Where the hell did this man come from? He’s nothing I’ve ever experienced before, so secure with his sexuality, making sure to keep things slow, seductive, but with a touch of domineering roughness. I’m going to combust.
Leaning over my body, he whispers into my ear, singing, and reaches around to my front to pinch one of my nipples. A burst of white-hot pleasure shoots straight through me, surprising the hell out of me. My pussy contracts and I fall over the edge, his name falling from my lips as my orgasm rips through every pore of my body.
Hollis follows right behind me, mumbling obscenities, pounding relentlessly into me from behind until he stiffens and groans, his fingers bruising my skin, but I don’t care. Rather, I welcome it.
“Fucking hell.” His arms wrap around me and pull me up from our bent-over position. He turns me around, his still-hard erection lying against me. “Baby, that was—”
“The best,” I finish for him.
“Yeah.” He sighs, pulling me over to the bed where he cuddles me into his side and leisurely strokes my back with his fingers, occasionally grazing the top of my ass.
We lie there, both staring at the ceiling, reveling in our post-sex glow. And boy, what a glow. I’ve never had a man give me a lap dance before, nonetheless one with the best set of abs I’ve ever seen on a man. Normally, someone like Hollis would scare me away, but not because of his attentiveness. I’ve just found that the men I’ve dated with good bodies tend to focus more on their needs than mine, leaving me with a great deal of unfinished business in the bedroom department. But not Hollis.
I’m pretty sure it’s his life goal to make sure I have an orgasm—or two . . . or three—and of course I’m okay with that. He can strive to please me in the bedroom all he wants. I just hope he finds me to be as adequate when it comes to satisfying his needs.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, breaking my thoughts.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.” He lightly slaps my butt, making me jump and laugh. “Tell me what you were thinking about.”
Leaning up on my arm that rests on his chest, I look down at him, my hair falling past my shoulders. “Do I . . . satisfy you?” I’ve never asked this question before, and I’m almost terrified as the words leave my lips. But, I need to know, and I trust he’ll be honest.
A sexy grin spreads across his face as his blue eyes lazily stare up at me. He pushes my hair behind my ear and then grips my cheek. “Melony, you have no fucking clue how much you satisfy me. I would seriously eat your pussy for every meal of the day if I could. Your body makes me hard for hours. Your lips drive me so fucking insane, and those tiny hands of yours, when I see them wrapped around my cock, hell, I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”
I look down to see he’s right.
Running his thumb over my bottom lip, he says, “Believe me, you don’t ever have to worry about satisfying me. Are you worried about me leaving—?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. Hollis would be the last person I could see ever cheating. I don’t think he has that gene in his bones. He’s monogamous, there’s no doubt about that. “I just wanted to make sure I was holding up my end of the bargain. I don’t want to be a slouch in bed.”
“What, you saying I’m a titan when it comes to sex?”
“God,” I huff, flopping back down on the bed. “I should have known I couldn’t have this conversation without hearing some wise-ass comment.”
“Oh, come on.” He laughs, positioning himself above me. “Just admit it, you think I’m a sex god.”
“I would never say that for fear of your ego exploding.”
“I’m going to take that as confirmation of my sex-god status. Don’t worry, baby, I won’t let the truth get out.”
“You’re so stupid.”
Kissing my neck, he says, “And you’re so sexy, so don’t fucking ever doubt whether or not you satisfy me. You’re everything I’ve ever dreamt of in a woman . . . and more.” And there it is. The words I love to hear. I’m everything he’s ever dreamt of. And I think he is the same for me.
His lips devours my skin as he continues to whisper sweet things about me, mainly about my boobs, but hey, I can’t really complain.
Chapter Twenty-Three
HOLLIS
“How the hell did I get a middle seat?” I ask Melony as I sit in the airport waiting for my flight from Houston to Rio. Tell me why it makes sense to fly from Atlanta to Houston and then to Rio. I will never get it.
“Are you having a princess moment?” her smooth, sweet voice asks. Fuck, I miss her already.
The day I left, I spent the morning worshipping her body, memorizing every beautiful curve and the way her soft skin feels against my rough jaw. I made it my mission to show her how much I care for her, how much I’m obsessed with her . . . how much I love her.
Yeah, I didn’t fucking say that. Could you imagine?
“Uh, Melony, I love you,” said in a timid nerdy voice.
She would probably throat-punch me and then take off. I’m not stupid, the girl is still very uneasy about the whole relationship thing. Doesn’t matter that I’ve been pining after her for over six months, we’ve been together for a very short time, those three words would have her sprinting for the ocean.
So instead of telling her, I showed her, and not to boast my already highly regarded opinion of myself, but I’m not going to lie, I made her scream. Combo of tongue and dick do it again. At this point, I know exactly what will get Melony off . . . multiple times . . . and I make sure to take part in those activities every chance I get.
Physically I know we’re on the same page. Mentally, I think we’re getting there. We’ve gotten to know each other, we’ve had some serious conversations, she knows where I stand when it comes to our relationship, but we’re taking it slow for her benefit.
But one thing I know. She will be meeting my family in Rio, there is no doubt about that. And . . . I will have to have that conversation with Melony about Holly. I pray she doesn’t hate me, that she doesn’t run when she finds out the truth of what I did to my sister.
Holly has forgiven me and has asked me to drop the guilt but it isn’t that easy, not when I still see what I’ve done to her. After I dropped Holly off, I swore I would do whatever it took to win gold this year, despite my age and the newbies coming up the pipeline. That gold is mine. I’m winning it for Holly and Holly alone.
“I’m not having a princess moment,” I reply. “I just would appreciate a window on such a long flight, you know, since I’m a two-time gold medalist and all.” I smile because I know what Melony is about to say.
“You’re so ridiculous.” Yup, could have placed a giant bet on that little reply.
“Do you not feel bad for me?”
“No, I don’t. I think it’s good for you to live like a peasant in the middle seat. You’re getting out of hand.”
“Speaking of hand, want to send me a picture of your hand on your boob? I miss Boo and Bear already. Do they miss, Big Daddy?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“You sure know how to chop down a guy’s tree trunk.”
“That trunk was getting way too large.”
“Blame yourself, baby. You’re the one that makes it grow to orgasmic lengths. Remember when we measured it the other night? That was fun.”
“Aren’t you in public?” she asks, her voice growing husky.
“Yeah, why? Do you want a dick pic? Let me go to the bathroom, and I’ll send you one.”
“No,” she laughs, “I can’t believe you’re talking like that around everyone.”
“Oh, does that make you shy? So I shouldn’t say very loudly that Melony has perfectly rounded tits with little pink nipples that make me hard as a rock?” My voice rises, but no one looks at me. Contrary to what she believes, I’m sitting in the corner of the gate, no one close to me.
“Oh my God. Hollis, stop.”
“Her vagina tastes like heaven too.”
“Hollis!” She laughs and chastises.
“It’s a compliment, babe.”
“It’s private.”
“Yes, it’s your private part. Good job, baby,” I say with encouraging sarcasm.
Exasperated, she sighs. “I really hope some hairy man with a touching fetish sits next to you and I hope he smells like stale broccoli.”
“Babe, why would you say something like that? You can’t put that kind of negative energy out in the world.”
“Better yet, I hope it’s a chatty twenty-year-old girl trying to hit on you the entire way. I know how uncomfortable that would make you.”
She’s so fucking right. I would hate every minute of that.
“Now you’re just being mean.”
She chuckles. “Maybe next time you will think again before shouting out facts about my pussy.”
“Sorry that it’s amazing and I want everyone to know,” I joke. “Next time I’ll talk about the pussy chili you tried to make.”
“That was never a thing,” she shouts in the phone while I laugh out loud.
***
“What happened to sending me a boob picture?”
“Not going to happen. I don’t send naked selfies.”
“What if you photocopy your boobs and then take a picture of that and send it to me? Technically it’s not a naked selfie and you can practice for when you have to get a mammogram done. It’s a win-win for everyone,” I say, unpacking my bag and putting things away in my dorm. The perk of being a veteran: not having to share a room.
“You’re impossible.”
“No, I’m horny. I haven’t seen your gorgeous body and beautiful face in a week. I fucking miss you.”
“Are you buttering me up?”
“Is it working?”
“Are you trying to get a naked pic?” she counters.
“Always.”
“Then no.” She laughs.
“Why do you hate me?”
“I’m grounding you. You can’t have everything, Hollis.”
Smiling to myself, I say, “I already do. I have you.”
I’m ready for her to bust my balls but instead, she says, “You’re sweet.”
That’s fucking right. Noah Calhoun.
***
“What do you do all day?”
“Besides buying you a pair of Brazilian-cut underwear for every day we are apart?” I ask, staring up at my ceiling.
“I hope you’re not. It would be a waste of money.”
“One of these days I’m going to get you to wear underwear.”
“Why would you want me to wear underwear? Don’t you want easy access?” she asks, settling into her pillow. FaceTime is the best thing ever. Thank you, Apple. God bless your techy minds.
“I love pulling underwear off with my teeth. You’ve deprived me of this luxury.”
“You’ll live. So what do you do?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Practice, eat carrots, and practice some more.”
“Carrots? That’s very unlike you.”
“I know.” I pout. “Baby, I haven’t had ice cream in so long. Combine that with not being able to eat you out, and I’m practically starving.”
“It’s like you’re living in squalor.”
“I am.” I hang my lower lip. “There is only one thing that can cure me.”
“I’m not sending you a picture of my boob,” she says in an exhausted tone.
“Just flash me.”
“Flashing you will lead to wanting to see my crotch, which will lead to begging for phone sex.”
She’s dead right.
“Is there a problem with that?”
Smiling, she shakes her head. “Not one bit. Start begging.”
***
“I liked NBC Olympics Facebook page.”
“Yeah?” I ask while sitting on my bed, eating a fucking salad. Holly has been my worst enemy.
“They sure do post a lot of things. I watched a clip on Reese. Did I ever mention how yummy he is?”
I’m staring down at my salad, when I say, “Care to repeat that?”
“He’s yummy. That tattoo, it’s sexy.”
“His penis is small.”
She throws her head back and laughs.
“I’m not kidding. He has to use a magnifying glass to find it. It’s a poor life he leads.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah,” I lie.
The screen goes on pause and I ask, “What are you doing?”
“Texting my condolences to Paisley. Can’t be easy dating a micro penis.”
Shit, if she’s really texting Paisley I’ll hear it from Reese later. When her beautiful face comes back on the screen, she’s smiling brilliantly.
“I also saw a little clip about you and your previous Olympics.”
“Yeah? Like what you saw?”
“You were a little twig of a boy during your first Olympics.”
“A twig who won gold.”
“I would bet that your penis weighed more than your whole body. I think it’s the only reason why you didn’t float back and forth like a feather while diving.”
“I thank my dick every day for being my anchor.” Just then, a text comes through my phone.
Reese.
Reese: Having another inferiority complex about my dick? Thought we’ve already dealt with your issues. Do I need to call the therapist again?
Asshole.
“Did you hear me?”
“Sorry, what babe?”
“My mom has a boyfriend.”
Pulling my attention away from my salad and focusing everything on Melony, I say, “How do you feel about that?”
Joking Hollis is long gone. It’s rare Melony actually talks to me about something serious so bringing up her mom raises my awareness that she might be in a weird place in her head.
“I don’t know,” she answers, looking at her lap. “I just get nervous for her. She hasn’t had the best of luck when it comes to men. She’s always being left behind. I don’t want to see that happen again.”
“I can understand that. Have you met this man?”
“Mehi? No. She’s mentioned having dinner with him but I can’t seem to force myself to find a date. I keep brushing her off. I just feel like she’s going to get hurt.”
“Why do you feel that way?”
“Because, that’s what always happens with relationships, people get hurt.”
I’m not going to lie; her lack of faith in relationships stings. Ever since I’ve met her, I’ve tried to instill the thought that not all men are bad. That there are good ones looking to stick around, looking to make a life with someone else; not all men share her shitty dad’s attitude.
I guess I just have to work harder. Maybe my dad can help me. I plan on introducing Melony to my family when she gets here, so maybe seeing my mom and dad together, in love, will help her see a true future for herself . . . and for her mom.
Taking a deep breath, I say, “Not all relationships end badly, baby. Is that what you think is going to happen with us?” I have to fucking know. I need to know if there is any doubt in her mind at all. Her body is my biggest advocate. Her mind is my worst enemy. That has become abundantly clear.
She looks away from the phone. “I can’t predict the future, Hollis.”
And that makes me mad. She’s already put an end to what we have without fully giving it a chance.
“Well, I fucking can, Melony,” I say sternly. “And it consists of you and me, living in a house on the beach happily ever fucking after.”
***
Hollis: Has Bellini been stealing you away from me? I haven’t heard from you all day.
Hollis: Are you up for a FaceTime? Text me when you get a chance.
Hollis: Babe, I found some ice cream. I’m forcing Reese to go with me to get some.
Hollis: Are you there? If you’re consumed with work, I get it. Just want to make sure you’re okay.
Hollis: I’m about to go to bed. Would love
to hear your beautiful voice before I call it a night.
Hollis: Guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
***
“Melony, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but it would be nice to know from my girlfriend that you made it to Rio safely instead of finding out from my best friend.” I sigh into the phone, hating that I’m now forced, not by my own will, into sharing a relationship with my girlfriend’s voicemail rather than my actual girlfriend. Calming myself, I say, “Baby, I know this is scary, you and me, but you have to talk to me, trust me that I’m here for you, despite our distance. Please just call me, put my heart at ease, and let me know you’re at least okay.”
Staring down at my phone, I hang up and toss the piece of shit at my pillow. “Fuck,” I mumble, grabbing my hair.
Radio silence from Melony for the past few days and I have no idea why. This was exactly what I feared would happen when we had to put some distance between us because of the games. I have no ability to pick up and just leave because I want to tend to my girl. Not only would I let my country down by leaving, but I would let my family, Holly, and Coach Wilson down.
Fucking great.
I’m stuck in this limbo of not being able to control anything besides my diving and that’s driving me fucking insane.
Diving is for now. Melony is forever. That has helped me understand Holly better too. She has her future in her sights, not just the now. And I do too. And it includes Melony.
Frustrated as fuck, I open my computer and connect to my Netflix account. I’m supposed to be socializing with the other athletes at the pool, but there is no way in hell I’m doing that now. Not when I’m in such a pissy mood.
I don’t even bother searching through my viewing options on Netflix, I go straight to Mad Men and pick up where I left off. With a water bottle in hand, I scrunch down on my bed, rest my computer on my lap, and try to forget about the gnawing feeling in my gut that Melony has ended things with us without my knowledge.
So glad I get to dive tomorrow. Please note: that was sarcasm.
I’m barely enjoying John Hamm’s asshole character when my phone beeps with a text message. Showing no hope that it’s the girl I want to talk to, I glance at the screen.
My stomach drops when I see the name on the front.