Flame Page 9

  “And it doesn’t hurt that he can fuck like a porn star,” I add with a carefree laugh, trying to gauge her reaction.

  Unfortunately, at that exact moment, Gunner appears on the other side of Emilia, plopping down on the metal bleachers next to her and planting a big sloppy kiss on her face. “How are the two most beautiful women in the world doing? Did you see me kick everyone’s ass, Dakota?” He grins over at me before turning his attention back to his wife. “Did you tell her I always win, baby?”

  Emilia giggles uncontrollably as he tickles her, wrangling her into his lap, and as I attempt to tell Gunner which parts of his race were my favorite, my curiosity about Emilia and Levi fades away. Instead, I’m inundated with terms like ‘block pass’ and ‘whipping’ from the two of them, and I pretend to listen until Levi stops talking and looks up at us, tipping his chin in my direction.

  You good, Sunshine?

  I nod, flashing a wide smile. Just waiting to witness your awesomeness, Hulk.

  Hold on to your panties, gorgeous girl. Grabbing his helmet, he pulls it on over his head and makes his way over to where the guy who drives the Suburban around—Jeremy, I think his name is—waits with his bike. Gunner stops talking when he sees Levi swing his leg over the seat, and the rest of the crowd does as well once they see him riding over to the ramp along with several others.

  “All right, all right, all right. The time has come for what we’ve all been waiting for,” a loud voice booms through the speakers in the arena, and I swear I can physically feel the electricity whirring through the air, tingling against my exposed skin. “For tonight’s Big Air exhibition run, we’ve got some of the biggest names in the sport here to show you some of what they have in store for the upcoming X-Games, which begins in a little over a week in New Orleans. Included in our riders tonight are Pete “Rough Rider” Russo, James “Mr. 501” Levi, and the reigning world champion, Lance “Armstrong” Foss. Let’s give them all a big, Albuquerque welcome!”

  The packed crowd erupts, a deafening mixture of screams, cheers, and bullhorns, as the riders get ready to perform. My eyes are locked on Levi, suddenly having wished I would’ve learned a little more about what he’s about to do, but nonetheless ready to see him in action. I had no idea how incredibly fucking sexy he’d look in his riding gear, and even more, I can’t wait to help him out of it later.

  On his first takeoff, I suck a deep breath into my lungs, holding it as he shoots off the dirt ramp and into the air, his bike doing a full front flip while he separates himself from the machine, falling back to touch the seat then repositioning himself correctly before the landing. With a whoosh, I exhale, my shoulders slumping forward and a wave a relief washing over me.

  “Holy shitballs!” I exclaim. That was fucking intense, and I’m only watching from the crowd. I can’t imagine the extreme jolt of adrenaline that surges through him each time he defies gravity and flies through the air like that, but I also think about the trauma and strain his poor body must go through on a regular basis. Now, I understand why he said he could use my massaging fingers on tour with him, and I make a mental note to take extra good care of him tonight when we’re in bed.

  Emilia grabs my hand and squeezes hard. “You’ll get used to it. It took me a while too, but eventually, it just becomes who they are. No need to worry.”

  Smiling over at her, I shake my head, because she’s obviously misunderstood. “Nah, I’m not scared or worried. I wanna learn how to ride.”

  And maybe then, he can massage me down afterward.

  THURSDAY, JUNE 21

  “SERIOUSLY, HULK, YOU’VE GOTTA WORK on your bed etiquette,” Dakota announces at breakfast Thursday morning. Her brows are raised high into her forehead as she pins me to my chair with her best serious face from across the bus’ dinette table.

  My hand, en route from the bowl of cereal to my mouth, stops midair with her out-of-left-field comment. “Work on my what?” I scoff. No female has ever complained about my ‘bed’ anything.

  Unable to hide the amusement in her sapphire gaze, she repeats, “Your bed etiquette, Hulk. Surely, with all the chicks you’ve been with, someone has told you it’s not good form to logroll the other person in bed with your dead weight in the middle of the night?”

  I stare back at her blankly. I have no idea what she’s talking about.

  Gunner, who’s cooking in the small, but functional kitchen we’ve got on board, howls with laughter, like her words are the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Oh, sweet Sunshine.” He pauses long enough for me to growl at his use of my nickname for her, which I deliver on cue, then bends down and wraps an arm around her shoulders. “My cousin isn’t big in the etiquette department. Sometimes, he acts more like he was raised in the jungle by a pack of wolves, instead of the actual fancy boarding school he went to.”

  After he purposely baits me, I bend forward and snarl my lip up at him. “Fuck off, asshole. And it’s Dakota to you.”

  This makes him laugh even harder. Bastard.

  “Why can’t Gunner call me Sunshine too?” Dakota demands, playfully slapping her palms on the table. “And why do you call me that, anyway? I don’t get it.”

  “Really?” I cock my head in disbelief, allowing my gaze to flit down to her outfit—some orange and white pajama thing—then back up to her face. “Everything you wear has some shade of yellow or orange or bright red in it, even your pajamas. And then with your light blonde hair and permanent perky ass smile, you’re like a ray of sunshine bouncing around here, brightening up everyone’s day all the damn time.”

  Her face softens as she slides one hand across the laminate surface, resting it on mine. “Awww, Hulk, is that you being sweet? I didn’t think you had it in you,” she teases, lacing her fingers in between mine and squeezing hard.

  “I told you he did.” Emmy Sue joins the conversation, emerging from her and Gunner’s room. It’s not even eight-thirty and she’s showered, dressed, and ready for the day. Weird morning people. “He tries hard to hide it, but it slips out sometimes.”

  Plopping down in the chair next to Dakota, the two girls exchange a good morning hug before Emmy Sue winks good-humoredly at me. Gunner sets the plate of food in front of his bride and she beams up at him, showing her appreciation through a kiss. Then, she digs into the same damn breakfast I’ve seen her eat every single morning since she first spent the night on the bus. Scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.

  I glance back over at Dakota, who’s eating the same thing I am—a bowl of Cheerios with cut up bananas and strawberries—and it strikes me how quickly and easily she’s adapted to our routine. It’s only day four, and already her presence feels so natural and comfortable . . . effortless.

  My invitation for her to join us wasn’t well thought out initially. And had I been thinking clearly, I probably wouldn’t have asked her, or anyone for that matter, to accompany me for a two-week stint in the close confines of this bus. I don’t like to get close to people. Most of them are just interested in using my name for something or another. They don’t give two shits about me as a person.

  But Dakota is different, and four days into our trip, I’m really fucking happy she’s here.

  She never complains or acts bored when Gunner and I are gone, training and doing run-throughs for hours at a time during the day. Although, she’s said she wants to learn how to ride, which I’m dying to take her up on as soon as we have some downtime. Like two peas in a pod, she and Emmy Sue are always together. Whether they’re on the bus or at the track, it’s nonstop singing, dancing, and giving me and Gunner shit, which I love. She takes it as well as she dishes it out, both in and out of bed, but in bed is where I like her best. Always ready and willing, I’ve busted more nuts in the past four days than I have in the last four months combined. I’m afraid I may have met a chick with a sex drive that matches mine. And that’s kinda fucking scary.

  “What’s the schedule today, babe?” Gunner asks Emmy Sue while drying off the just-washed skillet. “Please
tell me we get a hotel room tonight. If I have to listen to Hulk tell Sunshine one more fucking time how sexy her nipple piercings are, I’m going to have to check them out myself.”

  Dakota spits the drink of juice out of her mouth, spraying orange liquid all over the front of my shirt and the wall next to us. Her eyes grow as wide as saucers, and as the realization sinks in that they’ve been able to hear us each and every time we’ve gone at it, an adorable rosy flush creeps up her neck and into her cheeks.

  “Y—you listen to us?” she squawks.

  Gunner and Emmy Sue are rolling, doubled over at the waist with uncontrollable laughter. “Uh, how can we not? You’re both kinda—”

  “—energetic,” Emmy Sue finishes her husband’s sentence using the nicest word she can come up with.

  It’s taking everything I have to keep a semi-straight face. Having spent the better part of the last four years in either a traveling RV or a bus, it’s no secret to me that these walls are paper-thin, and everything you do or say is amplified through the narrow living quarters. Privacy isn’t a luxury I have much of, even in my own traveling bedroom. And to be real honest, I don’t give a shit that Gunner and Emmy Sue can hear me with Dakota. They need to know I’m going to be just fine once they leave to set up their permanent home in Breckenridge.

  After everything happened with that crazy-ass clinger earlier this year, I’ve drastically pulled back from everyone except them and Rhino, chicks included. Of course I haven’t been abstinent, or anything fucking ridiculous like that, but I’ve just been much more selective.

  “Why don’t I ever hear you guys then?” Dakota implores, her eyes darting back and forth between the couple. The embarrassment is rapidly wearing off and being replaced by what sounds like . . . pride? “Are you guys not energetic in bed?”

  I stifle back a chuckle at the appalled expression on Gunner’s face. This may be the first time anyone’s ever questioned his enthusiasm or vigor in bed. Especially not a female. Emmy Sue still hasn’t been able to catch her breath, her chest heaving with the hilarity of the conversation.

  “Dakota, sweet girl,” he shakes his head, feigning dramatic disapproval at her, “we’ve been trying to not scare you away . . . to give you a few days to acclimate to our lifestyle before we unleashed our true freaks.”

  “Freaks?! Try bores!” Dakota exclaims, the corners of her mouth now tilting up as a naughty gleam flickers in her eyes. “You two are newlyweds, and I haven’t heard you a single time in three nights. If I were Emilia, I’d be rethinking my vows right about now.”

  See? Dishing out as well as she takes it.

  Without another thought, Gunner wraps his fingers around Emmy Sue’s wrist and yanks her up from the chair. “Come on, wife,” he mutters, dragging her to the back of the bus. “It’s been brought to my attention you haven’t been properly fucked in the last few days.” He stops right before they disappear into their room and turns to smirk at Dakota, who’s watching attentively. “Take notes, Sunshine.”

  Seconds after the door closes, erotic noises from both of them begin to fill the cabin as Dakota and I swap intense stares. A light sheen of sweat emerges across my forehead as the temperature inside suddenly spikes. Her rosy cheeks are no longer stained with embarrassment, but instead, they’re now burning red with untainted desire.

  Are you pleased with yourself? I ask silently.

  Pleased? Pulling her plump bottom lip between her teeth, she bites down on the pink flesh and shakes her head. Not yet. That’s your job.

  She pushes the dishes from the now forgotten breakfast to the side then pulls her feet up into her seat. Unsure of what she’s doing at first, I stay where I’m at, my dick twitching with anticipation in my basketball shorts.

  Carefully, she crawls up onto the table to where she’s sitting with her butt on the flat surface, facing me. Her legs dangle in my lap, not so accidentally brushing back and forth over my erection. Slipping first one arm, and then the other, out of the spaghetti straps of her pajamas, the thin cotton falls to her waist, exposing her perfect boobs right in front of my face.

  Please me, Hulk.

  Unable to resist the temptation, I lean forward and draw one of the taut nipples into my mouth, licking and sucking enthusiastically as my fingers begin to torture its twin peak. Curving into my touch, she starts making the sexiest fucking noises, loud as fucking hell to be sure they hear her too. This only spurs me to do more. So much more . . .

  “Fuck yes, James. Oh, my God, that’s it. I want to come all over your face. Fuuuuck!”

  Less than five minutes later, she’s laid out on top of the table, stark-fucking-naked, screaming my name, while I drink from her soft, swollen pussy. Gunner and Emmy Sue are still going strong in their room, and the combination of hearing them and tasting Dakota’s sweet honey coating my tongue, I’m about to explode in my fucking shorts.

  If anyone were to walk by the bus right now, they’d think we’re shooting a porno in here, and I haven’t even bothered wondering where the driver is. For all I know, he’s upfront, jacking off while listening to the four of us. But I don’t fucking care. I don’t fucking care about anything except burying myself into Dakota’s tight little cunt while I kiss her sassy mouth. Possessing her. Claiming her. Taking every fucking thing she’ll give me for as long as I have her.

  It’s all I’ve thought about since the moment I’ve met her. And even now that I’ve had my way with her, from Colorado down to New Mexico, and then across Texas, I still can’t get enough. I don’t plan on stopping until I’m forced to say goodbye after New Orleans, and I can’t think about that yet. Not fucking yet.

  Unfurling my long legs, I stand and gaze down at her lithe body, still squirming with post-orgasmic bliss. In one swift motion, I cradle her into my arms and carry her to our bed, where I fuck her until we both collapse with exhaustion. This wasn’t quite what I had in mind for my morning workout, but it’ll certainly do.

  THURSDAY, JUNE 21

  “I DIDN’T THINK GUNNER WAS being serious about getting a hotel,” I confess to Emilia, thanking the valet attendant for holding the door open as I slide out of the front seat of the Suburban. Following her up the front steps to the Adolphus Hotel in downtown Dallas, I dare to ask, “Is it really because I’m too loud in bed?”

  Shaking her head with a snort of a laugh, she waits for me to catch up before going inside. “No, silly. This stay was already planned. We’ll be here tonight and tomorrow night. Shows both nights, plus two public appearances for the guys tomorrow afternoon. We’re back on the bus Saturday morning for Austin and Houston, and then once we land in New Orleans next Wednesday, the last five nights will be in a hotel. That’s when things will get crazy. Radio shows, interviews, parties, you name it. It’ll all start running together.”

  “I’ll go wherever you tell me,” I reply with an unconcerned shrug and an easygoing grin. It already was all running together. “You know I’m not big on the schedule. I didn’t even know we were in Dallas until we passed a billboard back there that said so. I’m just along for the ride. ”

  “And the sex,” she teasingly adds as we enter the air-conditioned lobby. “I know you love the sex.”

  Naturally, at that exact moment, all other noise in the room fades out and her last comment echoes loudly through the regally decorated space. I know you love the sex . . . love the sex . . . love the sex . . .

  The bald doorman, the cute young guy behind the front desk, the elderly couple waiting by a pillar, and a few other stragglers in the vicinity all stop what they’re doing and stare directly at us—two young girls in cut-off shorts and flowy tank tops, sunglasses pushed up on our heads, and flip-flops on our feet. And now they all know I love the sex.

  Doubt I’ll shake that label before we check out.

  Not surprisingly, all the male staff is suddenly eager to assist us, and before I know it, we’ve each got a glass of wine in our hands as Kelvin—according to his fancy nametag—whisks us away for a guided tour of th
e Dallas landmark on the way to our rooms. Stories of poorly dressed American presidents being refused entry to the restaurant, room service mix-ups with British royalty, and opulent tapestries worth more than mansions fill up the walls of the completely-over-the-top-but-still-cool-as-shit historic hotel. It doesn’t really strike me as a place Levi and Gunner would want to stay—a little stuffy and stately for guys who play in the dirt all day. But what in the hell do I know? I’m chill with whatever.

  At the end of the tour, Kelvin delivers us outside our neighboring doors on the sixth floor and gives us the standard hotel spiel. “Ladies, your luggage has already been delivered inside your rooms. If you have any questions or concerns, or if you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call down to the front desk. Also, please feel free to make good use of all of the hotel’s amenities—the fitness center, three dining venues, and a pool at the neighboring athletic club. All we ask is that you don’t wander up to the nineteenth floor.”

  He offers his dimpled smile one last time before spinning around on his heel and making his way back toward the elevators. “Enjoy your stay.”

  “What’s on the nineteenth floor?” I call out after him for no other reason than sheer curiosity. I don’t like being told not to do something without a good reason.

  Stopping dead in his tracks, he pauses a noticeable amount of time before answering, “It’s under . . . renovation. Permanently.” Another pause. “Google it.”

  Without another word, he continues striding forward, and at the end of the hall, he turns the corner, without ever looking back. Emilia and I stand in the hallway, staring wide-eyed at each other for a split-second before scrambling into our rooms and powering up our laptops.

  “Haunted? You’re joking, right? I’m sure the guy was just yanking your chain.”

  Levi and Gunner wear matching skeptical expressions as Emilia and I share with them everything we learned about the off-limits nineteenth floor of the Adolphus while they were meeting with their manager earlier this afternoon.