YOU OWE ME NOTHING, LOVE
FRANKIE
I wait as his eyes wander their way up from my ankles. I can almost feel them like a touch, sliding their way over my skin. When his pale aqua eyes finally make it up to my face, I’m working my butt off to make sure that I don’t look the least bit turned on even though my bikini bottom is wet from more than the pool I was in ten minutes ago. I guess I don’t do a good job because he smiles as he leans against the half-wall that sections off the meditation area I’m in. “Who you pretending for, love? We both know you want to be here more than anywhere else in the world right now. Or else you wouldn’t be here.”
“Whether I want it or not doesn’t mean it’s right.”
“Nothing that tastes as good as your pussy can be wrong.” He says it so casually and somehow that makes it so much hotter. I know my cheeks are turning the same pink as the mood lighting in this place.
Billy isn’t fucking around tonight. He stalks right over to the lounger I’m splayed out on, not even attempting to hide his excitement as he unties his robe, exposing his perfect physique and his long, hard dick. His hands dent the cushion on either side of my head, and he hovers above me like he’s about to start doing push-ups.
“I’m your boss now.” Am I reminding him, or myself? I have no clue. It doesn’t matter. Neither of us are going to listen.
“You haven’t even run a race yet. We’ve got time,” he whispers, dipping his head down so his warm breath tickles the column of my neck. Every nerve ending in my body is tingling with anticipation. I want him to touch me with his lips, with his fingers, with his tongue, with everything. I am struggling to stay rational. I feel my limbs extend, my hands above my head, legs long and toes pointed, like I’m stretching. It’s either that or I reach up and grab him and pull him over me like a blanket.
“Is there even an official rule about this?” Billy questions. “Does Mirabella care? Do the race stewards? I mean, we can’t be the first people working for the same team to fuck.”
“We haven’t fucked,” I whisper.
“See? We aren’t even breaking imaginary rules.” He grins. “Yet.”
“Do you really want to fuck a woman who is only good at posing half naked on Instagram every five minutes?” I ask pointedly.
Disappointment flickers across his ruggedly handsome face. Because he thinks I’m shutting him down. And I am… right? I can’t let this go on. Even if, after some investigation, I realized the comment Billy made was actually said in jest about Rocco at a press conference a few weeks ago when an Instagram picture Rocco posted in his gym shorts went viral last year.
“That reporter-slash-douchebag misrepresented my quote to try and make drama for Mirabella.” Billy tells me what I already know. “So basically, if you don’t let me give you another orgasm right now, you’re letting the haters win.”
“Nice logic, James.” I smile. “But even the pompous panda you sent me knows there’s much more to it than that.”
There’s so many cons and very little pros. I mean sure, orgasms and fulfilled teenage fantasies are a pro, but heartache and work complications and the fact that I’m still not one hundred percent sure I can trust him are huge cons. The cons you can’t ignore… even with his perfect dick pressed against my thigh and that talented mouth gently pressed to the shell of my ear.
“Why did you come here then?” he asks me, his tone pure challenge. He’s daring me to lie because he knows the truth. He can read my body like a book, and right now it’s screaming ‘bodice ripper!’
“I owe you,” I whisper, his lips brushing by mine so lightly I almost think I’m dreaming it. “For the other night.”
“You owe me?” Billy pulls back a little. “For what?”
“What happened in San Sebastian.”
I can feel tension replace desire in his muscular body. Billy’s sandy eyebrows furrow. “You think you owe me for pleasuring you? Like I did it as a favor? Like there was nothing in it for me?”
“No. Not… I mean I know…” I’m the most articulate person I know. I make my living off speaking about things, at least Idid. But this thing with Billy James has me out of my element. I feel like a timid teenager. So instead of talking, I crane my neck so our lips connect.
Billy is no longer concerned with my need for a score sheet. He devours my mouth like it’s a decadent dessert. I do the same because kissing him is the most incredible thing in the world. He’s so dominant and reckless in the way his tongue moves and his lips nip at me and I can’t get enough.
Our bodies move closer. He’s draped on top of me now, full contact. My tiny bikini suddenly feels as big as a snow suit. It covers all the parts I wish were bare. His long, hard cock rubs shamelessly against me, pushing against the thin fabric of the bikini bottom between my legs. His lips drop to my neck and he sucks gently right above my collarbone and I arch even further into him. His skin is supple and hard and warm. Between him and the heated lounger, I’m on the verge of burning up.
“You owe me nothing, love,” Billy tells me, lips against the column of my neck.
But he’s wrong. I have to even this score, so we can both walk away satisfied. “Did you leave that night and jerk off? Thinking of it? Of what we did?”
“I did. With the taste of you still on my lips,” he admits, and I want to moan at the vision it puts in my head.
I run a hand into his permanently tousled sandy hair and curl my fingers, tugging him roughly down to my mouth again. We kiss and grind against each other for long, blissful minutes until we’re both panting and my lips are swollen, my chin red from his scruff. I push him off me, despite the throbbing ache between my legs that I know only he can cure. Well, him or my hand later. And I promised myself it would be my hand. I can’t… even if a crazy, unbridled part of me wants to, desperately. I can’t fuck Billy James.
He’s kneeling between my legs, halfway down the wide, double lounger. The robe is hanging off his bare shoulders and his perfect body is on display. All of him, and he is anything but shy about it. His hand wraps around his cock and he smiles. Oh that smile. It’s like having the sun caress your skin on a warm, deserted, white sand beach. “You want to pretend you’re in control tonight? That’s cool.”
“I am in control,” I reply sternly. His grin deepens. “I’m not going to fuck you.”
