The sounds of pleasure coming from him rocketed through me. There was a fire inside me lighting up every nerve ending. I had to consciously stop myself from reaching between us, feeling an orgasm bearing down on me even though I had done nothing but rut against him. This rhythm we were creating was going to make me lose control.
I could see in his eyes that he was close and feeling the same. We were going to tumble over the edge together. I kissed his neck, breathing in his scent, feeling a ball of lightning pool in my gut.
“Oh. Fuck. Aaron. Fuck.” River’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, lost in ecstasy; watching him come undone was the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. My release hit me a heartbeat after his. I closed my eyes and buried my head into his shoulder while pleasure cascaded over me. Holding on to him while wave after wave flooded me. It felt like forever and nothing all at the same time. As my head cleared a little, my legs started to shake. Sinking to the couch, I brought him down with me. Looking at him, I hauled his mouth to mine. I never experienced arousal from mostly kissing and a small amount of rutting. It appeared this man was my undoing.
I smiled, recalling what a friend said about his wife. He claimed that he suddenly felt complete the first time he kissed her. I wondered if this was what he had meant because I was catching feelings, and they weren’t just the kind that led me to bed. These were the risky ones.
Chapter thirteen
River
I stared at Aaron, the emerald in his eyes shining after they were dark a few minutes ago. My sweatpants were sticky, and I wasn’t embarrassed, even though I hadn’t come in my pants since I was an insecure teenager. It didn't feel awkward as a weird, quirky adult. What we had just done was one of the most intense sexual experiences of my life. Kissing him wasn't only arousing; it was a promise of more. Somewhere inside me, I felt like he had given me something I hadn't felt in years: hope.
At first, I was disappointed he didn’t want to take me to bed; however, as I let his words sink in, I liked that he wanted more than hooking up, which was easy. He wanted to do it the hard way and get to know me. My heart was on board with doing this slowly, even if other parts of me protested.
I had any number of men that I could hook up with. There were even professional athletes, but I had outgrown those hookups years ago, precisely on my thirty-second birthday. A gorgeous baseball player was ready to wrap his lips around me in his hotel suite. At that moment, I realized I was just not interested. I zipped up and walked out of the room. The man I had been with was still on his knees, looking at me shocked. He would never be a client, but I did gain something valuable. I realized I was happy alone, and if I decided to have someone join my life, it would be because I wanted them there, not out of a misguided need. Since then, I had many offers, but I alwaysdeclined. It was just not something I was interested in anymore. I was over anonymous orgasms. If I invited a man into my life, I wanted something more, even if I wasn’t sure how that looked. Aaron was the first man I had even considered hooking up with, but I also felt an emotional connection. My heart fluttered, knowing he wanted more than just sex.
I came back to the present and started to grin. I couldn’t recall having a sexual encounter that good ever. It felt so different than just getting off. All we did was kiss and use friction while completely clothed. When my orgasm hit me, I had seen sparks behind my eyes and would swear I nearly blacked out. I couldn’t help but wonder how things would be if we had removed our clothes; I couldn’t wait until we had that opportunity.
“What are you grinning about?” He asked me, raising an eyebrow.
“Stop with the eyebrow.” I teased him.
“I can’t. It just happens!”
“So that was fun! Do you think I have any undiagnosed injuries?” I attempted to ask him with a straight face.
“No injuries, but I might need to do another full examination again just in case.” He grinned at me foolishly, leaning to give me another soft kiss. “Your health is of utmost importance.”
“Come with me, and I can get you some clean clothes.” Maybe this would allow me to get a good look at all of him.
He beamed at me. “I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but our body types differ. Don’t get me wrong, your body is fabulous. I want to explore every inch of it with my hands. I want to run my tongue over each ripple of your eight-pack, but we have different builds.”
I smiled. “Well, sir, come with me.” I tapped my shoulder. “Charlie up.” Charlie jumped up and settled in. My little dragon seemedoblivious to what had just taken place. I reached out and grabbed Aaron’s hand.
Standing with me, we walked to the second bedroom, which was my home office. If anybody came in, they would assume I was a sports memorabilia collector. In all honesty, it was stuff that had accumulated over the last fifteen years from various clients, potential clients, companies looking for a spokesperson, or companies that had thanked me for bringing them a client.
One wall was floor-to-ceiling shelves of sports items. There were jerseys, balls, helmets, stacks of trading cards, and posters. There were items with signatures from every sport, from sumo wrestling to a player who scored thirty-two points last night at Madison Square Garden.
I’ve had as many as fifty clients at a time, which is the most I like to handle at once; currently, I have forty-four. My roster changes, losing athletes for various reasons, including scandals, injuries, or retirement. I’ve had three athletes go to another agency, and all of them wanted to return to me after they were gone six months. One of my brothers works part-time for Hot Shots. He managed those professionals whose trajectories have peaked and are on the way down. I never felt right about letting them go if they still wanted representation, so this was a great solution. They were still on the company roster, but I could work with those more active ones. I paid Forest a monthly salary to support and handle anything that came up, and I rewrote the contracts so any profit athletes make goes into their pockets. Hot Shots is the go-to agency. I picked who I wanted to work with, and those who signed with me got rich outside their chosen sport. Sponsorships are where sports stars can make money. I’ve made a whole lot of it for everyone.
The other wall had matching shelves filled with merchandise. There was every kind of sports equipment, coffee cups, kitchen appliances,and weapons. You could name anything, and it's somewhere on the shelves or has been rejected and sent to charity. I always reviewed products before pitching them to clients. Cecelia goes through all the boxes I have shipped to me. She sorted through the items to see if there was anything I would want, then donated anything rejected. More items were rejected than accepted. This room also had a huge walk-in closet filled with other merchandise.
I tugged Aaron into the closet, and we looked around. “Most of these are probably closer to your size than mine. I am tall and lean, whereas you are tall and delightfully muscular. Clothes sent to me seem to be for football players or bulkier athletes.”
I turned around slowly. “Look at all this crap. You can help yourself to whatever you want, then you can change.” I looked him up and down. “I could sit and watch you try on a few things.”
He groaned. “I’m sticking to going slow. Me having no clothes on will not help.” He grinned at me, doing a little wiggle.
“Not helping. There is a shower if you want to clean up. Jockey sends me all kinds of underwear, so help yourself.” I gave him another long, lustful look, then walked away. I closed the door and leaned against it when I got to my bathroom. Aaron was unraveling me one thread at a time.
“You want a shower, Charlie?” I had no idea if this was even a thing, but I figured it wouldn’t harm him. I pulled a plastic trash liner from under the sink. I covered my foot with a bag, wrapped athletic tape around the top, and added two rubber bands.
I stepped in and turned on the water to warm, tapping the bench in the shower. “Down, Charlie.” He flapped onto the bench. I expected him to tuck in his wings. Instead, he extended them, then turned his back to the water. I wasn’t sure if he was protecting himself from themist or enjoying it. He seemed okay, though, so I left him. I assumed as a dragon, he would fly away if he had a problem.
I peeled my crunchy pants off and pushed them over into the corner, then added the jersey. I stepped into the warm water; I watched as Charlie started to do his little dance. He was very happy.
“Oh. So, you like the water then?” He ducked his head into the spray and stomped his feet. As I ran my hands over my stomach, I couldn’t help but remember how Aaron’s mouth felt, how it was so intimate. My body was alerted to the memories, and blood rushed south, making me hard again. I mentally gave myself a high-five for the quick recovery, knowing it was about the man who held my interest and not my body being young. I had to focus on getting clean, not how much I wanted to see his mouth wrapped around me. Stopping my fantasies was proving to be difficult.
