Page 114 of Going for Gold (Sweet Cravings 3)

Bryce dropped my gaze and looked down at the ground.

Oh God.

All I could hear was this weird buzzing in my ears. I was numb to the cheers of the crowd. It felt like my heart had just broken into a million pieces. I needed air. I needed to not be standing on a stage in just a towel. And I couldn't look at Bryce being hurt. Knowing that it was my fault.

I felt the tears start to run down my cheeks. I jumped off the medal podium and ran in the opposite direction of Bryce.

I could have sworn I heard him yell my name. But clearly I didn't know his voice. Because Gabriela was right. I was a total slut.

I turned down a hallway, trying not to break my ankles in my heels. I stopped for a second and pulled them off so I could run even faster. When I reached my dressing room, I threw open the door and locked it behind me. Luckily my stylists weren't there. They had probably been watching the performance too. Ugh.

I immediately went into the bathroom and turned on the hot water. I felt so dirty after what I had done that all I wanted to do was take a shower. I imagined this was how it felt after a bad one night stand. But this wasn't dinner at Olive Garden followed by subpar sex with a selfish lover. This was a gangbang being broadcast around the world while Bryce got beat up trying to stop it from happening. Even though I could wash the cum out of my hair, I could never wash away what had happened.

As I let my cum-soaked towel fall to the floor, I accidently caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Oh my God. I looked like such a whore. My eye makeup had run everywhere, there was cum splattered in my hair, my stockings had runs in them, and the lace on my garter belt had been torn from when Python grabbed it while he was fucking me in the ass.

Fucking Python. My ass still felt weird from his enormous cock. Why did I ever agree to his stupid challenge? Doing the other guys was bad enough, but there was no excuse for what I did with Python. Could Bryce ever forgive me for that? I didn't think so. I wouldn't if I was him.

More tears formed in my eyes and I looked away from the mirror. I couldn't look at myself. I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to look at myself again.

I stripped off my destroyed lingerie and got in the shower. The water was way hotter than it should have been, but I didn't adjust it. The hot water helped distract me from the shame of what I had just done. And maybe it would help sanitize my filthy body.

I wasn't nearly done showering when I heard a loud knock on the door to the dressing room. Someone had been knocking earlier too, but I had ignored it. I wasn't ready to talk to anyone, not yet.

Go away.

Another knock. But this time, it was accompanied by someone with a Brazilian accent yelling, "Security, open up."

Security? Shit! I had been so focused on how much I hurt Bryce that I hadn't even thought about the legal implications of what I had just done. I had probably violated a dozen laws on public decency, and now they were coming to arrest me. Will I spend the rest of my life in some Brazilian prison?

"You have 5 seconds before we open the door ourselves," yelled the security guard.

Shit, shit, shit! I have to get out of here! I jumped out of the shower and ran out into the dressing room.

"Hold on," I said. "I'm not dressed." In a panic, I pushed the makeup chair under the door handle, threw on the clothes I had worn to the arena, and grabbed my purse. Thanks to my mini panic attack before the performance, I knew that the window in the bathroom was the perfect escape route. And I intended to make good use of it. Right before crawling out the window, I shoved my stupid gold medal in my purse and grabbed one of the luxurious towels to dry my hair on the go.

I got a few curious looks from the locals as I lowered myself onto the sidewalk. Usually I would have been concerned that they'd think I was weird, but after what I had just done, people seeing me jump out of a window was the least of my worries.

I ran a few blocks to put some distance between me and the security guards, and then I took a quick inventory of what I had in my purse. My cell phone, my wallet, some makeup, and most importantly, my passport. I wouldn't have usually carried it around, but it was required as photo ID in order to board the train from the athletes' village to center city Rio.

While I waited for an Uber to arrive, I got on Expedia.com and searched for the next flight out of Rio. There was only one flight headed to the US with any empty seats left, and it was leaving in ninety minutes. Not nearly enough time to go back to the dorm and get my stuff. Kristen would have to just bring it home for me, if I ever went home. Assuming I made it out of Brazil without being arrested, which at this point seemed to have about a 50/50 chance of happening, I didn't think I could ever go home. I couldn't imagine how awkward it would be to see my parents. Actually, I could imagine it, and it was mortifying.

***

My heart was pounding the entire time I was in the customs line. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but it seemed like there were way more police officers than was normal for an airport. It didn't really matter how many officers there were, though. I was always going to have to show my passport to one of them to get through the line.

On top of that, I felt like I was walking funny from getting ass fucked. So even if they didn't recognize me, they'd probably stop me and do a full cavity search to find whatever drugs were hidden in my asshole. The good news was that Python had stretched me out so much that I probably wouldn't even feel it.

I focused all my energy on walking like a normal person with no contraband in my ass as I approached the front of the line.

The bored looking officer at the desk said something in Portuguese and waved me over to his desk. I tried to avoid eye contact as I handed him my passport.

He flipped it and then held it up to compare me to the picture in the passport.

"Do you have valuables with you worth more than 10,000 Real?"

"No." At first I thought I didn't have anything with me at all, but then I realized I had my gold medal with me. "Well, actually..." Shit, will showing him my medal make him realize who I am? "Never mind. Nope. Nothing over 10,000 Real."

He gave me a funny look and then stamped my passport and handed it back to me. "Here you go."

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