He pushes again at the back of my throat, and I do my best to breathe through my nose as he comes undone. I need to give him this. His release is mine for the taking, and I want it. And then he rips his cock from my mouth at the same time his hand in my hair pulls my head back, exposing my throat and breasts to him. His hot cum erupts from him with a growl as he paints my breasts with his spent passion.
My chest heaves as my breath saws in and out of my lungs. Something has changed between us. For some reason, I feel like King and I are now anus. I have to admit that after the way he’s treated me the last few weeks, I’m as surprised as anyone, but I’d be lying if I said now that I have it, I don’t want it.
“I should have known you’d like a walk on the wild side,fresa,” he says, taking me from my thoughts.
“What?”
“Gotta say, you ever feel like slumming it again, give me a call.”
And then he turns on his heels and stalks out of the locker room, leaving me half naked on my knees and covered in his cum.
But it’s nothing compared to the shame that blankets me.
I won’t be making this same mistake again.
Lesson learned.
Chapter 6
Final Score
“And now please welcome for the first time to the living room, all-time racing legend Adrian Malone and his daughter Adrienne,” Kimber Long, host of a well-received cable sports interview show, calls out as Dad and I walk out on her set that is meant to look like a living room in a moderately upscale family home.
Kimber’s show,Final Score, is a popular show that airs every afternoon at four o’clock on Wolf Sports Network, or Wolf for short. She’s tall, she’s blonde, and she’s beautiful. She has a wide smile and freckles across the bridge of her nose, and she gives off that girl next door vibe that every man loves. And she eyed King like a particularly juicy steak she wanted to sink her teeth into the second she laid eyes on him backstage.
She can have him. He’s nothing but a jerk with impending doom and heartbreak written all over him. I should know. I learned my lesson when I touched his fire and got burned. And I try to learn most lessons the first time around, so I was already done when we arrived at her set in Los Angeles.
But still… I wanted to scratch her eyes out.
This, I ignored. I let hair and makeup softly curl my long, dark hair so that it fell in loose waves down my back and around my breasts. I sat patiently while they made my face up in soft, smoky grays and delicate pinks. And then I stepped into a restroom and changed into my standard uniform of dark skinny jeans and tall black Louboutins with their sky-high heels and red lacquered soles. I topped it with a loose-fitting chiffon camisole that hung from my shoulders on slim straps and had a deep enough V in the front that it hinted at the abundance hidden underneath. I tucked the front into my jeans behind a skinny patent leather belt and let it billow around my waist.
Mom always taught me to be sexy without blaring it, which is probably why the half-naked photoshoot had put me on edge. Of course, then I compounded it by letting King have his way with me in the dark locker room. And as if the women in racing spread wasn’t pushing my limits enough, PR booked me for a full centerfold inThe Dangerous Dames.The Damesis a well-known gentleman’s magazine that boasts of its cutting-edge articles and full-color images of young, beautiful women who just happen to be naked.
I’ve decided not to borrow troubles with that one until I have to, so for now, I’m ignoring it’s impending date for me to drop my clothes all in the name of showing the world who I am.
But today is wholesome family business, sports, and a sit-down interview.
I threaded my platinum star earrings glittering with tiny diamonds that Dad gave me when I won my first race on the circuit through my ears. I stepped back out into the dressing room to meet Dad, who was wearing his signature uniform of a pair of worn Levi’s, a black T-shirt, boots, a leather belt, and his DHR team jacket just in time for us to be called to set.
“Ready?” he asked me.
“Of course.” I slid my own DHR jacket up my arms and followed him to the stage entrance, which brings me to now.
Dad and I walk into the made-up living room of all creams and whites. Kimber stands to greet us warmly, as is part of her schtick. I haven’t made up my mind if she’s genuine or not, but in the world of professional sports, we all have a role to play, and I won’t begrudge her for hers, because I’m too entrenched in my own. We sit next to each other on the long cream sofa as she settles into her chair across from us, folding her legs one over the other as she often does, emphasizing just how long they are. I could see King going for a woman like her. She’s tall, but he’s taller, and all of her golden-blonde and creamy-peach would look killer next to his jet-black and dark-olive.
“Welcome, welcome,” she says.
“Thanks for having us,” Dad replies.
“Gladly. So should we get to it?”
“After you,” Dad says, charming her with his smile. There’s a reason he’s been married so many times. He’s a handsome guy.
“Tell me what it’s like to be the record-holding champion,” she prompts.
Dad laughs. “It’s pretty awesome. I’m not sure I’d be as happy if my life had led me down a different path.”
“And how many races have you won?”
