by Love,Amy
I was speechless. I had nothing to say to that. I closed my eyes because I had thought about this before. Ever since the last time we’d had sex…I’d wanted to feel him on my skin again. His hand moved up my leg.
“Dante—” I said to him. I looked at him and saw he was looking at me, staring at me. His eyes, green and intense, were boring into me. His hand continued up my thigh. I loved the way his callused skin felt on the soft skin there.
“What’s wrong?” he asked me innocently.
What was wrong? He knew what the fuck was wrong. It wasn’t wrong at all. It was right. It was right, and it was driving me crazy. It was just like the time before. We were out in public. If someone really wanted to know what was going on, they would have been able to find out if they just got close enough.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered. I had said it so quietly that I thought he might not have heard me, but oh no, he did. He heard me loud and clear. His hand went all the way up this time—only stopped by the barrier of my panties. His fingers ran over the thin fabric, and I knew he could feel how wet I was getting, how wet he was making me. I shifted my hips forward and wished I wasn’t wearing the stupid underwear. I wanted to feel him on my skin. I wanted to feel him rubbing my clit in public, in plain view of anyone who wanted to see in this crowded club.
I felt him shift a little closer to me, and his skin suddenly made contact with my bare clit. I jumped feeling the sudden sensation. He had pushed my panties out of the way. He moved his fingers in slow circles, making me shudder with pleasure. The noises of the club blurred into each other until it all just faded into a garbled din. I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than what his hand was doing between my legs.
I wanted him to bend me over and do me right there on the table that was in front of us, but I knew that it wasn’t an option. If he had tried, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to stop him. I was aching for more. What he was doing to me felt amazing, but I had seen what else he could do. I had felt what else he could do—and that was what I wanted. I wanted him the way we were in the locker room, deep and completely bare.
“Dante, Dante stop,” I said to him. His hand stopped and rested on the inside of my thigh.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No. I want you,” I said. He smirked and leaned into me, our lips touching briefly in a small kiss. “I want you to get us a private room.”
“Oh yeah? Why?”
“Join me there in ten minutes, and I’ll show you.”
Chapter Twelve
Dante
I felt cheated.
Nothing about Quinn said that she was like this. She had been willing to have sex in the locker room, and she had let me hit it raw, but I didn’t know she was that kind of girl. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was a great thing. She was the sort of girl who looked like she had attended all her tutorials in college. A brain. She was smart, and she was good at her job. I couldn’t believe she had just asked me to meet her upstairs.
My mind raced with all the shit that we could do when we were alone. She had already let me finger her under the table. We would be alone in that room, and I could pay extra to make sure we stayed alone. We wouldn’t need a private waiter or bottles brought up or anything. The only reason they would have to come get us would be if the club caught fire and we had to evacuate. I saw how she was when we were in public. I wanted to see her in private.
We’d had sex before, and I had still not seen the girl naked. Those tits, round and big and nice… I still didn’t know what they looked like. I didn’t know if the nipples were brown or pink. Brown, pink, bright orange, or blue I would still suck them till she begged me to stop. Some girls could get off on just that—and I needed to find out whether she was one of them. I was so excited to get to the room upstairs where she had gone to wait that I was sure I had about a semi already. A waiter led me up to the room, opened it, and left quietly without a word. He was unobtrusive. I liked it.
I found her sitting there in one of the seats.
She was still in her clothes, which was a little disappointing, I couldn’t lie. I wanted to come up and find her waiting naked, or pleasuring herself while moaning my name. Maybe all that was going to come. Maybe she was just waiting for me to get there for the show to begin. I walked up to her and noticed what was sitting on the table.
Her recorder.
I went from one hundred to zero in a fucking second. Just like that, all that desire and anticipation I had felt dried up and died. She wanted to work? She called me upstairs to have a fucking interview? I had just fingered her in public. Anyone who was watching us closely enough would have been able to tell what the fuck was happening under the table.
“Why do you have your recorder out?” I asked her.
“I want to ask you some questions.”
She was joking. She had to be. I didn’t rent out a private room to have a fucking interview. Did she just want somewhere quiet to talk? The car was available, and it wouldn’t have cost me five hundred dollars to rent out.
“You’re not serious,” I said to her.
“All I want is a couple honest answers.”
She really did want an interview. I didn’t know if I was mad or just really amused. Maybe I had gotten ahead of myself. There was no reason why she should have offered me anything. I would have liked it if she had, but apparently she didn’t think I deserved anything. I sighed. Was I wrong to think that after what had happened in the booth downstairs that I was not wrong thinking that she had had something else in mind asking me to come here? I thought she wanted me to finish her off, and then since we were alone, she would maybe finish that little blow job she had started that day in the locker room.
“Do we really have to do it now, and here?” I asked.
“I am a reporter. I have to conduct interviews if I want to get a story written.”
“I was just thinking that maybe you had something a little more interesting than interviews in mind when you asked me to get this place for us.”
She smiled and scooted down the couch making room for me.
“If you answer some questions for me, I’ll make it worth your while,” she said.
“Oh yeah?” I asked, approaching.
“Just a few.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“A surprise,” she said sweetly.
I sank onto the couch next to her. Her body was turned so that she was facing me. One of her legs was tucked underneath her, and I could see a bit of her thigh the way she was sat. I reached out and ran a finger along the exposed skin.
“It better be good, TMZ,” I said to her.
“Tell me about the fight,” she said after she had turned the recorder on.
“Ha. Which one?” I asked.
“The first one. The one that led to your suspension.”
I sighed and looked at her. We were really doing this, huh? I didn’t want to bring up the past, not that part of the past at least. That fight had nearly ended my career, and it was all my fucking fault. I knew that. I could own up to it. There was no good reason why the guy should have been chucking bottles onto the court, but then again, it was I who had gone after him.
That was a mistake that I seemed to just keep making because it had happened again, and that time Quinn had been there to see it.
“What do you want to know? I know you couldn’t have missed the coverage.”
“You were responsible for beginning a brawl that could have ended in multiple casualties, both for the league and for the fans,” she said.
“I know what I did.”
“You could have lost your job. A lot of people thought they let you off easy with the suspension. If the league didn’t need you so much, you would have been history,” she said.
Did she really just want to lecture me? Was that it? Was I really going to sit here and listen to this? What the hell was the surprise anyway? Was it truly worth being chewed out like a kid?
“I could have, but I didn’t
. They gave me a long year and a half to think about what I had done and make changes,” I said. That was just about maybe half true. In actual fact, I hadn’t made that many changes at all. I had gone after another guy not that long ago for the same reason. That first motherfucker though… I wasn’t sorry about that.
“Why did you go after the guy who threw the bottle at you?”
“Because he threw a fucking bottle at me. Who the hell does that? What was he trying to do? The bottle was glass; he could have really hurt someone.”
She leaned back a little and looked at me.
“Is that it? You were just mad?”
“I wanted to beat the shit out of him,” I said.
“That isn’t a good enough reason. Honest, Dante. I want you to be honest. We talked about this. I want you to feel like you can tell me these things.”
These things? What… there was no way she knew. Nobody knew, so why was she talking like she knew? I had never told anybody, and I wasn’t about to tell her. I wanted to though. I really, really wanted to just tell her. I wasn’t a wild animal. I wasn’t some untamed beast who all you had to do was look at me wrong for me to come after you. There was more, and she knew there was. Was that why she was so good at her job?
“Have you ever been hit with a glass bottle, Quinn?” I asked. She looked a little surprised.
“No. Never.”
“It’s not like in the movies where the bottles immediately smash and the guy who got hit passes out. Prop bottles for movies are made of sugar. Real bottles are made of glass, heavy, hard glass, and they’re round, which means they have a strong shape.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“You have to hit someone really, really hard with a bottle in order for it to actually break. Usually, they—and you—end up getting cut on the broken glass in the process.”
“You didn’t get cut on the glass that day. The bottle smashed when it hit the ground.”
“When I was a kid… I was bullied for most of elementary school,” I said to her. I watched her face to see her reaction to the news. She looked surprised. Was it that hard to believe? It wasn’t something I talked about, or something I ever brought up willingly, but was it that far-fetched to believe that I had been bullied in the past? I hadn’t been six foot seven and over two hundred pounds all my life. I had been a kid once and not at a nice, cushy elementary school either. Gabbie and I went to school one city over because there was literally no elementary school where we lived, it was such a dump.
“What happened?”
“It was this older kid. I’ll never forget his name. It was William Pullman. Everyone called him Billy. He used to pick on me, probably because I was poor or something.”
“Did he take your money?”
“Nope. He would hit me. I was too small to put up a fight, and he always had his goons with him. He used to use a bottle.”
Quinn looked like she was going to cry again. Fuck. I hoped she wouldn’t. I didn’t need to see her cry just then, especially if it was because she was feeling sorry for me. I didn’t want her to feel sorry for me. It made me feel weak and that was how I had felt practically all my life.
“Did you ever tell anyone?”
“No way. He would have just done something worse. I was embarrassed; I didn’t want all the other kids getting ideas, too. It was bad enough that I was poor; I didn’t need to be the guy who couldn’t defend himself, too.”
“How long did it go on?”
“Years. He had to get creative with his tactics. Usually, it was a plastic bottle, but sometimes he would get his hands on a glass one and just hit me with it as many times as it would take for it to smash. He moved away before I got the chance to get him back.”
“So when that guy threw that bottle at you…?”
“It was like it was happening all over again.”
“Why haven’t you told anyone before now?”
“I haven’t wanted to tell anyone all that. I knew where my actions were coming from, but they didn’t need all that information. It would just lead to more questions.”
“There are a lot of kids who could benefit from hearing that you managed to overcome bullying and make yourself into the person you are today.”
“I don’t want to be a role model. I just want to play ball.”
“Nobody gets to choose whether or not they want to be a role model. Most times, the public makes the decision for you.”
I sighed.
“They made the wrong decision.”
“I think they made a good one,” she said.
Was she just saying that? My immediate thought was that, of course, she was just saying that. Her job with me was to make me talk to her, and I was more likely to do that when I was comfortable and liked her. That was what she was doing. She was just buttering me up, like the rest of them… but… but did it matter?
It mattered. I didn’t like to feel like I was being used, but I didn’t feel like that was what she was doing. If she actually didn’t care, she was doing a fantastic job of pretending that she did.
“Once this gets out, the bottles won't stop,” I said, joking.
“Once this gets out, people will realize that you aren’t just a ball-throwing Neanderthal, and maybe they will think twice before they do things like that.”
“Yeah, well… I guess that will depend on how well you are able to convince them.”
“You can trust me,” she said. Had truer words ever been spoken?
I felt like I could trust Quinn Blaze and I didn’t know why. There was no good reason why I should and there was no real relationship between us that would encourage me to, but I did. I trusted her, and I believed her when she said things to me. She was really nice, and I didn’t know why because I was such an asshole. She made me feel like I could tell her I was the Zodiac killer and she would just sort of sit there and make me feel like it wasn’t my fault… maybe nothing that serious, but I felt like I could open up around her, and I felt like she had things to say that I wanted to hear. She didn’t giggle and kiss my ass like a lot of people liked to do. She told me straight, and she was a fan without being a fanatic. I could respect that.
Quinn smiled and reached for her recorder. That could only mean one thing. “Are we done?”
“Is there anything else you still want to get off your chest?”
“Nope. I’m ready for my surprise now,” I told her.
She gathered all her hair in her hands and tossed it behind her shoulders. She leaned into me and kissed me. Her lips were soft and her mouth tasted like Ace of Spades champagne. I heard her moan softly and held the back of her neck, using my tongue to feel the inside of her mouth. I wanted her to climb into my lap and ride me. Thinking about her, thinking about being inside her again was making me hard.
Just when I thought she was going to straddle me, she broke the kiss and stood up. What was she going to do? Strip? I felt my pants tighten thinking about her peeling all her clothes off for me, right there. She slowly sank to the ground, getting on her knees.
Oh. Yes.
Fuck. Yes.
I sat up and leaned forward to look at her. She put a hand on one of my knees and the other on my chest, pushing back gently.
“Just lie back. Relax,” she said sweetly. She kissed me, and I followed her instructions, leaning back onto the couch. I watched her unbutton my pants and pull the zipper down. She swept all her hair to one side so it didn’t go everywhere. I held my breath, watching her pull the band of my underwear down and take my cock in her hand. She gripped it at the root and looked up at my face as she ran her tongue from her hand at the base, slowly to the tip, before wrapping her lips around it and sucking.
I had thought about her doing this to me since the first time she slid my head between her lips in the locker room. Her tongue ran over the tip, licking the precum that had started leaking out. I had never been so hard in my life. The sight of her with her lips around my hard cock was so fucking hot. I put my hand in h
er hair, moving it out of the way so I could watch her.
She bobbed up and down on the head for a bit before she slowly sank down inch by inch till my entire cock was down her throat. I groaned and pushed my hips forward. She was a champ; she didn’t gag or anything, and I knew I was big. A lot of girls couldn’t do it.
Her throat pressed down on my tip as she swallowed and slowly moved her lips up my length again so she could bob up and down. I held the back of her head and guided her movement. She was using her hand to palm my balls which felt great. I loved a girl who knew what to do with a sac.
I didn’t want to come in her mouth, but I didn’t want her to stop. I let her suck me off for a while, just till I got to the very edge, before I gently pushed her away. She looked up to me, using her finger to wipe at the corner of her mouth. Her face was flushed and she was panting a little. She looked lustful and hungry. It had turned her on as much as it had me.