The Rivals

by Allen , Dylan

  “Not one single person has ever called me that before.” I laugh.

  Her eyes pop open and cast a haze of desire that traps me in its azure net. My heart jerks in my chest, and the laughter dies in my throat.

  “Then, they must not have been looking at you at all,” she whispers. Then, she takes my big hand into her much smaller, much prettier one, puts it to her delicious lips, and drags a kiss across my knuckles.

  I’m moving in a small circle of slow two-steps. The music blends in with the rest of the background noise, and all I hear is the beating of my heart and the thud of my racing pulse in my ears.

  There’s a storm brewing between us. It’s loud and it builds in a slow stream of tension that’s permeating the air.

  I feel it in my racing pulse.

  I feel it in the tingle at the base of my spine.

  And when she sways into me, she feels it in the ardent pressure of my rock-hard dick between us.

  “Oh my God,” she gasps, and twines her fingers into the hair at the base of my neck.

  Without a single thought for propriety or gossip, I bend and slip my arm under her knees and lift her in my arms.

  A loud cheer goes up in the crowd as I shoulder my way through the dance floor and out of the tent.

  “Oh my Lord, what are you doing?” she asks in a whoop of laughter as she tightens her arms around my neck.

  “I’m taking you to the closest room with a door. When we get there, I’m going to throw up that skirt and take off whatever’s underneath it and fuck you,” I growl before I kiss her hard and fast.

  We step into the carpeted lobby of the villa and scan the room until I see a swinging door with the light off inside. I head straight for it.

  “This is crazy,” she gasps into my neck. “I feel like I’m on fire, Hayes. I’ve never … I don’t know what it is.” She starts to squirm.

  “I do. It’s whatever fucking pheromone you’re secreting. It makes me want to beat my fucking chest and rut with you while everyone watches,” I say and kick the door open. I set her down before I feel around for a light switch. The bright fluorescent bulb flickers a few times before it floods the room with light. It’s a utility closet with a waist high counter running down the middle.

  “Perfect,” I whisper.

  I wrap my arms around her waist and hoist her up, the voluminous layers of her skirt crushed in my hold. I stare at her face for just a second and I’ll never forget the way her eyes burned with need right before I took her mouth in a kiss I’d been thinking about for almost twenty-four hours.

  She opens like the beautiful flower she is and my tongue slips into her sweet, warm mouth.

  She’s like nothing I’ve ever felt.

  She feels like mine.

  So much like mine.

  For tonight, at least, she will be.

  I drop her onto the work bench and break our kiss. I shove her lace skirt up to her waist and her hand falls to my belt. I slide my hand up her thigh. “Your skin is so… soft. May I?” I ask.

  She growls. “Please. Just touch me.”

  I kiss her again and press my palm to the damp, heated slip of silk between her legs. I pull it so it slides between her lips. She moans into my mouth and unzips my pants.

  “Please hurry. I want you inside me so badly, it hurts,” she moans.

  I slip my hands back in between her splayed thighs, and I play with her pussy. I slip a finger inside her, rub her wetness up her slit and rub her clit. She lets loose a broken sob when I pinch it at the same time that I nip the tender skin on her throat.

  “What are you doing to me?” She pants and throws her head back. It hits the wall behind her.

  “I’m about to fuck you until you come so hard and loud that they’ll hear you in the other room.”

  “Yes. God,” she groans and leans forward to wrap a hand around me. She strokes up, and I thrust up into her hand.

  “I want you so badly,” I growl and grab a handful of her ass and squeeze it until I’m sure my fingers will leave an imprint.

  She moans, and her legs spread even farther apart.

  “Then fucking take me,” she says impatiently.

  I pull her off the bench and turn her around.

  I lift her skirt and expose her round, luscious ass. I slap it, and she jumps. But then her hips loosen.

  “Let me fuck you how I know you need.” I slip my fingers around the soaked piece of fabric that’s drawn between her lips.

  “Yes, please…”

  “Why did you even bother wearing these?” I slip two fingers inside her and press up.

  “Because, I imagined that you might want to rip them off,” she says and shoots a satisfied grin over her shoulder. I give the silk scrap of fabric a sharp tug, and they give up their hold on her body and fall into my hand. I stuff them into the pocket of my shirt. I push her legs even farther apart and thrust three fingers inside her. Her back arches and she groans into the table top.

  “Your pussy is fucking unreal.” I swivel my hand and she pulses around my fingers and rotates her hips.

  I pull out of her and fish a condom out of my pocket. I roll it on and spread her wetness from my fingers all over it.

  “I want you so much,” she moans.

  “Then, get your pussy on my dick, Tesoro,” I say and pull her back onto me. She thrusts back and starts fucking herself. I watch my dick glide in and out of her and wonder if I could build a shrine to her cunt. I grab her hips and slam up on her next downward slide. She screams, loud enough that it carries out into the hallway and mingles with the sounds of conversation on the other side of the door.

  “Do you like that I’m fucking you where everyone can hear?” I whisper in her ear.

  I slide the strap of her dress down and I pull down the bodice. Her round, full-as-fuck, pink-tipped breast spills out.

  “Yes,” she pants in my ear.

  “Why?” I rain kisses down her throat and bite her shoulder, nudging her entrance with the head of my cock.

  “I want them to know I fucked my dream man tonight,” she croons, and I laugh.

  “Dream man?”

  She turns her head over her shoulder and holds me in the sweet snare of her azure gaze. “Yes. My dream man. Who looks like a king and fucks me like I’m his queen. Who is so fierce and so raw on the inside that he bleeds everything he’s feeling straight into his eyes,” she pants.

  My heart stutters to a stop at how sure she sounds and how good it feels to be seen.

  I lean down, press a kiss to her mouth, and start fucking her again. She breaks the kiss and presses her face into the table with a deep, satisfied moan.

  I sweep her few errant curls off her shoulders and press my mouth into the slope where her shoulder meets her neck and press forward with hard, shallow thrusts.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” The feeling of being balls deep inside her is indescribable.

  I feel like a fucking king.

  I surge forward and drive her into the table. Her booted foot makes contact with my shin, and I ask, “Are you okay?” without slowing my rhythm. She nods. I fist my hand in her hair and pull a fist full of her hair back. I press our cheeks together.

  “Jesus, you feel like a goddamn dream. I want to watch you come,” I pull out of her and turn her on her back. I thrust back into her in one long, hard push of my hips.

  “Ahhhhh,” she wails and I get to watch the achingly beautiful expression on her face when my name pushes up her throat and out of her mouth in the sexiest whimper I’ve ever heard.

  I push even deeper.

  “Yes, sing for me, Tesoro,” I coax her. Her facial expression ebbs between ecstasy and pain, and then to bliss while I fuck her. My hand is grasping her thigh and her arms are flung wide on the table.

  I pull the straps of her sleeves down so that both of her breasts are exposed to me. I bite down on one of her hard, pink-as-the-inside-of-a-seashell nipple and she starts to cry my name over and over. I focus on the satin fist her puss
y is making around my cock. I lose myself in her cries and race toward the relief I need like I need air.

  I already want her again.

  I bury my face in her neck, hold her succulent ass with one hand and hold the other flat against the wall beside her head.

  She presses her warm, soft lips to my ear and flicks her tongue along the shell of it. “There’s a hurricane swirling inside of me,” she whispers.

  “That’s me,” I tell her between small nips at her throat.

  “I’m coming apart,” she moans.

  My breath hitches. I pull back and look into her limpid, breathtakingly bright eyes. She touches her open mouth to mine and kisses me softly.

  “It feels so good, I don’t know what to do.” Her breath comes in short puffs.

  “Like I’ve never …” She trails off.

  “I know; it feels too good to be true, right?” I stare into her eyes and the naked desire in them, the honesty in her gaze, moves something inside of me.

  Yes, I like her.

  “Like … I’ll never, ever get enough,” she says in a low, but strong voice.

  Her eyes light with a fierceness before her mouth is back on mine. She grips my neck, twines her fingers into my hair and pulls herself up my body.

  Her legs tighten around my waist. I let go of her ass and press my other hand to the wall. “I want to make you come,” she groans just as she lifts up and slams back down on my cock.

  She squeezes me in rhythmic pulses that shoot pleasure straight to my balls. Like a slave following his master’s command, I start to come in a rush that blindsides me.

  My knees buckle and I close my eyes against the suddenly unbearably bright light in the room. She rides me through my orgasm and slips a hand in between her legs. “I can’t come without my clit,” she pants before she starts rubbing between her legs.

  “Let me,” I breathe and stand up. I take the condom off and toss it in the trash can next to the door. I spread her thighs and admire the sweet, wet, swollen pussy I just finished fucking. I bend and squat until my face is right where it wants to be. I lick her from the tender spot above her pucker all the way to her clit, and I pull it into my mouth. I suck hard, soft, flick my tongue, nip with my teeth until I know what she needs. And then, I eat her until she comes. Her hands fist in my hair even while she squirms away from my mouth. I press my palm to the center of her stomach and hold her in place and suck her clit until she screams my name. I want to beat my chest and throw her over my shoulder.

  I stand up and stare down at her.

  She’s slumped against the wall like a rag doll. Her hair is spilling free of the pins she used to put it up and now curling strands lay tousled all around her shoulders.

  “That was …” She sighs and eyes me lazily out of half-open eyes.

  “Yeah, it was … crazy,” I say and tuck my shirt back into my trousers and fasten them.

  She pouts.

  I tug her dress straps up over her shoulders and cover her breasts.

  “You’re killing my dreams,” she complains, a frown puckering a swollen, sultry mouth.

  “What dreams are those?”

  “Ones where you’re not getting dressed and pulling my dress back in place,” she says in a sexy tone.

  “It’s bad enough that I carried you off the dance floor and fucked you in a utility closet with a door that doesn’t close properly,” I remind her.

  Her face flashes a hot red and she sits up and crosses her arms over her chest and looks over my shoulder at the door.

  “Oh my God, it’s a swinging door, Hayes. What if someone saw us?” she asks.

  “Then, they got a fucking great show,” I say and run the tip of my finger over the gentle slope of her lips.

  “I’m only getting dressed so I can carry you up to my room. I think walking through the lobby would turn our tryst into flagantre delicto.”

  “In what?” she asks

  “It’s Latin. Translated literally, it means a blazing offense,” I tell her with a smile. “These days it’s sort of synonymous for walking around in a state of undress.” I start to lift her and she stiffens and puts her hands on my bicep to stop me.

  “I can walk. You can’t be carrying me everywhere,” she says. Her brows are drawn and she looks ready to argue. I kiss her, and she melts against me. I scoop her up and hold her to my chest, and her arms go around my neck. I take one last sip of her and then break our kiss. A satisfied smile stretches across her sexy lips and the protest she put up a second ago is gone. I kick the door open and step out into the hallway and start toward the rear of the villa.

  “The elevator is that way.” She points a graceful finger in the opposite direction.

  “We’re not taking the elevator,” I inform her.

  “Why not?”

  “It’ll take too long.” I wink and start up the narrow stairs to my room.“I’m in a hurry.”

  ANDIAMO

  CONFIDENCE

  “That was so beautiful, Hayes.” I watch in awe as his fingers skip across the ivory keys of the piano and then stop.

  “Thank you. My aunt Gigi taught me, and even though my hands are big, it came naturally.”

  We’re seated at the piano, and Hayes is peeling back even more layers. He plays the piano beautifully. “So, this is like your last hurrah, too?” I ask with a waggle of my eyebrows.

  “I wouldn’t have thought of it that way, actually, but you’ve definitely put the hurrah into this trip.” He waggles his thick brows back to me and gives my hand a squeeze.

  “Well, I’m glad I could be of service.” I snuggle into him. We’re waiting for our airport shuttle in the lobby. Our flights are a couple hours apart, but we’re heading to the airport early to avoid the larger crowds leaving later this afternoon.

  Cass is asleep on the little divan in the corner. Her black fedora is pulled down over her eyes and she’s got her sunglasses on.

  “She had a good weekend.” Hayes nods in her direction.

  “So did I,” I say. “Who would have known that you are such a Renaissance Man, Hayes.”

  He presses a finger to my lips and looks around the room. “Shh… I like them being a little afraid of me.” He laughs and I admire the way his shirt bunches around broad shoulders when they shake with laughter. I want to soak up every detail.

  “I can’t believe we’re leaving today. It’s been amazing.” I drop my head to his shoulder and link my arms through his.

  “I want to see you again,” he says suddenly and my happy heart leaps in my chest. Warmth suffuses my body and I’m surprised at how elated I feel. But, I don’t question it. None of it. This weekend has been magical and full of surprises. Hayes is the most magical one of all. I’ve never had such an instant and tenacious connection before.

  “I would love that,” I agree softly.

  He reaches up and pulls his phone and a pair of black-framed glasses out of his breast pocket.

  “Let’s look at our calendars,” he says and slips the glasses on his nose.

  “Your glasses are hot,” I say, admiring the profile.

  “Right.” He rolls his eyes dismissively. “First, what’s your number?”

  I rattle it off and he puts his in my phone. “What’s the rest of your summer like?” he says.

  “Mine is pretty open,” I say cheerily. Inside, my stomach knots when I think about the absence of job interviews, or anything else, on my calendar.

  “I’ll be in Houston next week, I could fly you in,” he says.

  “Fly me in?” I question, and I feel the first prickle of discomfort.

  “Yeah, you said Arkansas? I can send a plane,” he says nonchalantly, his eyes still glued to his phone, his fingers flying across his keyboard.

  “I can fly myself to see you.” My pride is bruised a little.

  “Why would you do that? You’re not working, right?” he asks quizzically.

  “Why did you get a job instead of living on your family’s millions?” I ask him. />
  He pauses his typing and slides his gaze sideways in my direction.

  “What?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.

  “That’s hardly the same. It’s just a quick flight,” he says slowly.

  “To you, it’s just a flight. But this is my first time out of the country and only the fifth time I’ve ever been on a plane. It took me four months of dedicated saving to afford the flight from Memphis to Austin when I left for college,” I tell him. “I’ll never see a flight as nothing. And given the way things between us got started, I couldn’t even imagine you buying me a plane ticket—or anything else.”

  He stares at me for a long moment. His gaze is assessing, and I can practically hear the wheels spinning in his head.

  “Fine,” he says. “Then I’ll come visit you.”

  “Okay …” I clear my throat. “I’m telling you it’s probably not anything like what you’re used to.”

  “I’m good at getting used to new situations,” he says pensively. His fingers drum the piano keys lightly and make a tinkling melody that are so contrary to the heaviness in his voice.

  “I just moved back to Houston, started a new job; it’s been fine.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

  I nudge his arm lightly with my shoulder. “You sound thrilled about it.” He smiles absently but doesn’t look away from the keyboard. “I don’t know what I am,” he says and shakes his head slightly. His lips quirk, and when he turns his head to look at me, conflict has muddled his normally clear gaze.

  “What do you mean?” I rub up and down his arm.

  “It’s strange to step into the role as the head of a family that I don’t really know. I was born to it, but that doesn’t feel like enough of a reason. Does that make sense?” he asks.

  I turn fully now and wait until he does the same and we’re face to face.

  I trace the uneven bridge of his nose and gaze into his keen, green hazel eyes while I try to find the words to answer him.

  We only met two days ago. We bonded during a highly stressful moment. I was terrified on that ledge. I know how lucky I was. If I’d fallen on another part of that path, I wouldn’t be sitting here. That he was there feels like a very significant detail. One that, despite being mainly a coincidence, I think it will change the course of my life. I overshared a lot on Friday night. I don’t regret it. Yet without the rush of adrenaline from that evening and with our separation looming, my feelings aren’t as sanguine as they were yesterday.