey towel that matches the marble in my bathroom.
When he holds out a smaller towel for me to wrap my hair, I can’t quite believe it.
He points to the bedroom. “Go dry your hair because I don’t want the bed to be too wet for us to sleep in once I’m done fucking you senseless.”