OGs: Deep Down (11 page)

“Your way,” she whispered.

He lifted her tank top and pulled up her bra, exposing her breasts. Then with a finger he trailed down her stomach and over her pants to her crotch. He moved his thumb over her open core, and she shivered.

His expression was feral. “Show it to me.”

“What?”

Before she realized what was happening, he grabbed her shorts from the crotch and ripped the material at the seams, tearing it in two. In another second, her panties were dangling on her left leg, and she was totally exposed to him.

“Bare,” he let out, caressing her waxed flesh and sliding his finger along her slit. “And fucking wet already. Do you want me?”

She nodded, unable to say a word, arching into his hand and stifling a moan as he teased his entrance with his calloused digits.

“Take my cock out,” he ordered, his voice rough.

Mike had always been a sweet talker in bed.

Now she got nothing but clipped orders.

Much to her surprise, that worked for her too.

Hands shaking, she unzipped him, and his dick sprang out.

Hard.

Big.

Pierced.

Oh. My. God.

That he was hung and had the most beautiful cock she’d ever seen was nothing new. The piercing was. There were two metal beads, one on top of the flared head, the other under. Apa-something that was called, or so she thought.

Unable to tear her eyes from the sight, she started panting louder, her pussy flooding.

“I see you approve,” he whispered, and grabbing himself from the base, he nested his cock on her pussy lips. She cried out at the contact, her whole body tensing. Slowly he glided his erection along her tender folds, the lower bead cold, dragging against her hot flesh. Then he pressed his crown against her opening, and Kyra sucked in a ragged breath, preparing for him to thrust in. But he didn’t. He moved his cock up again and nudged the velvety-smooth tip against her clit.

She whimpered. It had been so long. And she’d dreamed about this for so many years. This was Mike between her legs, his mouth on her nipples. His cock pressed against her pussy.

It was too much, all her senses on overload. Kyra sank her nails into his arms and threw her head back, pushing herself against him, her legs already trembling. “Mike, I’m going to come.”

“Open your eyes,” he growled as he cupped the back of her head and urged her to look at him. “I want to see you coming. And I want you to see who’s making you come.”

She reached for his neck, and panting, she held tight while he rocked against her. Her orgasm overtook her suddenly, her pussy clenching sharply while she cried out his name.

Shaking still from the aftermath of her release and gasping for air, she went for his cock and positioned it at her entrance. Her body remembered him. How good it felt to have Mike inside her. How right. They needed a condom, and she needed him inside her, but he took a step back.

“Guess I’m good enough for a rebound fuck after all,” he said as he tucked himself back in and left.

Chapter Five

Kyra didn’t notice she had company until the song she was dancing to came to an end and she heard the applause. Several girls from the Fun Hip-Hop class were sitting on the floor.

“You’re awesome,” Kendall said, getting on her feet. The other three followed suit.

“Thank you, girls. I was just fooling around, having fun.” Dancing had always done the trick for her. Some needed drugs or booze to space out. She just had to put on music, let it take over, and she was in her zone. Happy and relaxed. Complete. Nothing else in the world had done that to her—well, nothing except being with Mike. “Why are you here so early? Still one class to go before yours.”

Kendall shuffled her feet, lowering her gaze. She was a pretty fourteen-year-old and had apparently been chosen as the spokesperson of the group, because the others nudged her.

“Come on,” the girl behind Kendall, Stacy, whispered.

“Going, going,” Kendall muttered under her breath.

Kyra glanced at them, amused. “What’s up?”

Kendall cleared her throat. “We wanted to ask you something. You must be very busy, and we totally understand if you say no. After all, you danced for Amantis, which, by the way, we totally love. You probably have a thousand things better to do than… And we don’t want to assume that someone of your stature would—”

“Spill it, Kendall,” Kyra said with a smile, looking at the fidgeting girl.

“We want to enter a dance competition, and we need help with the choreography,” Kendall said so fast Kyra barely understood her. “There, I said it,” she added, glaring at the others.

“Of course I’ll help you.”

“You will?” the four girls asked at the same time, their eyes as big as plates.

“Sure. Did you already choose the music?”

No one was listening; they were all giggling and bouncing in a complicated, not very coordinated victory dance.

“Guys, guys, calm down. You have a song?”

“Oh, yes, but if you prefer something else, we’ll totally agree to whatever you want,” Kendall said.

“It’s your performance, so you choose the music. Do you have it with you here? You could show me what you got so far.”

Now they looked nervous. Megan chimed in. “Hmm, we haven’t got so much. Truth of the matter is, we suck.”

“I’ve seen you dance. You don’t suck.” They were developing teenagers who were struggling with finding their identity and moved a bit awkwardly, but they loved to dance, and that was really the basis.

“Wait until you see us,” Stacy warned with a snort.

“She got that NFL guy to dance like Patrick Swayze. She can fix us,” Kendall insisted.

Kyra rolled her eyes. “Come on. Show me.”

The girls moved warily to the CD player, murmuring all the time. They looked like they were ready to make a run for it, but they didn’t.

Kyra watched their routine. The choreography was a mess, true, but nothing that couldn’t be improved. And they were good; they had the passion about dancing that so many jaded dancers lost.

As the song ended, Kyra walked to them. “When is your competition?”

“In a month and a half,” Kendall replied.

“Okay, so what if you start coming in one hour before my first class every day?” She would have to bring Sam with her, but it was doable. And her daughter would love it. “I’d have to speak with Mr. Haddican first, but I’m pretty sure he’ll agree.” After all, the Haddicans were involved in everything going on in Alden.

“Really, you’ll help us? We can’t pay you. If we win, there’s some money, but it’s just pennies.”

“Well, that’s bad, because I wouldn’t take your money anyway.”

The girls all jumped her, squeaking.

Kendall pumped a fist in the air. “Can’t believe we got you to help. Amantis’s lead dancer. Yay!”

Kyra laughed. “Don’t let the whole aura around Amantis fool you. I started dancing here too, in this gym.” In another lifetime, it seemed. One where Mike loved having her around.

After the kids left, since she had ten minutes before her next class began, she went in search of her daughter. She found her, of course, with Mike, surrounded by Rebecca and other grandmas dressed in yoga pants. Seniors’ self-defense class.

Mike was laughing, the other grandmas too. Sam had a big smile on her face. Unwilling to disturb the group, and sure all that relaxed atmosphere would fly out the window if she approached, at least in what concerned Mike, she leaned on the far wall and watched.

Kyra didn’t see Angie come until her friend leaned by her side. “I heard the first time Mike asked them to warm up, they pulled out a thermos with hot chocolate.”

Kyra chuckled. “I can see that.” And she could see Mike sitting with them to drink it.

“Word on the street is, they are coming up with their own team T-shirt after seeing the ones from Bottoms Up. I shudder to think what they will come up with.”

“
Bottoms Down
on the front.
We’re ancient. What’s your excuse?
on the back. Rebecca told me.”

“Get out of here!” Angie said.

Wilma said something, and Mike threw his head back and laughed wholeheartedly.

Kyra stared at him. He had people coming from Boston for his karate classes. Hell, they came from all over the country, she’d heard. Any other guy would be pissed he had to spend an afternoon working with grandmas, or he would have flat-out refused to do it. Not Mike. He not only stepped up to the plate, but he looked like he was having fun. “He’s good.”

Whether dealing with grandmas or strippers, he was always the best.

“You know already that Sinful is just the manager, right?” Angie continued, shooting her a recriminating glare that said
I told you so.

“I know. Red told me. Mike too when he came to fix the steps.”

Angie lifted her brows. “He what?”

“His foot went through one of the porch steps, and he came by to fix them.”

Kyra might have sighed; she wasn’t sure. Angie looked at her, then at Mike.

She narrowed her eyes on Kyra. “You had sex with him, didn’t you?”

“Not sure.”

Angie choked on the breath she was taking. “What do you mean, you’re not sure? Did or didn’t he get into your pants?”

“Technically speaking, yes. He did rip my pants off, but once there, he wasn’t interested in proceeding and getting anything anywhere, if you get my meaning.”

“And what were you doing in the meantime?”

Rubbing against him and coming shamelessly on him?

Kyra debated whether to tell Angie, but at the end there was no need, for she took a glance at Kyra’s face, flaming by the feel of it, and guessed it.

“Good?”

Kyra hung her head. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

It had been several days since the kitchen incident, and they hadn’t talked yet. As a matter of fact, they hadn’t been alone. He’d kept coming to her place, though. She now had a new lock, the windows that were beyond repair had been replaced, and her leaking roof had been patched up. Each time she’d tried to object, but Sam had been around, and Kyra hadn’t wanted to make a scene in front of her. The way Mike had ignored her, she doubted he would have listened to anything she had to say. And in truth she wasn’t sure what she wanted to tell him. She was so damn conflicted. She closed her eyes, and she could still feel him hard against her core, him refusing her kisses, his fist pulling at her hair. Keeping her at a distance and totally exposed to him. And making her come like she hadn’t in so long she didn’t care to count. Then he’d stepped back, zipped up, and walked out on her. God, how she’d needed him. And hated him too.

“Now what?” Angie asked.

There was so much hurt they couldn’t let it go, even now, seven years later. Sex would just complicate matters.

“Now nothing. We ignore each other and forget it ever happened.”

* * * *

Mike closed the front door of the gym as the last client left, and was doing his usual rounds, checking everything was in order, when he realized the shower was running in the girls’ locker. There shouldn’t be anyone left. He knocked, but no one answered, so he opened the door a crack.

“Hello?”

There was no answer, but he noticed Kyra’s things on the bench. Hadn’t she left? Her classes had finished a little while back. She’d been dancing alone when he’d left to run an errand, and he’d just came back to relieve his father.

His whole body tightened. He knew he had to step back and close the door, but he couldn’t. Unable to help himself, he walked to the showers and stopped abruptly. The room was filled with steam and Kyra was there, all wet and slippery. He wanted to leave, but he was rooted to the floor, his cock rock hard, staring like a fucking perv as she threw her head back, her eyes closed, and rinsed her long hair, soap running down her ass.

God, he wanted her so badly. Walking out on her when she’d been all but begging him to take her had been so fucking hard. He’d repeated to himself ad nauseam that he wasn’t going to touch her again. That he would let his cock fall into pieces before giving in. She was bad for him, always had been. Only now, a bunch of years later, he wasn’t older and wiser; he was still a monumental moron when it came to her.

She must have noticed someone was watching her, or maybe it was his heart thumping like mad that had given him away, because she turned around and, gasping, covered herself. Not that her hands could cover that much. Her bare pussy was in plain view, soap sluicing around it, and her arms were pressed in front of her boobs.

For long seconds neither one said a word. They just stared at each other.

“Tell me to leave,” he ordered hoarsely, fisting his hands so hard his nails were marking his palms.

She didn’t reply, looking at him with frantic eyes, water spraying her from behind, steam twirling around her.

“Tell me to get the hell out of here,” he forced out, taking a step toward her. And then another and another. As if someone were pulling him by a rope, and he couldn’t do anything about it. “If I stay here, I will fuck you.”

She still said nothing, but she lifted her chin and lowered her hands, baring herself to his gaze. And that was it. Her window of escape going bye-bye. He grabbed her and buried his face in her neck, breathing her in, gliding his hands along the curves and valleys of her sweet, wet body.

“I want you so fucking much,” he growled. He was dressed, getting soaked by the second, but he didn’t care.

She looked at him warily. “You’re pissed at me.”

“Yeah. My head can say whatever the fuck it pleases, but my dick wants what my dick wants.”

He thought she was going to be appalled at his crassness—God knew he was—but she didn’t pull away. She chuckled sarcastically. “And your dick wants…”

“You.” It was her, always her. He was fucking tired of dealing with that raging hard-on all by himself because no one else would do. Bone-deep tired of wanting something he couldn’t have. No more. He was done with this fucking obsession. He was going to take her and fuck her out of his system and his head once and for all.

It couldn’t be as good as he remembered, could it? That was his brain fucking with him, not letting him move on.