Page 34 of Green Flag (StormSprint #2)

Everly

My head was thundering. Last night, we’d celebrated the final race before the Christmas break, and once again, I’d ended up in bed with a hangover.

Luca treated me the same as our first night sharing a room, four days before: an iced coffee, a bottle of water, and a line-up of vitamins.

He’d offered for me to come to the gym with him and join his training session with Marco, but I refused. That simply wasn’t happening.

But it meant I had some time alone in the hotel room and… it had been a while since I’d been able to touch myself.

Though it was an intrusive thought every ten minutes in his presence.

Each night, he’d applied my steroid cream and I’d had to almost tear the flesh of my palms off with my nails to stop myself from climbing him.

I showered and washed my hair, trying to distract myself by singing into the shower head like a microphone, but it wasn’t enough.

And when I came out of the en-suite and remembered I’d packed all of my clothes into my suitcase last night… I grabbed Luca’s top off the side and all was lost.

I wasn’t going to see him, smell him, or hear him for two weeks.

My poor family; I was going to be insufferable without my Luca fix.

Because I loved being around him. The nights were now my favourite time of day.

We would FaceTime Fia and then get in bed and talk about nothing and everything at once.

I wanted to see everything through Luca’s eyes.

I might disagree with him sometimes, but his perspective on life was so refreshing.

I loved his existence. It complemented mine.

At the same time, guilt crept into my bones. I wasn’t sure if I added much to his. I was trying to be a good person. I was better than I had been, but I wasn’t where I wanted to be just yet.

I dismissed the thought and caved.

Luca had been gone for half an hour and I would no doubt be alone for another hour… and, oops, I was lying on the bed, legs spread.

Remembering that first night, I traipsed my fingertips painfully slowly up my leg, dawdling an inch above my knee, waiting for goosebumps to prickle my flesh.

My fingers were far more delicate than his, but with his scent surrounding me, I imagined his voice in my ear. Circular motions. Not too fast. Two fingers.

I tried so hard to make my imagined Luca proud, but I hadn’t lied then, and I struggled now. I was impatient. Last night, when I thought he was in a deep sleep, I tried to rub one out, but he grunted and rolled over, tugging me into a spoon.

How I’d survived being in his overwhelming, masculine presence for so long was beyond me.

And now I was at breaking point.

My breath caught as I gave in and ran gentle fingers over my panties, pressing the cotton material to my wet pussy.

This was the issue. I’d just dried myself and here I was, imagining Luca’s voice, smelling him and, like magic, wet.

The forbidden anticipation was too much, I could combust from the tiniest flick of my clit.

But with how built up I was, if I tormented myself more… I might incinerate, not just combust.

One of the things I hadn’t packed was my wash bag. I reached over to the floor to pull out the small pocket-sized vibrator. I inserted it just slightly into myself and turned it on.

Uncaring for my wet hair, I fell back on the pillows and rubbed at my clit, imagining his hold on me from behind again, dreaming that it was his touch, not mine.

The heat built within me, tightening low in my stomach. My breaths quickened and my heels dug into the duvet as my eyes rolled back and—

A click sounded over the hum of the vibrator as the aircon turned on. Good. I needed to cool down so that I could come again and again and—

“Oh, fuck—”

“Is that my top?”

I sprang out of my skin. Ice cold ran through me as if the aircon had actually been put on. Nope, that noise had been the damn door.

Because stood in front of me was Luca Mendes. The man I’d nearly just come to the thought of.

I froze. I was dead. Buried. This was how I went—caught, soaking, with his shirt around my tits and a vibrator in my hand. What an iconic way to go.

Get it together.

I pulled down the top he spoke of to cover myself and attempted to put sounds into words to form some kind of sentence… but I fell short.

He was unbothered, turning the desk chair around to face the bed. “It looks good on you,” he complimented as he sat and then waved a hand in my direction. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Words were still failing me.

I was mortification.

“You asked Ces if he liked to watch,” he said in the silence. “It’s no secret that I do.”

Damn his damningly beautiful face. I wanted to hit him.

Fueled by frustration, I hurled what was in my hand. He caught it with ease, glanced down, and gave a chuffed smile.

“Is this a not-so-subtle invitation?” he asked and lifted the object that I’d thrown at him like a child.

Oh my fucking god. I had just launched my vibrator at him. He marvelled the vibrator that had been pulsing inside of me no less than ten seconds ago. And — oh my good lord — was still vibrating in his hand.

I needed to stop being so impulsive and regulate my emotions like he did.

“No!” I cried and launched myself over the bed to snatch it from his hands.

His face shifted to pure amusement, fighting a smile — or maybe a laugh.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said and leaned back in the chair. “Maybe we can come to some form of arrangement.”

With him? Sexually? Like that night?

But we weren’t even kissing in public, let alone…

Now words had no chance because my mouth was so dry, my thoughts spiralling, thinking just what that might be like. How would he touch me if this was on a regular basis? How long would we last before caving and truly fucking? How quickly would I fall head over heels for him?

And it might be wrong but, fuck, I wanted that.

Maybe my face showed confusion or disgust, but his eyes softened and he leaned forward to say, “We can arrange a time for each of us to be out for a while so that we can go uninterrupted— unless, of course, you would like an audience. I’d give you my undivided attention.”

Oh.

A fresh wave of embarrassment rolled through my body, heating my cheeks.

“That’s a good point,” I snapped, standing at the foot of the bed, my chest inches from his. “What are you even doing here? You were meant to be gone for another hour.”

Without turning, he lifted the airpods behind him from the desk. “Forgot these.”

“Right,” I said quickly, wanting to shake out all of the nervous, frustrated energy from my limbs.

His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing in my top?”

I did not fluster easily. Not normally.

But knowing my pussy was soaked under the hem of his top made me cringe, stepping back into the wall.

His head leaned to the side and the gleam in his eyes told me he wasn’t angry — more curious. I’d rather he was angry.

He walked forward, almost caging me against the wall of the little walkway into the hotel room.

“Everly,” he pressed, his voice a gentle tease. Amusement danced in his gaze as he crossed his arms. “What were you thinking of?”

“Nothing,” I cried, but my high-pitched tones blew away any chance of him believing me.

The smirk on his face and the affectionate narrowing of his eyes made my heart stutter.

“I was thinking of my book,” I snapped, proud I managed to get out so many words in one breath.

His shoulders shook with silent laughter.

“Why did you have my top on?”

Lips in a tight line, I bashed my fists against the wall behind me, so flustered by this exchange that I couldn’t come up with an excuse.

To my utter horror, the vibrator came to life in my hand, filling the room with a soft buzz.

“Fuck,” I muttered, pressing at it, desperate for it to turn off but unable to stop myself from noticing his hard-on in those grey joggers.

It was only a second before his chest pushed into mine, the vibrator thrumming between our bodies, powering my foolish heart into overdrive.

This was what I’d imagined when I’d sworn, so close to coming. His piercing blue eyes fixed on mine, enjoying my pleasure.

Though here, he was enjoying watching me squirm with a grin.

“I’d packed all of my clothes,” I blurted.

He nodded and let the silence fill the room for too many beats before stepping back and pulling the hem of the top, brushing the skin of my thigh. My pussy clenched.

“Keep the top,” he said gruffly. “I’ll spend my alone time in here thinking of you in it.”

And he walked out, taking his headphones and my pride with him.