Sex Idol

by Shelley Munro

  “How do you think we did?” Sasha murmured in an undertone as she wrapped the robe around her waist.

  “I don’t know.” And he didn’t care. He wanted to leave, taking Sasha with him. Weird how loving Sasha—admitting it—had changed his point of view. His focus had changed. Antonio slung his arm around her waist and drew her close. She snuggled against him and he relaxed, at peace.

  He was home.

  Damien and Rita joined them seconds later.

  “Best of luck.” Antonio extended a hand to Damien. He no longer cared about his father’s derisive remarks. His father, his older brother, could say what they wanted about his choice of career at their next meeting. Antonio didn’t care because he’d won a far greater prize. Sasha.

  “Same to you,” Damien returned.

  “They want you onstage now.” The hostess made a shooing motion with her hands.

  The four stepped out onstage to loud cheering.

  “It’s time to vote,” the emcee announced. “You’ve seen both couples over several weeks and now it’s time to vote for your favorite. And while you’re deciding, I will ask our finalists to do an impromptu routine for us. Both couples will perform on the stage at the same time. A five-minute routine, finalists.”

  Antonio and Sasha walked over to their section of the stage while the emcee instructed the audience to cast their votes on the electronic vote takers in their seat arms.

  Music commenced, the dulcet tones of a man crooning that tonight was the night. Sasha unbelted her robe and shrugged her shoulders.

  “Wait,” Antonio murmured. “Let’s make undressing part of our five-minute routine.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her before she could answer. The idea of the audience seeing more of Sasha’s naked body was abhorrent. His arms tightened, his lips gentling as he continued to kiss Sasha in a slow and unhurried manner. Their tongues swirled together, lazily exploring each other. Finally, they parted to breathe.

  “Give us some skin,” someone screamed.

  Antonio yanked at his robe and let it drop to his waist while he nuzzled at Sasha’s neck. Following an impulse, he committed another no-no. He drew against her neck, sucking hard. She murmured, a soft sound, and clung. When he finished, a small round mark stood out against her neck. Antonio traced the red spot with his finger in a possessive manner.

  His mark.

  It was barbaric.

  Frowned upon.

  But it made Antonio feel immeasurably better. Sasha belonged with him.

  Knowing the audience wanted to see more, he let Sasha go for an instant and bared the rest of his body. His cock stood at attention, erect and ready. She trailed her hands over his chest, fingering his nipples until they too stood at attention. Then her hands moved down his body. He sucked in his gut. Their eyes met and Sasha knelt before him. Her pale hands stroked the breadth of his cock, cupping and teasing his tight balls. As he watched, she licked her lips. Her mouth opened, and she licked across the crown of his cock. Antonio’s eyes narrowed, savoring the swathe of her tongue as it swept the length of his cock and back. Shifting his weight, he widened his stance. His hands threaded through her hair.

  “I love you,” she whispered. She took him into her mouth, her tongue sweeping across the tip of his penis. Antonio’s eyes slid closed, his heart thudding. With conscious effort, he blocked out the audience noise, giving his full attention on the suction of her lips, the stroking of her tongue. Sasha clutched his legs and took in more of his length.

  Antonio rocked his hips. He couldn’t help it. His cock slid farther into her warm, seductive mouth. He withdrew a fraction, but she drew him in deeper until he hit the back of her throat. Once she let him thrust, Sasha laved and sucked and licked, driving him crazy with her teasing.

  His balls drew upward, tightening to the point of pain. He bucked, unable to prevent the movement. Pleasure swirled through him, love underlying the act, pushing him higher than he’d ever been before.

  He had to watch her eyes. He had to see—make her understand they were good together. They were a team and lovers in the true sense.

  Her cheeks hollowed. She gazed up, her green eyes measuring his as she pleasured him. Her tongue flicked over the sensitive tip of his cock and just like that, he exploded.

  Antonio tried to withdraw, but she held him firmly, swallowing his essence down. When he ceased moving, Sasha gave him one final swipe with her tongue and stood. A wave of love engulfed him and he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. He tasted the saltiness of his semen on her tongue and smelled the scent of sex mixed with carnations.

  Gradually, he noticed audience applause and ripped his mouth from Sasha’s in alarm. Shit, he’d forgotten they were in front of hundreds of thousands of people, their images being broadcast across the planet and out to the colonies in outer space.

  “Well, folks. You’ve just witnessed a very special performance by our finalists.” The emcee grinned at him and Sasha.

  A long bell rang, lights flashed throughout the stadium and the cheering audience silenced. The hostess in the slinky red dress entered the stage holding a large white envelope the size of briefcase.

  Sasha’s hand tightened around his and she crept closer. She was trembling. Antonio held her in his embrace.

  “It doesn’t matter what the result is inside the envelope,” he murmured. “No matter what, I’ve won. I have your love, and that’s the biggest prize of all.”

  Sasha’s eyes glistened suspiciously. “You have my love,” she confirmed.

  “Good,” he said. “Hold that thought.”

  The emcee made a production of opening the envelope, peeling the synthetic paper open with a loud crack.

  “And the winner of the inaugural Sex Idol contest is…Antonio Perez, partnered by Sasha Greenacre!”

  Antonio heard the roar of the crowd, the applause, the cheering from Sasha’s students, but all the noise faded as he held his lover and claimed her with the last public kiss they’d ever have.

  Epilogue

  Eight months later

  “Are you sure you don’t mind missing out on the promotional tour?” Sasha asked.

  Antonio snorted. He scooped up a handful of sand and watched it trickle through his fingers. “And miss paradise? I don’t think so. Besides since only three points separated the voting, the management was happy to have Damien and Rita stand in for us for part of the reigning year. Oh, did I tell you Massey called? He said Bridget is doing well and thanks to her, they’ve found several other witnesses. The De Santis are going down.”

  “That’s great news. I’m glad Bridget is okay.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” He seized her hand, twining their fingers together and, as always, Sasha’s heart skipped a beat.

  They were a couple in every way. A smile flitted across her lips. Her hand crept up to touch her bare stomach.

  A family, although she hadn’t told Antonio she was pregnant yet.

  Sasha stared out to sea, mesmerized by the swoosh of waves, a gull’s cry, and the rustling of palm trees. The sun shone down, drying the tiny drops of water clinging to their naked bodies.

  Paradise.

  “I love you, Antonio.”

  He turned to grin at her. “I know.”

  “What are you going to do once you hand the crown over to the next Sex Idol?”

  “My father is making noises again about me working for his company. I vetoed that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he practically disowned me when I was struggling on the circuit. Now he wants to use me—us—to boost his company. I hadn’t spoken to him for months. Got his version of chilly disapproval instead. Now I can help him, and he wants contact again. We don’t need that drama.”

  “So what will you do?”

  “I’m going to spend time here at the bungalow with you and work on making that baby I promised you. How long does baby-making take, anyway?” He waggled his eyebrows up and down. “Not that I’m not enjoying the practice.” Antonio ra
n a finger down her cheek. “I love being with you, making love to you. I think I’d enjoy teaching. We could do it together, if you wanted, and take the baby to work with us.”

  “Really?” Sasha’s grin widened, and she threw her arms around him, hugging him hard. Her impossible dreams were coming true in more ways than she ever imagined. “That sounds wonderful. You’d make a good teacher.”

  “The way I figured is that we could teach for the competitive season and spend the off-season here in Fiji.”

  “That sounds perfect.” And it did. “Antonio.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “We’re going to have a baby.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Antonio said with a trace of humor.

  Sasha patted her tummy. “Seems like we’ve practiced enough.”

  Antonio’s eyes widened. “When? How?”

  “If you don’t know the mechanics of baby-making by now, I’d say we’re in real trouble.”

  Antonio stood and drew Sasha to her feet. “A baby. I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe,” Sasha whispered.

  Antonio whooped loudly enough to startle a pair of gulls foraging for food at the high tide mark. He picked her up and twirled her round until she shrieked with laughter. “God, I love you, Sasha. These last few months have been wonderful.”

  “There’s more to come.”

  “Yeah, I know. That’s the great thing,” Antonio said. “Together, we’re a family.”

  Sasha sighed, a sigh of pure happiness. Antonio loved her and soon they would have a baby. A real family to shower her love upon.

  Some dreams were worth chasing…

  Would you like to read more of my romances? Sign up for my newsletter to learn about upcoming releases, receive free books and short stories tied to my series plus contest and special promotion news.

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  Please turn the page for a glimpse of Interplanetary Love, a tongue-in-cheek look at online dating.

  Enjoy!

  Shelley

  Excerpt – Interplanetary Love

  A tongue-in-cheek look at online dating in the future…

  Continent A, Earth, the future

  Music rippled through the Starlight nightclub—the latest addition to Earth mogul Tee’s string of on-planet entertainment ventures. The urbane male singer crooned of romance and enticed lovers to take to the dance floor and smooch.

  “Let’s dance, babe.”

  Carly Abercombie sighed and aimed an obligatory smile at her date, Graham. Her grimace must have done the trick because he grinned and seized her hand in response. She trotted after him on her ice-pick heels and let him draw her closer on the dance floor.

  The subdued lighting gave her flashes of euphoric faces, naked flesh due to abbreviated dresses and lovers who were practically doing it in public. If this had been a workday, she could have busted several for indecent exposure, and she’d caught a faint whiff of designer drugs earlier. Probably the new Spanfly or one of the many variations out on the street. They busted one manufacturer and another popped up in their place like fast-growing fungi.

  Her feet moved on automatic, marking time in the same place since the traffic on the floor had deepened and true dancing became impossible. Her new sparkly black shoes rubbed, her feet protesting even this slight motion.

  Two hands clamping onto her butt cheeks jerked her mind from blisters and footbaths. She tensed, attempted to pull back.

  “Stop playing hard to get,” Graham growled next to her ear. “You know you want it.”

  “Want what?” she asked.

  “My big cock,” he said, a wave of alcohol-laden breath wafting into her airspace.

  Carly bit back a curse. Another idiot. She’d thought this one might be different, but the addition of whiskey had propelled him into stupid.

  “No,” she said.

  “Aw, baby. Don’t be like that. Wait until I’m thrusting inside you. I promise you’ll love it.”

  She put a few inches between them and kept dancing. When would this song end? It seemed to play on a continuous loop with numerous verses and choruses about hot, sexy loving.

  A young couple—obviously tourists from Venuree since they wore the distinctive silver arm jewelry—inserted their bodies into a gap at the rear of Graham.

  A jolt from behind gave her date opportunity, and he reclaimed the precious inches of respectability she’d carved out for herself. Someone elbowed Carly, propelling her against Graham so they resembled the rest of the lovers on the dance floor.

  Quick as a flash, Graham’s hand slid under the hem of her dress. His fingers smoothed over her ass cheek and slid between to grope her pussy. Shock held her in place for a prolonged second—enough for him to wriggle his fingers beneath her miniscule panties into her heat.

  Carly shoved away, using force this time and created space surprisingly easy, given the crush. She managed to maintain a grip on her temper until the creep smirked and made a show of licking his fingers. Rage took control and she kneed him square in the balls.

  Around them couples stopped moving, slithering away so they didn’t become involved in the unfolding drama. Carly stood, weight evenly distributed, in case he decided to retaliate. He didn’t. He writhed on the shiny black floor, his hands cupped protectively over his groin.

  “You crazy bitch. What did you do that for?”

  Whispers floated around her, gossip and a few feminine titters, but the public amusement didn’t put a dent in her acute satisfaction. She glared at yet another Earth dud. That would teach him to grope her on the dance floor.

  Her latest date.

  Another failure.

  “Don’t think he’ll try that again,” her friend Samuel said with a pained expression on his tanned face. Dapper in a black shirt and tight black trousers, his hair slicked back to reveal his high cheekbones and intelligent face, he remained a respectable distance, way out of kicking range with his date angled slightly in front of him. “What did he do?”

  Carly shifted from foot to foot and resisted the urge to tug her bodice up and her hemline down. She wasn’t used to dressing up, but for tonight’s celebratory dinner, she’d made an effort. A figure-hugging black dress that displayed lots of skin clung to her curves. Her feet were crammed in heels high enough to make her feel like a giraffe, and her brown hair was streaked with neon pink and arranged artfully on top of her head.

  “He shoved his fingers inside my panties,” Carly snapped. “Nobody does that without my permission.”

  “You were asking for it,” her date snapped, his tone vicious because she’d made him look foolish. He’d climbed to his feet while she was talking to Samuel, but he too, remained carefully out of range, lurking on the edge of the dance floor.

  Disbelief raised Carly’s eyebrows. “So it’s all right for me to play with your dangly bits in a public place?” She shot him a look of disgust. Aside from the fact the man needed the name of a good dentist, he’d been passable until he’d started drinking straight shots of whiskey. “Forget I said that. Of course you’d get off on being groped in public.” She swiveled on her giraffe-shoes and stalked off, leaving Mr. Octopus to do his worst on the dance floor.

  Silence fell as she approached her table. Her fellow cops, who were mainly men, wore identical expressions to Samuel. Pained and wary.

  “Shit,” Carly snapped. “I only do that to men who grope me in the middle of the dance floor. Coworkers are safe unless they try to cop a feel.”

  “Good to hear,” her partner, Bart, drawled. He’d tamed his wavy hair in a stubby tail, highlighting the stark planes of his face while his muscular form wore a gray suit with sexy ease. “We’re cops, but we don’t feel.”

  His laconic remark broke the silence and everyone started talking at once.

  “You okay?” Bart’s wife whispered, he
r blue eyes full of compassion. Although the woman’s intentions were good, Carly didn’t want sympathy.

  “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” Hellfire. She winced at her behavior toward a woman who was trying to help. But Carly knew if she started to cry, she wouldn’t stop. She snapped her fingers at a passing waiter. “Whiskey.” Perhaps she’d drown her sorrows. The evening was young, and she had to stay for another hour at least for this work celebration.

  It was gonna be a long night.

  * * * * *

  Samuel and his date poured her into a cab and dragged her out at her destination. After making sure Carly made it inside her apartment safely, Samuel buzzed a kiss on her cheek and hurried back to his date. A hot one, he’d whispered to her earlier. Beatrice or Belle or something. Carly had trouble keeping up with her friend’s love life.

  Envy though—ugly jealousy—knifed Carly in the gut as she struggled with the delicate straps of her shoes. Samuel didn’t treat his women badly. In fact, many of them remained friends with him after he moved on to the next. Was it too much to ask for the same thing?

  Finally, her fingers coordinated with her brain, and she slid off her shoes with a gusty groan of pleasure. On bare feet, she staggered through her open-plan lounge and kitchen toward the bedroom, flinging off clothes and leaving a trail across the room. It wasn’t fair. Her hands screwed into fists, and she glared at the big bed in lieu of a handy man to blame for her frustration.

  She wanted a lover.

  A man with callused hands to strum over her breasts. A man to give her a good finger-fuck when she needed easing. A man with a decent-sized cock to fill her and make her come hard enough to see stars and meteors.

  Dammit, was it so wrong to want a man to cuddle instead of a sex toy? Since her divorce, she’d had a string of unsuccessful relationships. What had she done that was so bad? Her lack of masculine company sure as hell felt like a punishment. Heck, all she wanted was companionship, a man who didn’t bitch about the hours she put in on the job. A man who gave good head and enjoyed sex as much as she.