Page 67 of Vipers & Roses

He wipes my juice off his lips with the back of his hand, but those narrowed eyes that rake over my naked body indicate that he’s not done. As I lie depleted, the swimmer gets off the bed and stands over me, gazing with greedy eyes and tight fists held by his side. I reach for the bulge in his briefs, but he knocks my hand away, preferring to stare at my body without a word spoken.

Several moments pass before he moves, his hand finding that bulge and flipping his erect cock out as I gasp at the size of it. My natural reaction is to touch his penis, to hold it in my hand, and to taste it, but he rejects my hand again in favor of his own.

Quick strokes along his thick rod as those eyes run up and down my body, completely vulnerable; nothing is hidden. I reach for my clit to play along with him, but my clit is sensitive to touch, and a sharp “No,” from Cormac tells me that he does not want that.

Cormac’s pace increases faster and faster, slapping and rubbing, as his already giant cock seems to grow even more. He steps a little closer to the side of the bed as his pupils dilate into black pools of desire. He grunts and tips his head back briefly to glance up at the ceiling before spurting warm cum all over my body. From my pussy to the breasts, he empties, still rubbing until there is nothing left.

Still locked under his intense gaze, I place a hand over the cum on my breasts and start rubbing it all over me. A hint of pleasure and gratification washes across his face as I brush his cum over my pussy and push it inside of me.

His lips part, and nostrils flare as that massive chest moves up and down with every hitched breath. “You drive me crazy, woman,” he exhales, shaking his head. “Dangerous for my ambitions.”

I cock my head about to ask him what he means, but he turns his back, pulls up his briefs, and starts putting on his sweatpants. I’m left cold and unsure why, but I follow his lead, roll off the bed, find my clothes, and start dressing under a canopy of awkward silence.

30

After spending the night staring at the black ceiling reflecting on Cormac’s odd behavior, switching from warm and affectionate, horny and eager to please me to cold and detached, after he came on me, the atmosphere changed, turned stifled and uncomfortable, and he failed to utter a single word.

He walked me down the stairs and opened the door for me to leave, and that was it. No, goodbye or kiss on my cheek. Nothing. Most of all, I hate being vulnerable, where my heart and emotions are being shredded and tossed into the flames without explanation.

A temperamental man is the last thing I fucking need in my life right now. So, of course, the natural thing to do is to head down to the pool in the morning to swim some laps to invigorate some energy into me, and hopefully, I’ll stumble into Cormac, and then I can read his reaction to me being nearby. Will he be friendly or ignore me? I should be steering clear of him, but no, I have to torture myself even more by placing myself in his grumpy path.

When I walked in, I spotted Cormac’s powerful slimline stroke and black cap in the water, but I couldn’t see Lyons. I assumed he was in the viewing bay behind darkened glass, secretly looking down on everyone.

The cool, fresh water skimming across my bare skin quickly awakened me out of a fug, and once I pushed through fatigue from a lack of sleep, I picked up the pace. As usual, when I’m in the water, a variety of memories shuffle like playing cards in my mind – Cormac’s weird behavior last night, the sex with Blake or Thorn as Cormac calls him, the man falling from the apartment window, Gabe’s visit to my apartment, my herbarium, my plant biology assignment due next week, the shift I have in the University Gardens after my swim and my family. Yeah, thoughts of my family trigger a lot of guilt, so it’s best not to overthink them.

After swimming several lengths soothing away from my maladies, I climb out of the pool and make my way to my towel, resting on the bench by the one-way window that looks out onto the car park.

As I dry my legs and torso and squeeze water from my ponytail, I sense a figure approaching and tense up.

“Rae,” that voice sends tingles down my spine.

“Detect- I mean, Gabe,” I answer nervously, wrapping my towel above my breasts and trying to suppress my stupid fluttering heart. “Are you here on business or pleasure?”

“Neither,” he answers as those wise eyes sweep briefly over my bare shoulders, peppered in droplets, hands slipped into his black pant pockets, white button shirt with the top two buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. He never looked at me seductively, apart from that rare moment when he kissed me, and I’m sure he regrets it since I confessed that I was dating his son. “I’m here to speak to Michael Lyons, my son…Cormac’s coach. I don’t suppose you know where he is?”

“I haven’t seen him, but my best guess is he’s up there,” I say, pointing to the viewing window.

Gabe follows my stare and frowns, taking his hand out of his pocket to rub his unshaven square jaw with his fist. He looks so hot when he doesn’t shave. “So, how do I get up there?”

“Oh, I can show you if you like,” I offer, and he looks me up and down.

“Do you want to put some clothes on first?” he suggests.

“No, I should be okay. It’s just a quick walk up some stairs,” I say, pointing to the door on the other side of the pool arena. I don’t have to walk him there, but I want to.

“So, how are your studies going?” he asks as we walk past the pool to the far wall where the grandstands are.

“Good. I enjoy plant life, so I’m happy,” I answer, finding this conversation a little forced, as if to distract from our kiss and pretend it didn’t happen.

“And your job? Still catching bad guys?” I ask as we come to the door, and I open it with him falling behind.

“It’s a job,” he answers, and that’s all I’ll get out of him when it comes to his work. I wonder what he does to destress? Maybe a massage, like the one I gave his son, would be good to iron out tension. I wonder what he’d say if I offered.

I go up the stairs first, aware that I’m only wearing a towel over my bathing suit, but right now, it seems inappropriate, whereas by the pool, it is perfectly normal. When I reach the top step, I glance back and catch him eyeing my legs. He swiftly looks away, and I suppress a smile.

“Here’s the door into the viewing bay. I’m not sure if he’s in here,” I say, noticing the door is open a crack and pushing it further. Straight away, I’m bombarded by a scene I’ve seen before, but this time, I walked right into it.

Lucy’s golden hair flowing over her face is reddened by Lyons’ hand, pushing her head hard down on the table. She’s completely naked this time, wet bathing suit in a heap on the floor, while he’s ramming her from behind, the table creaking with every ram.

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