by Livia Lang
As the swimmers began their final lap, Thomas was in second place, right behind a Canadian guy. Amara leaped to her feet as the two men battled to the end. Her heart pounded wildly, and her knees felt weak.
“Go, go, go!” she screamed at the television, her voice only adding to the general din in the bar.
At the last second Thomas surged ahead, barely passing his opponent. Cheers went up around the room as fans from the US enjoyed the victory. Amara was among them, throwing her hands up in the air and doing a victory wiggle.
After everyone had settled down again, Amara sat down in a daze, taking a sip of her beer. She was glad for Thomas, as he had seemed to badly want to prove himself. A giddy feeling also spread across her core as she thought about the fact she had been riding him just hours before! It was the type of secret she never thought she’d have to take to her grave.
“How he had the energy to race after that sex is beyond me,” she mumbled to herself.
The fun was over, though, and she decided to get down to business. Ordering another beer, she pulled out her notebook and began looking over her interview notes. Working hard on crafting several articles for her editor, she got lost in her writing and didn’t notice time passing. When she eventually looked up at the clock, she was shocked to see more than three hours had passed.
“Shit, I need to get going,” she grumbled, beginning to pile up her things.
She slung her bag over her shoulder and stood up to head back to her room. Another lonely night of watching movies seemed to await her. However, before she could move a firm hand wrapped around her upper arm.
“Where are you running off to? I only just made it away to come find you,” came Thomas’ voice from next to her ear.
She turned and found herself chest to chest with the swimmer. Even with her heels on, she was still shorter than him, a fact she couldn’t help but notice as his hard body pressed forward into hers.
“Congratulations on your race,” she said thickly, her mouth suddenly dry. She tugged at the collar of her dress, wondering why the room had gotten hotter than a sauna.
“Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without your help, you know.” His eyes raked over her, making her shiver. “I felt so relaxed after our little interview, and it put me in the perfect mind to race.”
“I don’t think I really helped that much. If anything you must have been extra tired by the time you dipped in the pool.” She looked around the room and noticed several people eyeing them curiously. Thomas Clark’s bad boy reputation was well known, and she didn’t want to be the subject of the next gossip column. “I think it’s time for us to get out of here, though.”
Thomas surveyed the room, his expression fierce. He was daring anyone to say something to him, to interrupt him. Most people shuffled awkwardly and immediately dropped their gaze back to their drinks. “Maybe so. Come on, let’s go to the patio.”
His grip still on her arm, he guided her quickly to the backdoor. They were soon on the secluded, walled-in patio at the back of the hotel. Several large cabanas sat sprinkled around a lively fountain in the courtyard’s center, and low music was being piped through the speakers.
He pushed her towards an empty cabana in the far corner and stalked off to find the perky waitress hovering around the corner. Alone, Amara slid onto the plush white couch inside the cabana. The curtains that made up three of the walls had already been drawn, and the interior was illuminated by several large candles sitting on the center table.
Thomas appeared again, two drinks in hand. He closed the curtain on the final wall, encasing them completely in a dim privacy. He slid onto the couch next to her, handing her the cold glass. “I brought you a whiskey, in celebration.”
She took an appreciative sip, sinking back into the cushions. “What did you tell the waitress?”
“That I had an exclusive interview with one of the best sports writers around, and I didn’t want to be disturbed. After my win tonight, she was more than accommodating.”
Amara lifted an eyebrow as his self-assuredness. “Do people normally…accommodate you, Thomas?”
“I tend to get what I want,” he replied, grinning at her in a way that made her knees feel like Jell-O.
He looked gorgeous in the candlelight, and her body kept reminding her how good he had felt earlier that day. Amara felt dizzy from desire as they sat close, the memories fresh. Something about him continued to infatuate her, making her reckless.
“I need you again,” he said at last. “The semi-finals are tomorrow, and my nerves are threatening to come back with a vengeance. I need you to chase them away.”
“You can’t be serious. I mean, this morning was wild and felt good, but it was also absolutely insane. I could lose my job over a stunt like that.” She put down her drink and fidgeted with the glass.
“No one can see us in here,” he insisted, running a hand down her arm.
“But they can sure hear us when we start going at it like rabbits,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Besides, what’s so special about me? Can’t you blow off steam with some other willing chick?” She was trying to push him away as quickly as possible, because she could already feel her resolve rapidly crumbling again.
“No. They wouldn’t have your intelligence or those impossibly fine legs. You are the one I want.” He said it firmly, looking into her eyes with his stormy grey ones. They seemed to swirl, captivating her.
“And you always get what you want, right?” she replied softly. Her body was pulling closer to him, making her lean towards his mass. She tried to resist, but it seemed futile.
“Trust me; you’ll get what you want too.” He took her hand and placed it on the bulge of his shorts, letting her feel the girth that was packed away. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want to feel it coming inside you again.”
Her mouth was dry as she tried to form the words. She meant to tell him no; she wasn’t interested. But that’d be a lie, and her tongue refused to tell it. Instead, she just sat quietly, looking into his beautiful face.
“What do you want?” he insisted, rubbing his hips against her hand.
“You,” she managed at last.
He was on her in a second, his lips crashing into hers with need. He kissed her deeply, running his hands all over her body. He seemed to worship every inch of her, his palms caressing her athletic hips and sliding up her narrow waist.
She melted into his touches, her body going soft and pliable under his hands. Every caress made her purr in pleasure, and she had to muffle the noise against his lips. Her body was smoking like a campfire, and she was well beyond rational control.
He broke away at last, reaching for his zipper. As he pulled down his shorts, he revealed his cock, thick and laying half at attention in his lap. “Help me focus,” he said, nodding downward.
She dropped off the edge of the couch, kneeling on the ground before him. Taking his cock firmly in hand she gave it several slow strokes before running her tongue along the underside. The faint taste of chlorine from the pool was still there, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Instead, it only reminded her how wild and forbidden this whole affair was.
She swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, watching him shudder from the sensation. His eyes were half-closed, and his hands gently held onto her head. As she sunk him deeper into her mouth, he made small moans of pleasure, shifting in his seat.
“You’re going to make it hard as fuck to be quiet,” he gasped out.
She smiled to herself before sliding down further, making him touch the back of her throat. Placing her hands on his hips to steady herself, she began working her head in a steady pattern. She made long strokes with her lips tightly sealed around his dick on the way down, and used her tongue to massage the underside of his cock as she slid back upwards. Up and down she went, feeling him throb in her mouth.
She enjoyed him with every one of her senses. The way his pre-cum tasted slightly salty on her tongue, the tensing of his le
gs under her fingers, the smell of his body wash, the sight of him writhing, and the sounds of his joy. She felt enveloped, consumed by him. No man had ever affected her like this.
He reached down and pulled her off of him, panting. “I don’t want to finish in your mouth. Bend over.”
She scrambled back onto the sofa, getting on her hands and knees. She looked over her shoulder at him as he climbed behind her. “I want it rough.”
He smirked and pulled down her panties in a single tug. He flipped her dress up over her back. “I like a woman who isn’t afraid to demand what she wants,” he said as he sank himself inside of her.
They merged fiercely, their bodies slamming together as they shook the couch. Amara was fairly sure the entire cabana was shaking by the time they really got going. It was almost like they were each daring the other to stop, to hold back. But they were both too driven and proud to stand down, so their rutting only became wilder.
“Jesus,” Thomas hissed, bucking into her powerfully. “I’ve never fucked like this.”
He reached around to press his thumb on her clit. He rubbed the little button rapidly, hanging on tight as she bucked under him. Every time she cried out, he only pushed into her harder.
They both reached their crescendo at the same time, slamming together a final time before he emptied inside of her. Their bodies sticky and warm, they stayed like that for a long moment, his breath hot on her neck and his cock softening inside of her. She could feel her heart beating in time with the throbbing of her tired, worn out pussy.
When they at last parted, she collapsed onto the sofa with a huff. Giving him a lazy smile, she pulled up her panties and tried to straighten herself. “So are you going to win the race now?”
“After that, I think I could swim three races in a row and win them all. God, I feel amazing,” he sighed, laying a hand protectively on her leg. “Will you be there at the race tomorrow?”
She shook her head, feeling a pang of guilt at how hopeful his look was. “No, I’ve got to cover the gymnastics events. My editor will kill me if I don’t do a couple of in-depth pieces about the Russian team this year, considering how good they are.”
Thomas nodded, looking hurt. “Then have dinner with me afterward. We can do a victory celebration together.”
“By victory celebration, do you mean more sex?”
A grin reappeared on his face. “Dinner first. Meet me outside the main square in the athlete village as soon as you can.”
Amara nodded, her heart beginning to beat wildly again. Hooking up was one thing. However, Thomas was suggesting something that sounded suspiciously like a date. Afterall, dinner was romantic and had the danger of allowing feelings to develop. As they were thrown together for only a short time, she worried that perhaps she was going to fall for him much too fast and much too hard.
Chapter 3
The next night, long after the race was over, the cameras were off, and the stadium was empty, Thomas and Amara met in the athlete’s village. Amara greeting him shyly, but he scooped her up and spun her around, making her forget any hesitation. They made their way back to her room holding hands and laughing together. They ordered pasta from room service, as well as a bottle of red wine, and settled down on the small couch that took up half the room. They were celebrating, because - once again - Thomas had won his heat. The semi-finals were over, and he would be racing for the gold medal in less than twenty-four hours.
It felt like a normal date, which surprised Amara. It wasn’t every day she went out with a man built like a Greek god, who just happened to also be one race away from winning Olympic gold. It also wasn’t every day she was sleeping with a man who could make her scream like a banshee or make her laugh with his dirty jokes. Nothing about Thomas was ‘normal’ or ‘everyday,’ and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
As they ate their food, he told her about his childhood and how he fell into swimming. “I was a total jerk in high school, and my mom said I had to join the swim team to stay out of trouble or she was going to take away my car,” he chuckled. “Not that you’d believe I was trouble, right?”
For her part, Amara told him about feeling pressure from her professor parents to attend graduate school. But, eventually she ended up deciding journalism was right for her. “I think they are still upset with me,” she said ruefully, pouring more wine. “They wanted me to be a professor of English at some Ivy League school.”
Their conversation was deep and introspective, and Amara felt a load lifting off her shoulders as she told him things she never discussed. It didn’t feel right to keep anything from him, not even when they barely knew each other. Something about him already seemed like she could feel at home with him, able to bare her soul.
“Can I tell you something?” he said at last, putting down his plate and turning to face her fully. His face was serious, the sharpness of his jaw highlighted in the room’s dim light.
“Sure. I’m assuming off the record?”
“Just between us. This is definitely not something for you to include in your article about me.”
Amara nodded. She took secrecy seriously as a reporter and had never betrayed someone’s confidence. She couldn’t imagine doing that to anyone, let alone Thomas when he was looking at her with such trust.
He huffed quietly, reaching out to grab her hand. His fingers dwarfed her own, and she smiled at the contrast between his pale rose quartz skin and her own brown topaz.
“I’m nervous about the race tomorrow. I’ve blown it before, and I can’t keep throwing away opportunities. This might be my last Olympics. I’ll get older, slower, maybe injured. I feel like I have to do this right now, right here.” He ran his thumb across the back of her hand thoughtfully. “I’ve always told myself it’s ok if I goof off, or mess up, because I’ll always have another chance, or that I can fix it later. But maybe I’m getting too grown up for that now.”
Amara nodded, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought. She just sat quietly, letting him sort through the difficult emotions in his mind.
After a long pause he continued, “You’re the only person who can help me, it seems. Being with you takes the buzz away and helps me to concentrate. Please, can I stay tonight?”
Amara looked at the handsome man before her, opening himself up in such a humble way. She didn’t know why she, out of anyone else in the world, helped him. She didn’t doubt his words, however. There was something between them, something intense and magical that happened when they came together. She had no idea if it would last, or if she should have any expectations of hearing from him again once the gold was around Thomas’s neck. But she did know that right then, right there, she wanted his body to touch hers.
She stood up, standing confidently in front of him. Holding his gaze, she reached behind to grasp the zipper of her skirt, slowly sliding it down. The fabric fell away from her hips, forming a puddle on the floor. She began to unbutton her shirt, slowly undoing each pearl, letting more of her cleavage show.
By the time she pushed the shirt off of her shoulders, leaving her in only a black cotton thong and white bra, Thomas was on his feet. He pulled off his shirt in a single movement and threw it onto the couch forcefully.
“Baby, we’re going slow tonight,” he said, stalking close to her and cupping her face in his big hands.
They kissed slowly and passionately as he put a hand on the back of each of her thighs. Hoisting her up, he carried her across the room to the king size bed. Finally breaking their embrace, he laid her down tenderly onto the soft mattress before covering her body with his own.
She ran her nails down his bare back, arching her chest upward as he began to suck along her neck. His teeth grazing her hot skin made her buck into him, and she moaned his name softly as she felt all the tension in her body melt. The rest of the world shrank away; there was only the two of them, locked together.
He stood to strip off his pants and boxers, towering before the bed like a statue of a long-lost god. H
is every muscle stood out in the dim light, the shadows highlighting the curves and lines in his sculpted abdomen. He looked beautiful before her, masculine and powerful with his cock already standing at attention.
“I want to see all of you,” he whispered.
They had fucked twice now, but it had always been rushed, with their clothes half on. Having him demand to see her, every inch of her, was startling in its intimacy. The atmosphere of the room was heavy, lacking the animalistic power of their earlier merging. Instead, it seemed solemn and momentous.
“Go on; don’t be shy,” he pushed, his eyes roving up and down her body. “Show me.”
She quickly slid down the thong and unhooked her bra, throwing both off the bed. Her breath caught, and her stomach flopped as she exposed herself. The vulnerability was exciting, terrifying, and everything in between.
She ran her hands over her body, kneading her breasts before sliding down to her stomach. Her legs fell open slightly, exposing her wetness to him. Before she had a chance to go much further, Thomas was back on the bed, pulling her legs further apart.
“Dear god, you are so fucking beautiful,” he sighed, taking in her dark folds with a hungry look.
He didn’t dive directly between her legs, however. Instead, he started at her breasts, licking and sucking on her nipples. He rolled each nub with his tongue until it was hard, then kissed down her chest to her petite belly button.
As he nibbled on the soft flesh of her belly, she writhed under him. She ran her hands through his short hair, encouraging him to go further. Her core was aching, needing his touch. It was if something was missing inside of her, and only he could provide the key to solving her pain.
Down, down he kissed, scrapping his teeth carefully along her shaved mound. When he reached her puffy lips, he looked up briefly, grinning naughtily at her. Then he launched himself at her pussy, licking up and down her wet slit. His tongue teased her hole, before sliding back up to circle her clit.