6. Spencer
SPENCER
From the minute I got back to my room, after spending the day doing Coyote shit, I started planning for my night with Soleil.
We had talked about a lot of things, but we hadn’t talked about former relationships or exes.
I didn’t know how she was used to being treated; all I knew was how I planned to treat her.
One of the concierges had sent up a staff member with a tablecloth, candle holders, and candles.
She’d even ordered a vase of flowers and a bottle of tequila for me.
The staff member had been kind enough to set the table and light the candles while I took a shower.
A different staff member had gone into town and picked up the food—crab cakes, baked potatoes, and roasted broccolini.
I had just finished transferring the food from the take-out containers to the plates and covered both plates with a cloche when there was a knock on my door.
I opened it for her with a smile already on my face. I hadn’t seen her since our morning run. I missed her.
She returned my smile with one of her own. “Hey.”
I pulled her into a hug. “What’s up?” When I released her, I led her into the room.
“Wow.” She did a 360-degree turn. “This is nice. Look at you, big baller. What is this, a two-bedroom suite?”
“Nah,” I said with a chuckle. “It’s a one-bedroom suite. And trust me, this is not me balling. I wouldn’t ball out for a team event. I would take whatever the team provided on their dime. This is my godmother. She upgraded me as an extra thank you for doing this for her.”
“Your godmother sounds really sweet.”
“She is. You hungry?”
“I could eat.” I led her to the balcony where the table was set up. “Wow. This view. I feel like you can see all the way to Miami from here.”
I laughed lightly.
“The beach. The ocean. The palm trees. It’s so pretty here.” She finally looked away from the view and seemed to notice the table for the first time. “Oh my goodness. Look at this. It’s gorgeous. Who did this for you?”
I feigned minor offense. “You think I can’t do something like this?”
“Did you?”
“I requested it.”
She giggled. “That is not the same, Spence. But whoever did it did a really good job.”
“Sit down.” She did. I sat across from her. “Tell me about your day.”
“Golf is hard.” She pouted, and I laughed loud as hell.
“It’s especially hard when you’re well-endowed.
” Her hands came up and cupped her sizable breasts.
For a moment, I wished like hell that I was her hands.
“It was awkward and hard, but not so awkward and hard that I wouldn’t do it again.
I might actually set up lessons for myself when I get home.
It worked out well for me that I scheduled my facial after spending all that time doing manual labor in the sun. ”
I chortled. “Golf was the manual labor, right? I wanna make sure I’m following.”
“Yes, golf was the manual labor. And having my face cleansed, caressed, and pampered after that was exactly what I needed. Lunch was delicious, and that nap? That was top-tier.”
I smiled.
“How was your day?”
“We took helicopters to Miami to visit the hospital that Beckenbracken is using as his inspiration for the wing he wants to fund over at Immaculate Angels. That shit was ass and boring as hell. I got stuck next to Wilcox during the presentation, and that was ass. We went to lunch at what had to be the most ostentatious restaurant on this island. The food was good, but the conversation—”
She cut me off. “Let me guess. It was ass?” We both laughed. “Sounds like your day wasn’t so great.”
I pierced her with my gaze. “It’s starting to look up.”
She blushed. “I’m glad.” I watched her lift the cloche. “Oh my goodness. You got me crab cakes.”
“You said they’re your favorite meal.”
“They are.” Her eyes went soft as she peered at me. “The way you listen to me and catalogue the things I say . . . not everybody does that. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I blessed the food, then we ate in silence, each of us thinking our own thoughts.
We watched the sun sink until the sky was dark, and the stars were bright.
Once the sun had fully set, and we were done with our food, I grabbed our empty dishes and set them outside the suite’s door.
When I rejoined her on the balcony, we moved from the table to the outdoor sofa, and before I knew it, Soleil was in my lap.
I kissed her temple, then turned her face to me and kissed her lips while letting my hands explore her soft and curvy body. They traveled down and cupped her full, heavy breasts. My fingertips dug into her supple thighs.
She broke the kiss. “I need to feel more of you.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.” She nodded her head as she climbed out of my lap.
I momentarily stared at Soleil as she lay naked in the middle of the bed in my suite.
After I stroked myself a few times, I slid on the condom and joined her.
Her legs spread open, and I moved between them.
Fucking in the missionary wasn’t something I did regularly, because that position was way too intimate for the state of many of my sexual encounters.
It was weird that I wanted her this way.
I wanted her in this position, at this level of intimacy.
We kissed while my hand drifted to her apex and found the sensitive bundle of nerves housed there.
I massaged, squeezed, and caressed her clit, making her moan and purr.
She was so fucking intoxicating. A part of my brain kept encouraging me to hold some of myself back because if I wasn’t careful, I would give too much of me to her.
I wanted her to have it, though. She had me on some pussy-whipped shit, and I hadn’t even gotten the pussy.
The thoughts were too prevalent. I needed to at least feel her before I lost my mind behind her.
I moved my fingers from her clit and slid in inch by inch.
Her body stretched to accommodate me, gripping me because the fit was so snug.
“Fuck,” I said in a soft moan that floated right into her ear. “You feel so fucking good.” I wasn’t typically the most vocal lover—preferring to indulge in “inside thoughts”—but Soleil had me wanting to moan on repeat. I wanted to purr in her fucking face like a spoiled kitten or some shit.
I bucked my hips, sinking further into nirvana. She raised her shoulders from the bed with her mouth open and waiting with an unspoken request. I gave her my tongue, and she sucked it while I plunged into her over and over.
My hands found her hair, grabbing locks and pulling roughly. I drove into her, making her release the grip she had on my tongue to moan out my name like it was her own personal affirmation.
After years of using sex primarily as a release, having Soleil underneath me, so open and responsive, was heady as hell.
I slid my hands under her ass, which opened her wider and allowed me to fall even deeper into her.
She panted, her breathing erratic, and her wails bouncing off every wall as I pulverized a different spot inside her.
Her whines and whimpers were like music to my ears, like motivation from my coaches.
And then she was cumming. After a few additional minutes of pounding her, my release raced out of me and into the condom.
I lay right beside her on the bed, trying to catch my breath, and put my mind back together.
Whether Soleil knew it or not, she was mine.
Whether it had been four days or four months, she was mine.
Whether she tried to leave the island and walk back into the life that was waiting for her at home, . . . she was mine.
Day Five
After two rounds of early morning sex, Soleil and I donned the fluffy, plush robes provided by the resort and sat on the balcony, watching the sunrise. We only separated to shower and prepare for the day. Once we were both dressed, we met at the Coastal Cantina for breakfast.
“I wish we could go back to your suite and stay boo’d up all day, but duty calls.” She took a spoonful of her berry yogurt parfait.
“What you got on your schedule today?”
“Work. The city has some summer events coming up, and they always ask for Bison players to come out and interact with the kids—Taste of Chicago, The Bud Billiken Parade—stuff like that. I reserved a private poolside cabana with high-speed wi-fi for this morning to send emails, have video meetings, and make calls as needed. What about you?”
“We’re giving a stretching and weightlifting clinic for the fans and donors.
” I shook my head. “I already feel like this is gonna be a fail. Oversized egos and heavy objects? Somebody’s gonna feel challenged and want to prove that they have the biggest nuts.
Somebody’s gonna tear, rip, or strain something.
The paramedics’ll probably end up being called. ”
“Wow. Just don’t let it be you, all right?”
I gave her a grin. “Shit, I don’t even know how I’mma get a weight off the rack with the way you spent last night and this morning drainin’ me.”
“You liked it,” she told me, trying to hide her blush.
“Damn sure did. Please do the exact same thing to me tonight, Sunshine.”
The resort had several gyms on property.
Due to space limitations, the players and the fans had been broken up into groups and assigned to the different gyms. As far as resort gyms went, the one I was assigned to was nice.
It had floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the ocean, so there was that.
The downside was that, when I arrived, Wilcox was already there.
I was in a good place. The last thing I wanted to do was deal with his shit.
All I could do was hope that, for once in his life, he kept his fat mouth shut.
As the fans filed in, I noticed that the group assigned to this particular gym was heavily feminine.
One of the team’s trainers walked in with Stuart Robinski at his side.
Robinski came and stood between Wilcox and me.
The players, the trainer, and the fans were all present and accounted for. It was time to start.
Dave, the trainer, began his opening spiel. “Good morning. Thank you all for joining us. Today’s clinic is gonna cover the importance of flexibility, stretching to keep muscles in their optimal condition, proper weightlifting techniques, and recovery.”
A brunette with a deep tan raised her hand, then spoke without being called on. “Are the players gonna stand behind us and . . . spot us?”
“We’re not at the point yet,” Dave pointed out. “First, we need to demonstrate stretching techniques.”
“Do you take requests? Because I request him to demonstrate,” another woman called out while pointing directly at me.
Shrieks and hoots went up throughout the crowd.
Dave turned to me. “All right, Charles. Looks like you won the election. Come on up and be our body model.”
I sucked my teeth and shook my head. “This is some bullshit,” I muttered as I walked toward Dave.
Dave had me demonstrate the first few moves he called out. As the moves required a little bit more flexibility and balance, he asked the players to walk through the crowd and correct forms.
“Is this right?” The voice came from a petite blonde, who was bent over, looking up at me from between her own legs.
It was some porn-star-type shit, but it did absolutely nothing for me. “Uh, nah. Don’t bend so far down, and don’t lock your knees.”
“Not even around your neck?” She winked at me, and it was awkward as hell with her head down by her own knees.
“Hell . . .” I began as the visual of what she was insinuating flooded my mind. Luckily, I was able to catch myself and give her a very fake smile. “Let’s keep it professional,” I told her instead.
“Why? I’m not on my job.”
“I’m on mine. And as an athlete who understands injury, I’d prefer that you didn’t pull a muscle on my watch. Relax your knees, and bring your upper body to an almost standing position.”
When the weightlift portion of the clinic started, I got even more offers.
Everything was thrown out by the women from “spot me” from this one to “I don’t think my hips are in alignment” from that one.
A lady with a diamond on her ring that was the size of a tennis ball cuffed my ass.
I caught her hand, gave her a fake grin and accused her of trying to get me killed by her husband.
Even she had to chuckle at the ridiculousness of her flirting.
I stepped to the water station, grabbed a cup, and threw it back.
Wilcox appeared beside me. “You’re fucking up this entire assignment,” he told me with a suck of his teeth.
“You’re actin’ slow as hell. The pussy here is free and available.
I’ve had a different female every night.
Hell, every morning, too.” He chuckled. “And every afternoon. These bitches love us.”
“They might love you.”
“They definitely love ya boy. I’m settin’ a personal record on how much pussy I can get in a week.”
“I guess that’s what’s up,” I told him with a shoulder shrug.
He looked me up and down with disgust written all over his face. “You turning down all this free pussy to run behind Thigh Meat?”
“Motherfucka, I told you not to call her that.”
“I don’t know her fuckin’ name,” he said in defense of the made-up name he called her.
“Whatever. Enjoy yourself. Do you.” My thoughts drifted to Soleil. She was probably sitting in her private cabana, typing on her laptop while she held the phone with her shoulder. I couldn’t wait to see her later. The chicks at this clinic didn’t have shit on her.