CHAPTER 69 #2
My lips, however, seem to have other plans for me right now, as they tip-toe toward his, before attacking them with a kiss.
The grip of his waist around my hips is so consuming, my hands shoved into his silky hair like I could do this forever, and all of it feels deeply unsettling.
Without a boundary, this is doomed, if it isn’t already.
So even as we make it into his room again and he’s sliding off my jeans and I’m tearing off his tight skating thermal, the question manages to escape.
“Um, just to clarify, we’re just having sex,” I say, immediately hating how it sounds because it feels awkward as hell to spell it out, except not doing exactly that seems careless.
“Uh-huh, just sex,” Troy breathes the words along my neck, the touch so hypnotizing it almost distracts me away from the point of my comment.
“I’m serious, Troy,” I say because I am.
I think.
I am.
He peels his weight from above me to see me better before he nods in agreement.
“I just wanted things to be clear,” I add. “That this is only physical.”
I squirm at that part, at why I threw that in there, questioning only after having said it, who exactly I directed it to.
If to him, he couldn’t be bothered, not when his eyes blink like it was obvious that this has been only physical for him.
Snapping away the thought, now that everything is clear, I cut off all emotion, the way between the two us I’d probably—I’d definitely—win the gold medal for.
When Troy’s eyes linger on me as if debating whether or not we should continue—if I’m getting all girly and emotional over something as meaningless as sex—I put on that filter I know best, the one I do right before any skate where your heart dies and your body morphs into a bulletproof machine glided by blades on the slipperiest slope.
I take back my control, take it back through my hands, my mouth, sliding my fingers to the top of my zipper thermal, the same one Troy couldn’t tear his face away from at one of our earlier rehearsals, narrowing my eyes, shutting my lips, watching him slowly lose his power when the zipper reaches the bottom of my waist, parting my jacket free.
He groans at the sight of my bare tits, grunts at the way I arch my back into his sheets just to tease him.
And luckily the intensity returns back to his eyes, the one him and I have exchanged for years on opposite ends of the ice rink.
The times where we didn’t know what the other one tasted like, and while it’s only been barely a month of this—feels like ages ago.
But this is what we were always meant to be to each other.
Enemies. Rivals.
And nothing has changed.
Well nothing, except for some newer physical positions and such.
Speaking of those, seeing his weight hover over me again, I unzip his skating joggers, leaving us both in just our underwear.
He leans in to kiss my mouth, odd move I think for a second, but I brush that off, having plans of my own.
Slipping my fingers into the waistband of his briefs, I give a firm tug on the cloth before it pushes down and his thick cock springs out, hard and ready for me, licking my lips when a drop of precome already leaks from the tip.
I reach out my thumb to catch it before I bring it to my mouth, darting out my tongue to taste him.
When he hears me let out a soft whimper at that, Troy’s fingers graze along the side of my hips as I hold his gaze, while sliding my thong off.
I kick the lace away parting my legs wide, wider than usual to give him a clear view of what he wants.
And that earns me a jumble of curses and a pair of impatient hands that hook my legs around his waist.
He bends over to his nightstand for a second to grab a condom, watching him slide it on with a hungry kind of arousal, before he tucks himself in between my legs again.
And before I know it, he angles my hips so well they’re practically lifted off the sheets, bending one of my legs just a bit not realizing why until he finally thrusts himself in, and yeah. Great decision.
Because on the first thrust, he manages to hit a sweet spot that scratches along a nerve at the base of my spine, and makes me screech out a moan that’s so loud, I can feel my cheeks tinge pink.
But the embarrassment fizzles so quickly at each thrust, how his muscular, strong, insanely sculpted but somehow effortlessly shaped body manages to look so hot sliding in and out of my body.
One look down, and from the slick and wet sounds forming from each thrust to that distracting spot where we’re joined, a bolt of pleasure flickers at my lower belly.
And I hear him snicker.
“You like watching me fuck you, don’t you?” Troy teases.
Yes.
“No comment,” I say, hoping that sounds dry when in reality I hear how breathless my voice has gotten.
“You know what I think?” he says arrogantly. “That you wish you had a better view.”
I would try and correct him, that he’s wrong to say such a stupid thing, if I couldn’t feel my walls clamp around him just at the comment.
So I choose the next best option, showing indifference, and I simply shrug.
As if neutrality is somehow even more of a challenge to him, Troy slides himself out, earning a sound of major disapproval from me, but when I feel him move to my left and lift me so that we’re leaning on our sides, his chest against my back, and I see a glimpse of us from the mirror over his closest, a pool of pleasure throbs at the apex of my thighs.
From behind me he raises my outer leg, tilting me a bit so that I can see myself better, and the view is so raw and wild, my mouth drops open.
My hair is a complete mess, a few dark pink marks sit around the edges of my hips—courtesy of Troy’s mouth—my nipples are stretched so tight, and when I finally look down at my core, I’ve never seen it look so wet, so swollen, so undone.
“Look at how beautiful you are, Ana,” Troy rasps into my ears. “How ready you are for my cock.”
It’s a good thing he’s still holding me tight or I’d have probably keeled over by my name leaving his mouth combined with his filthy words.
But then he chuckles. Deep, sexy.
Not giving me quite what I wanted, not yet, instead he keeps his hand tight around my bent leg before he drops his hand between my legs, my head immediately arching into him, his face sliding to my side, licking along the side of my neck.
His hand in between my legs, his tongue on my pulse, my gaze seeing all of it so vividly and so up close feels so dirty and so good.
“I know you love this,” Troy says by the shell of my ear, his gaze locking with mine through the mirror.
“Me, finger fucking your tight pussy while you watch. Look at my fingers, Ana.” He slips out his fingers so abruptly from my core that I hiccup.
“You’re dripping all over them.” He’s right, I can’t look away from any of it. “You wanna watch me lick you now?”
God, yes.
“Yes,” I gasp out.
“Of course you do.” He smirks. “You want to see all of it.”
No longer capable it seems to throw a jab back at him, I watch, my eyes glued to each of his movements, the way he removes himself from behind me, coming around to reposition himself, his face in between my legs, angling my body toward him in a way where I can somewhat still see myself.
When he starts to lick, a ravenous moan bubbles up my throat at the way his tongue looks flicking over my pussy, the way he intentionally sticks it out enough so I can see each pass he makes over the sensitive flesh through the mirror, my brows pulling so tight together when he reaches my clit and does the same, seeing the nub so clearly and his mouth suck right onto it, I nearly pass out from the pleasure of just watching him.
“Troy,” I moan out because I’m close, embarrassingly close for being licked for barely a couple of seconds.
“Let go, Ana.”
And I do, squeezing my thighs around his face so tight I worry if I crushed him, but he doesn’t seem to mind, not when he flips us over so that I can ride his face, him squeezing my ass cheeks as encouragement, and I spasm at that too.
One look at his hard dick after coming down from my high and I pull him toward me, reaching for his shaft as he helps me put it inside my body. Before he’s started to move, I twist over onto my stomach, hearing him groan at the sudden change in angle.
With two firm hands, he lifts my hips until he tucks his knees under them and he fucks me in a way that no one has before. Deep. Without restraint. A way only another athlete who’s trained this many years under the most brutal conditions probably could.
He lets go in a way I haven’t seen him do before, and it’s so powerful that I only want more.
“Harder,” I request, hearing him grunt, immediately listening then slamming into that one spot again.
Oh my God.
“More, Troy. Give me more.”
He’s so attentive, I could’ve gotten that from the first few times, but now, every request he gives it to me, and even better than I expect, better than the last, the pleasure building at my hips.
Then my chest shatters when I notice.
Somewhere through the ruthless thrusts and wild chaos, I feel a hand reach around my waist and hold onto my right hip.
My throat dries up without warning, tears welling in my eyes.
He covers my scar.
He covers the stripe of damage, protecting my skin.
A peculiar kind of sadness closes up my lungs as I shut my eyes deep to avoid it.
“Harder,” I say it again, my voice cold this time.
Emotionless.
_________
A phone buzzes from my side of the bed, pulling the device from the nightstand to Troy.
All I hear are a whole lot of whats? and are you sures? and a few fucking assholes toward the end.
By the looks of his slumped cheeks, that call couldn’t have been pleasant.
“Everything okay?” I ask, lifting my weight to rest it along my elbow, pulling up the covers to better hide my nakedness.
“You think you’ve seen how shitty someone can be and then they go and do something even shittier and become more shitty. They outshit themselves.” Troy drops his head back into his pillow, folding a forearm over his temple. “Sorry, he just drives me nuts. My father.”
“No, it’s alright, I understand. Keep venting if you want. I think there’s still some room to add a few more ‘shits’ in there.”
“Don’t make me laugh when I’m upset.”
“Isn’t that when you’re supposed to make someone laugh?” I chuckle. “Seems like the prime moment.”
“Stop flirting with me.”
I snort. “Idiot.” Remembering the caller ID of Troy’s older brother, I ask, “So, what did he say?”
“That my dad’s still stuck in Stockholm and is going to miss Karl’s birthday for a business meeting.
A meeting that just came up without advance notice that’s important.
Like every other one of his business meetings are.
” The very obvious snarky undertone in his voice and force of his frustration lead me to wonder what else this could be related to.
“But he’ll be there at the Hummingbirds’ banquet.
The next day. After missing his youngest son’s birthday. ”
“I’m guessing he’s done this before?” I ask.
“No, not with Karl, at least.” Troy groans. “I don’t want to show up, but with the admin I help him with, I’m required.”
“I can come.”
“What?”
“To the banquet.”
“You want to go with me?”
“I didn’t say that. I said I can come.” He scoffs. “I’ll offer you moral support, um what’s the word, ah, I’ll be your sidekick.”
The warmth glimmering back into his eyes heats my cheeks before I can stop myself and rethink why I even made the suggestion, when he leans in to kiss me softly.
He pulls back, unsure, like it was his pure reflex to suddenly embrace me like that, me dancing my lips over his mouth—my pure reflex, I tell myself—feeling him lift his weight before he angles his bare waist to slide on top of me and we’re both crashing into each other again.