Flame (Fire on the Mountain #2) (21 page)

Snorting out a laugh, she moves her hands from her chest to her hips, cocked with attitude. “You just admitted you’re a whore, you stupid cunt.”

“If that’s what you want to call me . . . if that’s what makes you feel better, knowing the entire time we’re here I’m the one sleeping in Levi’s bed, then go right ahead, sweetheart,” I quip flippantly. “But much like you, I’m an active trader of service in an open marketplace. And as far as I can tell,” I tap my hand on the door to the suite, glance over my shoulder at the room behind me, and then smile victoriously at her, “the returns this quarter are quite impressive. My stock is definitely on the rise.”

Her face contorts into something ugly . . . something that mirrors her insides. “You know he’ll just throw you away when he gets tired of you, right? This is all a game to him.”

“Oh, bless your heart, you think I’m like you. You think I need a man’s approval and commitment in order to validate my self-worth.” A snide chuckle escapes. “Sweetheart, the day I decide to settle down and get serious with someone, it won’t be because I need James Levi or any other guy to prove I’m a badass bitch worth keeping . . . and
that
is what makes me a badass bitch worth keeping.”

I give her a few seconds to absorb the words, before continuing, “Now, if you’ll get the fuck out of my face, I need to rest. I’m sure Levi will be keeping me up late tonight, celebrating his big win.”

Allowing the door to slam in her face, I prance back to the bed, only to find my breakfast is cold and gross. Stupid bitch. I’ll just have to place another order.

The door to the suite opens and Levi walks in, smelling of the track. Earthy, gritty, sweaty. Manly with a capital
M.
It’s a scent I’ve become surprisingly fond of in the last couple of weeks, typically because when he returns from his morning rides, he’s happy, hungry, and horny. I get a good, rough fucking followed by a big, yummy lunch, and life is good.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He smiles, dropping his wallet and phone on the coffee table. “How was your morning?

I still haven’t moved off the bed, my attention no longer on magazines, but now on an old romantic comedy with Mila Kunis and Justin Timberlake. It’s a pretty cute movie with a decent storyline and mediocre acting, but hey . . . it’s Justin Fucking Timberlake. He brings sexy back every goddamn day.

Tearing my gaze from the TV screen, I toss him a lazy grin. “Hiya, hot stuff. It’s been good. I’ve been a grade-A lazy ass. How ’bout you? Are you ready for the big thingy tonight?”

“The big
thingy
, huh?” After bending down to kiss me hello, he strips out of all his clothes except his black boxers and then belly flops on the bed next to me. “Sunshine, you know I’m always ready. After I kick Foss’ ass tonight, I’m gonna do it again at the World Championships in October. He may as well just retire now.”

He rolls over on his side to face me, one hand propping his head up while the other splays across my bare thigh. Boldly sweeping his eyes over my body—still only in his jersey, panties, and socks—he groans and digs his fingertips into my smooth skin, kindling a flame of yearning in my core.

“So I got a call from Mercedes on my way back to the hotel,” he announces dryly, leaving his hand in the same place.

Her name is like a bucket of ice-cold water being dumped on my lust-fueled fire. God, I can’t stand that chick.

“Did you?” I ask, my face impassive.

A mischievous smirk plays at the corners of his mouth. “I did.” He pauses as if he’s choosing his next words carefully. “She mentioned she stopped by the room earlier, and that the two of you had a little chat.”

“Did she?” Weaving my fingers through his tousled hair, I massage the pressure points on his scalp and he sighs contently, scooting closer to lay his head on my lower abdomen, facing outward.

“She did. She said the whore in my hotel room told her to get the fuck out of her face before slamming the door.” His hand begins to slowly inch up my leg, which I take to mean he’s not that upset with me for telling his bitch of an agent off. But even if he was, I’d do it again a thousand times. Nobody’s going to talk down to me like that.

“Did I?” I twirl some of the dark, wavy strands around the tip of my index finger then release them, surprisingly giddy when they stay curled in ringlets.

His fingertips reach the apex of my thighs, feathering over the black lace of my panties. “Something tells me you probably did,” he chuckles when my knees fall open with a whimper, “but only after she said something to provoke you. She’s been trying to get you alone ever since I told her you’re my girl and that she needed to back off. I don’t think she took too well to being rejected, and she probably thought she could send you packing if you felt threatened.”

I’d laugh at the utter absurdity of her thinking she could scare me away, but I’m too busy moaning as Levi slips his hand under the thin fabric and lightly skims over my sweet spot.

“I didn’t tell her anything she didn’t need to hear—oh!” I gasp at the initial invasion of his first finger but am ready when the second one glides in next to it. “Fuck, baby, that feels good,” I purr.

Neither of us says anything for a couple of minutes as he works me into a moaning, writhing mess of desire, but as soon as I feel the climax beginning to build, he removes his hand and crawls on top of me, framing my hips with his knees as his hands pin mine above my head.

“Need you to make me a promise, Sunshine,” he says, nudging the head of his steeled cock, still restricted by his boxers, against my opening.
God, he’s really not playing fair right now.

Lifting my hips up to meet his, I groan with frustration. “What promise?”

“No matter what she says or does tonight, I need you to promise you won’t get in a physical fight with her.” He rocks forward, his thick shaft pressing against my sex.
Bastard.
“She’s gonna try and bait you, ’cause she wants you to react, but I need you to not play her game. You can say whatever you want, but do not touch her. She will press charges just to make a point.”

I mumble out a somewhat understandable
okay
. I’ve always preferred to fight my battles with the sharp blade of my tongue anyway. I mean, I’m pushing five feet tall and barely a sack of potatoes at just over a hundred pounds, so it’s not like I’m exactly physically intimidating to anyone over the age of ten.

“We have plans tomorrow,” he adds, “and I don’t want to spend the night bailing you out of jail.”

“Plans?” I croak, intrigued by this unexpected news. Magically, my panties disappear, and seconds later, he’s naked and kneeling on the mattress between my quivering thighs. He strokes his cock, and my gaze jumps back and forth between his smoldering stare and his hand working his dick. “Do these plans involve Thor?”

When he slaps the purple head hard against my swollen, hypersensitive bundle of nerves, I suck in a sharp breath of air as my hips buck up off the sheets. “It seems all our plans end up involving Thor the Great and Princess Lizzie
,”
he teases.

Something in my chest flutters wildly when he uses the names we agreed on after a lengthy discussion about naming your genitals the other night in bed. After I spent thirty minutes convincing him why it’s important to be on a first name basis with the part of your body that can bring you the most pleasure, we then spent the next hour reading names aloud to his naked cock from a baby-naming website, seeing if it responded with a flinch or a twitch to any of them. In the end, Thor was victorious, and he then decided adding ‘the Great’ to it made it sound more daunting. I’m not sure why anyone would want a daunting penis, but whatever . . . I’m still thrilled to be getting stuffed with a superhero.

In that same conversation, he also determined that Queen Elizabeth sounded too much like an old, shriveled up prune, so he renamed my crown jewel Princess Lizzie. “It sounds young and fresh and a little feisty,” he’d said while burying his head between my legs, “just like you taste right now. A little bit of sunshine and whiskey.” Yeah, I came on the spot when he said that.

As he presses past my slick folds, I’m jolted back to the present. Damn, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that sensation. Skin-on-burning skin, fusing together as one breathing unit in the most intimate union between two people. After the night on the patio, when both of us were so caught up in the passion of the moment that neither of us thought twice about not using a condom, we talked about my birth control and how neither of us had ever been without protection, deciding unanimously to continue riding bareback. It’s right up there with waffles and fried chicken.

“So tomorrow, I’ve got the whole day free,” he returns to the conversation we strayed from, as he leisurely thrusts in and out of me, “and it’s gonna be a lot of you, me, and The Big Easy. I don’t care what we do, as long as we’re doing it together.”

Wrapping my legs around his waist, I lock my feet behind his back as I grab on to the headboard above my head, an explosive orgasm swelling quickly in my molten center. It amazes me what this guy can do to my body with a few simple words.

“Hulk!” I cry out, my back bowing off the bed as the first wave of ecstasy ripples through me. “Harder . . . I need more!”

His hips piston back and forth, the speed and strength increasing with each stroke. “Fuck, Dakota,” he growls under his breath. “I’m gonna come. I can’t last any longer.”

“Come inside me, James,” I urge, digging my heels into his ass. “Give it all to me.”

A loud roar erupts from him as he drives into me one last time, emptying himself deep inside my wet heat, also something I’ve never experienced before Wednesday night. I could quickly get addicted to the way it feels to have him pulsating against my clenched walls, filling me with his essence, and then later have it seep out of me, slowly trickling down the inner seam of my thigh at the most random of times. It’s dirty and naughty and delicious. It makes me feel marked by him. Claimed. And even though I hate everything about the way that sounds, how it goes against all that I believe about pride, dignity, and self-love, if I’m being honest with myself . . . I fucking love it.

Clinging to him with both my arms and legs draped around him, I scatter tender kisses around his throat and collarbone while we both come down from the euphoric high. Once he catches his breath, he rolls us over so that I’m on top and he’s not crushing me with his weight, capturing my mouth in a long, possessive kiss in the process.

When our lips eventually part, I nuzzle my face into his neck as he affectionately pets my hair, but the sweet, romantic side of him only lasts for so long. Smacking my ass hard enough to make a loud popping noise, he sits up with a lopsided grin and looks down at my shirt.

“Sunshine, you in my jersey is hands down the single fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, and if it wasn’t the X-games tonight, I’d lock you in this room and fuck you in it every way I could think of.” He kisses the tip of my nose as he stands us both up, making sure I’m steady on my feet before releasing his grip. “But right now, I’ve gotta go win us gold. Just make sure you’ve got that on when we get back to the room later. Actually, you should wear that to the track.”

With one more soft kiss, he moves toward the bathroom for his shower, only laughing when I ask, “Do you think you could get me one made in yellow?”