“What do you—” she cuts off with a shriek as I reach down to hook her legs around my waist and hoist her up. She immediately loops her arms around my neck.
“What are you doing?”
“Carrying you.”
“Couldn’t you have done a princess carry?”
“I could have. I also could have tossed you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.”
She pouts her lips, and I toss her up a bit higher so her heat isn’t as close to my groin. Which means her tits are now eye level. I just can’t catch a break, and I’m trying damn hard to be somewhat respectful.
I guide us over to the bench, struggling to watch where I’m going and not search for a glimpse of her nipples through the holes in her top. I saw the flimsy little bow she tied to keep the top up, and it would have been so easy to lean over and use my teeth to untie it. To watch it tumble down and reveal the tops of her creamy breasts.
Restraint, Knight. Restraint.
I bend down on one knee and place her on the bench, my hands slowly grazing down the back of her thighs in the process. I hold her gaze for a second, heat filling her eyes, before standing up and turning around to face the view.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The air has a slightly salty taste up here, and I love it. Opening my eyes, I stare out at the scenery in front of me. You can still see the highway and suburbs below the edge of the hill, but beyond that is the unrivaled view of the ocean. Miles and miles of glistening blue open water. Waves crashing against the sand, little dots of humans milling about, a few boats chugging along.
“Wow, this is gorgeous.”
“Worth it?”
“One hundred percent.”
I smile to myself before turning back and plopping myself on the bench next to her. She’s taken off her purse and hung it over the armrest. It’s a rickety old bench. I tried to fix it up a while back, but it’s not really my forte. People have scribbled their initials into it and carved their names; there’s also the occasional Sharpie graffiti.
She leans her head on my shoulder, and I tilt my head to lean back on her. It’s a bit of an odd angle, but I don’t dare move an inch.
We sit there for a few minutes in silence. It’s something I’ve never done before. Normally people feel the need to just keep talking, to fill in any blank spaces. I’m always talking to myself for work, commentating, making sure that something is always flowing no matter what I’m playing. Silence isn’t something I get a lot of, not even in my own mind. But this, right here and now? It’s comfortable.
It also freaks me out.
“So, is this where you bring all the girls?”
I let out a deep laugh.
“Yeah, right before I kill them and stash their bodies in the mountain.”
“I had a feeling that was the case. To think, I’m going to die a virgin.”
I sit up straight.
“What?”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. God, the look on your face.” She doubles over with laughter.
“You’re such a brat.”
She has the gall to wink at me in response, and I just scoff.
“Really, it’s a gorgeous view. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
Although, I really haven’t brought anyone else up here other than the guys before. It’s our place where we can just get away from it all. Decompress and let our minds blank. Sometimes we bring beers or a joint, but more often than not it’s just me coming up here alone after a tough tournament or a hectic stream schedule.
“Why did you bring me here, then, out of all the places you could think of?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you could’ve just as easily taken me back to your place. We didn’t really settle on a location.”
That’s true. Except we don’t bring girls back to our place. Ever. We would run too high a risk of them figuring out what our real professions are—even if we took down the giant The System poster and stashed our awards. On the flip side, it would just be plain dumb to bring a girl back to our place in our masks. Stalker Fan 101 says not to do that.
Our setup has proven to be an issue on a few occasions. For some reason, girls prefer to head to a guy’s place over bringing them to theirs. I’ve had to shell out a few hundred every once in a while to grab a hotel room, which makes me feel a little seedy. It’s why I’ve ramped it down over the last few years. Just the occasional quickie in a convention bathroom or a girl on her knees in some back room. Classy? Not really. A safe stress reliever? Totally.
I look at Stevie again. She’s leaning forward, elbows on her knees and chin resting in the palms of her hands, as she stares out at the open landscape. I’m once again struck by how many sides to her there are. From the sultry cocktail waitress to the innocent angel to the carefree woman next to me now. She’s like a flower that never stops blooming.
“If I’d brought you right to my place, wouldn’t I have seemed like a presumptuous douche?”
“Well, hanging out at someone’s apartment doesn’t equal consent.”
“True.” I lean back on the bench, spreading my arms across the top. “You know, there was a reason why I wanted to come here.”
She turns to me, cocking an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Really.”
She sits up, angling her body slightly toward mine before resting against the back of the bench lightly. The tips of my right fingers are millimeters from her shoulder.
“And what’s that reason?”
I smile at her, letting my hand drop slightly so my fingers graze against her bare shoulder. I move them back and forth, holding eye contact with her the entire time. I watch her pupils dilate, little by little, with each stroke. I can’t stop myself from biting my lip before slipping my hand onto the slope of her shoulder, my thumb lightly gliding up the length of her neck. Her lips part ever so slightly, and that’s the moment I’m done.
My hand moves up to cradle the base of her neck, and I pull her toward me, leaving barely an inch between our lips. Our breathing blends for a few seconds, my chest thumping with anticipation. I graze my lips against hers, a preview, before dipping down to her neck. I drag my bottom lip up her neck until I reach her ear, lingering a moment before capturing her lobe and giving it a soft tug. The quiet gasp that leaves her shoots right into my hardening cock. I smile to myself before finally, finally, giving in to what I’ve been dying to do since the moment I laid eyes on her.
Her lips melt against mine, the kiss soft as we slowly move against each other. She tastes like an angel, her feathery lips bringing me to the gates of heaven. I have never wanted a kiss this much in my life, and the satisfaction of finally tasting it is euphoric. It’s everything I imagined and more. My tongue teases her lips apart, and I take my time exploring her as she sighs into me, knowing I could spend all day like this.
I pull back, looking at her. Her golden eyes are dripping with lust. I’m about to drag her into another kiss when her hand suddenly shoots up and grasps my jaw, pulling me hungrily into a new kiss. It’s fervent, desperate, delicious. A complete switch from the soft, lazy perusal of before. But I match her one for one, devouring her with equal ferocity. My little angel wants to dance with the devil.