Supernova

by Anne Leigh

  I had no reason to wear them.

  I was in college.

  Sweats, yoga pants, jeans, and t-shirts were my staple clothes.

  Even if I never wore them, Tre still sent them. Maybe he was also hoping that I’d join my mother in her business. But mostly I thought it was because he was a nice guy. Eccentric, but really nice.

  When I asked Tre for his opinion on a dress, he finagled it out of me on why I was asking.

  I confirmed that I was going to be with Scott on the red carpet for a charity event hosted by the Royals.

  He squealed like it was Christmas and set out to find me the perfect dress. He knew my dress size, so it was a matter of finding out the right style.

  I thought he was going to send me another Armani creation, but when I looked at myself in the mirror, I knew that Tre had picked out the perfect dress.

  I did my own makeup and Rianna was so mad that she was going to miss my big red carpet debut, but she had a really important work group that she couldn’t get out of.

  Her ten thumbs-up emojis let me know that my makeup was on point.

  I loved the way the sage color brought out the tan I’d acquired from being under Golden State’s sunshine. The off-shoulder pleated trim defined my curves and the column silhouette created an illusion that I was delicate. At first, I thought that the flower detail by the waist was too much, but Tre fought me on it, saying that it would highlight my waist.

  He was right, of course.

  I applied the glossy red lipstick to my lips, a bolt of color on my almost nude makeup look and stretched my lips to a grin, ensuring that there weren’t any spaces that needed to be filled in.

  My hair, longer and almost reaching my waist, was set in wavy loose curls, and I took a picture of myself after the final touches and sent it to Tre.

  He made me promise him a photo after I was all made up and his response was immediate.

  Tons of fire emojis and a ‘you get him, girl’ made me giggle.

  Another text chimed in on my phone, it was the car that Scott had hired to pick me up.

  His team had a flight delay, so as much as he wanted to pick me up from my place; he had no choice but to ask someone else to pick me up. I could’ve driven, but Scott pushed back the idea as soon as I blurted it out.

  He said that there was no way he was going to be burdened by driving his car or my car when the minute he put his hands on me, he’d want to whisk me away into the privacy of his place.

  I put on my glittering gold Jimmy Choos, and tried not to fall over as I took a step.

  It had been a while since I wore heels this high, and now would be the best time to have a quarterback within arms’ length.

  I struggled with the first few steps, but as soon as I got used to the feeling of pointed heels on my soles, I walked to the elevator and pressed down on the button.

  An older-looking gentleman dressed in a black suit and tie greeted me by the front. He said, “Miss Cordello?”

  I smiled at him and asked, “You’re Johnny?”

  “Yes Ma’am,” was his answer and I thanked him as he opened the door for me. The Infiniti SUV was nice inside and the driver had a small bottled water waiting for me.

  Johnny talked during the drive, and I laughed when he told me stories of his sixteen year-old daughter who was giving him heart palpitations because she had just gotten her driver’s permit and had started driving on the streets of LA.

  Anyone who drove around here was a warrior and a saint. You had to conquer the streets like a race car driver, but have the patience to deal with assholes like a saint.

  The drive to Barker Hangar didn’t take long, and as Johnny opened the door for me to get out of, I placed a hand on his arm and said, “Thank you.”

  He replied with a, “You’re most welcome. I’ll see you and Scott later.”

  I nodded my head and walked towards the red carpet laid out by the entrance to the event.

  I felt vibrations inside my small Gucci clutch bag, a gift from my brother on my eighteenth birthday, and saw the text from Scott.

  Babe, another twenty minutes. So sorry. Traffic was a bitch getting out of LAX.

  I replied with, It’s okay, I’m here already. I’m going to go inside.

  A second hadn’t even gone by when he replied, Are you sure?

  He was asking if I was sure if I wanted to walk the red carpet alone.

  Sure, this wasn’t the Academy Awards where hundreds of reporters were around. I eyed at least ten prominent media stations and I willed myself to go through with it.

  This would probably be the easiest part.

  I’d love to walk with him across the red carpet, but then there would be more questions about us. If I walked alone, maybe they wouldn’t recognize me and I could just be passed on as another guest.

  I’m sure, was my reply back. I’ll see you inside.

  I’m dying to be inside of you, he returned and I felt my body heat up.

  We hadn’t been together in weeks and I missed him so much.

  We Facetimed, but not being able to feel each other’s skin was hard.

  “Hey.” A voice that haunted my past came from behind me.

  I turned around and saw Dex walking towards me; he was dressed in a two-button navy suit that was most likely customized for him.

  “You look beautiful, Bridgette.” His left arm went to my elbow and I gritted my teeth, “Dex, don’t touch me.”

  His blue eyes flashed with annoyance, “You used to like my touches.”

  I had no time for this, “Used to. Past tense.”

  I walked towards the red carpet and stopped as soon as I realized that he was still beside me; we couldn’t walk on it together. Otherwise, the gossip mill would be churning another sick love triangle story before my Jimmy Choos crossed the entrance to the building.

  His hair was longer and there was strain in his eyes when he spoke up again, “Where’s Strauss?”

  “Running late,” I answered, my gaze on the couples walking the carpet together.

  “I’m guessing you don’t want to walk with me to get inside.” His voice was patronizing, and I remembered the times when just hearing his voice made my heart flutter. Now all I felt was apathy.

  “I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about us,” I muttered in hushed tones, hoping that no one noticed how he and I were huddled on the side.

  His left hand rose up in the air, and I stopped whatever he was going to do by saying, “Dex. Please. Not here.”

  “I just wanted to fix your hair.” His voice was empty of malice, “It’s hard for me to watch you with him.”

  Welcome to my nightmare, asshole.

  Years ago, I watched him flaunt cheerleader after cheerleader in front of my face after we’d broken up. Once he was done with them, football groupies came into rotation.

  Since he went to an all-boys school like my brother, the girls he hung out with were from my school.

  They were my classmates, lab partners, or acquaintances.

  Most of our relationship was in the shadows because Dex didn’t want Bishop to know, and at the time I thought he was being considerate of me.

  As it turned out, he never really wanted anyone else to know because he didn’t want to hurt his playboy reputation.

  I looked at his face, his classically handsome features that a sculptor would find himself lucky to create a mold of. His looks only got better with age, but even when he looked this good, he failed to get a rise of any emotion from me.

  Time really had a way of creating distance from the pain.

  I stepped away from him and with resolve as hard as the small diamonds that pierced my ears, I smiled at the reporters waiting by the carpet.

  “Who are you wearing, Bridgette?” A reporter from NBC sports asked, she was a brunette who was dressed in a slinky blue dress, and as she pressed the microphone close to my face, I was taken aback that she knew my name. But I answered her with a smile, “I’m wearing Kass Payne. She�
�s a new designer and I love this dress.”

  “I love it, too. You look beautiful. Has Scott seen you yet?” She was asking what was on her mind, and as much as I wanted to get away from the camera as soon as possible, I thought of all the times my boyfriend had defended our relationship in the media, even when he shouldn’t, even when he didn’t have to.

  “Not yet.” I gave the camera another smile.

  “What do you think of his win last night?” She was wearing a press ID tag over her neck and it said Sandra.

  “I think it’s great. Great for the Royals,” I said, my memory flashing back to why I had slept so late last night. I’d waited for Scott’s call after his team won against Cincinnati. Their winning streak hadn’t been broken, and I was truly happy for him.

  A strong arm snaked around my waist, and I couldn’t help but close my eyes as my face turned towards him. He smelled fresh, a mix of spice and crispness, and I couldn’t help my left hand as it instinctively touched his suit-covered chest.

  His kiss was warm against my forehead, “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Three touchdowns, over three hundred passing yards, and winning in the typical Scott Strauss fashion, what do you think of your chances are for the Super Bowl this year?” Sandra’s attention was now on Scott, and it gave me time to check him out.

  Gah.

  He was so handsome, so delicious.

  The gray suit he was wearing accentuated his shoulders and he had a small scruff growing on his chin, highlighting his jawline. His green eyes were on Sandra, but the grip that he had on my waist was getting tighter, firmer. He was trying to control his reaction to me with his hold.

  They talked football for a few minutes and when she let us go, she offered us a gracious smile while Scott tried to steer us away from another reporter.

  We couldn’t escape them though.

  He was the quarterback, and everyone wanted a piece of him.

  His left hand caressed the shoulder that was exposed by my dress and before another reporter snagged us, he brought his lips down to my ear and whispered, “You look gorgeous, babe. I can’t wait to have you alone.”

  Then he straightened himself and faced another barrage of questions.

  I would never get used to this.

  The constant slew of questions and the massive amount of attention.

  The cameras flashed everywhere around us just as I wanted to hide away in the corner and stay invisible.

  The hand firmly pressed against my shoulder was giving me encouragement through his soft caresses and letting me know that he was here for me was enough to make me stay rooted to my spot and smile my way through everything.

  Everyone looked at him with adoration, sometimes hunger, and at other times, jealousy.

  He never returned the women’s flirty smiles and while he was charming, he maintained a professional boundary.

  But in the few seconds that we were allowed privacy along the red carpet, he’d given me a look that said it all.

  That he appreciated me being here.

  And that he was so proud that I was standing by his side.

  I hated the spotlight, but I loved the man who was in the middle of it.

  He didn’t ask for this, it was thrust upon him because of what he signified.

  And so I would…

  I would stand by him, through all the photos and the selfies and the questions because away from the lights, he gave me his heart, and for that, I’d give him my all.

  “God, I thought it’d never end.” Scott growled in my ear as he grabbed my butt under my dress.

  He’d kept his hands off of me throughout the event, but the heated, lingering looks he threw my way every second he was away from me, warned me that the strawberry truffles weren’t going to be enough to stave off his hunger for me.

  He gave me the cursory hand holding, but for most of the evening, he was obliged to talk to the attendees.

  I was more than happy to stay by his side and watch him charm the devoted Royals’ fans.

  “What the fuck?” His voice held equal parts annoyance and bewilderment.

  I was so focused on helping rid him of his suit that it took me a second to look up at him.

  “What is it?” My voice came out husky and filled with need. I missed him so much. The hunger I’d seen in his eyes would be mirrored in mine if they were looking closely at us. If it was up to Scott, Johnny would have been given quite a show inside the SUV on the ride back home. I had to whisper him promises that he could do whatever he wanted with me if he behaved during the ride back to his place.

  He was holding my gold thong in his right hand. I hadn’t even realized he’d taken it off. More like torn it apart from the looks of what remained of the frayed fabric in his big hand.

  “You were wearing this the whole night?” Scott green eyes turned even darker and amid the dim lights coming from his kitchen, he looked feral, predatory. “This is a scrap of nothing, babe.”

  “I didn’t want underwear lines on my dress.” He’d never seen me in a thong. I preferred comfy boy shorts and easy-to-wear seamless hip huggers.

  “If I knew you’d been wearing this we wouldn’t have lasted as long as we did at the party.” His hand lifted the thong in the air and slowly placed it under his nose, “God, you smell so good, babe.”

  I clamped my legs, hoping my wetness didn’t drip down to my feet.

  I felt the thick finger of his left hand push further inside of me, “Does me sniffing your thong make you wetter?”

  He was loud and so filthy.

  My back involuntarily arched so he could push his finger deep, deeper inside of me.

  “You’re so hot, Bridge. So fucking hot.” My eyes closed and a moan was the best I could do in response.

  His finger left my center and I groaned at the absence, “Scott, please. Put it back.”

  “Open your eyes, babe.” His voice, while on edge, was still a command, prompting me to obey.

  I watched as he licked his finger that had been soaked inside of me, and I felt myself burning up to an immeasurable temperature. If the Sahara was hot, I was a hundred degrees past the hottest recorded temp. My body sang for him, and he made quick work of removing his clothes. His dress shirt lost a couple of buttons in the battle, and in a quick motion he lifted me in his muscled arms while moving toward his bedroom.

  “Stand up.” His voice was barely hanging on by a thread. “Lemme take off your dress for you.”

  I was putty to his hands, allowing him to lower the zipper on the side of my dress, barely feeling the weight of it fall to my feet. The strapless bra I wore quickly came off next, and his hands replaced them to cover me up.

  I felt the silk of his pants against my legs, and his breath was hot on my left ear as he bent down to lick that area.

  His rough hands caressed, played, and tugged on my nipples and I opened my legs wider as I started feeling his cock poking and prodding against my butt.

  “I love you, Bridge.” The gentle, whispered words were a stark contrast to the way his hands were exploring my body. “Missed you so much.”

  I tried to turn my head, but Scott’s head stopped me from the motion.

  “I love you, too.”

  Before him, I’d only been with one man.

  It wasn’t for lack of trying. Circumstances and opportunity just didn’t come my way.

  I knew that Scott had a lot more experience than me with the bedroom games, and I could be jealous of all the women he was with.

  Maybe in a way, I was.

  But they weren’t the ones being pleasured by his fingers at that moment.

  They weren’t the ones he was claiming to be his, and they weren’t here.

  I was.

  I felt the thick intrusion of his cock linger around the junction between my thighs and with one of my legs propped up on his bed, I gave him permission by muttering, “Get inside me, babe.”

  He gave me a few seconds to adjust to his thickness, and when I pushed do
wn against him, it was his signal to keep going.

  “Oh.” I moaned as he hit a spot that enhanced what I was feeling ten times greater. He placed his left thumb above my clit and I bucked up against him.

  “Like that, babe?” He husked, “You like my cock inside of you and my fingers playing with your pussy?”

  Dirty words came out of his gorgeous mouth when he was in the heights of passion.

  A loud moan that vibrated from my center to my mouth came out of me, “Don’t stop. It feels so good.”

  His mouth found a home on my right shoulder, and as he plunged inside of me, he sucked on my skin, rougher, harder, almost painful.

  “Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” he stammered as he set us in a wild rhythm.

  I was lost, so lost in the bliss that he was giving me, my hips undulating to their own accord, and I felt his thrusts become more frequent and uncoordinated.

  For a man who looked so controlled on the field, in the bedroom he was a wild, uncaged animal.

  “Are you close?” His breaths were coming out sputtered, and I loved that I could make him feel that way. He was so cool in high pressured situations that you’d never think he ever lost his cool.

  This, right now, the way he was pummeling inside me, his cock going in and out of me, his breaths staggering in pleasure – I loved seeing him this way.

  “Almost,” I eked out, feeling the rough pad of his thumb circling my clit, just the way I loved it, and when he thrust in one, two, three times, I lost whatever train of thought I had and let out a, “I’m coming. Ooohhh, oohh, ooohhhh.”

  Scott’s hips flexed and he was relentless when he pushed his cock in, out, in, in, and out of me. The quick bursts of, “Almost there, fuck yeah, almost. So good. Yeah. Yeah, right there. Aaah!” came from his lips.

  I bent my waist lower so he could feel me deeper, and the hands that were now on my waist gripped tighter. His teeth scraped against my nape and I felt another burst of wetness come out of me.

  He’d stopped wearing a condom when I told him that I was on birth control.

  He was floored when I gave him the news; he knew that came out of a place of trust. Trust that he would not subject me to STDs by sleeping around. Trust that he would not break my heart.