Page 98 of Dirty Player
“Hey, Sis!” Beaux boomed, I was guessing more for the crowd than me. “Congratulations on this! This place is the shit.”
I slapped his shoulder when he put me down and quickly turned away. I couldn’t let anyone see me cry now, not even happy tears.
“Thanks.” I sniffed and reached for my champagne. “How are you guys doing?”
“Sore as hell, more ready than anything for Sunday,” Beaux said, helping himself to a glass of champagne. Before giving me time to prepare, he raised his glass in the air and shouted for everyone to hear, “To my sister! And to the best damn jewelry shop in town!”
Dozens of women raised their glasses in their air, stars in their eyes as they looked at the men in front of me and next to me, as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.
“To Stamped!” Beaux shouted again.
“To Stamped!” the customers shouted back.
I glared at Beaux as he tossed back his champagne in one quick chug. “I’m going to kill you.”
He winked at me. “Think of this as more free publicity. Chicks think they can come here and see me and you’ll have a line wrapped around this place for months.”
“Your ego knows no bounds.”
He rolled his hips, eliciting more cheers for an entirely different reason. “Hey. If you got it, flaunt it.”
“You’re a dork.”
“And you’re my sister, who’s always supported me and cheered for me. Now it’s my turn. Get fucking used to it.”
With that parting shot, he grabbed another glass of champagne and walked out from behind the counter, pulling me with him.
Quickly, Beaux and Kolby were surrounded in a sea of women clamoring for their attention and autographs.
Oliver sidled up next to me, one arm wrapped around my back while other women asked him to sign anything they could find in their purses. Never once did he take his arm off me, indicating exactly who I was to him.
There was something about that—his desire to be honest and forthright, to not hide our relationship from anyone—that caused me to take another sip of champagne, lean into his side, and enjoy the hell out of the ride.
I looked up and caught Melissa’s gaze. Her light blue, happily shining eyes flickered from Oliver back to me, and then she winked.Dream, she mouthed.Loveyou.
She turned away to ring up another sale before I could respond, but I took her point.
This was my dream. All of it. And I was going to live it.
***
“Faster,” I whimpered into his throat as Oliver moved inside of me.
“Slow,” he responded, looking down at me. “I want to feel you.”
It was morning, three days after Stamped’s grand opening, and nothing had slowed down.
That day was the first home game of the season. The team was 2-0, hoping to make it three wins that afternoon. I hadn’t expected Oliver to wake me up that morning, his tongue doing delicious things to my pussy before I’d fully awakened, but I’d quickly gone with the flow.
Now, he was driving me mad.
He slid out and in again, my knees pulled up high to the sides of him so he slid in deeper.
I was close, so close, but his frustrating pace was keeping my orgasm just out of reach.
“Oliver.” I gasped, as he hit a new spot deep inside of me. My fingers pressed against his shoulders as I arched into him.
“Tell me you love me.”
