I toss my cell phone onto the top of a laundry pile beside me on my guesthouse couch.
Sometimes Oliver makes enjoying life beyond difficult. I don’t appreciate being accused of being unfaithful to him because I won’t treat our relationship like some video game with levels for us to complete. Level 1: First Date. Level 2: Meet The Friends. Level 10: Exchange I love yous. Fuck that. When I say the words I want them to be spontaneous because we’re so overwhelmed with joy or consumed by bliss nothing else will do. I want them said with devotion for each other not for completing a relationship task. Besides I’m not like him. I’ve never put much stock into what people say so much as how they behave . People can say they adore you and they think you’re wonderful, but if they only say those things to use you for something else, doesn’t that send a much more powerful message than the rehearsal speech? Isn’t it just as important to listen to our instincts and intuitions?
Tabby walks through the front door of the guest house. “Loser, our father is looking for you.”
“I’m hiding.”
“Why? Embarrassed you look like a drunken Easter Peep?”
The reference to my strapless, light yellow cocktail dress with the zebra print ribbon high around my waist and the electric blue accessory around my neck and on my feet causes me to sneer. “Rather look like this than the woman having an affair with the super intendent of a high school academy.”
Her brown eyes bulge at the information slip.
“People talk, Tabby.”
“Particularly about how pathetic you are,” she bites back. “At least that’s what me and Brit talk about. How it’s probably best you’re our father’s favorite since no one else could ever love an abomination like you.” Tabby tosses her extensions over her shoulder. “He’s by the bar talking to Darrell Nolan. I suggest you don’t displease him any longer by ‘hiding’ since he’s the reason everyone in the world puts up with you.”
My sister struts back out the door, slamming it loudly behind her.
And Oliver wonders why I’m not quick to play the game everyone else is playing. It’s shallow. If I had to fit into social norms, everything my sisters say about me would be fact instead of opinions rooted from jealousy.
I let out a heavy pout, stand, and fluff my auburn curls in an attempt to look presentable rather than exhausted from the hellish week I’ve been enduring. Apparently three consecutive ass kissing days of lunches and brunches with sponsors wasn’t terrible enough. I then had to return home to practice my speech, endure a Hellcat press conference, and be wrapped in seaweed alongside my mother in preparation for this annual team powwow. Fucked up thing is...all I really wanted was Oliver with me today. Smiling proudly from the table. His arm wrapped around me while I chatted with old players. His loving nature to keep me grounded when I’m tired of answering questions. He was invited. I let him know that if anything changed with his brother or for some reason their dinner became a breakfast instead he was welcomed. Security has his name to let him inside. However, after the conversation we just exchanged I have a feeling the next time I see him will be when I’m knocking on his door to retrieve my shit. Ugh. Maybe I’ll just buy new stuff. Serenity crystals and healing oils can be recollected.
Near the bar I find my father talking to exactly who my sister said he was. I join the conversation with a forced smile and my fingers pushing the tranquility beads against my wrist. To no surprise I’ve stumbled into the cycle of complaints many of the players feel this time is for. Which it isn’t. My father throws the annual banquet to boost morale and build comradery for both teams during the off season. He allows their families, friends, dates, and anyone else they feel supports their career to join in the social festivities, all on his own dollar might I add. There’s music, occasionally celebrity performers, dancing, the pools and hot tubs available, and enough booze to rival many bars. But there’s also always bitching…. I usually encourage my mother to light a few candles for peace and clarity around the house the night before in preparation for the negative attitudes that never fail to arrive. Why can’t people just be happy and enjoy what they’re given?
Thankfully, my mother comes to his side and I slip away to make my required rounds. I stop to chat with a few players and their newest girlfriends. For the most part the topics are not sports related because their girlfriends wanna chat about the latest celebrities they’ve met before asking me about the others I know since the ones they list I’ve known for years. Once more as soon as the opportunity to bail presents itself I take it.
When I reach the bar on the opposite side of property closer to the secondary guest house, which is open for people to relax in or use for the restrooms, I don’t waste time ordering a drink. “Martini, with a twist.”
The light skinned male next to me, Milo Davis, a new recruit for the Cliffsworth Hellcats, offers me a concerned expression. “Not having a good time?”
I plaster on the professional, polite smile. “What makes you think that?”
“The fact that you let out a huff so big I’m pretty sure you could’ve blown your father’s mansion down.”
His lame joke receives an actual grin.
He extends his hand. “Milo.”
“Little L.”
“I know who you are,” he reassures promptly as he takes his champagne glass from the bartender. “ Everyone knows who you are. It’s one of the many, many Hellcat rules. Know who Little L is, always listen to her advice about dealing with the owners, and you are to never date her.”
I drop my hand on my hip. “You’re making the last one up.”
“It’s in my contract.”
Shaking my head with a smirk, I thank the bartender for the drink he hands me.
“It is! It says never to date you, which is too bad because…well everything about you is beautiful.”
The compliment is followed by an unexpected, “I absolutely agree.”
Darting my eyes up, my mouth tumbles to the ground at the sight of Oliver in a navy suit with a very loud yellow and white polka dot tie.
He glides his pinky with mine and tucks me closer to him. “And even if it didn’t say not to date her, you couldn’t . She’s my girlfriend and no one in this world can love her like I do.”
Milo surrenders a hand. “Message loud and clear, man.”
“Good,” Oliver damn near growls.
I turn my face to Milo. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word in private with my boyfriend.”
The growl Oliver lets loose this time is delicious.
He nods, and I take Oliver by the hand to lead him back across the property. As soon as we’re inside past the security guards protecting the guesthouse I occupy from unwanted trespassers, I carelessly toss the glass to the side, and pounce his lips.
There’s no vacillation on whether or not to embrace my tongue with his. Oliver grabs me roughly with both hands and reiterates the words he just proclaimed. Our mouths haphazardly crash, teeth gnashing, and moans being absorbed by one another’s.
It takes more will power than I believe I possess, but I push him away before I’m unable to stop us from ending up horizontal on top of the laundry littered on the sofa.
His heaving chest struggles to settle. “Missed you too, Sunshine.”
On a small giggle, I flop down onto the arm of the couch. “Is that why you were so moody earlier? Because you missed me?”
He takes his place in front of me. “That’s probably part of it.”
“What’s the rest?”
Oliver seems to be overly cautious about continuing.
I lock his pinky with mine. “Talk.”
Our blues linger together and his answer flows freely. “It’s been a shitty week. I let my friends get in my head and instead of enjoying our relationship like I had been, I let myself get bullied into demanding things that were unnecessary. You’re right, Sunshine. I was challenging you, and I had no reason to. You’ve never once directly given me a reason not to believe I’m the only man in your life. I was out of line. For that I’m sorry.” He gives my finger a tight squeeze. “But I’m not like you, London. Occasionally, I need – no - I want the ‘normal things’. I want to call you my girlfriend when I introduce you, not because I’m trying to redefine who you are or let that label overshadow everything else about you, but because I’m proud a woman like you fell in love with a man like me.”
His words shift something unexpected inside of me. “I’m honored a man like you could ever love a woman like me .”
He tips my chin up. “I’ll love you for however long and any way you let me, London.”
Determination to not only prove that, but showcase my own devotion has my hand traveling to the seam of his pants. “Any… way?”
A dark hunger overpowers his gaze and his cock throbs against my touch. “Sunshine, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to meet your father for the first time smelling like sex and Moonrise oils.”
“You remember….”
“How could I forget? I accidentally put it on for work one day instead of my aftershave because you can’t keep your shit on your side of the sink.”
I quietly laugh and return to the task of undoing his pants.
“London….”
“No sex.” My sultry stare lifts. “Just something to tide us over until we get back to your place.”
“ Our place.”
His announcement ceases my movements again.
“We’re getting you a key first thing tomorrow.”
Turned on even more by his commitment to proving his love in actions as well as his words, I expedite my efforts. In a swift maneuver, his pants and boxer briefs are down, and his hard cock is pulsing in my hand. As much as I want to take time and admire every little way his body succumbs to my touches, I know we only have a few minutes before my father sends another search party for me. Oliver’s eyes briefly fall shut when my thumb swipes the pre-cum off the tip of his dick to use as assistance. My grip tightens, and I rhythmically caress his shaft with celerity. He rocks his hips into each stroke, teeth dug into his bottom lip to prevent from moaning too loudly. I allow my pumps to increase in speed. To become savage. To sync our sexual starvation. Oliver’s balls unexpectedly tighten revealing the thin strand he’s hanging on by.
Teasingly, I state, “You really have missed me.”
“So damn much, Sunshine,” his choked voice replies.
His dick stiffens even further as if trying to warn me to stop before it’s too late.
Wanting him to get there, needing him to get here, I give the very tip of his cock one hard suck. Oliver’s hands instantly fist my hair to hold me in place as he comes. The fiery eruptions spread past my lips and soar into the energy levels sealing us together on a new plane of love.
It’s time to shed all the safety gear still trying to shelter my heart from the possibility of pain. I just hope the two of us continue to soar because I’m not sure I can survive the cosmic sized crash waiting for us if we don’t.