Kicking Reality

by Kat T. Masen

  Ash sat in the back with Emerson, calming her down.

  “Have you seen that guy?”

  She shakes her head, dazed. “No. But I don’t come here and he said he’s from here. Back home, about a year ago, I had to file a restraining order against this man that tried to break in.”

  “You never told me that,” Ash scolds her. “Did Mom and Dad know?”

  “Yeah, they did. I didn’t want to stress you out,” she says softly.

  We drive out of the city and onto a quieter road. My adrenalin is still pumping from the heated exchange, thinking what may have happened if we left her. I never realized how famous she was. I mean, I knew the show was popular and that she had millions of fans, I just didn’t expect it to be at this level of crazy. Every time we had been together, people left her alone. I was starting to see what she was trying to explain to me.

  “Why don’t you have bodyguards all the time?” I question her, keeping my tone controlled.

  “It depends on what we’re doing or where we’re going. We do a lot of the time. We can usually fend for ourselves.”

  “You’re a woman,” I seethe. “How do you expect to fend yourself from a man that has been stalking you for god knows how long?”

  “I don’t always need a man to protect me,” she begins then stalls. “I’m doing fine on my own.”

  My eyes move to the rear-view mirror where I can see Ash’s expression of confusion. It’s not long before he asks the question that Emerson had been dreading since the moment she found out about the dickhead screwing those hookers.

  “But you’re not on your own. You have Wesley, though I’ll tell you again Emmy—the guys a dick.”

  “Ash,” she says, then goes on more confidently. “We’re not together. Something happened not long ago and I broke it off with him.”

  “But on TV . . .”

  “It’s all fake. We’re contracted to finish filming and we have another six weeks left. Don’t always believe what you see.”

  That last comment was directed at me. For that is what I had done, assumed that everything I saw was the truth. And even when she admitted they weren’t together, it shouldn’t have mattered because we both agreed to see other people.

  I didn’t want anyone touching her, looking at her, or stalking her.

  Fuck. Stop these thoughts. She’s here, and safe. That’s all that matters.

  “You’re staying here tonight until we sort out some round-the-clock bodyguard tomorrow. Trust me, the couch is comfy. I’ve been banished to sleeping on the couch several times,” Ash reassures her with a smile.

  Alessandra brings out the extra bedding and a set of PJs for Emerson to change into. She says thank you, then disappears to the bathroom. Ash calls it a night, pulling Alessandra into their room and shutting the door behind them.

  I sit on the sofa and bury my face into my hands. Tonight had been too much. The panic that I had never felt in my entire life and anger towards a stranger because he wanted something that was mine.

  Wait, fuck . . . you didn’t just use the word mine.

  I needed to sort out this mess with her if I had any hope of playing tomorrow. My mind was beyond fucked. I hadn’t even practiced the field moves in my head; something I always did before a big game.

  The creak of the bathroom door followed by the click of the switch alerts me that she’s finished. Shifting my head sideways, her legs are beside me—a sight that did nothing to tame my hunger for her.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Then talk, Logan.”

  “Not here,” I tell her, standing up and walking towards my bedroom.

  I switch the light on and wait for her to enter, closing the door behind her. Her eyes wander across the room, from my perfectly made bed to the soccer medals displayed on my shelf. She walks over to the shelf in the pink shirt Alessandra lent her and thick white socks. With her back to me, I took the opportunity to scan her body, desperate to throw her onto my bed and make her mine.

  There’s that word again.

  She turns to face me, crossing her arms underneath her breasts.

  “I hope you have an explanation for why you’ve been a prick.”

  “Do you have one for being a bitch?” I retaliate.

  She shakes her head and follows with a sinister laugh. “Nice. I’m a bitch because I haven’t spoken to you? Two-way street buddy, you weren’t exactly blowing up my phone with text messages.”

  “You’re marrying him!” I yell, then quickly lower my voice hoping Ash didn’t hear. “And you’re still fucking him.”

  “I told you I’m not with him. How many times do I need to say it? Believe whatever the hell you want. I was angry in the pub,” she says, frustrated. “What does it matter anyway? We said no strings attached and as far as I’m concerned, you fucking that nurse confirmed it.”

  “You’re right,” I agree. “We said no strings attached so none of that should have mattered.”

  With her eyes wide and brows furrowed, I could see she was hurt but my last comment.

  “You know what?” I say softly. “You sleep here. I like the couch.”

  “No, it’s your bed and you have a very important game tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to be the reason you’re tired.”

  I remove my tie and place it on my chair, unbuttoning my shirt and laying it on top. Considering we had seen each other naked, I found it amusing that she couldn’t look my way, purposely avoiding where I stood.

  “Look, I’ll let you get changed.” She turns around and faces the shelf, looking at the gold medal that took pride in the middle. “Was this the first premiership you won?”

  “Yes.” I smile, remembering the moment fondly. “I actually cried.”

  “I can imagine. It’s such an achievement and both of you have worked towards that your whole life. I don’t think I ever remember a day when you wouldn’t talk about soccer or even kick the ball around. It’s in your blood.”

  Dropping my pants, I hang them over the chair and remove my socks, leaving me only in my black boxer shorts.

  “You can turn around now.”

  She turns back around and keeps her eyes fixed on my face. I can see the struggle on her face—it mirrors exactly mine.

  “I don’t want to sleep in your bed. Logan, this game is important.”

  “I know my body and my limits, it’ll be fine.” I pull the cover back, motioning for her to hop in. She does with reluctance, and when she’s settled in the middle, her gaze meets mine and lingers. Did she know how sexy she looked in my bed? How much I wanted to climb in beside her and hold her tight to only let her go so I could watch her body unravel beneath my touch?

  “Goodnight Emmy.”

  I walk to the door and switch off the light. As I begin closing the door, I hear her call my name, making me stop in my tracks.

  “Sleep in your bed . . . with me.”

  Letting out a sigh, my body turns around on its own accord.

  “Emmy, you don’t know what you’re asking,” I whisper in the dark.

  “Yes, I do.” She pauses with a hitched breath. “I’m asking you to stay with me.”

  “It’s more than that.”

  “Maybe it is, Logan. I don’t know anymore. But for now, it’s just this. Please stay with me.”

  I knew that if I climbed in that bed—with her—I was jeopardizing everything I had worked hard for the past year. And even with that thought weighing heavily on my mind, I close the door behind me and walk straight for my bed.

  “How do you smile when your heart is

  falling in love with the wrong man?”

  ~ Emerson Chase

  The bed moves as he climbs in; his warm body against mine.

  “Logan,” I whisper, desperately trying to ignore his lips that have already found their way onto my skin. “You really do need sleep.”

  “I need you more.”

  Four simple words that crushed any hope I had of keeping our arrangement platonic.

  I
came to London for the show. Despite Logan living here, his mood swings and lack of communication made it clear: we had fun and that fun was over.

  That night with Wes (on the couch) ended in disaster. It started off heated and with our clothes off until just before he slid himself in, I froze and remembered where he had been and the trail of possible diseases that tagged along with him.

  It killed that moment and even frightened Wes. It wasn’t just the possibility that he was carrying something nasty—it was the guilt of being with Logan. Wesley didn’t deserve me as much as I didn’t deserve him. That was the cold hard truth.

  From the moment I saw Logan walk into his apartment, I knew that everything between us had changed. My heart did something. A pitter-pat, flurry of madness, that could only be described as something dangerous. It was invested in him. It craved attention from only him. All the things that it shouldn’t be feeling.

  And tonight cemented that. I didn’t want him looking at anyone else.

  I didn’t want him touching anyone else.

  I just didn’t know how to hide my feelings.

  Lying here with him, his body pressing against mine with his cock rock hard and grinding on my hip, would only mean one thing, and I knew I didn’t have the strength to fight it. I wanted him buried inside me, thrusting hard and owning every inch of my body.

  “You’re not supposed to have sex before a game,” I remind him.

  “That’s an old wive’s tale.”

  “Somehow I don’t think old wives were screwing soccer players. I’m sure there is a medical explanation as to why you shouldn’t shoot your load into my vagina.”

  He pauses, withdrawing his kisses and raising his head. “How about I shoot my load into your mouth?”

  I smack his chest, laughing simultaneously distracted by his hand sliding beneath my shirt, squeezing my breast. “No shooting of your load anywhere.”

  “Damn.” He nibbles on the sensitive spot of my lobe. “There’s several places I’d love to shoot my load.”

  I’m unable to hide my grin, grateful for the darkness that lays between us. “Like where?”

  I could hear the smile in his voice; the cocky bastard knew he had the upper hand right now.

  “Let’s see.” He keeps his head positioned near the base of my ear, trailing his finger along my chest. “Here.”

  Keeping a straight face was hard, holding back the giggles was even harder. “Yeah, I guess so. If you like the whole pearl-necklace thing.”

  “Hmm . . .” He traces my collarbone then switches in the opposite direction, moving south until he stops on my thigh. “How about here?”

  “For a soccer player, you have a shitty sense of direction. Maybe go northwest.”

  His teeth graze on my lobe, biting down with slight pain that pleasures me. The tip of his finger trails north, just like I had directed him, then moves west and in between my thighs until it brushes with my clit and in a sudden thrust, enters me causing my back to arch. I hold in the moan, biting down on my lip tasting blood.

  “Sshh,” he commands. “I haven’t finished.”

  I weave my fingers through his hair, bringing his face to mine. “I don’t know what else you could possibly show me. And I just bit my own lip to keep quiet so maybe we need to go to sleep now.”

  His lips crash onto mine, sucking on my lip where I had tasted my own blood. My body feels a loss when he removes his finger from me, bringing it up to make me taste myself dripping on his finger. I suck on his finger; the growl he keeps in barely contained in this quiet room.

  “So, now I own all of you. I’ve tasted your blood.”

  “If someone heard that, it so could be taken the wrong way.”

  “Because vampires exist?”

  “If they did, I’d sell my left kidney to screw Edward Cullen.”

  He lifts his body, and through the moonlight that barely peeks its way through the drapes, I can see his expressed has changed. Did he know how unbelievably sexy he is? Especially when he played the brooding lover.

  “Why am I jealous of you wanting to screw a fictional vampire?”

  “You tell me.” I run the tip of my tongue along his jaw. “I can’t quite work you out.”

  His hand grips onto my hip, positioning himself with his cock dancing around my entrance. With no words to say, he slides himself in much to my pleasure and waits for his breathing to stabilize. “I can explain many things, Emmy, but right now, I’ll say this . . .”

  The rhythm of his body distracts him, and me, until I press on his chest and catch my breath begging him to finish that sentence. “What is it, Logan? Don’t leave me hanging here.”

  “When I’m not around you, nothing makes sense. When I’m inside you, it all makes sense.”

  “But we promised to keep this as just fun.”

  “I don’t like other men touching you.”

  “Edward Cullen is not another man.” I keep light of the situation.

  “Don’t do that,” he notes with dark amusement. “You know what happens when you make me jealous?”

  I shake my head.

  “I punish you.”

  Curiosity gets the better of me. “Like what? Spank me. I wouldn’t mind that.”

  “I won’t make you come.”

  It’s my turn to laugh. “Yeah right. You know what? That’s just greedy and besides, we’re back to the whole you are the one supposed to not come.”

  Pushing my hands on his chest, I move him off me and use my body to straddle him until I’m on top. There’s a sense of danger with Ash in the same apartment, he would literally kill us both if he walked in and saw us together. I clear my throat in an effort to keep my voice low and unheard.

  “I’m making an executive decision here. You can’t come. No shooting of loads anywhere. If you play bad, it’ll be on me,” I command. “So, with that decided, I’ll come.”

  He cups the back of my neck and draws me into him. “You’re fucking crazy.”

  “Crazy, maybe . . .”

  In a bold move, I lift my legs and raise my clit, positioning it in his mouth. Beneath me he moans, gripping onto my ass tight and sliding his hand around my asshole making me flinch with nerves. I had only tried it once, and with that one time, I practically died of pain. It was the worst experience of my life and I didn’t want to revisit anything that would result in something going inside my ass.

  He continues to flick his tongue, mixing the movement with gentle sucks. My body moves up and down, using the headboard for support as I ride his mouth on the verge of combusting at any given moment. Keeping quiet is the hardest part, my moans trapped inside and with nothing to bite but my own lips. It only heightened the moment.

  Logan moves his mouth catching his breath. “I want you to relax.”

  What did he mean by that . . . and I was beyond relaxing. I was about to come until he stopped me.

  His finger moves round my ass, playing with my entrance. Oh no. My body tenses, nerves settling at the fear of the unknown.

  “Logan, I—”

  “Relax,” he repeats.

  I breathe in and out, trying to focus on controlling my racing heart. With his spare hand, he brings it up to his face, spreading my lips and running his tongue along the inside of my pussy. The sensation begins to build up again; causing me to rock slowly. I rub my clit along his mouth, lost in how my body is reacting; hairs standing on end with goose bumps covering every inch of me.

  I’m almost there . . . riding him hard until his finger pushes against my ass and slowly slides in stopping immediately.

  My body stills; heart still racing like a fucking maniac and all I could think about was Logan’s finger is sitting in my ass. The pain that lasted only a few seconds subsides, and he continues to flick my clit, bringing back the pleasure once again.

  I press harder, my body demanding he finish me off. Then, he slides his finger in deeper and stops. The pain, again, stopping my impending orgasm.

  “I’m going to finger
this tight ass of yours and you’re going to come now,” he murmurs beneath me.

  I’m terrified. It’ll hurt and I’ll have to offend him and tell him to pull out. Then there’ll be this awkward feeling between us and I’ll feel like a failure for not being an ass girl.

  His tongue circles my clit in the same motion. The more he spreads my lips, the more exposed my pussy is to his mouth. I begin to rock again, laying my palms flat on the wall as he eats me like I’m his last meal on earth.

  The fire in my belly stirs, and when all of my skin ignites and there’s no way to escape from him but to spiral out of control, he slides his finger in and out of my ass in sync with my body.

  I didn’t expect the raw pleasure. My body to continue on this high from him worshipping me this way. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, make the whole world see that this sexy man beneath me is the only one to have ever made my body react this way. I didn’t want to stop . . . I wanted all of him now and for the rest of my life to take me however he wanted. I wanted him to own me. I wanted to own him. I needed his jealously to drive him to the brink of insanity and take that out on me however he desired. I wanted to do all the things that my body didn’t know it craved.

  I wanted only him.

  My body loses all self-control, collapsing on top of him as I use the little energy to lay beside him. The sound of my heart beating is obnoxiously loud and does nothing to control my breathing.

  “You’re beautiful when you come for me.”

  “How would you know?” I struggle to say. “I practically smothered you to death.”

  He props himself up on his elbow, sweeping my hair away from my face. Lowering his head, he kisses the tip of my nipple causing me to shiver in delight.

  “You’re not helping me right now.” I beg of him to stop, greedy and hungry for more.