Chapter 12: Travis
As soon as my front tire hits the ramp, I floor it, launching myself straight up into the open air. Then, as I reach the peak of the jump, I pull my legs up to the saddle until my ass is off the ground and I’m hugging the bike with my knees. From this position, I can do about a million easy tricks in my sleep, but instead, I let go of the handlebars, kick the back of the saddle, and let the bike flip backwards, controlling it with my knees until it turns all the way around and hits the ground.
Nothing like a no-handed backflip to take my mind off of whatever the fuck that was by the pool this morning.
I’m so in the zone from the jump that I don’t hear the applause until I ride right up to the guys on the corner of the track: Paul, the founder of the Coconut Classic and a couple of his friends. They’re freaking out, and one of them’s filming me with his phone. I smile, hitting the brakes so I come to a stop right in front of them.
Paul laughs. “That was the craziest shit I’ve ever seen.”
“What, you thought I forgot how to fucking ride?”
Paul shrugs. “Dude, I thought you just partied with models all day ever since ever since you hit it big. I mean, shit, that’s what I’d be doing if I were you. Didn’t you have a thing with that one girl…uh…the really hot one with the fake nails who’s on all those reality shows……”
Absolutely not. She was probably the most annoying person I’ve ever met. But I don’t blame Paul for thinking that. It was all over the gossip blogs. She was falling down drunk at some shitty party in downtown LA, I helped her up, she gave me a hug, and someone got a picture and it turned into “Travis Carter’s Newest Conquest.” And I know I like to talk dirty, but if you believed those fucking blogs, you’d think I was the biggest manwhore in Southern California.
I shake my head at Paul. “Don’t believe everything you read, man.”
“I guess not. Clearly, you’ve been practicing. And hey, thanks again for coming out here and doing our little tournament. If you bring a couple fans out, I might actually be able to move the shop somewhere closer to downtown.”
“It’s no problem. I wanted to do something real.”
Paul laughs, and I hop off the bike. It’s getting pretty late, and I should probably get back to the hotel and make sure Laney’s not too lonely without me. Hey, maybe now that she’s had some time to think, she’ll have realized how bad she wants me and she’ll be waiting for me in the suite with nothing but a smile on.
I mean, shit, a man can dream, right?
***
This place is fucking hilarious. Tell the staff I’m going to need a vibrator delivered up to my room? No one bats an eye. But walk in the front door with a little dirt on me? All hell breaks loose. I thought the girl at the front desk was going to have a heart attack when she saw me walk in. I mean sure, I’m pretty fucking caked in dirt from riding, but it’s not like I left muddy footprints on the carpet or anything.
Whatever. Laney’d better be awake, because I’m sweating like a motherfucker and need to use that shower coming off of her room, and she’d kill me if I walked in while she was sleeping.
I open the suite door, actually a little disappointed that she’s not waiting for me and wearing as little as possible. Maybe she’s right about me thinking of this as a real honeymoon.
Her door’s closed, but the light’s on, so hopefully that means she’s not asleep. I walk up to the door and I’m just about to knock when I hear something coming from the other side that stops me in my tracks.
It’s quiet, muffled by these thick-ass walls, so I’m not sure if I’m imagining things or not. But just like that, a couple seconds later, it happens again, and this time, there’s no doubt in my mind what it is.
It’s a moan. And not a quiet, innocent, PG-13 sigh, either. The shit I’m hearing is triple fucking X.
Instantly, my cock gets ridiculously hard, straining against my jeans like it’s about to explode. She’s actually fucking touching herself, and from the sound of it, she’s probably hoping I’m going to walk through this door, peel those little fingers away from her hard little clit, and slide every last inch of myself inside her.
And fuck, I really, really want to. But that wouldn’t be very professional, would it? That wouldn’t be very professional at all.
God, she sounds so dirty in there. I didn’t know innocent little Laney even had it in her. I smirk and step away from the door. I guess this means no shower. And half the hotel’s going to freak out if I go anywhere else with all this dirt on me and wait for Laney to finish.
So I guess there’s only one thing to do. I look over at the huge pink bathtub in the corner of the living room and smirk. Who knew it was actually going to end up being good for something?
Pretty soon, Laney’s dirty little moans are drowned out by the noise of running water, and I’m peeling off my clothes, leaving them in a sandy pile as I step into the bathtub. Shit, that feels good. I fill the bathtub up to about chest level, wash the dirt off my face and hair, and then relax, laughing at the half a catalog of fancy bath lotions sitting on the inside rim.
Then, the second I turn off the water, I hear Laney finish herself off. It’s long, loud, and so fucking dirty. My hand goes under the water and wraps around the base of my cock as I picture Laney’s hips lifted up in the air, pushing a long, hot breath through her teeth as she gets off.
And then, what feels like a couple seconds later, the door opens, and Laney’s adorable little head pokes through the door, eyes guilty like a bunny sneaking out for a midnight carrot.
And then she sees me, and her jaw hits the floor.