Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
G ood job last night’s proposal was pretty early on this week, since these love bites are going to take a fair few days to disappear. I’m like a splotched canvas, covered in purple bruises and the unmistakable imprints of teeth marks, and I can’t help but poking the wounds as a reminder of just how painful they are.
I don’t call myself a pain slut for nothing, after all.
I really didn’t expect Josh to be a splotched canvas too after last night’s escapades, but it suits him. Everything always does.
I could get used to living like this – holed up in a sunny villa with an icon, playing filthy games every night and regaling in fun, food and hours full of chatter every day. I’m loving every single minute of it.
I’m grinning all the way through breakfast, happy with the joys of the world as I cast glances my wounded boyfriend’s way. He’s playful as he smiles back at me. We’re definitely both feeling the vibe.
“At least you can’t say you’re the only one who got a night with the infamous Count ,” he says. “I got caught in the crossfire.”
“You hardly pissed on my parade.” My grin gets brighter. “It was brilliant. Absolutely amazing.”
I’m not lying. It was absolutely fucking amazing. I’ll remember that night for the rest of my life, and maybe someday I’ll be lucky enough to get a re-run. I’m not pushing my luck just yet, though.
Heath isn’t dressed anything like the Count this morning. He’s in black shorts and a vest top, and his glorious hair is swept up into a ponytail, ready for action. Josh keeps looking at him, with a competitive tone to his smirk.
“I’m gonna kick your gorgeous ass, you know that, Heathy baby? Call it an exchange for what you did to mine last night.”
Heath takes a bite of buttered toast. “You’d have to kick my ass seriously hard to make up for what I did to yours last night.”
Yeah, he would. Josh was legit bleeding when Heath was done with him. Turns out that water from the swimming pool wasn’t a sufficient enough lube to cope with Heath’s cock assault. It’s not that often I’ve seen Josh bleed, so Heath really did give him a good battering.
I love the way it’s fuelling the fire between them today.
Who is going to be top dog on the squash court? I can’t wait to be a spectator and find out. I only wish I had some pompoms.
The tension ramps up further between them as we head out to the loungers to let our breakfast settle. It’s like a barometer rising with the pressure as the testosterone builds. Both guys keep jibing each other as to who is going to come out top dog, and I get the feeling this match has been a long time coming. I don’t interject or change the topic, just soak it up and bask in the pleasure. It was me who got the full attention of a reward day yesterday, and now it’s Josh’s turn. I bet they’ll be playing squash for hours today, neither of them willing to call it quits until they’re crowned winner.
Josh sure won’t ever call it quits, I know that much. Not if he’s behind on the scoreboard.
It’s such a shame I haven’t got access to my phone, as I’d love to capture some pictures. My two sweaty loverboys battling for victory. I’d have loved pictures of the suited pair in Venetian masks last night too, and the Count all dressed up for my series preview. Damn it.
It’s been a few days now, and my fingers feel fidgety at the lack of the constant accessory. I can’t remember being without my phone for this long in years. My parents never confiscated it or anything like that, and my ex, Connor and I practically lived on video call when we weren’t in the same room together. We even had a video call open when we were sleeping in different bedrooms. Cringe, but true. I keep instinctively reaching for my current companion of a device, but it’s not there. It shows just how plugged in at the mains I am constantly. Scrolling, checking messages, watching stupid videos. Here there is nothing but me, Josh and Heath.
My fidgety fingers can get stuffed. This is so much better.
“Ready for a game, Josh?” Heath says, finally.
“Always,” Josh replies. “Thought you’d never get round to asking.”
Heath looks at me. “How about you, curva? Are you staying in the sun or coming along to observe our challenge?”
The streaming sun feels so nice against my bruised skin on the lounger, and the pool looks so tempting for another dip, but I can’t miss out on the competition.
“Definitely coming. I might be coming at the sight of you, too. It’ll be hotter than the sun out here.”
“Coming over a game of squash?” Josh laughs. “Your pussy never stops aching, does it?”
“No, dumbass. Over a game of you playing squash. There’s quite a difference. And no, my pussy never stops aching, you’re right.” Aching for Josh more than anything. He looks gorgeous, so ripped in his tight black vest top and shorts.
I’ve already been wondering about tonight’s envelope and what the proposal could involve. From being a fisted puppet to a food platter to a vampire chase victim, I really have no idea. Heath could definitely surprise me. He surprises me in every other way. Including with his villa.
It’s like a forbidden kingdom when he opens a side door off from the guest room hallway to reveal a set of slate steps going down.
“Ladies first,” Heath says, and I’m the one who gets the first glimpse.
Fuck, it doesn’t disappoint. Heath’s games room is massive. It must be as big as the whole imprint of the villa up above, but no sunlit windows, just stark bright lights embedded in the ceiling. I scan my eyes over the place. Gym, yes – quite an impressive one. I might even hit the treadmill myself in the days to come. Pool table, check, with a whole load of space around it and tables for drinks. Dartboard. Wow, I’d love a go on that, but I’m so crap at darts that I rarely even hit the board.
And there it is. The squash court. A flash version of the one at our local gym!
The glass front will give me a fantastic view of what’s happening inside, the markings on the floor plainly obvious. There’s a bench, just right for spectators, so I plonk my sore butt down and prepare for the viewing. Hardly Nighttime Whispers, but hey ho, it’ll be an incredible show nonetheless. Heath AND Joshua. Double whammy of awesome.
And they are both mine .
I have to give my mind a kicking. Because despite what the butterflies keep telling me, they aren’t both mine at all. Heath is a client. Nothing more. He’s no more to us than any of our other clients, and never will be. Any of them could offer us a trip overseas, just fine, and we could accept it, just fine. This is fine. Normal.
Except it’s not.
Heath isn’t a regular client… and it’s about much more than Nighttime Whispers.
I see the way they smile at each other as Heath hands Josh a racquet from a locker at the far end of the court. The affectionate cheekiness makes me ache inside. I know Heath is a major celebrity, and I know he’s almost always got his guard up, but with Josh there is no guard there at all. He’s just himself.
And slowly but surely, he’s beginning to be nothing more than himself around me, too.
“Ready to get your ass kicked?” he asks as Josh spins his racquet in his hand.
“Ready to kick your ass. You wait.”
“May the best man win.”
Josh laughs. “Don’t put it like that, Heath, or you might have to nail it by default.”
“Don’t be mushy, please. I’ll feel worse for thrashing you.” Heath pats Josh’s ass with his racquet, but the blush of his cheeks shows just how much he’s loving it.
“Go, guys!” I shout as they open the glass door to the court, and Josh tuts at me.
“You’re supposed to be on Team Joshua, Ells. I’m the one who’s your boyfriend, remember? You need a ‘ go, Josh’ placard, not a penchant for the great Count , out to kick my ass on the squash court.”
“And the Count is also my client who owns the villa. I’ll be a double cheerleader. Why choose, right? I want you both hot and sweaty and out to win the crown, not just one of you.”
“I’m not just out to win the crown,” Josh says. “I’m going to take it, stick it on my head and wear it all night long.”
“You reckon?” Heath says, as he steps inside. “Let’s see.”
The door closes behind them, and my heart races at the beginning of what’s going to be such an amazing game. Heath Mason against my boyfriend. Jeez. It’s another crazy experience that people would die for.
Oh my fucking God, how the guys go for it on that court – even through the warmup. The barometer of tension is off the scale, way more intense than it was on the loungers earlier. Sweat is dripping within minutes, despite the fact that Josh hasn’t even found his true bearings yet. He’s still finding his feet as the pair of them dash back and forth after the ball, which is unusual. Josh normally takes the lead from the off. For a player who usually practices solo, Heath can clearly knock it out of the park. Which is quite an apt analogy really, considering that Heath usually practices solo on a lot of fronts, not just sports related…
He definitely manages to knock it out of the park on those.
They both get in position after their warmup, Josh ready to serve first in game number one, and I may have thought they were going for it in the warmup, but I’d underestimated them. The lunges are insane, the leaps beyond this world, and the way they stride and jostle across the court gives me butterflies all the way down to my toes.
Now. Here. In Heath’s man cave basement-cum-sports-hall, these two could just be two hot guys from a normal walk of life playing a match together. Heath’s icon status and Josh being a hooker means nothing. They are just two men giving their all to a squash match.
The way they grin at each other between rounds makes the butterflies ramp up even harder.
The competition is definitely raging, but so is the lust.
And more.
There is more than testosterone, lust and competition at play on the court.
The guys flash me smiles and waves between rounds, but their hearts aren’t with me right now. They are all for each other.
I like that.
Scrap that. I love the way they are so consumed with each other. Even though I’m out of the spotlight. I don’t care.
I probably love it a little too much, in fact.
It gives me weird ideas about how things could be on the outside world. If we were just regular people in London, and Josh was free to grab his sports kit and head out for a game of squash with Heath at a local gym. Maybe they’d go for a bite to eat after. Maybe some drinks. Maybe I’d join them. We could hang out until we decided whose place we were going home to.
Because that would happen.
We’d always go home together…
I banish the thought, because it can’t be. It will never be. Heath is a client. A famous client. And we are just paid whores out to entertain him for a week between stints of filming.
So why are both my heart and gut telling me otherwise? Tempting me with a crazy dream?
My attention gets tugged back to the court when Josh lets out an especially loud cheer at a victory. I’ve lost track of the scorecard, but they haven’t. Josh is two points up.
It only spurs Heath on.
They take a break, absolutely drenched in sweat as they glug some water on the bench with me. Fuck, I’d love some action with them like this, but the testosterone is nowhere near my pussy when they towel the sweat from their brows. They get set to jump right back in there.
“You’re really fucking good,” Josh says to Heath.
“You sound really fucking surprised.”
Josh shrugs. “Maybe I am.”
“Maybe I’ll surprise you some more. First to ten?”
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
I’m surprised they make it to ten, honestly. Their muscles are going to be aching like fucking hell tomorrow after the workout they’ve been doing in there.
You couldn’t make it up when they get to nine all and it comes down to the final play.
I can barely look, because it’s too intense for fucking words. Whoever comes out on top is going to be singing it from the rooftops.
I’m open mouthed when it’s Heath that steals the victory, because WTF?? Something subconscious in me always assumes Josh is going to win, I guess. He’s built to be a winner in any circumstance, and with sport he takes it so seriously.
My boyfriend is shaking his head when they step out of there, but there is no animosity, just admiration on his face as he stares at the man before him.
“You slayed it,” he says. “Fucking hell, Heath, if Nighttime Whispers dries up, take up squash. You’re like a bloody pro.”
“Thanks.”
That one simple word is all Heath has to say about his glory. No gloating, like I figured there would be. No yelling to the rafters and claiming to be the dog’s bollocks. Just a handshake and a really enjoyed that, honestly, you rocked it.
From an outsider’s point of view, you’d think this was Heath’s reward, not Josh’s.
That makes me feel kinda sad.
Heath Mason enjoying a squash game this much – as though it’s an anomaly of daily life.
Guess it is, though, for a man like him.
We’re back up in the kitchen when Heath presents the next proposal envelope. He looks almost sheepish as I take it from him, holding up his hands.
“This is a weird one, ok? Just something I wanted. Something I’ve been missing, for a long, long time.” He looks between me and Josh. “I figured that today might only reinforce it, and I was right. It did.”
Once again, I’m full speed as I tear the proposal from the envelope.
Whatever Heath has been missing, we’re going to give it to him.