Page 29 of Hot Stuff
Well, Nat joined our group during college but for the last decade it’s been the four of us against the world.
Or should I say, taking on the world.
Because that’s what we’ve done.
And now we’re taking on the male dominated world of professional sport.
I have no doubt we can do it. We’re capable of anything.
We took a tiny start up, designing and sewing in the back corner of our apartment living room to the multi-billion-dollar, multi-manufacturing facilities company it is today when everyone said we’d never succeed.
And we did it on our own. We may have used some of our trust funds—and between us there are many—but Rogue paid that back within the first two years.
It helped that one of us was able to wear the brand at international sporting events all over the world. Nothing beats free advertising on an Olympic level.
Blake wore nothing but Rogue brand clothing; even when the teams she was on had other sponsors, it was in her contracts that Rogue was her sponsor and she wasn’t to wear anything else.
Hell, we’d even matched colors, and styles to a degree, to whatever the teams were expected to wear.
It had cost us, but we felt the price was worth it when our name was plastered on TVs around the world.
“Hey, you done?”
I turn to see Walker leaning against the door frame again.
It’s a position that does it for me for some reason. So much so, I power off my phone and drop it on the floor.
That gets me an eyebrow lift but not a comment.
Then because he has to know what I’m thinking, and if not, I’m going to give him a big hint, I sway my hips as I walk over to the bed.
“How long will breakfast be?” I ask while bending over and pressing on the bed as if testing its firmness.
“About thirty.”
I face him once more. “Oh, I wonder how much more of an appetite we can work up in that time.”
“Couldn’t find the robes?” he asks as he slowly prowls toward me.
And it is a prowl. His limbs taut, each step measured as he draws closer, his eyes locked on his prize.
“I see something else I’d rather be wrapped in.”
The smile he gives is nothing short of devious. “It’s me who’ll be wrapped in you.”
He moves quick. Crowds me, urges me to turn back to the bed and pushes me over, and before I can catch my breath his fingers are between my legs, probing deep.
“So fucking wet.”
Then his fingers are gone and in their place is the hard length of him driving into me in one long smooth stroke.
Walker
I watch Oakley put her fork down and place a hand over her bare stomach.
I’d convinced her once our breakfast had been delivered to go without the robe.
Grinning, I sip my coffee and take in the woman across from me.
