“Yes! Fuck, yes!” I scream as shots of bliss run through me. Twitch after twitch rocks my body until my pussy is so sensitive, I can’t take anymore. “You have to stop,” I say, as my orgasm still rocks through me. “Oh God, you have to stop.”
He smiles and slows down his tongue, going back to leisurely long licks as my body quivers under his mouth, my orgasm still raging inside me, slowing down with each pass of his tongue until there is nothing left.
Gently, he kisses my inner thighs where his beard rubs against them and then pulls away. I must be a real treat to look at, sprawled across the float, legs wide, arms like noodles. I wouldn’t be surprised to see my tongue hanging out of my mouth.
“How was that, baby?” Reese asks, pulling me off the float and encasing me in his arms. He floats us around the pool, his erection pressing against me with need.
“I think you know,” I answer, completely unable to support myself.
“Sounded like it was good. Watching you come apart on my tongue like that, sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, Paisley. I almost came watching you.”
“Mmm . . .” is all I say.
He nudges my cheek with his. “Hey, you can’t sleep.”
“Why not? It’s not my fault you literally fucked my bones to boil. I have nothing in me right now.”
Pushing us to the edge of the pool, he presses my back against the side and lines up our bodies.
“If that’s the case, I’ll just have to fuck you against the cool tile of the pool.” Before I know what’s happening, his erection shoots forward as he spreads my legs, filling me whole.
“Yesssssss,” I sigh, holding on to his neck for support.
I don’t move, I just let him do all the work as he plows into me, his hips never once giving in until he grunts out my name and buries his head in my neck, falling over quickly.
As the moon lights up our erotic bubble, I think about how far we’ve come in such a short amount of time. I never thought I would be this addicted to another human being but Reese King has proven me wrong. Every moment with him is like a new one, every time he enters me with his long, throbbing cock, it feels like the first time, and every time he calls me baby, it sends a shiver down my spine.
Our relationship might not be conventional, and we might have to hide it, but all the worry is worth it for moments like this. Moments where I feel so completely and utterly loved by this man that I don’t ever want to give it up, despite the challenges in our way.
***
“What are you thinking about?” I ask Reese as I lay in his arms on his bed. His hand methodically strokes my hair, the only reason I know he’s awake at such an early hour.
“Just the games,” he responds, his voice soft.
“Are you nervous?”
He takes a second to answer. “I don’t know if nervous is the right word. I think I’m anxious and also sad.”
“Sad? Because this is your last go at it?”
“Yeah.” He sighs. “It’s funny, you spend your whole life trying to obtain a goal, something you’ve always wanted, and you never think about losing that chance to go for it anymore. But this is it for me. If I don’t win gold, then I will never know what it feels like to hold one in my hand, to hear the national anthem play over the speakers while I stand on the center podium. I will never experience that feeling unless I accomplish it this games. Plus, I have a public image to resurrect after the games, the main reason I’m doing this stupid show.”
“You will,” I say, squeezing him tightly. “You’ve worked so hard.”
“Yes, and I’ve worked hard every other time prior. There is always just something that fucks with me.”
“What do you mean?” I stroke his chest lightly with my fingers, trying to make him feel comfortable.
“It’s not just about swimming, Paisley. It’s not about my stroke or the position of my hand when it enters the water, or the way I dive off the block. What separates a gold medalist and a silver medalist is the mental game, and every single fucking game I’ve let my mental game crack and crumble right before a race.”
There is anger in his voice, anger I’ve never heard him use before. It’s a little startling. But along with the anger, there is a hint of anxiety, a hint of self-doubt that hurts my heart in a way I never expected. Yes, I care for Reese, and I have deep feelings for him, but I didn’t realize the extreme connection I have with him until this moment. It’s as if our bodies are one and every pleasure and pain he’s experiencing, I’m experiencing.
Before I can respond, he says, “I can’t let anything fuck with me this time. No matter what happens, I need to keep my head in the pool and my sight set on gold.” The way he says that, it’s not like he’s telling me, it’s like he’s trying to convince himself of what he needs to do.
“Do you foresee anything going wrong?” I ask.
He shrugs. “You never know. Every other situation has been unexpected. You can never really tell what might happen, that’s why I have to be on top of my mental game and make sure I flush real life out of my mind and zero in on what I need to accomplish in the pool.” He shakes his head as his fingers twirl my hair. “And knowing Bellini, something will come up. She is bound to throw some kind of tantrum, which is something I wish I didn’t have to be ready for.” He takes a deep breath and then turns to me, he cups my face with his large hand and says, “Want to know something?”
I smile at him, loving how I so easily get lost in the intensity of his eyes. “Always.”
The pad of his thumb runs across my cheekbone as he speaks. He’s so loving, so caring, so gentle, that it rips me to shreds. I’ve never been treated with so much adoration before. “Ever since I’ve met you, I’ve felt at ease. For the first time in a long time, I feel I can go into the games with a positive outlook. I can feel the victory in my bones, Paisley, and it’s from the confidence you’ve instilled in me. I want to impress you so fucking bad.”
And there it is. The last thread I was hanging on to keep me from falling head over heels in love with this man has snapped. How could I not with that kind of confession? It breaks down every wall I’ve ever erected around my heart and allows him to bury his soul deep inside mine.
“Reese, you’ve already impressed me, not just by your ability to stroke through water with a sexy finesse that turns me on every time I watch you, but with your kind and caring heart.” I press my hand to his chest and speak genuinely. “I don’t have to watch you earn a gold to be won over by you, because with or without that gold medal in your hand, you’re still the man who makes my heart beat faster with every smile caressing your ruggedly handsome face.”
Reese’s eyes soften and when I think he’s going to kiss me gently on the lips, he instead just rests his forehead against mine, conveying the need for my comfort.
“I want this so fucking bad, Paisley.” His voice is distraught, crackling, breaking apart with each syllable. It slays me.
I’ve set goals in my life before: I want to make something of my career, I want to be successful, but I don’t think I’ve ever shown the kind of passion and need to accomplish something like Reese has. I can feel it in the marrow of my bones how much Reese wants this, how much he wants to prove, not only to his country, but to himself, that he deserves to stand on the center podium. It’s evident in the way he’s practically shaking in my arm.
Instead of telling him he’s going to win and be the most amazing swimmer in the world, I hold my tongue because those are empty words. I can talk to him until I’m blue in the face but it won’t mean anything until he goes to Rio and proves himself right.
He doesn’t need words of encouragement; he needs comfort, so that’s what I give him. Moving even closer, I lightly press his lips against mine. I clamp my hand around the base of his neck and rub my thumb over the column, gently and sweetly, letting him know I’m here for him, that I believe in him, and that I know he can do this.
Our lips mate, ever so slightly pressing against each other, but never diving too deep. We keep it simple; we keep it gentle. This isn’t about ripping each other’s clothes off and fucking up against this headboard; this is something different, something deeper, something incredibly more intimate.
Reese falls into my touch, letting me take charge. It’s intoxicating that this alpha male—this tough man who always seems like he has things together—needs me. It’s astonishing how he treats me like a damn lifeline as if without me, he would easily drown.
If anything, I’ve realized that despite what happens with my job, I can bounce back from the repercussions. However, with Reese, if I ever lose him, there is no hope in filling the holes he’s punctured into my soul.
**REESE**
This will never get old.
Ever.
Standing in my country’s colors, holding up my country’s flag, and parading around a stadium with my fellow athletes while my country cheers me on. It will never ever fucking get old, and it’s something I will never take for granted.
Since countries are called in alphabetical order for the opening ceremony, we’ve been huddled in a tunnel for longer than I would like, but the minute we’re called out, it’s all worth it. The stadium erupts, despite not being in our home country, and flashes of lights sporadically shoot off from around the stands. Our flag leads the way, held by one of the women soccer players, and I hold my phone up to the crowd, recording everything from my view. It’s something to watch on TV, but to be in the thick of it, in the trenches, it’s a whole other world. This being my last time, I want to remember every last moment of it: from the smiles on my teammates faces, to the sounds and pyrotechnics within the stadium.
My very last opening ceremony; it’s surreal, almost impossible to comprehend. This is the last time I will don my country’s uniform, the last time I will stand together with Team USA, holding flags, and for one jovial moment, I take it all in.
Countries from around the world put together the best of the best athletes. Athletes who have trained relentlessly for years for their one and only shot at proving their talent on the big stage, of representing their colors, their blood, the land they grew up in. It’s the epitome of athletic prowess and for the last time in my life, I am experiencing it.
Nostalgia encompasses me as my throat chokes up from it all coming to an end.
“Dude, this is insane,” Hollis calls out, wrapping his arms around my neck and pulling me in. “Shit, I’m going to miss doing this with you.”
It’s never easy saying goodbye, but to say goodbye to your sport, the one thing that’s made you eat, sleep, and breathe ever since you can remember, it’s like a little piece of your soul dying.
Not wanting to show my emotions, I push Hollis to the side. “Don’t get all watery on me now.”
“It’s the end of an era,” he calls out to the crowd, no one being able to hear him besides the few people around us. “You can’t tell me you’re not going to miss this. And hell, the free clothes are so worth the five-in-the-morning conditioning practices.” He pulls on the lapels of his dress jacket custom-made by Ralph Lauren.
“Yes, I swim in the Olympics for the free clothes.”
“Don’t we all.” He brushes the sleeve of his right arm. “I’m telling you, Ralph has his shit together. He really knows how to dress a body. I looked in the mirror before I left and thought, hell, If Melony caught me in this outfit, she would finally give in to the feelings I know she has for me.”
“You’re still on that?” I ask. “Hollis, she is never going to give you the time of day.”
He smirks. “We will see about that.” Clearing his throat, he looks around and then shouts, “Bodi! Looking sharp, man.”
From the right, I see Bodi walking by himself, his phone in his hand and a flag in the other. No one is talking to him, and he barely has a smile on his face. I’m actually surprised to even see him walking. We have early morning races tomorrow and it’s been known that swimmers take the night off from opening ceremonies so they get enough rest before the big day. I’m not one of those swimmers; I’m going to perform the same if I get two hours of sleep or eight hours. My fellow Americans want to see their athletes parade, so I go to represent.
Not really saying anything, Bodi just nods his head in our direction.
“Hey, get over here,” I call out to Bodi, who looks very uncomfortable.
Moving past a few female swimmers who he doesn’t even take a second glance at, he walks next to me and gives me a half-pat on the shoulder, half-hug when I reach out to him.
“You have to walk with us, it’s my last opening ceremony.”
He sadly smiles and nods. “Yeah, I’m going to miss having you in the lane next to me.”
“Same here, man.”
We smirk at each other just as Hollis jumps up behind us and wraps his arms around both our necks. “You know the cameras are eating this up right now. I can hear Bob Costas.” In a very good Bob Costas kind of voice, Hollis says, “Olympic royalty walking together, joining forces to represent this country, it doesn’t get more memorable than that.”
A deep laugh pushes through Bodi, and I swear both Hollis and I stare at him a little dumbfounded. I don’t acknowledge the foreign sound but Hollis doesn’t have as much class or candor as I do.
“Holy shit, Bodi Banks just laughed at one of my jokes.” Fist pumping the air, he screams, “Best night ever!”
I shake my head at my friend as he starts skipping through the crowd of athletes, informing them of Bodi’s laugh. He’s a complete and total fart. I don’t know why I’m friends with him.
“You can say it, he’s an asshat,” I say to Bodi who is watching Hollis with curiosity.
“He’s definitely strange.” Clearing his throat, he looks down at his phone, a text message appearing on his screen.
I shove my shoulder against his and say, “Who’s the girl?”
“What?” His head snaps up at me and the smile that was once on his face disappears. “There’s no girl.”
I don’t buy it, and I let him know that with one lift of my brow.
Sighing, his shoulder deflates and he rubs the front of his face with his hands. “Remember that girl I told you about, the seamstress?”
“Yeah, uh what was her name? Ruth?”