20. Don’t Eat All the Cereal
DON’T EAT ALL THE CEREAL
DEEPIKA
“You’re shaking, Sharma,” Liam whispered against my ear, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that I felt in my bones. He had me pinned against the cold, wet tiles, the contrast of the freezing stone against my back and his hot body against my front making my head spin.
“It’s the water, you idiot,” I snapped, though my hands were busy gripping his massive, wet biceps for dear life.
“Liar,” he crooned, and then he was sinking. He dropped to his knees in the spray, his blond hair plastered to his forehead, looking up at me with those storm-gray eyes that were dark with a terrifyingly focused intent.
He didn’t hesitate to grab my hips, his fingers digging into my curves, and buried his face between my thighs.
I let out a sharp gasp as his tongue lapped across my clit in one long, expert stroke.
The sensation was electric, a hot bolt of lightning that made my knees buckle.
If he hadn’t been holding me so tightly, I would have slid right down the wall.
“Liam, wait—” I gasped, my fingers tangling in his wet hair.
But of course, he didn’t wait. He was an Olympian with the lungs of a whale and the endurance of a god.
He began to eat me out with ruthless, rhythmic precision, his tongue swirling around my sensitive nub before he sucked it deep into his mouth.
I could hear the wet, sloppy sounds of his mouth on me over the roar of the shower.
The steam was suffocating. The water was blinding, and all I could feel was the relentless pressure of his hot mouth.
I reached my limit in seconds, my body coiling tight until I shattered, a long moan escaping me as my internal muscles clamped down.
I saw stars behind my eyelids as the orgasm wrung me out, leaving me boneless and gasping for air.
When he finally stood up, his face was glistening, and his cock was a thick, heavy weight pressing against my stomach. He looked smug as he kissed me, letting me taste myself until I felt him.
I licked my lips and glanced down, but he didn’t seem to care about how hard his cock was.
“Let me…” I whispered, and his eyes widened, color slashing his angular cheeks.
“I’m all yours,” he rasped, his breath hot against my lips.
I was shy at first until he had wrapped my hand around his cock. It was massive and thick with heavy veins, and pulsing with a heat that felt like it would burn my palm. He guided my movements, showing me the exact speed and pressure he wanted, his jaw tight as I pumped him.
“Faster, Deepika,” he groaned, his head falling back against the tiles. I watched him, mesmerized by the way his throat moved when he swallowed and the way his abs rippled with every breath.
I abandoned the guidance and took over, my thumb rubbing circles over the weeping head of his shaft while I used my other hand to cup his heavy, tight balls.
The sound he made was a filthy growl of my name. “Deepika... fuck.”
Liam squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body tensing like a bowstring, and then he came apart with a violent force. The thick, white heat of his release splashed across his sculpted abs and my trembling fingers.
It was one of the hottest, most humiliatingly beautiful things I’d ever witnessed.
I woke up to an empty bed and sunlight streaming through the windows.
My body was deliciously sore and relaxed in a way I hadn’t felt in months. Maybe even years.
I stretched with a long sigh, the silk sheets sliding over my skin, and my face immediately flushed hot at the memory of last night. My thighs felt heavy and well-used, a lingering ache between them that served as a delicious reminder of what had happened the night before.
I bit my lip hard, the phantom sensation of his mouth still tingling against my skin, as the heavy, persistent throb between my legs returned.
To distract myself, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand.
My stomach dropped seeing the notifications.
The first text was from Blake.
Blake: We have a problem!
She had sent a link with it, and I clicked it open, my stomach churning with nerves as the article loaded slowly, each word appearing like a death sentence.
Olympic Playboy’s Shame: The Teammate’s Girlfriend He Seduced!
Photos of Liam with a gorgeous woman with dark hair, an athletic build, and a smile that could sell toothpaste. She was Sofia, the Portuguese swimmer.
The article included text exchanges, screenshots of messages that looked damning out of context.
You looked beautiful tonight.
Can we talk privately?
Anonymous sources claimed that Liam deliberately pursued his teammate Joshua’s girlfriend at an Olympic after-party. That he’d been inappropriate and a home-wrecker.
The internet had split into warring factions. #CancelLiam trended alongside #TeamLiam. His sponsor was ‘reconsidering their partnership’ while Joshua was getting media requests.
I’ll ask him
Blake called me as soon as I sent her the message.
“You should distance yourself from him,” she said immediately. “This is exactly the kind of scandal we’re trying to avoid. Break up with him publicly. I’ll draft a statement—”
“Wait, but Blake, we have to—”
“Deepika, listen to me. Your career is just taking off, and you don’t need this sort of drama. End it now, have a clean break, so we can play the sympathetic victim angle.”
I thought about the article, and I knew something felt off.
I thought about the man who defended me to Yash. Who carried me to bed. Who made me come so hard that I forgot my own name.
This didn’t fit.
Yes, he was a jerk with a God complex, but not a complete jerk.
“Let me think about it,” I said.
“Don’t think too long. The longer you wait, the worse it looks.”
She hung up.
A note on the kitchen counter said,
‘Training. Back by 2. Don’t eat all the cereal.’
So, that meant Liam had left for practice early in the morning, and he would be bombarded while he was… shit. It would have been hard for him to focus.
I waited on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through increasingly terrible takes on Twitter.
The door opened, and I saw him.
Liam looked exhausted, his hair wet from the pool, shoulders slumped, and dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept.
“Hey.”
“I saw the article,” I said as a greeting.
He nodded slowly and set his bag down. “Yeah. Look, you don’t have to pretend anymore. I’ll tell everyone we broke off our engagement and save your reputation.”
I frowned. This wasn’t like him.
“What actually happened?” I asked. “What’s the actual story behind it?”
He looked surprised. “You want to know?”
“Of course I do.”
He moved to the couch, sitting beside me but leaving a distance between us. I pursed my lips at the distance. It was as if he was bracing for me not to believe him.
“Sofia approached me at an Olympic after-party two years ago. She was dating my teammate, Joshua. He’s a good guy, and we had trained together for years.
” He ran a hand through his damp hair. “She came on to me, but I rejected her. Multiple times, I told her I wasn’t interested, that she had a boyfriend, and that this was inappropriate. ”
“And?”
“She got angry and told Joshua that I had pursued her and that I wouldn't leave her alone.” His jaw clenched. “Joshua believed her. We have since made up, and he knows the truth now, but… you know what happened.”
He pulled out his phone, showing me the full text thread. The messages the tabloid had published were there, but so were the ones they had conveniently cut out.
You looked beautiful tonight, but I’m not interested in pursuing anything. You have a boyfriend.
Can we talk privately? I want to make sure we’re clear that this isn’t happening.
Oh god. Context changed everything.
“And the photos?” I asked.
“They were group shots and cropped to look intimate. There were eight other people in those pictures.”
I believed him.
“Why didn’t you defend yourself publicly?”
“What’s the fucking point?” He laughed. “The tabloids always win. I got tired of fighting. Let them think I’m a playboy. At least then they’re not digging for the genuine stuff that hurts.”
“What genuine stuff?”
His eyes met mine and seemed vulnerable. I had never seen him with that look on his face before.
“That I’ve been lonely as hell for a decade. That meaningless hookups made me feel worse, not better and… I keep people at arm’s length because loving someone and losing them fucking destroyed me.”
Silence filled the space between us.
I reached over and took his hand. His fingers closed around mine immediately.
“I believe you.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve seen who you are when the cameras aren’t around.”
After that talk, I didn’t tell him what I was planning. Liam shut himself in his room while I took care of things.
The next morning, I called Marcus, who knew everyone in Hollywood and got me on his friend’s podcast. Spilling the Tea with Jasmine was one of the most popular entertainment podcasts in the country.
Jasmine was in her mid-thirties, sharp as hell, and didn’t pull punches.
We talked about my new role with Ananya Mehta. About the challenges of being typecast and also how it was living with an Olympic athlete and his insane protein shake collection.
Then she leaned forward.
“So, about Liam and these allegations.”
I had prepared for this and rehearsed in my head.
But what came out was completely unrehearsed.
“The Liam I know isn’t the man these tabloids describe. My fiancé is loyal, protective, and honest. We’ve known each other since we were kids, as our families are connected. I’ve seen him at his best and his worst.” I paused and said, “I trust him with my life.”
I meant every single word. The realization hit me mid-sentence, and I had to keep talking to cover my shock.
“These stories are designed to tear people down and to sell papers. But the man who defends me stands up for me. The one who found my grandmother’s ring when I thought I’d never find it again.
The one who notices when I’m overwhelmed and helps without being asked, that’s the real Liam. Not this tabloid fiction.”
Jasmine smiled. “You two are really in love, aren’t you?”
“Of course, why else would I tolerate him and his protein shakes? Do you know how bad some of them taste?” I said, laughing nervously.
The episode went live that afternoon, and within three hours, #Liamika was trending number one worldwide.
Blake called immediately when I was in the back of the cab, going home.
“That was rash! You should have asked me before—”
“You would have said no.”
“I’m your publicist for a reason, Deepika. If you can’t trust me, then—”
“You wanted to throw him under the bus for some stupid rumor.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I trust you, Blake, but you have to trust me as well.”
She didn’t reply for a moment and then sighed.
“You’re right. What you did turned out to be the right decision.
The sponsor renewed Liam’s contract, and Joshua gave an interview backing him up.
Sofia’s being exposed for lying.” She paused.
“If this momentum continues, you might not even have to put up with him for three months. You could end it early.”
I forced enthusiasm into my voice. “Oh. That sounds great.”
“I’ll send you details about the Ananya Mehta meeting. It’s coming soon, so be prepared.”
She hung up, and I sat there, phone in hand, staring at nothing.
I should be happy that we could end this early and go back to our separate lives.
So why did I feel like someone had hollowed out my chest?