~Beckham~

There is no way in fucking hell I heard that right. I am no stranger to these games and these bloody dares. In fact, these things usually end with me all blissed out. It’s just, I didn’t expect Luca to exactly agree, nonchalantly. When I face her, she doesn’t give anything away and simply chooses to meet mine with what I’d assume is her game face. And so, I crawl towards her, kneeling in front of her. She looks back at me, unflinching like she’s done this a million other times and fuck if I know. Maybe it is. I know for a fact that if it was anyone else, they’d be excited to have me kiss them, but Luca’s just – oh fuck!

Not quite remembering the precise moment our lips met, I mould my mouth over hers in a soft kiss, reminding myself over and over again that this is a fucking dare. A stupid one at that. It begins as a gentle press of both our lips but it takes her all of one second to get me to open my mouth. And when our tongues meet? Fuck!

Her lips are wet with gloss, her lips sliding over mine in a tantalizing waltz, making me wonder how I’ll ever find the strength to pull away. Luca Ackerman owns me this very minute, her mouth working its magic, her tongue tangled with mine and sipping into the cavern. She tastes like vodka spiked cherry punch that I’d seen other girls drink earlier this evening and something that I suspect might be just her. Her fingers trace my arms before sliding into my hair while my hands find their home in her waist. Her plump lips curve into a smile, telling me she’s enjoying this as much as I am and it makes my nerves tingle with pleasure. Small victories, y’all even when it shouldn’t feel like it.

My ears are ringing, past which I hear feeble howls and hollers the sounds of which bring me back to reality and tether me there, finally. When I snap my eyes open, she’s on my lap, her lips slightly swollen from its recent encounter with mine, her breaths coming out in short puffs. I know, I am no better. Our eyes meet, my blue-green with her cognac and I shamelessly dive in for another kiss when Seb yells, “Oh my god, I said kiss. Not make babies! Get a room y’all!” 

That’s when she pulls away and flips him over my shoulder, her hands still thrown across them. Luca narrows her eyes at Seb and speaks, her voice full of provocation. “Maybe we will.” Her answer is followed up with another round of rowdy yells and cheers and with my brain being fogged with surprise.

What? I snap my head to meet her eyes and I find the playfulness from when she helped me deal with Laura. Will I get a room with this stunning woman who also happens to be an athlete? Fuck, yes. There is something about her that screams danger and I find myself wanting to play with it. She’s friendly one moment and a vixen the very next before turning indifferent to the world and I don’t know what to do with it. 

I angle my body to find Seb sitting there with his complacent expression in place, with a brow cocked. “Is that a challenge, Ackerman?”

She only shrugs in response and gets off me. “Is that a challenge, Sebastian?” I almost choke on my laughter. Nobody’s called Seb, Sebastian in the last two years I have known him. My friend raises both his hands up in surrender and gives his cocky ass grin. “If that ends with my brother getting an orgasm, then I bet your pretty ass it is, Luca.” The next moment, a dainty hand is stretched in front of me. “Beckham, is it?” She lets out a small smile. “Come on. Let’s hit it!” Her words are met with multiple hollers and cavemen yells while Ellie and Jamie simply watch our interaction, their jaws dropping. 

When I take her hand, I realise she’s not quite small. Her head touches my shoulder without the help of the stools that most girls wear in the name of heels and with me being a good six two, it only indicates that she is on the taller side. How I missed that when we’d met in the kitchen is beyond me because everything about this woman just screams attention. We walk together through the back door and head upstairs, a place I’ve been countless number of times with different girls in a span of two years. Taking the lead, I push what appears to be an unlocked door open, only to see what I’d choose to unsee any day. Two people squeal and scramble to cover themselves. Luca who had been standing behind me, peeks over my shoulder and chuckles. “Lock the bloody door, you guys!” I call out before pulling it shut. Luca walks ahead of me this time, her hand still in my clasp before pushing another door open and when it’s all clear, she drags me in, her hand immediately letting go of mine.  

Just like I’d seen it happen a couple of hours ago, her eyes shutter and she’s not with me anymore. My hands still feel the twinge of her touch, the electricity that seemed to have taken root from the touch of our lips is sizzling in the air but she’s not here. And I am not about to do anything she doesn’t like even though she had been the one to propose it. Leaning against the wall closest to the door, I give her the space I assume she needs before saying, “We don’t have to do anything.” The stunning athlete looks over her shoulder from where she’s peering out of the window with a bemused smile.

“What?”

“I know we just came up to rile Seb up! I’m all for it, in fact. I’m just saying that if you’re feeling bad about bringing me here when you didn’t have any intentions, don’t be.” Her eyebrows fly all the way up to her hairline and I feel inclined to add, “And I’m sorry if I took the kiss too far.” 

“You were dared to kiss me, what else were you supposed to do?” Turning around completely, she leans against the dark wall, one of her legs propped up, mimicking my posture. She tilts her head, waiting on me to give her an answer even when the question was rhetoric.

“I was asked to kiss you. That kiss-” I sigh, my blood rushing down south just by the mere thought of it, “-that’s what the boys call tongue fucking! And I’m sorry that wasn’t what you signed up for when you agreed to participate.”

With a quirk of her lips, she asks, “Did you just apologize for kissing me into oblivion?”

Jerking my shoulders I say, “I can take a hint, Luca.”

~

~Luca~

About halfway into the party, I had rated it a bust. Not because it had been a bust, but because it was just another party, I have no clue what I was expecting, but whatever it had been wasn’t enough to keep me occupied. For a second there I had seen purpose with Sebastian, only that it had fizzled out the exact same moment when I saw him with Ellie. That chemistry? Fuck, there is no way I can try to compete with that. Gotta give it to the man though, absolute eye-candy. So yeah, bust. 

Standing there, trying to fraternize with the hundred and one friends that Jamie appears to have was torture with a capital t. While parties are my thing, people at parties are not. Sounds odd, I’m aware but that’s just how it is. But then it kinda, sorta changed when I had heard someone whine. I drift away, asking Jamie to grab me a drink before coming face to face with the textbook definition of man candy, the only man who can compete with Sebastian. I suppose only that he’s better.

Tall, olive skinned indicating some mixed blood, dark-haired with some exotic eye colour that I couldn’t quite place and most importantly, my type. It had taken me about two minutes of my terrible people reading skills to figure out if Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome was just playing hard to get or if he was genuinely uncomfortable with the blond talking to him. I let my legs take me in his direction and from about two feet away from him, I had seen the discomfort evident in his stance and the hesitance on his face. 

“Are you here with another woman, Beckham?” That question had given me an in and even though it was clearly unlike me; I don’t have a saviour complex because I clearly don’t like people to begin with but we all need entertainment- I had stepped in and answered for him, “He is.”

Surprise registered on his face – boy clearly needs to work on his acting skills if he wants to get out situations like these – and he says, “I am?” Scooting closer to him, I had tiptoed and pressed a kiss to his warm cheek.

Between that moment and now, everything else is quite the blur, except for that kiss that had taken me to places I like to frequent but haven’t visited in a while. There had been something tentative about that kiss, almost tasting of reluctance, like he hadn’t been sure whether he wanted to go there with me or not. Beckham is hot, is a hockey forward and kisses like he owns the person. That makes me definitely want to go there. So, when Seb offers me a chance on a platter, I take it up resulting in the two of us in the room of a stranger. 

“Did you just apologize for kissing me into oblivion?” I ask, baffled by this man’s response to me taking him to the room, with every intention of getting laid. Except, he’s not looking like he’s into it at all. There is absolutely no reason for him to be apologizing and yet, he is.

“I can take a hint, Luca.” No, clearly you can’t because we wouldn’t be talking at all if you actually did. He’s standing with his back against the wall next to the door, like he is ready to run out the first chance he gets, he arms crossed in front of his chest. Those biceps that are tearing through the simple black shirt he has on? Gawd! His tongue rolling that c from Luca in his mouth though? God-tier.

“Are you saying you don’t want to do anything with me?” I ask, pushing off from where I had been standing, taking a couple of steps towards him. If that is what it is, then I gotta stop wasting my time here and fuck off, back to the dorms. 

That gets Beckham’s attention from the floor and he meets my eyes. I see the heat there, the blatant lust that he forgets to hide from my direct hit. One thing that stands out about Beckham is that he is nonchalant in a way that doesn’t grate your nerves. It’s got a swagger of its own and I am into that. At least for the night. He shrugs and pushes off as well and walks towards me, meeting me chest to chest, his hand reach out to roll the pinks tips of my hair between his fingers before he’s tucking a stray strand behind my ear. His voice is sex on syllables when he says, “I am just saying I don’t want to do it if you don’t want to.”

Fuck! I lean forward and press my lips to his with no care in the world. His lips taste like the expensive beer that was being passed around below, except this time it is familiar and very, very likeable. That dubiousness from earlier is being replaced with unadulterated lechery and I thoroughly enjoy being on the receiving end of it. Beckham’s large hand cup my face, the sheer force of our kissing, tilting me backwards. He holds me up, another huge paw gripping at my waist possessively while mine play with the hair at the nape of his – all thick and silky. When we pully back for a breather, I whisper, “Does that look like I don’t want to?”

He goes all caveman on me, gripping my thighs and hauling me up and pressing me against the wall. His tongues coils around mine, his lips crashing down on mine fiercely that I fear a bruise, except I can’t pull away. Instead, I treat him with the same fervour our teeth clashing and biting into each other. My hands itch to touch him and so I tap his arm. Like an effortless tango, Beckham reads into what I want and drops me back on the ground before he’s pulling his shirt off. 

Golden skin glistens naturally against the moon that illuminates the fairly dark room through the large window, his eyes glowing an unworldly blue-green rimmed with a whole lot of black. His body is littered with a whole lotta tattoos

 His fingertips begin to map the contours of my body, beginning from the highest points of my cheekbones travelling down my nose and lips before brushing across my décolletage and between my breasts before he’s scrunching the bottom of my cami. When I look at his hands making work of it, biting my lip I look back up. His lips are twisted into a sweet smirk, if that’s even possible and he utters with a bob of his head, “It’s only fair,” in the woodsy voice. 

Chuckling, I raise my hands agreeing. “Yeah, Beckham. It’s only fair.” The top is slipped off and thrown haphazardly but I have no time to focus on it because Beckham’s dropping to his knees, his hands already at my shorts. “Now, that doesn’t look very fair!” I tease, but the six foot man is unwavered in pulling my shorts past my legs. 

“I promise you won’t even have time to think about the unfairness of it all,” he retorts and before I can comprehend his words and respond, the heel of his palm pushes down on my sex, grinding against it over my underwear. Losing all wit, I put all my weight against the wall, my hands reaching out to his broad shoulders for support. “Beckham,” I let the word slip past my lips before he’s pulling away the one thing that’s keeping the true pleasure from rippling through my body. He shuffles forward, getting my attention as he grabs my hip and just like that – eye contact and all – he pushes one long finger inside me. “Fuck,” I curse, rotating my hips against his currently static finger, my eyes falling shut.

Relentless in his motions, Beckham begins to pump in and out, his finger working its magic across the walls of my sex as he curls and twists his digit in all the right places. The peace from an incoming orgasm begins to settle in the pits of my stomach reminding me how long it’s been since I’ve let this kind of bliss numb and take over my overworked brain and body. Just when Beckham takes me to the peak with a couple of added fingers, he decided to amp up the torment by pressing the flat of tongue against my clit, licking up my slit and dipping into my entrance for just a second there. I explode, Beckham’s tongue riding me through it as it caresses my clit and sucks into the juices that are uncontrollably spilling. When he pulls back, my legs go Jell-O on him, but he’s quick to grab the back of my thighs to steady me with a soft laugh.

“You okay?” Lolling my head, because lifting it and looking down seemed like too much of a task, I give him my most unhindered smile. Throwing my head back, I don’t respond letting him figure out that I am better than okay. “You might not be all about fairness, but I am.” I slowly begin to back him up and instead of trying to take control, Beckham gives it up. When the back of his legs hit the post of it, I press my palm against his solid chest, one that is toned from years of exercise and skating, pushing him back into the mattress. Making a quick move I hover over him, making fast work of his belt buckle and his zipper and Beckham helps me by lifting his hip before I am yanking his fitting jeans down his long, long legs. He gets on his elbows and gives me a smile that can only be described as sizzling and then begins to palm himself, like it’s something we do all the time.

Without giving me no time to admire his carefully sculpted body, the man pulls me down on him, capturing my already well swollen lips in his, grinding his hard on against my core with the thin stretchy material of his boxers being the only thing that is keeping us apart. Impatience builds within me alongside the heat that he had just put off with his tongue and so I lift myself off of him, enough to pull his boxers off. Curled towards his stomach, his length looks hard and red, ready for me to just sink down on it and that’s exactly what I do, quickly sheathing his up with the condom he deftly gives me. Beckham’s eyes roll back and my head falls back as well from the moment that we have been building up since that kiss in the porch. His rough hands land on my hips and he slowly slides me up and down his cock, thrusting his hips simultaneously putting us through one delicious tango. His length hits me in all the right places and we both let out a moan. Sweat is dripping down our bodies as we both move in tandem to reach that point of shatter. Beckham somewhere in between sits up, his mouth going straight for my exposed, hardened nipple while mine goes in search of his golden skin that it can latch on to. Small grunts erupt from the back of his throat as I wrap my arms around his neck, meeting him thrust to thrust while he decides to end me by sending a free hand between us, circling my sensitive clit as my mouth takes over mine.

Fuck!

The anticipation and pleasure builds, ready to sky rocket when he flips us over. The change in angle does things to me that I haven’t experienced in a while that I almost sob from how good this makes me feel. Lifting my left leg, he hoists it up his shoulder, pistoning into me like this is the last thing he’s doing. Then without warning, I explode again; this time into a million pieces with black and white dots dancing across my eyes and a loud, manly moan to orchestrate it. He presses down on me, our breaths moving in sync with each other. I let him, enjoying the feeling of breathlessness that comes with it, unsure if it’s from his large weight or from the earth-smashing orgasm I just had. Soon, it becomes too much and I tap on his arm, quietly asking him to let me go.

Lifting his weight onto his forearms, Beckham gives me a sweet grin, one that I haven’t been at the receiving end of all that often. Giving him a small smile of my own, I finally push onto my forearms as he falls on to his side beside me with a loud thump and a deep sigh. Delaying no further, I roll off the bed, moving around the room that I haven’t taken the time to explore, gathering my pieces of clothing that is strewn around. My legs protest, slightly numb from all the activity prior to this. I hear shuffling behind me which is essentially Beckham sitting up against the headboard with a small frown marring his perfectly plump lips. 

“What are you doing?” he quizzes, even though the two of us are completely aware of what I am exactly doing. 

I turn around. “Umm.. leaving?”