Spring Fling

by Claudia Burgoa

  Anika’d had a fit, spending days on the phone, tirelessly working to get them down, while I remained unphased, learning long ago not to let shit like that bug me. Rhett Taylor is nothing more than an image. An entity. A commodity. And for my own sanity, I treat my public persona as such. Few people know the real me, and their opinions are the only ones I can be bothered to care about. For some reason I couldn’t begin to explain, I want to put Korie in that category—for her to see past the facade.

  Lyle strolls around the corner with a navy and yellow striped beach towel tied around his waist and a tray of shots in hand. “Nice,” he says, smirking at our costumes. With his free hand, he thwacks the head of the rubber ducky protruding from the pool float that serves as Aiden’s ensemble. “Pretty impressive duck ya got there.”

  “That’s what she said.” Aiden strokes the head of his duck for good measure.

  Nineties dance music assaults our ears the moment we step outside. Pink and blue streaks brighten the sky as the strobe lights pulse to the beat. It’s only a five-minute walk to the pavilion, but already my taint is starting to chafe due to the rubbing of the cardboard. I’m really beginning to question this costume by the time we arrive.

  “It’s as hot as two squirrels fucking in a sack,” I groan, adjusting myself.

  “I believe the saying is two rats screwing in a wool sock,” a tipsy Korie offers, stumbling over her own feet. I damn near swallow my tongue as I reach out to steady her. She’s wearing nothing more than strips of caution tape strategically wrapped around her breasts and hips. My eyes trail the length of her toned legs to the tips of her red painted toes, which are usually covered in a pair of Converse sneakers. I’m pretty sure there’s drool dripping from my chin when Nick barks out a laugh, pulling me from my stupor.

  “I wasn’t aware rodents fucking in fabric was such a common heat analogy.”

  “It’s definitely a thing, Nicholas.” I tighten my arms around her middle so she doesn’t topple over when she leans forward to point her finger in his face. I’m more than a little shocked when she doesn’t immediately pull away. “People at A&M say it all the time.”

  “You’re so cultured,” he teases.

  She shrugs and then, as if she’s only just noticed she’s in my arms, her cheeks flush and she steps aside, tugging at the placement of the tape covering her tits to make sure it’s still in place. The urge to untie it and garner another glimpse at her breasts is strong. “Um, there’s booze over there.” She points to a bar set up next to the DJ. “Raven and I are hanging by the fire…she sort of has a thing for you, Nick.” Korie waggles her brows at her cousin. “Join us?”

  Nick perks up like a rooster. “Yeah,” he says, looking to me for confirmation. “We’ll be right there.”

  KORIE

  * * *

  “They’re coming!” Raven tosses back another shot of whiskey, her body swaying provocatively to the sultry beat. “Don't stare. Don't make it obvious.”

  Alcohol swirls in my belly as I turn my head toward my best friend to avoid their gazes. Flames lick my skin. I’m hot and tingly everywhere, despite the slight nip in the night air. Trying to ignore the rapid beating in my chest, I focus on Raven, matching her moves with what I hope come off as sexy ones of my own. I want Rhett to see me as more than some frigid bitch—to want me the way I can’t seem to stop myself from wanting him.

  Awareness pricks my skin, and before I even hear his voice, I feel his nearness. “How much have you had to drink, Stick?” His raspy tone is pure sex. “And who knew you had moves like that?”

  “There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” I say in a flirty voice that cannot belong to me.

  “Apparently.” He moves to stand just inches away. I try not to ogle his chiseled abs and the V that leads down to the promised land, presently encased in a pizza box. Only Rhett Taylor could wear cardboard like it was tailor made to fit his body.

  “Nice box you’ve got there.” I giggle, and his eyes narrow just a smidge. He’s not sure how to take my new attitude toward him, and quite frankly, I’m not either. But I came here for an adventure, and for some reason I’m hell bent on exploring the dick in that box.

  As if reading my mind, he taunts, “You should see what’s inside.” Then he winks, and it’s effortlessly sexy. Not at all awkward, like it’d be if I tried to do such a thing. I decide he must spend a lot of time practicing that move in the mirror to pull it off so well. Hell, if I had a face like his, I’d probably stare at myself all day too.

  “I’m a little afraid of what I might find,” I quip. Raising my right brow, I take a long pull from my party punch. “I hear that thing gets around.” My stomach sinks at my own words, because therein lies the problem. I’m attracted to him—painfully so. But so is the rest of the female population. He could have any girl he wants and does, regularly, if the tabloids are to be believed. I’ve never even had a one-night stand. Only two serious boyfriends. The thought of being just another hole for him to stick it in kinda makes me queasy. Or it did, up until about three shots ago, when I decided if I’m here to scratch an itch, why not him? I came here to be bold and daring—to find a sexy guy to have my way with. Who better than Rhett fucking Taylor? He traveled all this way to play games with me. The way I see it, I can choose to be an active player or wind up his toy, and I’d prefer to be the one pulling the strings.

  “Be afraid, little one,” he taunts. “I’m sure it’s way more than you could handle.”

  “We’ll see.” I bat my lashes before twirling with my arms above my head in the firelight. I feel light and woozy and free.

  Rhett takes my extended hand in his, spinning me around like the Prince Charming he is anything but. “Will we?” he asks when I come back to face him, and my eyes lock with his. They’re warm and hungry and command my attention. I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. And it’s really starting to scare me, how very much I don’t want to.

  “If you’re lucky.”

  Rhett

  * * *

  “Walk with me?” the temptress asks, tugging my hand toward the beach. “I need some air.”

  We’ve been dancing around the fire for nearly an hour. My dick’s so hard that I’m surprised it hasn’t pushed through the damn cardboard yet. I’m going to be in so much pain tomorrow, when I regain feeling in my balls. But all the discomfort’s been worth it to be able to feel her tiny hands exploring my bare chest while we sway to beat of the music. The few times I caught her appreciating my ass were definite highlights as well.

  “If I didn’t know better, Stick, I’d think you were trying to get me alone.” I place a hand over my heart in mock surprise.

  “If I didn’t know better,” she counters, “I’d think you were playing hard to get, Hollywood.”

  She gave me a nickname. Things are getting serious quick, I muse to myself. “Don’t you go falling in love with me now,” I warn in a teasing tone. I’m well aware that the danger of that happening is slim to none. The girl barely tolerates my existence…unless she’s drinking, apparently, and I’m not sure what that’s doing for my ego, but I’m enjoying her attention, so I don’t put too much thought into it.

  Her head tips back, and she laughs hysterically. “Jesus, you are full of yourself, aren’t you? Don’t worry, Romeo…you’re safe from my affections.”

  “You seem awful sure.” I cock my brow.

  “Look, I’m just here for a good time. The last thing I’m looking to do is catch feelings.”

  I shrug, giving her my best lopsided grin. “Just saying…I’m rumored to be pretty irresistible.”

  “You’re rumored to be a lot of things.”

  At that I bust out laughing. “How do you know every bit of it isn’t true?”

  “The sex change?”

  “Maybe…”

  “You fathered Kate Middleton and Prince William’s middle child?”

  Oh, that was a good one. “I mean, we were at the same resort the summer before, in the Bahamas. It could h
ave happened.”

  “The penis enlargement?” Her eyes drop briefly to my crotch before bouncing back up to meet mine.

  “Is complete bullshit! These killer chops aren’t the only thing I was blessed with,” I argue, ending the ruse to defend my manhood. “Women everywhere are just searching for a way to explain such a phenomenon.”

  The corners of her mouth curl into a smile. “I bet.”

  We leave her friend Raven and Nick dry humping on a log in front of the fire. The rest of the guys have long gone their own way. The party is in full swing, with campers linking up all over the place. It’s like high school all over again, without the fear of teen pregnancy and missing curfew.

  “So, what do you like to do?” Korie asks, tugging us toward the abandoned water trampoline. “You know, when you’re not performing for sold-out stadiums or collecting women’s panties.” Her accompanying smirk is joined by a painful dose of side eye.

  “Seems you’ve read all there is to know about me in the papers,” I counter. “I’d rather hear about you, anyway.”

  She takes a few long strides, putting herself ahead of me, then turns and begins walking clumsily backward. After taking a long pull from the drink still clutched in her hand, she takes her time assessing me. Emerald eyes scour every inch of my exposed body over the rim of her solo cup.

  “Come on, Stick,” I urge. “Who is Korie Potter?”

  “Well,” she says, nibbling her lower lip. “I’ll be graduating in a few weeks from Texas A&M with a degree in social work.”

  “Oh yeah?” I ask, genuinely curious as I take her small hand in mine to help her navigate the pier. “What then?”

  “Then I save the world, Hollywood.” She releases my fingers to spin and damn near falls off the edge into the water.

  “Whoops,” she says on an exhale as I wrap my arm around her, pulling her to my chest. “I don’t usually drink this much, so I’m a little off balance.” Her pale cheeks flush beneath the moonlight, her shimmery eyes glowing bright. She looks fragile and dainty, a stark contrast to the hard-ass, take-no-shit Korie I’m growing used to. There’s an unfamiliar tug in my chest, making me realize that maybe I like this side of her too. That maybe this could be more than an infatuation. None of the girls I’ve been with have ever moved anything above the belt. This fluttering sensation in my chest is new and not entirely unpleasant.

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind saving you,” I rasp, a little stunned by how much I truly mean that.

  Hesitant hands comb the sides of my face, reaching into my hair and threading their way through the windblown strands. She leans in, her lips parting, breaths coming out in shallow pants. Our mouths are a fraction of an inch from touching when the Dominos box forges a barrier between us. The force causes the box to dig into my already tender balls and I see fucking stars.

  “Oh my God! Are you okay?”

  I can’t tell whether she’s laughing or crying as she starts to back away, looking on while I finally rip the damn thing from my body, uncaring that I’m wearing absolutely nothing underneath.

  “Meat lovers,” she gasps, mouth agape.

  I’m already well on my way into the water when her words register. I come up sputtering, reaching beneath the surface to cup my aching sack. The freezing water feels amazing on the raw flesh. “Meat lovers?” I ask, grinning at her shocked expression. I can’t blame her. The girl just got an eyeful.

  “The uh—. The umm…the pizza. Definitely meat lovers,” she squeaks, reaching behind her back and untying the tape from around her breasts. “Mind if I join you?” she asks as the bright yellow tape floats to the ground.

  I stand there, stupefied, unable to find my voice as I watch the object of my obsession step out of the makeshift skirt that did little to cover her to begin with. With a hard swallow, I shake my head, and in what seems like an instant she’s standing before me in shoulder-deep water.

  Korie squeals loudly. “Jesus. Fuck! That’s cold.” Her jaw chatters, and she moves closer. “Let’s try this again.” She presses the length of her body to mine, her pebbled nipples hard against my chest and her arms laced around my neck.

  “What’s your favorite?” I ask when her warm breath reaches my lips.

  “Huh?” I love that she’s all flustered and wanting.

  “Favorite pizza?” I tip her nose up with mine, so I can read her expression.

  Eyes heady with desire, she all but purrs, “beef.” Our eager lips crash together, her hungry tongue grappling with mine for control. She tastes delectable, like strawberries and tequila. Coupled with the scent of her coconut tanning lotion, I’m being driven to the brink.

  “What else?” I ask when her hands begin to explore below the surface, trying to keep things from going too far. She’s buzzed—well on her way to drunk—and I’ll be damned if she’ll have that as an excuse when we finally hook up.

  “Huh?” she again asks, her heart racing against my own.

  I nip her lower lip. “Tell me something else?”

  “About?” I try not to laugh at the frustration in her voice.

  “You. I want to know all there is to know about the blonde beauty who loathes my very existence.”

  She backs away a little with a loud huff, looking up to see if I’m sincere. “Why? You live in L.A. You hang out with models and movie stars, for fuck’s sake. My life is so boring in comparison.”

  “It’s all fake,” I muse, pushing long, wet strands of hair behind her shoulders.

  “What is?”

  “Everything.” Tipping her chin up with a finger, I place a kiss on the edge of her nose. “All smoke and mirrors.”

  KORIE

  * * *

  “Tell me something real. I want to know what you’re passionate about. What gets your blood going?”

  I rake my eyes up and down the length of his chest, desire pooling in my center. “Really? You have to ask?”

  With a shake of his head, he blows out a laugh. “Other than my notoriously impressive meat.”

  “Well…” I trail my hands down his back, softly cupping his ass. His hard-on digs into my stomach as his fingers trace the soft skin on the back of my arms, whisper soft. The sensation would tickle if I weren’t so turned on at the moment. “I skate.”

  “Really?” His head jerks back in surprise. “Like at the roller rink?”

  “No,” I chuckle. “Board.”

  “No shit? You any good?”

  I feel my own face light up. “Not bad,” I answer honestly. “I’ve won a few local competitions. It’s always been a dream to compete in the X Games, but I’m not even on their radar.”

  “So, get on their radar.” He says it so flippantly. I’m sure the idea of having a dream and it not coming to fruition is foreign to him. He’s made it, but the reality is that most of us never do. Rhett Taylor is the exception.

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Sure it is. The question is, how bad do you really want it?” How’d we go from rubbing uglies to having an actual conversation so quickly? I’m not sober enough for this level of annoyance.

  “Can we just not talk for a while?” I run my hands up his smooth chest, toying with his nipples in an attempt to redirect his attention, but it’s all for naught.

  “What would it take?” he persists. Taking both of my hands into his, he lifts them from the water to his mouth, pressing kisses across the knuckles, then lowers them to our sides. Smooth.

  “Ughh,” I groan. “Money…sponsorships. Attention. I’d have to get noticed by the selections committee.”

  “You should apply.”

  “I have for the past three years. They don’t see me.”

  “Put yourself out there. Make it impossible for them not to. That’s how you make it. You’ve got but one life, Korie Potter. Make it count.”

  “Seize the moment? Is that your advice, country boy?”

  An almost embarrassed expression crosses his face briefly. “That’s my advice.”

  I loc
k eyes with his, swallowing hard, as I reach between our bodies and wrap my fist around his length, making long strokes. “Then stop cockblocking me,” I whisper.

  Rhett stares intently, like he’s battling some internal demons, before gripping my hips and lifting me so I can wrap my legs around his waist. His mouth molds to mine, tongue plunging urgently in and out as he backs me up to the floating trampoline, my back pressing into the rough fabric.

  I reach down, guiding his thick cock to my opening, not thinking of anything but quelling the ache that’s growing by the second between my thighs. The tip brushes over my clit, and I swear I’ve fucking died and gone to heaven.

  Then he sends me crashing back to earth with a lone word. “No.” It’s whispered against my lips. Soft, but sure. I feel it. I hear it. But no part of me understands it. Could he be worried about pregnancy? It’s the only logical excuse for his pulling away literally seconds from sealing the deal.

  “I’m on the pill, Rhett. It’s okay.” Again, I shift to line up our centers, and once again he denies me.

  “Not tonight.” He’s serious, and I’m irrationally angry that this world-famous manwhore doesn’t want me.

  “I came here to get fucked, Hollywood. Are you gonna give me my money’s worth, or do I need to find it elsewhere?”

  We’re locked in a stare down when I feel his fingers, two—no, maybe three—slip between my folds. I’m still angry for being denied, but I haven’t been touched in so long, and the way he’s thrusting and grunting, lapping at my breast…Jesus, I can’t think about anything but chasing this feeling.

  “Oh, God. Rhett. Please don’t stop.”

  “That’s it. Give it to me, baby girl,” he croons, taking my left nipple into his mouth and biting down gently.

  My hands are everywhere—pulling at his hair, scoring his back. I rock and writhe and take, and he gives and gives, expecting nothing in return.

  “Look at me,” he orders, as his thumb presses against my clit, stroking gently, lighting every cell of my body on fire. “I want those pretty eyes on me when you come.” My pussy clenches, and I explode around his fingers. Rhett captures my scream, fucking my mouth with his tongue while I bask in the aftershocks of the greatest orgasm of my life.