The Tempest

by Brit Constantine

  He pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes. “That was just…” I murmur, breathless, dizzy with bliss spinning in and around my body. “You are…”

  I. Am. Ruined.

  “Yeah … it was something.” He half grins, nuzzling my neck, and kisses me on a most sensitive spot.

  “What if someone walked in?” I moan softly, his hand still buried inside of my warmth.

  “That’s the only reason why I didn’t get those perfect tits of yours out and why I didn’t take your tight pussy.” He thrusts his fingers inside me to make sure I know how badly he wants it.

  I gasp. “A perfect gentleman?”

  “Outside the bed, yeah. Inside … I’m a goddamn animal.”

  When he slides his fingers out, I moan in protest. “I want more.”

  He chuckles softly, straightening up to a standing position. “Bad news, beautiful. I’m leaving for London in a few days for a week. Got some promotional events I need to attend.”

  “Take me out tomorrow night then.”

  “I wanna take you out now, but got a shitload that needs doing before I head down south. And there’re a few things I need to sort out for the date. When I do something, I give it my all. I don’t want to rush things; I want to savour every moment with you. I want to give you the best.”

  “What things?”

  “Boat things.” He smiles then. “So it’s gonna have to wait a little while. But when I get back … trust me, beautiful, you’re gonna need rest for what I’ve got planned.” He extends his hand out for me to take.

  I don’t take it, distracted by something else. I don’t want to wait another week. I don’t care for rose petals and candles, or romance and poetry, right this moment. I want dirty. I want filthy. And I only care for one thing.

  I moisten my lips at the sight of the thick bulge in his shorts straining against the fabric. Still perched at the end of the bench, I reach out and pull him close to me by his hips. “I said — I want more, Lenic.” He groans as my fingers go to the edge of his shorts. He tries to grab my hand as I pull them down, releasing his hardened cock, but I get out of his grasp.

  For once, I want him to be at my mercy.

  “Fuck, Felicity,” he hisses, as I take his throbbing cock in my hand, stroking it, smearing pre-cum down the length of it.

  My heated gaze locks with his as I start to touch him, stroke him. His sharp dark eyes fill with animalistic desire, and he gasps as my thumb twirls around his wet tip.

  "Fuck..." he hisses, his hand reaching out and twisting into my hair. “Jesus Christ, you’re too much,” he groans throatily. I’ve never seen him look so in need, so desperate for something; it makes me wet to see how much he is crumbling so easily at my touch. “We can’t do this here…” His voice is hoarse and raw.

  “I want to hear you scream my name for once.”

  His cock is throbbing faster, harder, as I wrap my hands around it. He inhales sharply, his body still. I run my hands up and down his shaft and over the smooth, bare skin at its base, my eyes still fixed on his. He groans and watches me as I place my mouth on his tip, and with my tongue I lap up all his pre-cum.

  "Jesus Christ," he groans.

  Oh god, he tastes so good, and when he growls deep within his throat, it soon becomes a begging groan for more. He doesn’t actually say the words. He doesn’t need to. His body is on my side now, yielding towards my touch.

  I suck him deep into my mouth, and moan as my desires are fulfilled. He watches me from above, his head dropping back in ecstasy for a moment.

  I feel incredibly sexy. Dominant. It feels unbelievably good savouring him. I feel his whole body shudder and his hands tug at my hair. The feeling is a pleasant pain and I begin to want more and more, getting a sudden high from it all. His hands start tugging harder, like he is breaking out of the restraints I clamped on him, and I start to feel him thrust into my mouth.

  It is an affirmation of just who is in control of whom.

  I realise now, just how much I love his alpha-male dominance.

  “Oh, baby … You’re so good at it.” A deep rumble escapes him, his hands balling up into fists in my hair, close to my scalp, as he thrusts forwards, taking more dominion of my mouth. He might have been at my mercy for a single moment, but there is no controlling him. “Your mouth is beautiful, baby. I want to fuck it.”

  I can’t serve anyone but him.

  Surrendering all my trust in Lenic to not choke me, I relax my jaw and let him take my mouth. His cock pounds against my tongue, nearly coinciding with the beating of my own racing heart. “I’ve wanted my cock in that smart mouth of yours the second you talked back at me, and fuck, I never thought it could feel this amazing...”

  This won’t last much longer. He has just spent all his stamina on stage, fighting in the ring. How he can get so hard and respond to me is beyond my understanding. Lenic is not bullshit. He was speaking the truth.

  He is an animal.

  I know he is close. So very, very, close. I can already taste him.

  I feel his climax building in him. He growls as his cock starts to twitch with the first quakes of orgasm. Lenic is cumming, And he is cumming hard. His hands clutch at my hair and hold me to him, as he thrusts himself into my mouth.

  He is losing control. I can feel it as his hands loosen in my hair. Bringing a dangerous man like Lenic to his knees is empowering. His laboured breathing echoes into my ears. Manly and feral groans. He is The Tempest, the one that everyone is afraid of in the ring. Being with such a man is thrilling, playing on the edge of a cliff. I feel high. Exhilarated.

  "Oh, Jesus Christ..."

  I swallow him; swallow everything he has to offer me, enjoying every mouthful. I can’t get enough of him. He growls deeply, thrusting more of himself into me, breathing heavier and heavier. His whole body shakes, vibrates, then tenses.

  I just brought The Tempest to his knees.

  He pulls me up, and I wipe my mouth. “You didn’t scream my name,” I whisper huskily.

  He pulls up his shorts, his eyes penetrating as they lock on mine. “Too sexy.” Groaning under his breath, he takes my chin in his hands and then … he surprises me with a kiss. It is slow and gentle, like he is branding me with the remnants of his cum in my mouth. It starts off lightly, but the passion we two possess fires up the kiss.

  “I’m bringing you to all of my fights,” he says, breathless, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me in. Brushing my hair away from my shoulder, he kisses me gently on my neck. “You smell nice, beautiful.”

  “It’s a new perfume.”

  His hand glides down over my hip, into the curve of my inner thigh. “I didn’t mean your perfume—”

  “Move away from her,” a familiar voice roars into the room.

  West.

  Lenic moves in front of me, towards West, like a threatening move on a chessboard. “Not a word. Not another word,” Lenic warns with controlled anger.

  “Don’t drag her into our shit, I’m warning you,” West snarls.

  “West,” I gasp. “Wh-What…? What’re you doing here?” I step away from Lenic, wiping my mouth.

  I try to smile at West to calm him down, but my gut is churning. He glances at me, then turns an icy glare at Lenic. “Came to make sure you’re alright and put an end to this ridiculous bet. It’s not happening so back off, Reevus.”

  “You need to leave, Hurst,” Lenic rasps, the fury making the light in his eyes look like there are flames dancing behind his irises. “Now.” His usually handsome features are twisted in an ugly way, his nostrils flaring wide, his eyes going almost black.

  When West tries to go for Lenic, I move in between them and place a firm hand on West’s chest. “Look at me, West.” West grinds his teeth together and takes a deep breath through his nose before flicking his gaze down at me. “You know me. You’ve known me for most of my life. Do you think I’d let a guy hurt me? Let him treat me wrong?” West shakes his head slowly, seemingly twisted in some kind
of inner hell. “He’s won one date with me. That’s all. I’ll be fine.”

  “Take the hint and back off. She doesn’t want you,” Lenic says, still with the notion that there is something sexual going on between West and me. “I’m taking her out on a date — I’d like to see you try and stop me.” I rotate my wide-eyed gaze back up to Lenic, who is looming over. He begins to smile coldly. “Gimme the heads up though. That way I can get you a step ladder to reach me.”

  “What’s your end game, man?” West shakes his head, brow creased. “What could you possibly gain from all of this — except see her hurt?”

  I can see the vein in Lenic’s forehead throb. “What?” Lenic barks out an angry chuckle, a cold hissing sound. “You not enjoying feeling helpless while the ones you love get—” Lenic nearly chokes on his words. I angle my body away from West to look up at Lenic.

  Lenic turns his head to the side to hide his expression from me. But I can see his Adam’s apple bob up and down, his jaw stiffening, and his chest rising and falling from increasing anger and … and something else.

  West pauses, his eyes fluttering. But the deep unsettling pain in his eyes is shortly replaced with incensed anger once again. “She has nothing to do with what happened,” West growls, spittle spraying from his mouth, his gaze livid. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing at, but I know you don’t care about Felicity so back off.”

  “I’m not playing any goddamn game with her—”

  “Stop it,” I yell desperately. “Stop this, the two of you. Please. You’re scaring me.” I glance back and forth between the pair. “Please tell me what is going on.” When neither of them answers, I continue in a softer tone. “What happened between you two? Tell me so I can help. Understand.”

  “Ask him,” Lenic grits through his teeth, his voice taking on a dark tone that is enough to surge a chill down my spine. “He knows what he’s done.” The temper rising in Lenic’s veins is palpable.

  Staring into West’s eyes, I can see he is battling with his emotions. He wants to confess something — needs to confess something — but something prevents him.

  I reach a hand out to him. “West?”

  He flinches from my touch and backs away. My face crumples. “I can’t, Felicity ... You won’t…” He closes his eyes briefly and I hear him suck in a trembling breath. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” He shoots Lenic with a seething glare. “Hurt her — and I’ll hurt you.”

  West’s words are like putting a lit match to Lenic’s short fuse. Lenic moves lightning fast, closing the distance between them until his nose is almost pressed against West’s. "You exist because I allow it. And you will end because I want it.”

  “Lenic,” I add in a firm tone, putting my hand on his elbow and press down, as if that could hold the raging tempest in place. I turn my head to face West. “Walk away, West.” I try to push West away from Lenic’s reach, but fail. “Walk away.”

  Where is Cross when you damn well need him?

  “You got something to say — say it,” Lenic roars. If Lenic was angry before, he is angrier now. “Tell her. Go on, tough guy, tell her exactly what you did.”

  I watch West force his rage down, and reluctantly he backs off. He keeps his furious scowl aimed at Lenic when he warns me, “Be careful, Flick. You don’t know what this man is capable of.”

  West storms out of the locker room, the door taking some of his anger as it slams harshly on its hinges. The sound of another fight echoes through the corridor, and my mind races while I try to process it all. I have never seen anyone consumed with so much hate as these two have for each other. It is jarring, frightening.

  Staring at Lenic, staring into the dark set of his blazing eyes — he looks like he wants to beat a man until there is nothing left but blood and broken bones — I realise I can’t let myself get in too deep. I’m deeply poisoned by the touch of him, but I won’t get twisted into bitter secrets and tangled half-truths. I can’t handle the messy. If it wasn’t for the deal I shook my hand on, I wonder if I would have shut the door on Lenic and me in this moment.

  I turn to face him, and blink. “It’s just one date,” I tell him, keeping my end of the deal. We know each other intimately now; we can no longer bullshit or hide from each other. “I never promised you anything more.” I never promised him I’d be at his side. Never promised him commitment and living together and buying groceries and sharing space.

  Something black descends over his face, and he gives a curt nod. “Don’t ever forget what I said to you, Felicity. I want to give you the best. Always the best.”

  I gather my purse and leave, shutting the door quietly on Lenic, pulling out my phone to call Delphine.

  I feel like I have jumped, and I am falling with no net.

  13

  “I’M CONFUSED. HOW IS A MAN A SHOE?”

  DELPHINE

  “DO YOU THINK this screams dominatrix?” I ask Delphine, looking at her over by the stool in the Victoria's Secret dressing room.

  Once my live streaming event with Lenic went on air, I received a flood of comments requesting a Lookbook rundown of my outfit and make-up. I decided we should drive into Queens Oak and go clothes shopping.

  I smile, turning to look at my reflection in the mirror, admiring the way the leopard-print corset pushes my breasts up and the way the black velvet shorts hug my hips, and how the knee-high leather boots I’m wearing make me look dominant.

  “I think you should wear this outfit on your date.”

  My smile widens at her suggestion. I turn my toe out, making my leg look longer, and my brain provides ideas of my legs wrapping around Lenic’s narrow waist, still in these killer boots.

  I grin at her, glancing over my shoulder. “I’d love to bend him to my will in this outfit. Trust me, I’ve tried to take control of him but it’s useless. He’s just got this dominant, commanding quality that seems to surround and be generated by him. I can’t explain it. But I end up giving him whatever he wants. The bastard.”

  “Is he human?”

  “As much as Superman is human,” I laugh. I turn to the side to peer sceptically at my profile.

  “Maybe this outfit will be his kryptonite,” she suggests.

  “Maybe. But I already have the perfect dress to wear for my date. I’m curious to see how he’ll react to yellow.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lenic seems to respond differently to every colour I wear. Black makes him lose control. Red makes him charge at me. And white knocks him out. I wonder what yellow will do to him…”

  “I will never understand British people.” She pulls on a cute purple halter-neck top.

  “I’m still trying to understand myself.” I turn to the side to peer at my profile. A feeling of excitement bubbles in my chest, and I owe most of it to my friend. “Thank you, Delphine. It means a lot to me what you did. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve a friend like you.” I reach for the zipper at the back of the corset and make a face when I don’t get it the first time.

  “I honestly don’t know what you’re speaking of.” Delphine is someone who is too modest for her own good.

  “Let me remind you,” I offer, her hand on the zipper I can’t reach. “You gave up a chance to wear a beautiful cocktail dress, to get dressed up to the nines, the chance to attend an exclusive WBC party and mingle with the fame and fortunate, and a chance to go on a date with a definite ten.”

  Lenic is a definite million.

  She pauses, looking at my reflection in the mirror. “I was ill,” she lies, stepping back once the zipper is all the way down.

  I shake my head and take off the corset. “You were pretend ill, so that Lenic would think that I was on a date with Cross, forcing his jealousy to get the better of him and ask me out. Which he did.” I squint my eyes. “Clever.”

  “OK, Monsieur Poirot, you got me. But you got that date you wanted and you’re happy. And that is all that matters.”

  I can’t quite put my fi
nger on what it is about Lenic that is driving me so dazed and confused, but I can be pretty sure I know that as much as he is haunting my thoughts … I am certainly in his.

  His readiness to chase me puts any doubts I could have had to rest. And that just makes a girl wake up with a smile on her face and butterflies flittering around in her tummy.

  Watching Delphine peer into her reflection, I know I owe my best friend the world. Her generosity to place my happiness before hers astounds me, and that impels me to lean more on Team West than Team Cross. They would be good for each other. She is beautiful enough, inside and out, to open West’s heart to love again.

  “I feel bad,” I admit. “You gave up the chance to maybe start something with Cross. I want you to be happy too. It’s not all about me.”

  “I don’t think this colour suits me,” she says, pulling off her top.

  “Try the blue satin number,” I suggest. “It will bring out your baby blues.”

  She sets her hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Babe, don’t worry about it, OK. Jack is a snack.”

  “A snack?”

  She unhooks the satin top from its hanger. “You know, something to peck on, before the whole three-course meal. He is short-term. Not the long-term marriage and three kids kind-of-guy. I'm done with screwing around, Flick. I want a husband and a child by the time I turn thirty.”

  “I know you do, and that is my very point. I have never had a serious relationship, and you know it’s by choice.”

  She cocks her head. “Every girl wants love.”

  “OK, with long-term committed relationships come some really wonderful things, I know that. I’ve seen you experience it. But so do the, uh, not so good things. I don’t have time for bickering, or problems with him not making an effort, or any mind games. Yes, maybe I am just not ready to put in the work it takes to have a serious relationship. Or maybe my experiences with boys taint my outlook. But at this point in my life, bullshit will make me run the other way faster than Usain Bolt.”

  I know these are all excuses. I know Lenic isn’t like this. I just don't want to admit that she still has an influence on my mind, my thinking … that she isn’t the reason I hardened my heart enough to not care for love.