Dak
“Let’s try a reverse lasso lift at this point in the music. Rotate three times and I’ll grab one foot as we spin. What do you think?”
Trace has an excited little girl at Disney World expression on her face again. I love how enthusiastic she gets when she’s working on our skating routine. As much as I love hockey, that kind of exhilaration is a special experience. It’s the reason I told the coach I wasn’t thinking about going pro. I only feel that kind of intensity when I’m on the ocean. Trace seems to feel intense enthusiasm for everything she does, and seeing her face light up as she choreographs our routine is causing her exhilaration to rub off on me. I’m focusing on every word she says like we’re practicing for the Olympics.
“Sounds good. Let’s try it.” We stand on the mat in the middle of the room, watching ourselves in the mirrors along one wall. I face her, her back toward me, and we hold each other’s opposite hands. I spin her up and around my head and we drop one hand. Trace uses the hand to bend one of her legs up to her head, while I spin us around twice. It’s a crazy difficult lift, but we do it like we’ve skated together for years. The fact she’s as light as a feather and I bench press three times a week in the gym helps.
“Hey. That was almost kind of perfect,” she says when I bring her back down in front of me with one hand.
“You sound surprised, Bambi. You gotta trust me, baby.” I tap her nose with my finger.
“Hmmph. If I didn’t trust you, jackass, there’s no way I’d let you throw me around over your head.” She flicks my nose in response.
I rub my nose. “Or let me fuck you into ecstasy with my tongue?” I say, holding back a grin.
She closes the short space between us, her sweet breath on my lips when she says in a hushed voice, “No matter how much I adore your tongue, Dakota Andersen, you will always be a jackass to me.”
I push her back against the mirrored wall and press my mouth to hers. This girl makes me crazy. Her lips are soft and sweet and welcoming. She moans into my mouth and Christ, I’ve got a raging hard on again. I pull her leg up around my waist and grind my erection into her and she moans again. “That’s not what you called me last night when you came all over my face and screamed my name,” I whisper and grind my hips into her again.
“Oh God. Dak, I want you inside me.”
There’s no place I would rather be. I crash my mouth onto hers again. Our kisses become deeper, more insistent.
“Well that’s an interesting routine you’re practicing. Although I’m not sure the administration will allow it. The Winter Fest is a family show.”
At the sound of the snarky voice behind me, Trace drops her leg and stiffens in my arms. Bri and her entourage are reflected in the mirror in front of me. I bring my eyes back to Trace and don’t let her go or turn around. “We’re using this room, Bri. Use the dance room next door, okay?”
She sneers. “I can see you’re using it. But that’s not what the dance rooms are for. I’m sure you can find a cheap motel room to fuck her in.”
Trace pushes me back and by the way she’s glowering at Bri, I think she’s planning on punching her lights out. Lucky for Bri, Alex intervenes.
“You would know all about the locations of the cheap motel rooms in the area wouldn’t you, Sabrina honey?” Alex snaps his fingers back and forth in front of her face. The shocked look on Bri’s face is priceless.
“Alex, you better—”
“Oh shut it, Bri. The room next door is bigger and it’s empty. We can use that one.” Surprisingly, Bri stomps out of the room without saying another word, the rest of her groupies in tow. I guess the fact Alex is the best skater on the men’s senior skating team means Bri holds no swag over him.
“Hey, Trace, Dakota. What’s up? Uh, never mind. I can see what’s up.” Alex scans my crotch area and quirks a brow.
“Hi, Alex. Thanks.” Trace sighs.
“For what? I only want to make sure there’s enough time to teach this he-man how to pair skate.” He hooks a thumb in my direction. “I want you guys to be so freaking good you’ll blow the pole right out of Bri’s stuck up ass. Eww. Now that I said it, it’s kind of a disgusting mental graphic. Right?”
Trace and I are cracking up too hard to answer. “Bye you two gorgeous hunks of humanity. You may resume whatever it was you were doing so hotly when we so rudely interrupted you.” Alex waves, walks out of the room, and slams the door behind him. I think he’d lock us in if he had a key.
“I fucking love that guy.”
“Me too.” Trace smiles. “So, where were we?” She gives me a narrow-eyed glare when she notices the lust-filled ogle I send her way. “Where were we with skating lifts?”
“I suppose we do need to keep practicing if we want to blow the pole out of Bri’s ass.” I rub a hand down the back of my neck. Hell. This much restraint can’t be good for a guy’s health. Might cause some kind of blockage or something. “But after we’re done here, we’re going back to my place…or yours. I don’t care as long as there’s a bed…and a wall, and a sofa and possibly a table and countertop. What do you think?”
“I think it sounds like a whole lot of furniture. We better make it my place.”
She giggles. Fuck, I can’t wait to bury myself inside her.
***
After perfecting our fancy lasso lift, which requires lifting her from a spread-eagle position, rotating once in the first position with a two-handed hold, and then her changing position in the air while we switch to a one-handed hold and do two more rotations, Trace decides we should practice a star lift. The icing on the cake is the exit. She drops in front of me and slides on her back between my legs. She’s a little thing and again, I work out a lot and have my fair share of muscles, but damn. When I told her she could trust me, I didn’t think she’d take it to mean I’m Maxim Tankov!
By the time we’re done two hours later I feel like someone’s used me for their punching bag workout right after I was run over by the Bigfoot Monster truck. Holy fuck. I thought I was in good shape. Did I travel through some kind of time warp and come out a hundred and fifty years old? Because that’s what I feel like. Make it two hundred and fifty. I’d love to climb into one of the team whirlpool baths, except the side of my brain that isn’t bruised and battered is revving up to get back to Trace’s for the afternoon delight we discussed earlier.
I let out a loud groan, and not the kind of blissful filled to the point it aches groan I gave when she had her lips around me last night.
“You okay?” She places her hand on my shoulder.
“Yeah. I’m good,” I answer, even though every one of my muscles is screaming, no you’re not, asshole. What makes you think you can pair skate? “I just need a shower and you.” I bend my head to kiss her and even that slight movement elicits a groan.
“Oh, poor baby. When we get back to the house I’ll give you a full body massage. How does that sound?”
Like the skies opened up and all the angelic choirs in heaven started serenading me.
“Sounds like heaven, but I’ve got hockey practice at four. I’ll take a raincheck for the massage. We’ve got more important things to attend to right now. Let’s get out of here.”
The drive back to our houses is quiet except for Paramore’s “Only Exception” streaming from the satellite radio like a psychic reading. I’m nervous. Me. The guy who’s seen more pussy in the last year than Tumblr. But this is Tracey and she hasn’t let anyone get close to her for over a year. How do I handle that?
I glance over at her and see her gaze is fixed out the window. She’s nibbling on her bottom lip again and her left leg is bouncing up and down. Even though we’ve already given each other these mind-stupefying oral orgasms, it’s apparent she’s nervous as hell too. Is she thinking the same things I am?
No matter how much I fucked around, I’m aware there’s a unique trust that comes with having the kind of sex which joins two people together to the point they’re almost one entity. They move together, breathe together, climax together…hopefully. That climax, the moment when there’s this kind of out of body experience, it leaves you open, vulnerable, unguarded. Is Trace ready for that kind of vulnerability again? Am I? Despite our agreement for no attachments, no feelings, when I look at her, my heart races and my balls tighten. This is way more than the thrill of a meaningless one-night fuck. This is Invasion of The Body Snatchers level of mind and body takeover, but a good kind of body snatcher. She’s all I can think about, all I want. The only one I want. Could she be feeling the same way, even though she said she isn’t interested in anything but friends with benefits?
I reach over and place my hand on her thigh to calm her. She stops bouncing her leg up and down.
“You still with me over there?” I stroke her leg.
“I’m with you.” She smiles and my heart races a little faster. The effect she has on me is unbelievable.
“We got a lot done today. The routine is gonna be awesome.”
“Yeah, it is. A few more off ice sessions to get it all put together and then we can try it on the ice.” She’s talking to me but I can tell she’s distracted. Her mind is somewhere else. Then she goes back to staring out the window and chewing on her lip.
A few minutes later I pull into my driveway. “I’m going in to take a quick shower. I’ll be over in a few, okay?” She stares at me for a minute. The shy, insecure Trace is back.
“Sure. I’ll…I’ll make you something to eat for a change.”
“I bought every season of GOT on Blu-ray. I wanted to watch it all again before the new season starts. You into it?” I totally do not want to watch television. What I want is her, but the “take things slow” plan is the best way to keep things relaxed and give her time to change her mind if she wants.
Please. Please don’t let her change her mind.
“Definitely. By the time they start the new season I can’t remember who’s killed who or whose mother is sleeping with whose brother.” She giggles. “I was planning on streaming it to catch up.”
“You have a Blu-ray player?”
“Naturally.” She sighs. “If there was room and it was up to my mom, I’d have an in-home theater.”
I smile at her frustration over her mom’s over the top gifts. “Give me a few minutes to get cleaned up.”
She’s smiling again, more relaxed. It only takes one flash of her sweet smile for me to relax too. Everything’s all good. Trace and I are good together. No pressure. Everything’s cool.
***
When I knock on her door about a half hour later, she opens it before my second knock. My breath catches like it does every time I see her, even after such a short time being away from her. It’s like I forget how perfect she is, because it isn’t possible for anyone to be so beautiful.
She’s barefoot and wearing yoga pants with a loose off the shoulder pale green sweatshirt. It says Save the Ocean and has bright colored pictures of various fish and marine animals in a circle. Her wavy hair is loose and hanging down past her perfect breasts and her face is radiant and freshly scrubbed. Her green eyes are sparkling like grass after a fresh rain. The way they’re tipped up slightly at the corners when she smiles at me, it’s like they were made to twinkle just for me.
“Hey.” She pulls me in the door and circles her arms around my waist to hug me. I put my arms over hers and press my nose into her hair, breathing her in. She not only looks like an angel, she smells like heaven. My senses fill with her distinctive tropical scent and I’m transported to Hawaii, Fiji…heaven.
“Hey.” I smile into her hair.
She takes my hand and leads me into her preposterous living room. “You hungry?”
“I would think you’d know by now, Bambi, I’m always hungry.”
Especially for you, I want to add, but I don’t want to make her nervous again.
“It’s too early for dinner, so I made us a fruit smoothie and a kitchen sink salad.”
“A kitchen sink salad?”
She giggles and the sweet little sound sends my pulse into overdrive. “That’s what my sister and I call it. We throw in any kind of veggie available—mixed greens, carrots, peas, edamame, kale, whatever, and then we add some dried berries and some slices of pear or apple and seeds or nuts. Voila, kitchen sink salad.”
“Everything but the kitchen sink,” we say in unison and laugh.
“We can eat in the living room while we watch some GOT episodes.”
“Sounds good. No roomie today?”
“No. Nikki had a touch football game on the quad, guys against girls.”
“Well if it’s the girls from the soccer team, the guys are going to get their asses kicked.”
“You serious?”
“Absolutely! The way those chicks maneuver on the field, they never tire out and their endurance is epic. Those guys, whoever they are, are fucked.”
“I guess I need to go to the next soccer game to watch those superwomen in action.”
Tracey giggles again, and I swear even her laughter sounds like angels singing.
Christ. I’m turning into Emily fucking Dickinson!
“You can set up the Blu-ray while I get the food,” she says and heads into the kitchen.
Trace has a fifty-five inch ultra-high definition television sitting on a black and white checked TV stand along one wall in the room. Although my parents own top of the line media equipment at home in Cali, I never got the chance to watch Game of Thrones in UHD because I’m always at school when the seasons start.
She comes back in carrying a tray with our salads and smoothies on it. Placing it on the coffee table, she makes herself comfortable on the sofa next to me.
“The salad looks incredible.”
“I made a raspberry vinaigrette dressing for it. Hope you like it. Did you put the first disc in?”
“Yep. Just push play on the remote.”
She picks up the remote and when she pushes play, the most phenomenal graphics for any opening sequence ever, roll across the screen. We sit there for a few minutes in silence enjoying the food and the show. When we’re finished eating, Trace takes the dishes back to the kitchen and hurries back to the sofa so she doesn’t miss anything.
I push off my sneakers and stretch my muscle weary legs up onto the coffee table. Trace sits next to me and drops her head on my shoulder while we watch the show. With her body pressed right up next to mine, I can’t focus on how many heads the White Walkers tear off and throw.
“So Jon Snow and Khal Drogo. Fuck or marry?” I remark, trying to get my thoughts out of my crotch.
She looks up at me, her brow pinched. “What?”
“Jon Snow or Khal Drogo? Which one would you fuck and which one would you marry?”
“Well that’s a no brainer. I’d fuck Khal Drogo and definitely marry Jon Snow.”
“Definitely? How come?”
“Because…well, Jon Snow.” She says it like I’m some kind of idiot not to realize any woman would want to marry Jon Snow. “Those eyes, and he’s so trustworthy and devoted…and sincere. Drogo…well, look at him. I mean, mmph.”
“Oh, I see.” I laugh. “So it’s all about the muscles, huh?”
“Have you watched the sex scenes between him and Daenerys?” She sits up so she can look directly at me and arches a brow.
“Tra-cey, your dirty little mind is showing again.” I wiggle a finger at her.
“Oh right. Okay. Your turn, Saint Dakota. Daenerys and Cersei. Fuck or marry?”
“That’s easy. I’d fuck the hell out of both of them. And then kill Cersei. She’s batshit crazy.”
“Not fair. That wasn’t a choice.” She grins and flops back against the sofa. “What is it about Daenerys that makes her a keeper? The long blonde hair, I suppose?”
“Nah. She’s got dragons. Who wouldn’t want to hang out with a chick who has dragons? That’s motherfucking awesome!”
“But you wouldn’t marry her, just fuck her.”
“Nope. I don’t do the whole marrying thing.”
“Hmm,” she says, like she’s mulling over all this. “But if you piss her off she could sic her dragons on you and burn you to a crisp.”
“Huh. I might need to rethink this whole thing.”
“Yeah you might, jackass.”
“Come on, you calling me jackass again, Bambi?” I slide a hand under her sweatshirt and tickle her ribs. She falls back wiggling and gasping between giggles for me to stop. I reach for her, and when I find myself on top of her, I stop tickling her and the mood between us changes. We’re not laughing anymore. Everything becomes serious, more intense. We’re staring into each other’s eyes and I’m wrecked.
“What was it you said to me at the rink today?” I whisper.
“I…I said a lot of things to you at the rink today. Which one are you referring to?” Her voice comes out in a nervous tremble. I know she knows exactly which one I’m referring to, but I’ll help jog her memory if she wants me to.
“The one when I had my tongue down your throat and I was grinding my hard cock into you. Remember that one?”
“Um…yes I remember.” She closes her eyes and sighs.
“Say it again. I want to hear you say it again.” I take her earlobe between my teeth and give it a slight nibble. She makes an aching oooh sound and pushes her hips up into my hard dick. Being in a constant state of erection since the first day I met Trace has me ready to explode, but I won’t make another move until she tells me she wants it.
“I said I want you inside me.” She whimpers and circles her hips into me again.
I press my lips onto hers, hard and demanding, claiming her. Then I slip one hand under her sweatshirt again and slide up to the swell of her breast. Fuck. She’s not wearing a bra and the constant danger of coming in my pants whenever I touch her warm, sensitive tits is looming large. Really large.
“Bedroom. Nikki might come home,” she mumbles against my lips.
I take my hand away from her pert round breast and pull myself off of her. Part of me is reluctant to be away from her even for a second, but the other part is so wound up I can’t wait to get her upstairs and onto her bed. I lift her into my arms, and she wraps her legs around my waist and presses her heels into my back, like she’s afraid someone might try to pry us apart.
While carrying her up the stairs I keep kissing her mouth, her eyes, her face, and she tips her head back to receive my kisses. “This is going to be perfect,” I whisper in between each brush of my lips.
I lower her on the bed and pull my shirt up over my head and toss it. When I drop my jeans and boxers to the floor my straining cock bounces against my stomach, like it’s waving at Trace. Her half-lidded gaze slides up and down my body, until her eyes meet mine. And then she crosses her arms and drags her sweatshirt over her head.
I can see her trembling. I’m not sure if it’s nerves or need or a little of both. I’m going to make this so good for her she’ll never be nervous or afraid to let anyone touch her again.
I hook my fingers in the waist of her leggings and drag them down her legs, then do the same with the white lace underwear she’s wearing. Damn. Does she own these tiny strings of lace in every color? I fucking hope so.
Seeing her lying across the bed naked gets me harder and my cock throbs to let me know what he wants, right this second. But I need to savor her first, take it nice and slow, like I told her before.
She’s so breathtaking. Everything about her is perfect. Her perfect tits, not too big or small, round with rosebud pink nipples waiting for my attention. Her body; not too thin, just enough curves to bring me to my knees. Which is right where I want to be—on my knees with my face buried in the patch of curly auburn hair between her legs.
“Dak,” she whispers and holds her arms out like she’s inviting me in. I don’t think twice about accepting the invitation. I crawl over her and push myself up on the palms of my hands, one hand on either side of her. Seeing her lying here underneath me with flickering anticipation lighting up her sweet face has me as hard as iron. But now that she is under me my insides are tied in knots. I want her more than anything, but can I do this? Can I be the one to help her get past her fears without hurting her again?
Her flushed pink face and big round eyes are declaring her longing. But I need to be certain this is what she wants, even though it’ll be one of the most difficult things I ever had to do. I’ll stop. I won’t make another move until she says it is.
“You’re so beautiful. I wanted you since the first minute I laid eyes on you.”
“You did?” she asks in a surprised tone.
“You don’t know how hot you are. Every time you said it wasn’t a good idea or I said it wasn’t right for us, I died a little. I wanted you so much. I don’t know how I waited so long. But if you’re not ready, if you want to stop, say the word. I can wait longer. I’m all yours, however or whenever you want me. If you want to wait longer or just do what we did last night, I’m okay with that. So are you sure about this, baby? Because if you don’t want—”
“Dakota.” She places one finger over my lips, shushing me.
“Tracey,” I mumble against her finger.
“I’m not afraid anymore. I trust you. If you want me, I want you too. Please fuck me.”
Jesus H. Christ!
Thank you. Thank you.
It’s a weird kind of prayer of thanks, I know, but Trace asked me to fuck her and it feels right this time. Like all the planets in the universe are lined up in perfect order and the heavens opened up and are raining peace, love and harmony all over us. In my present state of Nirvana, I can’t think of anything else to say but thank you.
Before I bury myself in her I’m going to lick every inch of her again and make her heat with desire, to show her how thankful I am to be the one she chose to trust. I’ll never get enough of her sweet taste. I want to feel her tremble under me and dig her nails into my shoulders when the ache of pleasure becomes too much.
I lower myself and press my body against hers. My rock hard cock throbs with fire against her stomach and I roll my hips into her. She groans and arches her back, pressing further into me.
I don’t usually have a problem with stamina, but when she moves under me and those sounds leave her lips, everything is raw and intense desire. I want to push into her and hear her scream my name as she lets go and I release into her. But even more, I want this to be perfect for her. I want to show her how much she deserves to be adored.
Tilting my head, I lick her plump lower lip and then take it between my teeth and nibble. When she opens her mouth and our tongues touch, I plunge deeper and harder into her mouth, tasting her, devouring her. She follows my lead, just as hungry, just as needy.
I trail my fingers over her nipples and they pebble in response to my touch. “Fuck. You’re so—”
“Dak…don’t stop.”
“Stop? I haven’t even started. Are you ready for me?”
“I’m so ready,” she moans and the sound is like music to my ears. I intend to compose a symphony of those sounds today.
I move my hand down between her legs and when I slide two fingers into her I find she’s not kidding. She’s so wet and warm and soft. “So fucking hot,” I whisper against her lips. I pump my fingers in a slow in and out rhythm and she makes an oooh sound again and pushes herself into my hand.
I kiss and nibble my way down her body, and when my mouth replaces my fingers she threads her fingers through my hair, pulls me closer, and pushes her hips up. I consider myself pretty experienced when it comes to pleasuring a woman, but with Trace and the way she moves and responds to me, I find myself shaking almost as hard as she is.
It only takes one circle of my tongue around her swollen pink clit and she’s over the edge moaning, “Dakota. Oh God, yes, yes. Yes!”
“I love the way you say my name when you’re coming,” I say, trailing kisses along the silky skin of her inner thighs.
She reaches for me again. “Dak, please. I want you.”
“You’ve got me, baby.” I crawl back up her body and kiss her again, deep and hard. She reaches down between us and takes me in her hand, placing my cock right where she wants it.
“Hang on a second, baby.” I try to move to get a condom from my pants pocket, but she reads my mind and grips me tighter. Holy fuck. I may come in her hand.
“I’m on the pill.” She lets go of me and starts nibbling on her bottom lip. “I started taking it again a few months before I came here. In case I wanted to…or I could…” She keeps worrying her lip.
I run my thumb along her lip and she releases it from her teeth. “I’ve never been with anyone without a condom, but I’m tested and clean. You sure about this?”
“I’m sure. I want to feel you. Really feel you,” she says in a soft voice.
Every word she says, every sound she makes is like scorching heat sweeping over me. I’m on fire and she’s the gasoline. I push up and position my cock right at her entrance and she spreads her legs wider for me. I can feel how wet and hot she is. Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I slip inside her. She gasps and I groan such a guttural sound I almost don’t recognize my own voice.
“Is this okay?” I want to make sure she’s still good with what we’re doing. The words come out in a growl because she’s so fucking tight.
“Dakota,” she breathes out in a soft voice filled with entreaty.
“You good?” I ask again to be sure, but I’m thinking please say yes, please say yes.
“So good,” she sighs.
Thank all the deities in the universe.
“Fuck. You’re so tight. You feel so good. So fucking good.” I’m buried deep inside her and there’s nothing between us. She’s so slick and warm. Her muscles are clenching around me. Christ. I’m like a virgin, experiencing all this for the first time. Nothing has ever felt like this before. Like her.
I rock into her slowly, savoring every sensation, and the whole time we keep kissing and she moans into my mouth. She hooks her legs around my waist and pulls me even deeper into her and I can’t keep it slow any longer. I start thrusting in and out of her faster, harder, and she matches my rhythm, pushing her hips up into me with every thrust.
She’s digging her nails into my shoulders so deep it’s sure to leave marks like I was in some kind of catfight. But the pleasure building at the base of my spine is all I can feel. Everything becomes fast and desperate, we can’t hold back. Trace goes off, dropping her head back and screaming my name like she does when she comes.
The way she tightens and clenches all around me, I’m right there with her, detonating with such force as I spill into her it feels like it will never stop. She keeps milking my cock with her trembling spasms and I keep pulsing into her as waves of release push through me
I collapse onto her, spent in the most incredible way.
“Trace.” I groan. “You are so fucking amazing.” My face is buried in the curve of her neck and I may stay lost right here in this silky, fragrant space for the rest of my life.