by Renée Dahlia
‘Come on,’ she called out. Although the sound came out muffled by his cock. ‘Touch me, you fucker.’ The vibrations of her plea must have worked a treat, because his stomach tensed underneath her as he shifted his face to cover her. His fingers plucked at her underwear, tugging it out of the way, and his tongue filled her. A million licks from him, and she came alight, as he teased her clit with fingers and tongue. She surrendered to the pleasure, barely moving on him at all, as her whole being focused on his touch. His glorious touch, igniting her, until she moaned around him. He pumped into her mouth, and the gentle rocking of his hips only increased her awareness as he carefully controlled how much he filled her. She drew him deeper into her throat, flattening her tongue until she almost gagged, a flash of tears in her eyes as his cock completely filled her mouth, then she pulled her head back and he slid almost all the way out until the tip of his cock rested on her lips. He worked in the opposite rhythm, filling her with his tongue as she slid him out, then caressing her clit as she drew him in deep. Moans from him and whimpers of pleasure from her created music in the air, their voices joined in desire. His fingers pressed on her clit as he filled her again, and she came, floating away from reality, crashing waves of pleasure with urgent heat swamping her body. He kept one hand in place, asking for more, as her body clenched and released. With the other hand, he stroked up her side, past her breasts, and towards her stretched mouth. He pressed his thumb into the side of her mouth.
‘Off.’ His voice rumbled into her, impossibly sounding as though it followed a path inside her, rather than through the air around them. She growled in protest, working him again with long sucks.
‘Now. Off.’ He pulled her head back and came all over her neck, spilling himself with hard thrusts against the outside of her throat. Part of her wanted him to come in her mouth, and another part gloried in having his wetness all over her skin, a visible sign of his release painted on her. She collapsed on him, half rolling off, her eyes closed and sleepy. Multiple orgasms counted as amazing sex in her book.
‘Let me clean you up,’ he said. He gently untangled her legs from around his face and eased himself from under her. She murmured a response, unable to form proper words. A few minutes later, he rolled her onto her back, and wiped her skin with a warm cloth. She sighed, letting her head loll back on the bed as he cleaned her. There was something comforting about having him demonstrate caring like this, the warmth of the cloth a symbol of the contented warmth in her chest.
‘Come to bed, Jacob. Sleep with me.’
He kissed her forehead and she peered at him lazily.
‘Like actual sleeping?’ he smirked. ‘We never did have that fitness challenge.’
‘Are you out of your mind? I’m not doing fitness challenge sex with you now. I have to get up for trackwork soon.’ She forced herself to wake up enough, dragged her body out of its sated state. Now she was sitting, she may as well go through her bedtime routine, before she tumbled into sleep. She turned to him, kneeling semi-nude on her bed, and smiled.
‘Besides, you’d never beat me with your knee the way it is. It wouldn’t be fair.’
He chuckled, ‘When it’s all healed … Hold on, did you say fitness challenge sex?’
‘Of course. Wasn’t that the point of the challenge? Get me all sweaty at your place, see what happens next …’
‘You have the best imagination.’ He kissed her hard on the lips, ‘What ridiculously early time do you need to get up?’
‘Four. You can sleep in.’
‘And do the walk of shame in front of my sister without you?’ His eyes glinted with humour.
‘Sleep for longer. I’ll be back from work mid-morning.’
‘Can you be more specific?’
She blinked, ‘No. What does it matter? Have you got somewhere to be?’
‘I promised I’d drive out to the farm to see my folks, and I’m picking up The Palace.’
‘Oh. I’m going out that way too. Shannon wants me to do some work with Tsuyoi Red before the weekend, and it’s my day off from racing.’
He nodded. ‘There’s no point in taking two cars. Let’s work it out in the morning.’ He crawled off her bed and left her room. She stuck her head out into the hallway.
‘Hey, I have first dibs on the bathroom. It’s my house.’ She bolted after him and ducked under his arm into the bathroom.
Rachel giggled as she entered the bathroom, enjoying the way she’d beaten him inside. There had to be some benefits in being tiny. She ran through her bedtime routine quickly, throwing her underwear in the laundry basket, and was about to open the door to let him have his turn, when she heard his voice through the door. And Allira’s voice. Raised up. Shit.
‘Rachel said it was a one-time thing.’
She opened the door to see Jacob’s face tighten, his eyes narrow.
‘Um, so apparently, once wasn’t enough. Gosh, this is fucking awkward,’ she said.
‘Rachel. How can you joke about this?’ Allira said.
‘It’s just two adults having sex together. Why give it all the meaning? We both consented. It was fun. End of story.’ She tried to ignore the way Jacob vibrated next to her.
‘If it’s just fun, why does Jacob look like he wants to throttle you?’ Allira asked.
‘Does he?’ She knew he did. She didn’t have to look at him to know his whole body was tense.
‘I’m mad at both of you. You—’ Allira jabbed Jacob with her finger, ‘For messing around with my friend. I told you she doesn’t need a rebound romance.’
‘More of a rebound fuck, really …’ Rachel blurted.
‘Not helping,’ Jacob spat out between clenched teeth.
Allira’s gaze flicked between the two of them, then stared pointedly at Rachel. She lifted her chin, ready for an onslaught.
‘And you …’
Rachel held out her hands in protest. ‘Really, you are overreacting. I know he’s your big brother, but you know he’s a big bloke and he can look after himself. He doesn’t need to be fussed about.’
‘I’m not worried about him. He can look after himself. I’m worried about you. Only a few weeks ago, you were sobbing in my arms over a break-up, and now you are naked in the hallway after screwing my brother.’ Allira put her hands on her hips.
Rachel glanced down at herself. Shit. She shrugged, better than standing there in destroyed underwear. ‘Well, to be fair, I didn’t expect you home. And technically, we fucked each other. It’s not one-way traffic here.’
‘What the hell Rachel.’
‘Are you judging me for having consenting sex? Because that’s a bit unfair if you don’t judge him too. There shouldn’t be one standard for blokes and another one for me.’
Jacob coughed, more of a low grumbling clearing of his throat, and Rachel glanced his way. He’d at least done up his jeans, and looked fairly respectable, and thoroughly sated with his hair all ruffled and smelling faintly like her musk and sweat.
‘You are a piece of work, Rachel …’ Allira shook her head, and Rachel tensed for the inevitable ‘please move out’, except Allira ran her hands through her hair and sighed. ‘I wish I had your bravery. I think I’d die of embarrassment if someone saw me emerging naked from the toilet after having sex … Instead, you stand there, uncaring about your lack of clothes and school me about society’s imbalance of expectations of femininity. Jeez, I love you.’ Allira smiled, her face flushed. ‘And Jacob?’
‘Yeah.’ His voice came out an octave lower than normal.
‘Don’t screw this up. Rachel is amazing.’ Allira stared at her brother, her big brown eyes flashing with a warning which warmed Rachel all the way through. Having a real friend like Allira was the greatest thing, if only she could get rid of the slowly growing bitter taste at the back of her throat. Had she fucked this up? If she’d kept her hands to herself, they wouldn’t be here awkwardly negotiating a new relationship in Allira’s house. Allira—who cared for both of them, even Rachel and her messy
way of ballsing up her life.
‘I know.’ His simple acceptance combined with Allira’s view of her made her chest tighten. Really? He really thought she was amazing? Her mouth filled with the taste of baking soda, like she’d left a paracetamol tablet on her tongue instead of swallowing it. She squared her shoulders—there was only one way to deal with this burgeoning ache. Bravado. False confidence, as Dad had said, fake it and everything will be fine. Nothing like a bit of faking to get rid of confusion.
‘Ok, well, now you’ve sorted that out. I have work early in the morning, so goodnight. Jacob, you are welcome to join me, but it’ll be sleeping only. Or just do whatever.’ She pushed past them both, suddenly aware of her nakedness as her arm brushed past Jacob’s jeans and shirt—another jolt of electricity humming in her torso at the simple touch. The sensation scared her, like having your foot stood on by a horse when you weren’t expecting it, a sudden hurt that made her want to curse. She’d enjoyed pleasure with him, from simple banter to mind-blowing sex, but at what cost?
Chapter 15
Jacob turned off the main onto the side road towards Tranquil Waters, glad The Palace had called shotgun, leaving Rachel to sleep in the back seat. Every time he’d looked in the mirror over the past three hours of the drive home, he’d seen her sleeping upright, her head tucked against the seatbelt and the side of the car, her eyes shut. She looked so peaceful, the opposite of the churn in his gut.
‘I reckon you were right about that punter’s club, mate.’ The Palace’s voice suddenly turned serious, after three hours of jests about Rachel, and life in general. His charm had made the hours pass quickly, musing on everything from what they could have done better in their semi-final loss, to the latest news story he’d seen on the net.
‘Why’s that, mate?’
‘There have been a couple of big losses over the last two weeks. I mean, I guess it was too good to last forever, but the dude on the email reckons we should invest more for the upcoming big spring races. Really hit them hard.’
Jacob gritted his teeth. Why would a fake punter’s club falsify a loss deliberately?
‘What’s your gut feel?’
‘I don’t know, mate. I mean, I’ve already put a bunch of cash in, and had some profits back, so I kind of want to keep the good times going. But—’ The Palace paused, a note of uncertainty underlining his usual charm.
‘But what?’
‘All the betting ads say “don’t chase your losses”, except doesn’t that mean that I’ll lose everything I’ve put in already?’
Jacob flicked a glance at his friend to see the deep furrow between his brows.
‘Can you withdraw your initial cash?’ he asked.
‘What? Like pull out completely?’ The Palace scratched his head, the sound of his fingertips on his skull resonating loudly in the car.
‘If you think it’s going bad, isn’t that the best way?’
‘But what if he’s right, and they win big on the next few weekends?’
Jacob sighed, trying to concentrate on the road rather than shake some sense into his friend.
‘And what if your gut feel is right, and the whole thing is fucked? What do you have to lose if you pull out now?’
‘All the next winnings.’ The Palace sounded completely rational as he said the most irrational, unlikely thing. Jacob blinked.
‘Your choice, mate, but I tell you one thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘You can’t trust anyone in horse racing. They are all dodgy.’
‘Is that right?’ Rachel’s voice flowed across the back of his neck, making his hair stand up. He cleared his throat as The Palace laughed mercilessly.
‘Not you. I mean … well, shit.’ His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He’d grown up with the legends of horse racing, the rumours in the paper, the betting scandals, the same as anyone else in Australia. He’d never realised just how personal his assumptions could get, or how deeply he believed it with no real evidence.
‘Jacob, you idiot. Not everyone in racing is dodgy, Fine Cotton was a one off.’ The Palace kept laughing under his breath. ‘I’m sure your girlfriend and her family are cool.’
‘Fine Cotton was decades ago, surely no one remembers that anymore. The rules have changed since then anyway, so you can’t do that type of ring-in, not with DNA testing and microchips.’
‘See, just like she said.’ The Palace chuckled. Jacob’s jaw ached, and he tried to relax it.
‘Besides, you can’t judge a whole industry on one scam forty years ago, especially when they got caught. Is the entire AFL dodgy because one team got caught drugging their players?’ she asked.
The Palace barked out a hard laugh, making Jacob’s head throb, ‘She’s got you there. As soon as you have a competition to win, some asshole is going to try and cheat. Happens in all sports.’
‘That’s why we have the stewards, and why you have some sort of governing body,’ Rachel said.
‘Okay, okay. There’s no need to gang up on me!’ Jacob wiped his palms on his jeans, one hand at a time, alternating his grip on the steering wheel. ‘I guess it’s just that it sounds dodgy, the idea of giving someone your money to bet with it, and not telling you the bets until afterwards.’
‘Yeah, but if it was a scam, why did he lose for the last two weekends?’ The Palace asked.
Rachel laughed, a loud raucous cackle, ‘Because he wants you to think it’s not a scam. I’m sorry, Palace, this punter’s club is totally a scam.’
‘Didn’t you just defend horse racing?’ The Palace asked the question Jacob wanted to.
‘Horse racing—not betting. I know they are intertwined, and people are always trying to beat the bookies. The horses are solid. It’s virtually impossible to cheat nowadays, the underworld of the pre-computing era is gone. Too many regulations now,’ Rachel said. The Palace twisted in his seat to stare at her, while Jacob slowed the car as they came towards an intersection.
‘You sound like you miss it,’ The Palace asked.
‘No. I like it the way it is now. I like knowing that I’m as safe as possible when riding, that’s why I’d never ride in America, their drug rules are nuts. It’s just me and a horse versus other horses. I don’t have to stress that another jockey might be being paid to get in my way, or that my horse might be not completely fit for the job. The stewards have access to all the records. It’s much fairer now than the old days when no one had computers to track betting trends, and when drug testing was hopeless. What I miss is the stories—the way everyone used to do the form and follow the horses. Back when everyone was a fan, and the horses were superstars. Now we have to compete with a million other types of entertainment,’ Rachel paused, ‘—like the AFL.’
‘I understand and apologise for the assumption. I guess it’s just one of those things, the legend is different to reality.’ Jacob still couldn’t shake the worry that being involved with Rachel would have an impact on his clean reputation. If he’d assumed, probably wrongly, that racing’s reputation was real, then so would everyone else, and that might rub off on his reputation.
‘Blah, blah. None of that helps me work out what I should do,’ The Palace spoke into the awkward silence which had descended on the car.
‘It depends,’ Rachel said.
‘On what?’ Jacob spoke in unison with The Palace.
‘Assuming this club is a scam, and not just some blokes having fun, you need to decide if you want to get your money back quietly, or if you want to bring the whole scheme down.’
‘Assuming?’
Rachel sighed, a loud exhale, ‘I think it’s a scam. I trust Toshiko’s view on this, however, if you are unsure, then you have the third option.’
‘Which is?’ The Palace’s voice rose hopefully.
‘Carry on. See what happens. But if you are wrong, and if it’s a scam, you risk losing everything.’
‘I don’t like that option.’ The Palace sounded a bit petulant. ‘Are you sure about th
is? I mean, what if it’s all good, and they win big over the carnival, and I miss out?’
‘It’s a possibility.’ Rachel rolled her eyes, and Jacob smiled as he caught her expression in the rear-view mirror. ‘An impossibly slim possibility.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Gossip.’
‘It is a scam. Holy shit, I have to get my money out now. What have you heard?’
‘Okay, so that’s the crux of the issue. There is virtually no racing gossip about this at all. Racing loves a pro-punter, and if this guy running the punter’s club was actually a success, everyone would be talking about him. The only people who have shown any sign of weirdness are that tosser Driscoll, and …’ Rachel gasped. ‘And my agent, Matthew. That was pretty odd actually, he didn’t mention the punter’s club specifically, but he did warn me to stay away from Driscoll. But then, that could be simply because Driscoll is foul and Matthew doesn’t want me to get hurt.’
‘So it’s this Driscoll guy who is running it, then?’ Jacob said. He turned into the driveway of his parent’s small farm, the tyres rattling as he drove over the cattle stop.
‘He’s the best bet.’