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“Oh no, he is of no use to you, babe. You’ve handed yourself over to me, remember?”

  He kissed me and I was aware of my own flavor stronger than ever before.

  “Ah, damn.” His weight dropped over me and his cock nudged at the inside of my thigh. “I have to fuck you, now.”

  “Condom?” I gasped. I may have given myself over to him sexually, but I hadn’t lost my mind.

  He growled; I swear it really was a growl—deep and frustrated and it vibrated from his body into mine.

  “Don’t move,” he ordered. “Not an inch.”

  Between one heartbeat and the next he was over me again, sheathed. “I can’t remember ever wanting anyone as much as I want you right now,” he said onto my lips.

  “Yes, I…” Whatever I was going to say petered out into a long, low groan. Feeling Travis’ cock push insistently into my tight, trembling pussy was mind-alteringly blissful.

  He kept his mouth over mine but his lips stopped moving. Like me, it seemed our joining was all he could think of. Nothing and no one else existed.

  He kept on tunneling in, filling me. Even when I thought I could take no more he continued to stretch me upward, outward, the entrance to my pussy thinning as his girth increased at the root. The nipping, hot sensation was divine. I didn’t want it to end and damn, I was full. Chock-full, it was as if he’d invaded my entire pelvis, not just my pussy.

  Locking my legs around his thighs, I clung to him, holding him close. I wrapped my hands around his concrete biceps. Tense and tight, his arms supported the majority of his weight. Thank goodness.

  I could hardly believe what was happening. Travis was fucking me and having him seated to the hilt was making me greedy for another orgasm even though I’d barely come down from the first one. I was on dangerous ground. Whatever it was we were doing could easily become addictive.

  “Ah, yeah, I’m in you, so deep. How does it feel?” he whispered onto my lips, his words stilted.

  “Amazing,” I said, “so fucking amazing.”

  “You may come again,” he said, “in fact I order you to…when I do.” He reared up and then stared down at our pubic hair meshed together. My neat strip dark and delicate next to his riot of coarse curls.

  I cupped his chin, squeezed my internal muscles around his dick. Delighted in the hiss of air he dragged through his teeth.

  “Ah Jesus, you little minx.” He pulled out, shoved back in.

  The breath was knocked from my lungs. Again I gripped his arms, hanging on as he set a frantic, manic pace.

  A trickle of sweat rolled from his temple onto his cheek, dripped down onto my jostling breasts. Pressure was mounting inside me again. A wonderful, deep expansion of bliss that was rising in my womb.

  “Yes, yes, more, Sir, more,” I said. The word Sir was now a delight on my tongue. I liked it so much I said it again and again. “Sir, Sir, Sir, Sir…”

  “Fucking hell, come, come now.” If he’d been frantic before, now it verged on violent. On each withdrawal his cock left me before shunting back in to the hilt and then retreating. The stretch, the absolute filling and emptying and the way his pubic bone bashed into my clit had me clawing at his arms, bucking to meet him and tumbling into my orgasm.

  “Oh, I’m coming…I’m coming…” I called out.

  “Argh…”

  He froze, balls-deep. Shoved into me, as if he wouldn’t be happy until he was bursting right out of my throat.

  I spiraled into bliss, clamping around his pulsing cock.

  He latched on to my neck, kissing, biting, sucking. I arched for more, more of everything he could give me and was thankful for his solid weight preventing me from completely losing myself.

  “Ah yeah, babe,” he groaned, releasing my neck and nibbling his way toward my mouth. His breaths were blowing like a gale, his chest rising and falling hard against mine. “I think we can safely say… You’re a most excellent student.”

  I giggled, found his mouth and kissed him, hard, passionately, thoroughly, to show him that I absolutely approved of his teaching techniques. There was no one better than Travis Connolly. He was number one in the world at more things than just tennis.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sunday morning passed in a blur of fucking and fried food. It was completely and utterly unhealthy sustenance, but at some point in the night Marie and I had had a sleepy conversation about things we missed about home—and an English breakfast was one of them. I’d resolved to make one when we got up—which was closer to lunchtime than breakfast time.

  I didn’t have all of the essential ingredients in my fridge, unfortunately—it seemed black pudding was elusive in L.A.—but I did a damn good job of the bacon, eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms, fried bread, sausages and baked beans. Marie was in charge of making us each a mug of English breakfast tea while I was working my culinary magic—or at least it smelled like magic.

  When we finally sat at the table, me in shorts and a t-shirt, Marie in last night’s dress, we shared an excited grin before tucking in. “Oh my God,” Marie said, after chewing and swallowing a mouthful of food, “that is so good. I think we may have made a mistake here. After eating this, we’ll be booking the next flights home!”

  I laughed. “I know what you mean. The bacon and sausages aren’t quite what we’d get in England, but they’ll do in a pinch. At some point I’ll find one of those supermarkets that sells proper British food.”

  “Oh yeah!” Marie said, waving her fork around excitedly. “You’ll have to let me know when you find one. I haven’t had a bar of proper Cadbury’s chocolate in far too long! Like six days or something. The stuff they have over here just doesn’t taste the same. It’s a different recipe or something.”

  “Oh you’re a chocoholic, are you?” It suddenly occurred to me how little I really knew about her and I resolved to try to rectify that.

  “Not just chocolate. Pretty much anything sweet. I have a real sweet tooth.”

  “Well I’ll bear that in mind. And when I find that supermarket, I’ll treat you to some real British Cadbury’s chocolate. Do you have a preference?”

  “Aww, thanks. Now I can’t wait for you to find the damn shop! I would absolutely adore some Dairy Milk.”

  “Okay, consider it done. I’ll add it to my list.”

  “Actually,” she said, taking a sip of her tea and closing her eyes momentarily with pleasure before continuing, “I’d like to come with you if you don’t mind. I’m sure they’ll be charging an arm and a leg for stuff, but hey, I’ve got a good job so I can afford a few luxuries. Plus if I go with you then I’ve got a strong man to help me carry the bags.” She laughed and I felt a lurch in my chest. Wow, I really was the luckiest man in L.A. to have such a bright, fun and totally gorgeous woman who wanted to share a bed with me. Not to mention the dark and kinky things that went with it.

  “Yes, that’s fine. I’ll keep you posted and we can go and check out the place together. Hopefully it won’t be in the next state!”

  “If it is, you’re driving. I’m not getting my baby all dirty.”

  I shrugged. “Fair enough. Now eat your breakfast before it goes cold.”

  We continued chatting between mouthfuls of food and I did my best to slip in a few getting-to-know-you type questions, but not so many that she’d think I was interrogating her. I was delighted to discover how well we actually got on when we weren’t in a session, especially since the things she asked me and the information I volunteered didn’t feel intrusive or like she was trying to analyze me. It just felt, well, nice. Like two people who liked each other having a normal conversation. Almost as if we’d just started dating, actually.

  I was surprised that the thought had popped into my head, seemingly out of nowhere. We were fucking, playing, having fun together, not dating. But just the previous evening she’d offered to stop going out with Peter because I’d gotten a bit possessive. It was crazy—both that I’d gotten possessive over someone who was nothing more than a kinky fuck-buddy and that she
’d given up on the young pretty boy so easily.

  I decided not to examine the reasons for our respective actions. I feared my conclusions would be more than I could handle. We were different, sure, yet also so similar. Plus she was definitely older than me, that much was evident from the amount she had achieved career wise, but it wasn’t something that bothered me in the slightest, and it didn’t seem like it was an issue for her.

  Damn, that self-assured confidence of hers was one of the sexiest things about her.

  After we’d eaten, Marie announced she needed to get home. She asked if I could call her a taxi but I poured scorn on her idea.

  “Don’t be silly, I’ll drive you. It’s my fault you’re here, after all. Just give me a minute to grab some shoes and find my keys.”

  She nodded, draining the rest of her tea and clearing the table while I scurried around looking for my keys. I’d been so blinded by lust the previous evening that I had no idea what I’d done with them. If it hadn’t been for the fact that my apartment key was on the same ring, I’d have wondered if I’d left them in the damn ignition. It was true what they said, I decided, men only have enough blood in their bodies to operate one major organ at a time, and last night, my brain had certainly not gotten the required oxygen.

  “You don’t need to do that,” I said as Marie started loading the dishwasher. “Leave it, I’ll do it when I get back.”

  “It’s okay, it’s only a few bits of cutlery and crockery. And besides, it’s the least I can do for the, uh, interesting evening and the delicious breakfast. If I had some more sensible shoes with me, I’d walk home to burn off some of those calories!”

  “I wouldn’t worry,” I said, grinning widely. “I think we both burned off plenty of calories last night and this morning, don’t you?”

  A blush crept up her chest and cheeks, and it was then I noticed the love bite I’d left on her neck. Oops. I decided to keep quiet about that one—I’d let her discover it when I wasn’t within slapping distance. My cock stirred slightly as the thought ran through my head that I’d marked her, claimed her like some kind of primal mating ritual, albeit inadvertently.

  “Got ’em!” I said, holding up my keys triumphantly. How they’d gotten underneath the sofa was anyone’s guess.

  “Great,” she said, moving over to where I stood. “Time for me to go home and get showered then.”

  “You could have showered here, you know.”

  “I know, but it seemed pointless given I didn’t have any clean clothes to put on. That and the fact you’d have kept getting me dirty again anyway.”

  I slung an arm around her and pulled her to me, dropping a kiss onto her hair. “Carry on being so sassy and I’ll have you over my knee again and you can forget about going home for a few hours.”

  She let out a squeal and pulled away from me, then opened my apartment door and moved into the corridor as fast as her heeled shoes would allow.

  “I’ll take that as a no then?” I kept my voice good-natured and smiled, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d gone too far last night. She’d certainly seemed to enjoy it though.

  “Not exactly,” she said, looking around at the doors of the neighboring apartments and lowering her voice before replying, “but I just need to recover from last night first. I’m not hard-core like you, remember?”

  You have no idea,I thought. I took her arm and we walked back to the elevator and waited while it traveled up to my floor. Marie leaned her head on my shoulder—well, more the top of my arm, given her height—and pretended to fall asleep. I jostled her gently when the lift pinged and we shared a grin as we stepped inside.

  “Come on, sleepyhead, let’s get you home. Anyone would think you’d had a busy night.”

  Her response was to stick out her tongue. She was just so cute it was all I could do not to slam her against the wall and kiss her until she was breathless. Until we were both breathless.

  *

  As always, Monday came around way too fast. I was sure it had arrived particularly quickly on purpose this time though, as it was a very important day. I was playing my first proper match since the accident. It was a friendly, not a tournament, but it would still be a good test of how I was getting on. I was sure I was almost back on top form, but as good as he was at his job, training with Peter wasn’t the same as playing against a professional tennis player. I knew I’d have my work cut out for me too, as Rufus Lampani was a damn good player. In last year’s Wimbledon tournament, I’d faced him and won by only a single point. He was tough competition, and therefore the perfect opponent to give me a true assessment of my fitness level and stamina.

  I arrived at the academy in plenty of time, got changed into my kit and took my time doing my stretches. The last thing I wanted was to rush my preparation and end up with a pulled muscle or something. Setbacks were strictly prohibited, as far as I was concerned.

  As I shifted my position, I was surprised to notice a series of scratches on the tops of my arms. After a heartbeat, I realized how they’d gotten there and smirked. A rush of blood made my cock stiffen a little too. I quickly started my workout again in earnest, hoping my need for blood in other parts of my body would prevent my erection from becoming any more pronounced. I needed it to go away altogether—I absolutely could not play tennis with a hard-on. Mercifully my cock returned to its slumbering state after a minute or so.

  Lampani came into the changing rooms just as I finished my stretches.

  “Hi,” we said in unison.

  “You ready for this?” he asked.

  “Absolutely. I can’t wait to whip your arse.” Obviously I didn’t mean that in the literal sense. I was strictly into women.

  “Yeah, you wish.”

  We exchanged some more lighthearted banter as he got ready, then we headed out onto the court, but not before I’d grabbed my wraparound sunglasses. The sun was brutal out there.

  I was pleased to note that Marie was there, sitting on the benches beside the outdoor court—then I remembered why she was there. Not to cheer me on but to assess how I was playing. She was my psychologist, not my damn girlfriend. Luckily I’d hidden my pleasure at seeing her again under the stoic expression I always wore while playing, and it became considerably easier when I saw who was sitting next to her. Peter.

  I chastised myself. Obviously he was here. He was my coach. It was his job as much as it was Marie’s, and it made perfect sense to have both my psychologist and my coach watching my first match. I just didn’t have to like the fact they were sitting next to each other, chatting away and laughing like they were good friends. Especially since I knew Peter wanted so much more.

  Suddenly I was amused. It didn’t matter what Peter wanted. Marie had told me if Peter asked her out again, she’d turn him down. She didn’t want things to progress with him. I didn’t know if that was just because of me or because she didn’t like him that way, but regardless, I was pleased. She deserved better than him. Yeah, he was a nice guy generally, but his attitude to women sucked.

  Mind you, was mine much better? My relationship track record wasn’t exactly brilliant, and it was mostly because of my sexual preferences. I couldn’t shut it off just to please a vanilla chick, and as a result I’d had no long-term girlfriends. Thank God Marie had come along when she did—I’d be getting my rocks off in exactly the fashion I liked for the foreseeable future with a woman who really did it for me. I was a very lucky man.

  As I made my way toward the middle of the court, swinging my racquet, suddenly my heart sank. What would happen when Marie had received all the lessons in submission she wanted? Would she ditch me and find herself someone who could offer her kink in the bedroom as well as a romantic relationship? I’d be back to square one then, sexless and struggling to play good tennis because of my suppressed desires. Damn it. I’d just have to make sure that Marie stuck around at least until the US Open—I was sure that if I got that in the bag then my confidence would be boosted and I’d sail on the supreme high of
my success until the Australian Open and so on.

  By now, Peter and Marie had noticed Lampani and me and they’d waved hello to me. I nodded back, feeling a little stab of regret as I saw Marie’s face fall. She’d obviously been hoping for more than that, some kind of indication of our intimate relationship. But that clearly wasn’t going to happen. If anyone became aware of our increased intimacy, they’d start asking questions. Questions that neither of us would be able to answer, not without giving the game away. We’d promised each other complete discretion and we had to stick to it.

  The ball boys were in place and it looked as though Peter had brought some drinks out. As Lampani reached his side of the court, he nodded to me to indicate he was ready. I pulled the towel that had been draped across my shoulders off and threw it onto the bench at the side of the court. Then I nodded back and we began our warm-up. He served first and we did a few volleys, then switched so I was serving. Soon it was time to play for real.

  Pushing my weight up into my toes, I shifted back and forth, getting myself ready to run in whichever direction the ball happened to go. One of the things that made Lampani such a good player and a tough opponent was that he had a knack of making it look as though he was going to hit the ball one way when it actually spun in the opposite direction, causing many a player to dash the wrong way and miss completely. Over the years, his opponents had wised up to that particular trick, but just knowing about it didn’t mean you could counteract it. That took skill and determination. Luckily I had both of those traits.

  He bounced the ball off the asphalt a couple of times, then threw it high in the air and slammed it over the net. This was it, time for me to get back into the saddle. I dashed after the yellow ball of fuzz and whacked it back. That signaled the start of a series of fierce volleys. It was clear that Lampani wasn’t going to go easy on me just because I was out of practice, and for that I was supremely grateful. I wasn’t going to keep my place as number one seed if people went easy on me.

  I was totally in the zone as the ball whizzed back and forth, back and forth. Sweat poured from me and my muscles screamed with energy. I was surprised I even noticed what was going on around me. But a feminine giggle reached my ears and, hardly knowing what I was doing, I spun my head to look where it had come from. I already knew of course that the laugh had come from Marie’s sweet lips, and unless she’d suddenly developed a penchant for either sniggering to herself or finding tennis ridiculously amusing, then Peter was the cause of her mirth.