11. Crew

Chapter 11

Crew

T his is an eight hundred and fifty-seven dollar gamble. Between this and the roses, I have spent more money on Olivia than I have on any bed buddy in the history of bed buddies. And she's technically not even that. I'm not complaining. I wanted her to have the flowers. I knew as soon as I walked into the florist that she would love them. And my mom once told me each rose color had a meaning. Yellow was friendship, white was innocence, pink was admiration, and red was passion. I feel like whatever this is between Olivia and me, it covers all those things so she got them all.

This though… booking a room at Chateau Marmont in hopes she texts or calls me tonight… it’s a gamble. Chances are I will be spending the night in here alone. Not the end of the world. The guy at the front desk is a hockey fan and he upgraded me so I have a suite. It overlooks the patio dining. I stretch out on the sofa in the oversized living room and swirl the light beer I pulled out of the minibar. The three large windows are open so there’s a constant din of table chatter filtering through the gauzy curtains and the hum of traffic from Sunset Boulevard just beyond that.

Olivia is probably out there, just below my windows, enjoying her birthday dinner. I haven’t looked. It feels a little stalkerish. If she doesn’t text me by eleven, I’ll just turn on the TV, down another beer, and go to sleep. No harm no foul. But it will suck. I really want another shot with her.

It’s mostly my ego talking, knowing that the sex didn’t actually make her orgasm. I feel like I failed her and I don’t like it. But it’s also because, if I’m honest with myself, I really enjoyed that night in Vegas. Olivia is charming and entertaining and she catches me off-guard a lot, something that hasn’t happened with a woman, or a man for that matter, in a very long time. I’m not looking for a relationship, but I could use another dose of that kind of night before I go back to my solo ways.

I tap my phone so I can see the time. Ten twenty-nine. I get up and pace the long room. My phone buzzes and I almost pounce on the coffee table like a skittish cat. But it’s not Olivia.

NASH: You wanna grab breakfast with me tomorrow? Erewhon? 7:30?

I’m mulling over the commute time in my head because he means the Erewhon in Venice. Normally that’s a quick seven minutes from my townhouse, but I’m in West Hollywood and the commute will be way longer.

NASH: Sorry. I just need to bounce something off you. It’s important.

Nash thinks everything is important. It’s probably whether he should paint his bedroom royal blue or navy blue or some such shit. He’s been renovating his house since he bought it two years ago. He’s slow and meticulous about everything. Still, I haven’t been spending much time with him at all lately.

CREW: Yeah. Sure. I can meet up but I have a doctor’s appt in the valley.

A lie, but it’s harmless.

CREW: Can we do Erewhon at the Grove? 8:30?

It means he has to drive farther since his house is in Venice, but The Grove location is only about nine minutes from this hotel. His response is a thumbs up.

I’m about to set my alarm so that I get up in time to make this breakfast rendezvous when a new text pops up on my screen. This one is from Olivia.

OLIVIA: I really loved the flowers. Thank you, again.

“Fuck yes!” I grin and start pacing the room again.

CREW: You’re welcome. It was my pleasure. But if you want it to be your pleasure, you should thank me in person.

I stop pacing and wait impatiently for her response.

OLIVIA: I’m tipsy and can’t get to Venice to thank you.

CREW: Can you get to Room 314?

As I wait for her response there’s a queasy feeling in my stomach. I hope it isn’t that poke bowl I grabbed on my way here. I was fine, like five seconds ago. Before she texted me.

OLIVIA: Room 314 in THIS HOTEL?

CREW: Yes .

OLIVIA: Shut up.

CREW: I will if you come and make me . 314.

Why is this so much fun? But also, why am I holding my breath? I am literally like a kid at Christmas waiting for Santa Claus. “You’re an idiot, Crew,” I lecture myself as I wait for her response.

It’s been almost ten minutes when I start to compose a message to her. I can’t decide between ‘no pressure, honestly. I know you’re with your friends.’ And ‘please let me show you what my peen can do!’

Then there’s a gentle knock at the door. I cross the room so fast I almost give myself whiplash. I fling open the door. Olivia looks incredible. Her hair is loose in waves that skim her shoulders, which are bare because she’s in a skimpy red cocktail dress that clings to her body like a second skin and matches the color painted on her perky, pouty mouth.

Her big brown eyes are even bigger and filled with disbelief. “I can’t believe you got a room here!”

“A suite, technically,” I say and step out of the way, motioning with my hand so she can see the huge living room.

“Holy crap!” She steps over the threshold and I close the door behind her. The dress looks even better from the back. Olivia has a killer ass. Round and plump and I flex my fingers as I remember the feel of it in my hands. “This is bigger than my living room!”

“It’s not bad,” I add.

She shoots me a look over her shoulder. It’s glassy and mischievous and I know she’s tipsy. She walks over to one of the windows, pushing aside the soft curtain that is blowing in the breeze, and sticking her head out the window. “I was down there tonight!”

“I figured,” I reply, walking up behind her and peeking out the window. I rest a hand on the base of her back. She glances over at me. “How did you get away from your group?”

"Ten and Mallory wanted to continue drinking in the lounge downstairs after dinner. Tate said he had to get back and get some rest because of pre-season training like you said he would," she explains, stepping back and looking around the room again. "I told the girls I was going to hitch a lift with Tate. It's not unheard of. I'm not a big drinker and I already had two. No, three. So I walked out with Tate but then as we waited for the valet I told him the texts I was getting from you were classmates and they were across the street at The Den and were begging me to meet them."

“Sneaky girl.”

“He got in his car I ran across the street and as soon as he drove away I ran back and… voila!” Olivia makes a flourish with her hands.

I step into her, my arm looping around her waist. She giggles almost silently and drops her purse on the floor before slipping her arms around my neck. I lean in and inhale deeply. She smells like flowers and vanilla. “Happy birthday, Fireball.”

"It's my birthday but you're the one getting your wish," she whispers, and then her lips skim my neck just below my Adam's apple. My dick is startled awake by the contact.

“I promise you, honey, my wish is a gift to you,” I tell her and then I bring my mouth to hers.

Olivia is shy and demure on the outside but her kisses… they tell a different story. Her kisses are passionate and needy in a way that makes me feel like a fucking king. Like I’m the air she needs to breathe. I tangle a hand in her hair, and as my tongue dances with hers, our bodies sway a little. It’s like we’re moving to the music of our kiss. I like it.

But then she wobbles ever so slightly. She’s in sky-high heels and between the thick throw rug on the old wood floor and the three drinks she mentioned earlier—and probably this kiss—she’s not steady. I move my hands lower, cup that perfect ass of hers, and lift her up. She squeals and laughs, tightening her grip around my neck. “I appreciate the extra level of hot those high heels bring to your already smokin’ look, but a twisted ankle is not part of the plan for tonight.”

I start walking as she hooks her ankles behind my waist to stay in place. “Where are we going?”

“The bedroom,” I tell her as I exit the living room and march down the long hall to the left of the front door.

Olivia turns her head and lists the rooms we pass. “Kitchen. A full kitchen! Bedroom. Oh and a bathroom! Wait. Stop!”

I stop in front of the open bathroom door. “Is that a tub? A copper tub?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“OMG. I want one of those in my big girl house one day!”

“Big girl house?”

She grins sheepishly and her cheeks grow pink. “Yeah. When I’m an adult.”

“You’re twenty-three.”

"I know but I still feel seventeen sometimes," she confesses. "Anyway, when I'm working full-time and settled, and I buy my first place. I don't care if it's just a teeny one-bedroom apartment, I am getting a tub like that."

She tips her head and I glance over at the copper tub, which looks more like an enormous bucket to me. Girls and their bathtubs. I honestly don’t get it but okay. “It’s good to have dreams.”

“What’s one of yours?” she asks as I continue walking toward the primary bedroom.

“To make you come around my cock.”

She bursts into a flutter of nervous giggles so adorable that I can’t help but chuckle too, even though I’m dead serious. I cross into the bedroom and walk toward the California King. I move to the bottom of the bed and then climb onto it on my knees, lowering her to the center.

I get off the bed and stare at her. “Jesus Christ you are a work of art tonight Olivia.”

Her smile gets deep and soft and she flutters those perfect dark eyelashes. “Thank you.”

I take her left ankle in my hand and patiently undo the forty-seven straps on her six-inch heels. Okay, maybe not forty-seven but my dick isn't one for counting and it's annoyed by this wait. The shoe drops to the floor and I press my thumbs into the arch of her foot, where my massage therapist does. She sighs and arches her back. "Oh God, that's heaven."

I smile and rub it a little bit longer before moving to release her right foot from the killer shoes. Then I rub that foot for a long minute. Long enough that she's purring. I smile at her and… what the…

“Olivia…” Her left leg is now flat on the mattress, ankle hanging off the bottom, while I’ve got her right leg up at my hip level, which has her dress riding up a little and open and… “You’re not wearing any underwear.”

Her eyes fly open, dart to my face, down her body, and back to my face. She turns fire engine red and rocks up, trying to push the dress down to cover herself but I reach out and grab her wrist. “Don’t. Let me look.”

“Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed.” She groans.

Her perfect, sweet, intimate self is pink and glistening and beautiful. “Baby, I’ve had my face there. This isn’t embarrassing. It’s hot as hell. Look at what you’re doing to the front of my pants.”

She glances at the outline of my cock which is currently squeezed uncomfortably against the zipper of my jeans. I let go of her wrist and she doesn’t reach for her dress again, but she’s still blushing. “I want to lick you there so badly. You look so wet and ready for my tongue.”

"I am. I've been wet since you said you were here," she confesses in a dark whisper and then she lets out a rushed breath and closes her eyes. "Hell, I've been wet since I found the flowers on my doorstep."

“Note to self, send Olivia flowers again.”

She giggles. I keep staring at her bare, beautiful pussy. “Crew. Are you going to fuck me again?”

"No," I tell her, and her face drops, her brown eyes clouded with confusion. I let go of her foot, after kissing the inside of her ankle, and reach for my belt. "I'm going to make love to you. The way I would have the first night if I knew it was a first.”

She shudders visibly and bites that plump bottom lip. “Oh.”

“You good with that plan birthday girl?”

She nods.

"Lift your dress higher." She reaches down and pulls just a little, maybe two inches. The hem is a little higher than mid-thigh now. "Higher."

She pulls it up again. The edges of her lips and the light dusting of hair above them are still covered, but just barely. " Higher .”

My voice is firm, hard even. No, it's thick. With lust. I unzip my fly as she takes a breath, holds it, and lifts the dress all the way up so it's bunched at her hips. Thank God my pants drop to the floor and I can shove down my boxer briefs and let my cock get the room it desperately needs as it's swollen to capacity. "Why the hell were you not wearing any underwear?"

“The dress shows panty lines,” she tells me, “even with a thong, and I didn’t want anyone to see my underwear lines.”

“So you risk them seeing that incredible pussy of yours instead?” I cock an eyebrow and she blushes harder. “The one only I’ve been inside?”

“Yeah well I was careful,” she says. “I don’t want anyone to see it but you.”

That sounds way better than it should to my ears—and my ego. I stroke my cock. “Can I touch it?”

“You can touch any part of me you want, Crew.”

I get onto the bed, lowering myself over her. I kiss her deeply, wildly, with all the unhinged feelings I have swirling around inside me for this woman. It's not at all normal for me to be this feral. I like sex. I'm good at it. I have had other partners that get me rock hard like I am right now, but not that make me feel so out of control. Not since… well it’s been a very long while. And while I haven’t been looking for this feeling—in fact, I may have been actively avoiding it—I'm enjoying the hell out of it right now.

I'm hovering above her and she is biting that bottom lip of hers again. I lean in, and kiss her, forcing her to let the lip go. She threads her hands through my hair and parts her legs so I can settle between them.

We kiss and touch and kiss more. It's nice. It's hot, even, but it's not what I want. Not why I asked her here. I need to fuck her again, nice and slow with attention to detail this time. I'm absurdly nervous, unlike the last time, but I don’t want her to know it. Olivia seems more relaxed than before, and definitely more exploratory. Her hands are everywhere, touching, gripping, squeezing.

As I sit on the side of the bed and dig the condom out of my discarded pants her hand wanders up my thigh and over my shaft. Her touch is gentle and warm and when she slowly wraps each finger around my length, I fight a shudder. I do not want to look weak but God, one touch, and I have to think about hockey drills to keep from pumping into her fist and finishing this before we've even started.

I try to bite back a groan and fail. I hold up the condom. “I’ve got work to do, baby. I need you to stop.”

She leans forward and plucks the condom from my hand. “Allow me.”

I smile. “Only if you do it naked.”

Her eyes get big, her pupils widening. It’s cute because I’ve just spent the last ten minutes staring at her most intimate part, but she’s nervous about showing me her tits. After blinking for a quick second, Olivia sits up and pulls her dress up and over her head. I reward her by licking each nipple like they are the best damn ice cream cones on planet Earth. She immediately starts panting and mewing and my cock is throbbing now.

“I think I’ve found a sweet spot?” I ask and she nods and pushes her shoulders back, bringing her round, small but perfect tits closer to my lips. I kiss and lick and suck her nipples before gliding my thumbs over them. My hands are a little rough from the hockey gloves and I've learned that women—and men—love the rough slide of them against their soft spots. Olivia certainly seems to agree.

"Oh my God, Crew… I could come from this alone," she confesses and I make a mental note to never forget that. I mean, I don't know why. This is supposed to be a one-and-done. Well, once again and then done, so I'll never need this info but yet… well, I mean right now, in the heat of it, I would sign up for another night. Or three. I mean I wouldn’t be the first professional hockey player with a bed buddy, right?

One of her hands goes to my hair and she tugs me off her breasts. She holds up the condom with the other hand right between my mouth and those perfect tits. "I want to come a different way. You promised."

“I did.” I smile. “And I never break a promise.”

Except for my wedding vows, my conscience—ever the buzz-kill—reminds me. I push the thought out of my head and watch her carefully tear the foil package and pull out the condom. She gives me a silly smile. “I’ve only ever done this on a banana in health class. And the banana wasn’t as thick.”

I swallow down a laugh as she concentrates like this is rocket science. I don’t want to make her feel self-conscious but this is so damn adorable. She does a good job getting it down my shaft and the sensation of someone else doing it, of Olivia doing it, steals my amusement and replaces it with desire. God, I am going to give this woman the fuck of her life. I want her to remember tonight until her dying breath.

I kiss her, holding her cheek and pushing her back into the mattress with my body. She’s so wet it doesn’t take much work to slide into her. She’s still so ridiculously tight I’m thinking of hockey drills again to keep from letting my need to pound her into the mattress and find my own release take over. I start to roll my hips, with intention, like I’m being graded on technique. I want her to feel every sensation, every inch. I keep my pelvis low and flat against hers so that my skin is rubbing and sliding against hers, her knees fall open, and she bucks into me, and I know I’m rubbing her clit with my pelvic bone, which was intended.

I grab a pillow from beside us and shove it roughly under her hips. "Trust me," I whisper into another kiss and then I roll my hips again and she gasps and arches her neck so I move my lips there. It allows her to whisper obscenities and my name which is hot as fuck.

“Crew. Oh God. Crew. Yeah… I… God… that feels good. God.”

I know it’s hard for a lot of women to come this way. I am doing my absolute best to make her one of the few who can. However, I am not averse to switching positions if I have to. For her, not me. I could come right this second if I let myself. But I don't, and I also don't have to change positions. I can feel her getting slicker, looser, as her hips move in their own rhythm chasing what I want to give her so badly. "Olivia, you're fucking perfect. This is fucking perfect."

She makes a strangled sound in response. Her cheeks are flushed but it’s not by her chronic shyness anymore. It’s pleasure making her pink now. I start moving a little faster, harder, but I still make sure each thrust ends with contact with that bundle of nerves between her legs. I lift one arm and hook it behind her knee before moving my lips back to hers. Her lips are on my neck and damn, the way she’s worshipping me makes my balls tighten dangerously.

I’m worried that this has become a battle I can’t win. I might come before her, but then, her eyes snap shut, and her mouth falls open, and she chokes on my name as it bubbles up from her heaving chest. The way her body clenches involuntarily around my cock is magic I swear I have never experienced before. I guess this night is offering up firsts for both of us.

I only survive three seconds of watching her ride out her first orgasm by penetration when I succumb blissfully to my own. My hips roll relentlessly as I milk this out in a blind fury of lust. I forget to be careful. I forget to be gentle. I just fuck her like my life depends on it.

When I’m spent I drop down on her, gasping and sweaty. “Are you okay?”

“Are you kidding?” She pants back. “I’m perfect.”

“That you are, Fireball.”