12
Sasha
“Keep your head down.” Conor says from behind me. “Spread your legs a little more and you’ll get it in.” He places his hands on my hips, angling me into position.
“Uhh!” I moan. I can feel Conor’s hard length digging into me from where he’s pressed against me. “My hands are so sweaty, I can’t get a good grip.”
“Just let me help you.” Conor offers but I smack his hands away.
“I’ve got it. It’s just so dark in here, I can’t actually see what I’m doing.”
“Push your ass out more. It’ll be easier that way.” I do as he says, leaning my body forward and sticking my ass out backwards. “Yes, just like that.”
“I’d just like to remind you that I’m not as experienced as you in this.”
“You don’t need experience when I can just guide you through it.” His hot breath fans across the back of my neck as he whispers. “Come on, Sash, just put it in the hole.”
“Fine.” Swinging my arms, I hit the bright pink golf ball with the club. “Dammit!” I groan when the ball rolls too far past the hole...again. Golf is just another thing to add to the list of things that Conor is brilliant at and that I suck at.
Conor doubles over in a fit of laughter. “Oh my God!” He wheezes, “You are atrocious.”
“Atrocious, huh?” I deadpan, turning my head so he can’t see the wide smile that breaks free. “That’s an awfully big word for you.”
“It’s my word of the day,” of course it is, “and now I get to check it off my list because I used it in a perfect sentence.” He says it so proudly, puffing his chest out and everything.
“You didn’t have to wait until now, you know? You could have used it this morning.” He raises an eyebrow at me in question. “For example, you could have said something like,” I clear my throat dramatically, “‘I am atrocious at singing’.”
Conor’s face drops, “That was too far, Sash.” We stare at each other with matching serious expressions for all of three seconds before bursting into laughter at the same time. His laugh is impossible not to join in with.
Who knew dating Conor Matthews would be so fun? It’s not just movies and dinner dates, but real, entertaining dates where I get to laugh until my stomach hurts and get to know the real him instead of the version that everyone else sees.
Tonight, we’re at an indoor, glow in the dark mini golf course. It was a compromise since I refused to go to an actual golf course. That sounded boring as hell.
He took me to a country themed bar a few nights ago and taught me how to line dance. It was amazing. He was amazing. I was not, but still, it was one of the best nights I have ever had.
Conor and I both agreed that to make us more of a believable couple, we needed to go on real dates.
We needed to properly get to know each other, but also be seen in public together more than once.
We’ve decided that we’ll have a date night every Tuesday and Friday, as long as our schedules match.
So far we’ve been on three dates, tonight marking off our fourth.
One thing I hadn’t fully anticipated when dating Conor was the constant attention, the lingering stares, the flashes of cameras everywhere we went. I thought we’d be old news by now. Surely there’s something more exciting going on in the sporting world than the dating life of one hockey player.
I don’t know how Liv does this all the time. She can’t even leave the house on her own without someone snapping a photo of her. The thought of that happening to me makes my skin crawl.
That’s why I thought mini golf would be a good date idea. It’s dark, tucked away, and every hole is separated just enough that we get these little pockets of privacy.
“Okay, come on.” Conor says, dragging me to the next hole. “There’s no point in you even trying to putt that last one. We’ll be there all night.”
“Ha ha, funny guy.” I grab my ball from where it lies pathetically on the floor on its own.
“Let me help you this time.”
“Fine.” I grumble. I’m not opposed to a muscular man wrapping his arms around me. I’m sure any girl in my position would be jumping at the chance.
I place my ball on the starting mark before moving into the stance Conor had shown me before. And then I wait. And wait. Nothing. I glance over my shoulder at him. “Why aren’t you helping?”
He lets his eyes drift slowly down my body before meeting my eye. “Sorry, Angel, just enjoying the view.” I swing my hand to smack his arm playfully but he dodges me easily. “Put that much effort into hitting the ball and you’ll be golden.”
“My God, you are insufferable.”
Conor chuckles before stepping in behind me.
His chest brushes against my back as his arms slide around mine, his hands covering my own on the club.
“Widen your stance a little.” He whispers into my ear, the warmth of his breath ghosting over my neck.
Goosebumps travel down my arms and a shiver races up my spine.
I part my legs like he asked me to, his commanding but husky voice doing something to my insides.
“Good girl.” He breaths out, chest rising and falling heavily against my back.
The atmosphere in the room has shifted. It feels as though all the air has been sucked out, the walls feel like they are closing in on us, and the background noise is no more than a faint purr.
“Now what do you want me to do?” My words come out quieter than I intended them to, breathy and uncontrolled.
“Bend your knees.” I do as he says, my ass brushing against his hardening cock, “Up a little.” I move up, the motion making Conor groan into my neck.
He cannot be making those sounds right now.
They’ll be seared into my brain forever if he doesn’t stop.
My pulse quickens and my stomach tightens.
We’re entering dangerous territory here.
“Stick your ass out a bit more but keep your back straight.” Again, I follow his orders, pushing my butt into his front harder.
Holy shit, he is big. My knees feel weak all of a sudden, imagining just how big he is.
From the feel of him between my cheeks, I’d say a lot bigger than average.
My body is a back stabbing bitch, melting, swooning, falling into the sex trap that is Conor Matthews.
I fight the urge to move against him and moan. Thank God all the holes are tucked away behind their own walls. No one needs to witness me completely coming undone because a man is teaching me how to putt a golf ball.
“Line up the club with where you want the ball to go.” It takes me a few tries, but I manage to line it up as close as I can. “Perfect, just like that.” Stop it, Conor. Why are my thoughts turning everything he says into some sort of sexual meaning? Am I really that deprived of sex?
“Swing the club up like this,” he moves our arms up to the side but releases his from mine when he gets it into the perfect position. Instead, his hands move to my hips, grasping them in a firm grip, pulling me tight against his front. “Keep your hips still and swing.”
I breathe in deep, swinging the club and hitting the ball before releasing it. The ball rolls and stops just before the hole. “Yes!” Conor laughs, “That’s my girl.” He steps back and the sudden loss of his warmth leaves me strangely cold.
I need to chill out. Why am I so affected by this? Conor clearly isn’t. He seems like his normal, composed self and here I am, melting into a puddle on the floor.
He was showing me how to hit a golf ball properly, there was nothing more to it. So why did it feel like there was?
“What about this one?” I ask Olivia, pointing to a peach colored, skintight, floor length dress.
“It’s cute.” She says with a shrug before turning back to the rack of dresses she’s rifling through.
I narrow my eyes. “You don’t like it.”
She shoots me a guilty smile, but the act lasts all of two seconds. “I hate it.” She admits, an apology written all over her face. “I’m sorry, I just really don’t like that color.”
“I know! It’s so ugly.” I mock cry, “But I’m getting desperate.”
Alex and Rose’s engagement party is in four days and I have found nothing to wear. Sure I have lots of dresses in my wardrobe that would be perfectly acceptable to wear, but what woman wants to wear the same dress twice?
“Why are you even going?” Liv asks as she pulls a horrid looking bright green dress out of the rack, makes a face and then slots it back in.
“Because they’re my friends.”
“Are they though?” I gape at her in mock offence, even if the thought hadn’t crossed my mind a thousand times since I RSVP’d.
“Oh, don’t give me that look.” I turn away from her instead, continuing my hunt for a dress.
“Seriously though, when was the last time you heard from either of them? Did they message you after you and Max broke up? You always said you didn’t like Alex anyway and only tolerated him because he was Max’s friend and-”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” I sigh, giving up on my search for a dress in this store. I’m embarrassed to admit the real reason I’m going to this party, not more embarrassed than I was asking Conor to be my fake boyfriend, but close enough. “I’m not going for them. I’m going for Max.”
The dress Olivia is pulling out of the next rack freezes mid-air and shoots me a glare, taking my meaning the wrong way.
“Not for him, but…” I pause, trying to find the right words, “If I don’t go to this party, it’ll be like I’m saying I’m still not over him, not wanting to see him with someone else.
” I hang my head, ashamed at my admission.
“Is that true?” Her eyes soften but they shine with pity. I hate that look.
“Yes.” Max hurt me more than anyone ever has before.
He humiliated me, made me feel worthless, and still, I find myself thinking about him, wondering what he’s doing, if he’s still thinking about me.
Pathetic, I know. “We were together our whole lives, Liv. He wasn’t just someone I was in love with.
He was my friend first. Those feelings don’t just disappear. ” Not for me anyway.
We leave that store and cross the street to another boutique. One that’s way outside my price range so I don’t even know why we’re in here.
“What about Conor?” Liv asks as we wander down the aisles.
“What about him?”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him.”
“And?”
“And I thought he might have taken your mind off of Max.” Olivia grimaces as she pulls out an orange dress with giant pearls on the top.
“He does take my mind off Max when we’re together, but as soon as I’m alone, all those thoughts come rushing back.” I don’t even bother looking through any of the dresses. What’s the point?
“Oh, look at this one!” Liv squeals, racing to the end of the aisle where a mannequin stands tall, wearing the most beautiful, pale yellow dress I have ever seen.
Thin spaghetti straps hold up the dress.
It’s tight at the top, with a graceful sweetheart neckline dipped just enough for the cleavage to be sexy but not too over the top.
It cinches at the waist, giving way to a flowing skirt, that stops mid-thigh at the front, and falls lower at the back.
It’s stunning and, yep, way out of my price range. “Who pays two hundred dollars for a dress? Jesus.” I shake my head, turning away and walking back down the aisle we came from.
Olivia is quick on my heel, which isn’t hard considering her legs are twice the length of mine. Maybe that’s a slight exaggeration but it’s not far off. “Just try it on.”
“There’s no point, Liv.”
“Yes there is.” She states, attempting to drag me back to the dress. “Girl, your whole face lit up when you saw it. You need to try it on.”
My next words come out as a whisper. “I can’t afford it.” I’m struggling to even afford the essentials right now, I can’t spend my savings on a dress that I’ll only wear once.
“I’ll buy it.”
I gape at her, my jaw almost hitting the floor. “You can’t do that.”
“Yes, I can.” She says, pulling me back to the dress. “Think of it as a birthday gift.”
“My birthday isn’t for another few months.”
“Fine, an early birthday gift.” Olivia sifts through the collection of dresses hanging up beside the mannequin, presumably looking for my size.
“No, it’s too much.”
“Sasha,” Olivia huffs, pulling my size off the rack, “you’re my best friend, my sister, and I want you to be happy. This dress will make you happy.”
“You make me happy.” I interrupt, but she continues as if I didn’t speak.
“Let me do something nice for you. You will look unreal in this dress.”
I growl, not bothering to argue with her anymore. She’s more stubborn than I am and sometimes you have to pick your battles. “Fine, I’ll try it on.” I say, taking the dress out of her hands.
“Plus, he won’t be able to take his eyes off you the whole day.”
“I don’t think I want Max to look at me like that anymore.”
Olivia runs a gentle hand down my arm, smiling down at me, “I wasn’t talking about Max.”