Chapter 50
fifty
. . .
CONNOR
The next morning, Pussy wakes me up by walking across my ribs like she’s settling a personal score. By the time I get to the pool, Coral Cove feels exactly like it always does—wet tile, chlorine, Coach already in a mood, everybody pretending they’re more awake than they are.
Then Whitney walks in.
Hair up. Bag over one shoulder. Talking to Winnie like nothing in the world has changed.
My entire body notices before my brain can catch up.
On tour, I could cross a room and touch her. Here, she glances up, catches me looking, and lifts one brow like she knows exactly what I’m doing.
I have to look away before I smile like an idiot in the middle of warm-up.
“Damn,” Charlie says beside me. “You get laid on tour or hit by a truck?”
I deadpan at him. “Why are those your only options?”
“Because your face says one of them definitely happened.”
Rory is across the deck talking to Coach, so I just tell Charlie to stretch before I drown him.
Fort Lauderdale is close, so practice is race pace before we taper. Just enough yardage to make my shoulders feel hollow by the end of it but not completely empty the tank.
Whitney ends up in the lane next to mine for part of the main set. At the wall, while Coach is yelling at somebody on the far side, she says quietly, “You’re staring again.”
I keep my eyes on the water. “You came over here.”
She huffs a laugh. “By existing in the lane next to yours?”
“Exactly.”
That tiny laugh carries me through the rest of practice better than it should.
After, in the hallway, she brushes past me close enough that the back of her hand ghosts my wrist.
It’s not something anyone else would notice, but to me, it feels like she lit me from the inside out.
“See?” she murmurs without looking at me. “We survived.”
That’s what she’s calling it, but I’m barely hanging by a thread.
After being so close and then having to pull back, my body is struggling to recalibrate.
Whitney can sense this.
“Nap at your place? One o’clock?”
We don’t nap. At least not the moment she walks in the door.
She snuggles Pussy, but I’m an impatient man, so I give Pussy a catnip toy that she ungratefully stares at, then pull Whitney toward my bedroom.
“You must be really tired.” She giggles as I close the door, press her against it, and kiss her hard.
When I pull back an inch, she’s flushed and breathless.
“I’m tired of not seeing you. Not being able to talk to you when I want, or touch you when I want.”
She softens at what is clearly my unhinged state.
“I’m here now.” Her smile spreads. “What did you have in mind?”
“How much time do you have?”
She thinks I’m teasing, I’m not.
“A couple hours.”
I grip the hem of her shirt and pull it over her head. Leggings, panties, and bra follow.
I’m still clothed when I pull her onto the bed with me, her legs straddling my lap while I explore her mouth again.
“I’m so wet,” she says between kisses. “I’m going to soak your shorts.”
“Fuck yeah, you are.”
I cup her pussy, a groan escaping when her slick heat coats my hand.
She yanks my shirt over my head, then dives for my waistband.
“Want your cock, right now.”
“I love how needy you are. Love those little noises you make.”
She bites her lip, then lets out another little whimper on purpose when I press my hand between her thighs, like she’s figured out exactly how to ruin me.
“Come on, DreamBoat. Fuck me like you own me.”
Fuck. This girl. If anyone owns anyone, it’s her owning me.
I kiss her hard, then pull back just enough to look at her. “You say shit like that and expect me to keep my head?”
Her breath catches.
“You want me rough?”
“Yes.”
My hand closes at her waist. “And you’ll tell me if it’s too much?”
She nods. “Yes.”
I hold her gaze another second, just to make sure. Then I lift her by the hips and turn her over onto the bed.
“Ass up, baby. Let me see how pretty you look spread for me.” I guide her hips so she’s on her knees with her head down and her back arched. My hands palm her warm flesh, letting my thumbs slip between her cheeks to tease her open.
The sight of her nearly undoes me. Cheeks spread, pussy glistening and begging for me to fuck her.
Spreading her further, I lean forward and lick her from front to back, pushing my tongue ring inside her pussy before lazily skimming it along her backside. Her legs begin to shake, so I prop a pillow there for support.
I slip two fingers inside her pussy, then, with my free hand, smack her ass with my palm.
“Connor.” She gasps, her pussy clenching around my fingers followed by the sensation of her wetness dripping onto my hand.
“Too much?” I ask, soothing the pink flesh with my thumb.
“No.” She arches her ass back toward me. “I want more.”
“Good, because I want to feel you clench around my cock when I spank you.”
I’m so worked up; my cock is throbbing with precum leaking from the tip. I fist myself once, then line up.
One solid thrust and I’m deep inside her.
Fuck me, it’s too good.
Before I lose focus, I give her ass another smack.
Her walls clamp down, and if I let myself, I could come from the pressure alone.
“So deep like this, baby.” I give her smooth, measured strokes, and with each thrust, she reaches back to meet me.
“That’s my girl.” I kiss her shoulder. “So fucking good I can barely stand it.”
One hand finds her breast, palming the weight of it while my fingers tease her nipple. My other hand slips between her legs to play with her clit.
“Now, be a good girl and make a mess all over my cock.”
She cries out, her pussy spasming around me, and I want to hold out longer, but the feel of her sends me over the edge.
I thrust once. Twice. Then, pulling her back to my front, I lift her up against me before spilling inside her.
We’re sweaty and spent, but I hold her there for a minute, just loving the feel of her sweat-slick skin against me before I lower her to the bed and place a kiss between her shoulder blades.
“I really do need that nap now.” She teases, but I can see she means it.
“Yeah, you do.”
She’s bone tired, and her eyelids are already drooping, so I grab a warm washcloth from the bathroom to clean her up, then pull back the covers and slide her under them.
I close the room darkening shades, then slip in beside her.
She turns into me on instinct, half asleep already, and I pull her in close, my mouth brushing her hair.
For a minute, my head finally goes quiet, then it starts moving again.
Wondering how long we can keep this just ours. What happens when it stops being private. About how, sooner or later, wanting more of her is going to mean standing in it where other people can see us.
That’s the dangerous part.
It’s not having her like this, but knowing I’m already thinking about the next step.