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Sex Idol Page 2
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Page 2
A treasured memory.
“Yes, a baby.” This time there was no mistaking the defiance in her tone.
Antonio prevaricated by pretending interest in the memorabilia display that ran the length of the room. That last time together, the line between professional and personal had blurred. Emotions had cracked their easy friendship. They’d gone from friends and lovers to complete strangers, and he regretted it to this day.
When he’d heard the ad on the links for Sex Idol, he’d known this was the perfect opportunity to mend their relationship. The ideal time to persuade Sasha to give up teaching and come out on the contest circuit again as his partner.
His career and reputation depended on this win.
His sanity.
His father, his older brother, they’d have to admit he wasn’t a screw-up, that he had power in his own right and Antonio’s decision to follow a whim wasn’t a bad one.
And best of all, he’d become a regular winner again with Sasha at his side.
Oh, he knew he’d have to tread carefully with Sasha and maybe tell the odd white lie or two to make this happen, but still…
He pushed aside the sliver of guilt and turned away from the sex contest souvenirs to focus on her frowning face. He attempted to read every nuance since knowledge was power. They’d been superb together once and could be good together again—if she gave them the chance.
But a baby... A baby sounded serious.
Way more than friendship.
Too personal.
Antonio had no idea what to say. She’d thrown him a curly dilemma.
“I won’t change my mind. Those are my conditions.” Her eyes glowed with an inner fire that told him she meant every word. “Baby and the cottage. You don’t have to do anything else but provide the sperm. You can walk away without looking back.”
What the hell? Hurt stole his equilibrium, made his thoughts race. She wanted to use him and send him on his way? Delay. Delay. Trot out an excuse until he could think things through. He didn’t like surprises, dammit. His hands fisted at his side, and when Sasha’s brows rose, he realized he was broadcasting his doubts loud and clear.
God, he had to get a grip on the situation before he lost everything. “I’m on contraceptive shots. You’d have to wait until the off-season before I become fertile again.”
Sasha dipped her head in a stiff nod, her green eyes boring into him as if she sensed his uneasiness and the guilt that pounded him. “That’s fine. I trust you.” She thrust out a slender hand. “Shake on it.”
Okay, he’d go along with her. He’d have the rest of the season to talk sense into her, to make her see they belonged together as partners on the circuit. Together they would be unbeatable. He sensed it with every particle of his body.
Without letting himself second-guess, he grasped her hand in his and squeezed. Her touch, the unique floral perfume from the skin lotions she made herself, vaulted his cock to life with a vigor he hadn’t experienced for some time. Excitement dove through him as he dragged in sweet vanilla and cinnamon carnations. He knew he was right. Yep, it was the only possible solution, so Antonio followed his gut instinct, quashing the distaste he felt at lying to the woman who had once been his best friend.
“I agree,” he said.
Somehow, he’d change her mind. It was for the best, for both of them. On the contest circuit together, no one would beat them.
“All right. Do you intend to enter the couples’ competition or the individual?”
“Both.” Antonio stared at her stiff, unsmiling face. What had changed Sasha from the carefree woman he used to know?
Shit, a baby.
The thought kept rattling through his head like an unwanted rash on performance day. He’d agreed but he couldn’t believe she meant to follow this idea to a conclusion. He had to get Sasha to partner him again, so he could hold up his head with pride when his family derided his career choice. But what would Sasha do with a baby? The thing would howl throughout the judging. Sasha would get stretch marks on her beautiful body. Her boobs would change shape. Sag.
Antonio suppressed a shudder. “Are you sure a baby is a good idea?”
Sash’s expression turned hard and held a trace of contempt. “If you don’t like the conditions, you should find another trainer.”
Her jaw locked solid with determination. The woman wasn’t going to change her mind. She’d always targeted a goal and raced toward it. Looked as if she hadn’t changed in that respect.
“No, I’ve agreed. When’s your next class? Can we have a training session today?”
Sasha’s thoughtful glance sliced through him, and he almost shuffled his feet like a green boy. Him. Uncomfortable. Shit, he hoped she hadn’t heard about the problems with his latest partner. He studied her icy green eyes again. Nah. They’d both agreed to keep it quiet. Nothing had appeared on the media links. Yet a small whisper taunted him. She hadn’t heard yet.
“The earliest I can fit you in is tomorrow evening. My class finishes at eight.”
“I’ll be here.” He squeezed her hand briefly in gratitude. The urge to wrap his arms around her and sink into a real lip-to-lip kiss shocked him.
Antonio tensed and forced himself to step away from the desk. “See you tomorrow.” He waved in farewell and walked away, taking confusion and turmoil with him. The planned reconciliation hadn’t gone exactly as he’d envisaged.
* * * * *
Sasha peered through the window screens for the fourth time, then fussed with the leafy green fern that sat on a wooden pedestal table. The insides of her stomach jolted as she plucked off a dead leaf. Her hand curled, crushing the leaf in her palm with a crinkle.
How the heck was she going to watch Antonio and his partner Bridget, let alone train them to win? The big question. How could she watch the man she loved fuck another woman?
Cripes. She’d never been into self-flagellation before. The on-stage sex meant nothing. What they did onstage in front of a voting audience was a job. That’s all. Sasha shoved her instinctive denial to that thought away.
Too bad if she hesitated now. She’d shook hands to seal the agreement. No, she would train Antonio and Bridget to the best of her ability. The publicity for her school would be great. She would have to deal with her jealousy.
She peeked through the screen again and wiped sticky hands down the lightweight trousers she wore over her exercise shorts. The display of body lotions she made to sell to students and parents needed restocking. She’d do that while she was waiting.
A knock on the door halted her mid-step halfway to the storeroom.
With a self-conscious laugh, she smoothed her hair and yanked on her ponytail to secure it firmly. “Come in.”
By the time the door opened, she thought she’d managed a semblance of control. Not so. Her heart thundered and she had to dry her palms again.
Antonio was by himself.
Sasha peered past him into the empty corridor. “Where’s Bridget?”
“Uncle Henry is visiting.”
“Huh?” Sasha stared. Did he mean what she thought he meant?
Antonio scowled. “Yep, she forgot her latest shot and her period arrived this morning.”
Sasha shoved aside her relief. Okay. That would make this session easier. Bridget’s absence was a boon. She could pull her act together and make it convincing. She’d treat Antonio like any other student. Concentrate and forget about the wishful emotions he stirred each time she glanced at him.
She strode past the rows of comfortable benches and came to a stop at her desk. Antonio followed. His spicy scent reminded her of spring and citrus blossoms. It distracted and dented her shaky composure. Sasha grasped the sheet of Sex Idol rules she’d printed off the net and silently cursed the telltale tremor.
“I’m in your hands, Sasha.”
Sasha whirled to find him almost touching her. She swallowed her gasp of surprise and struggled to remain motionless instead of reaching for him. Up close, the citrus fragran
ce was so tempting. Her tongue crept to the corner of her mouth, ready for her to lean forward and lap across the expanse of bare skin in the V of his shirt.
The tick-tock of the old-fashioned clock on the far wall summoned her back to her senses. Professional. She’d decided to keep this on a professional basis. Remember?
Sasha cleared the thickness from her throat with an ill-at-ease cough. “The rules say each couple or individual can be asked to perform two of the six categories. When all the competitors are finished, the audience for that specific night will vote for their favorites, both individual and couple, and those with the highest scores go on to the next round.” Sasha paused to regroup her rattled thoughts. “The categories are traditional, self-pleasuring, toys, oral, anal and multi-partner—any combination of sexes. They also have a specialty BDSM category. There’s nothing there you haven’t done before. I’m sure all you require is a refresher. Since Bridget isn’t here, we’ll cover self-pleasuring tonight. We can go over the other categories when she’s here.” The words emerged in a heated rush.
Careful, Sasha. You can do this—behave as if this is all business. Deep, even breaths. Don’t get rattled. She had to get a grip on herself. The contest finals didn’t take place for another two months. She had the heats to get through, numerous training sessions, seeing Antonio making love—having sex, she amended—with another woman.
Making love. Having sex. It was all semantics. In her book, they boiled down to the same thing.
She was jealous.
She wanted to be his woman. “Are you ready to start?” Crisp and professional despite her inner turmoil. Much better.
Antonio nodded, unbuttoned his denim shirt and peeled it off, baring a smooth, tanned chest and shoulders.
Sasha stared, forgetting to breathe until the burn in her lungs reminded her of the need. Antonio still worked out. Her fingers itched to touch. She curled the traitorous digits into a tight fist and tucked them behind her back.
“You’ve kept in good shape.” Sasha aimed for clinical as he stepped out of his faded jeans. She walked around him in a slow circle, telling herself she was checking for faults they might need to remedy either in the gym or by enhancement. In truth, her reaction was purely feminine. Her blood pressure spiked, her mouth dried of every trace of spit, and moist heat gathered between her legs as she catalogued his assets. Beautiful olive skin. A hairless, well-defined chest. Rippling abs and a tight butt. Her hands prickled with the need to reach out and squeeze.
Keep it on a business footing.
She schooled her face to neutral and stepped around him to check the view from the front. His black briefs cupped an impressive erection. Sasha swallowed as she stared harder. Perhaps cupped wasn’t the best word. The man was built. All over.
“Um…okay. Good.” Sasha had to rip her gaze away from his straining cock before she did something stupid. She cleared her throat on seeing his steady, unnerving gaze. “Why don’t you take me through your self-pleasuring routine and I’ll critique it for you.”
Sasha thanked her stars she’d dragged on a loose-fitting jacket over her red exercise top. Her breasts ached something fierce and her tight nipples would be a real giveaway. She didn’t want to give Antonio any ideas.
All you have to do is get through this session. Without touching him. Bridget would attend the next one—a chaperone to halt any hint of impropriety.
Jealousy versus fierce desire. Sasha didn’t know which was worse.
“Can I have music?” he asked in a lazy drawl.
Sasha suppressed a shudder of pure, wanton need as she mentally stripped the briefs from his body. “No music,” she said sharply. “It’s more difficult to perform without a beat.” Sasha stepped away and dropped into the chair behind her desk. Struggling to retain focus, she picked up her silver pen and grabbed a notepad. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
He shrugged, turned his back on her and sauntered to a spot in the middle of the floor. Sasha dashed her tongue over her dry lips. Using the desk as cover, she squeezed her legs together to combat the tingle that had sprung to life. A gush of liquid arousal greeted the move, and she fidgeted, remembering how long it had been since a man had touched her, fucked her until they both screamed with pleasure.
No one since Antonio.
Not that she’d ever admit it to him. The truth would give him power, and she came from a weak position already. He’d already broken her heart. Her gaze remained glued on the mostly naked male in her classroom while she looked her fill, making up for lost time.
When Antonio turned to face her again, it was the entertainer, the sex-star persona firmly in place. A cocky grin sat on his sensual lips and his brown eyes seemed darker than normal. They smoldered with secrets and promises that would make every woman in the audience fantasize about lying with him and having mind-blowing, incredible sex.
Antonio rocked his hips forward, capturing her gaze. He skimmed his hands down his body, across flat nipples, over rippling abs and slim hips.
But Sasha couldn’t look away from his erection.
Big.
Thick.
Powerful.
She wriggled on her chair, fighting the need to shout at him to hurry. Get the briefs off. Wetness pooled between her legs, her imagination filling in the gaps regarding vision. Her gaze followed the smooth roll of his hips, his chuckle reminding her she should critique—not daydream or gawk like an innocent.
Sasha’s spine hit the plastique back of the chair. Her fingers gripped her pen, and she wrote needs a better dance routine.
Liar, her conscience taunted. He’s got you so turned on, you’re close to jumping him, dragging him to the ground and having your wicked way.
Antonio maintained his grin throughout, and Sasha gave him grudging points for the cocky attitude. Women loved him and his flashing dimples, and men envied his confidence. As she watched, he slipped his thumbs beneath the elastic waistband of his briefs. An instant later, his cock sprang out in all its glory.
Waxing required, Sasha wrote.
He kicked away his briefs with a flourish and enough vigor to send them sailing across the room. That would win him points, especially if one of the audience caught them. She jotted another note.
After a quick peek at her, he planted his feet wide and traced a delicate finger down the length of his cock. A tiny bead of pre-cum appeared at the end. Glistening already. Good. Sasha gave an imperceptible nod of approval while beneath the desk her knees pressed together. Antonio’s confident grin widened enough to show white teeth, intensifying the throb of neediness that assailed her. Sasha locked her jaw and resisted the need to moisten her dry lips.
A fisted hand massaged his penis until it lengthened and the helmeted head turned a purplish-red color. He pumped his cock slow and easy, as if he had all the time in the world.
Sasha jotted on her paper. Watch time limitations. As if he’d read her mind, Antonio increased his pace. Heat and passion simmered on his face and sparkled in his dark eyes. The intensity punched her, robbing her of oxygen and rational thought. Her pussy clenched. She sucked in air and released it on a low moan. His wicked grin never faltered even as his hand moved faster. In longer strokes.
Desire kicked Sasha hard in the belly. How could she feel so hot yet so empty at the same time? She wanted to avert her eyes but reminded herself it was her job to critique his performance. Professional integrity at stake here, so she remained riveted to his massive cock and his big, competent hands as he pleasured himself. He swiveled his hips at an easy pace as though he worked in time to music.
“Do you want me to come?” His smoky tenor tugged at Sasha, making her want to leap from her chair, to kneel before him, wrap her lips around his dick and take him deep into her mouth.
“Might as well do the job properly,” Sasha heard herself say. She shuddered, imagining him thrusting into her mouth, her tongue swiping. Tasting. Her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him.
Oh, heck. Her pulse thundered as she wat
ched, mesmerized. Hypnotized. Feeling desperately alone. Empty.
Antonio continued to pump with his fist, yet held his hand in such a way that allowed Sasha to view the procedure without impediment.
“Do I get extra credits for hitting the target?” he said.
Sasha managed a casual shrug, but it made the fabric of her top glide across her nipples. She restrained a groan with difficulty. “The audience likes that sort of showmanship. If you think you can hit the targets they provide, go for it.”
No sooner had she said the words, then Antonio came. His seed spurted from him in a powerful arc.
Sasha’s nerveless fingers dropped her pen. Her body throbbed for release with a savagery that told her she wouldn’t get much sleep tonight.
Antonio finally stood at ease in front of her, his expression arrogant and smug. “That’s very good,” she said. It was a total understatement.
The hum of the cleaning drone broke the silence, the unit still on automatic. Antonio reached for the handy hygienic wipes.
She tore her gaze off his semi-erect penis and cleared her throat. Okay. Okay. The man still had it when it came to self-pleasuring. Sasha would bet there wouldn’t be a dry seat in the house. More than one woman would be panting. Desperate for a man to penetrate her throbbing flesh.
“I think you have masturbation down.” Sasha sounded breathless to her own ears. She bounded to her feet, desperate for movement to alleviate the edginess that swirled through her body. Emptiness gnawed at her. She knew there was a way to fix the problem but didn’t want to deal with the consequences. Antonio had hurt her, and his reappearance had scuffed off the scabs, leaving the wounds open for infection.
Sasha had no intention of letting him trample her feelings again. She had to cure herself of the Perez-factor.
“I’ve made a few notes of points for you to work on,” she said crisply. Rather proud of her calm demeanor when she felt anything but serene, she checked her list. “The body hair should go. Research has shown if the audience has a clear view of every ridge and vein in a cock and the glistening hood of the clitoris, they are likely to score higher. With the new cameras and screens they have these days, the audience doesn’t miss much.”