"This is your meal plan for the week. I upped your carbohydrate intake, but otherwise it's similar to what we've been doing so far. Once we get to regionals, I'll cut out any high-fat and high-fiber foods that are harder to digest. We don't want you having any stomach discomfort during the competition." I slid a packet with the pertinent information across the counter. "This is a hard copy for backup. I've also updated everything on the nutrition app so you have it on your phone."
"Thanks." Haley gave me a grateful smile. "You always think of everything."noveldrama
"I try. How are you liking your meals so far?"
"They're good, and I'm so glad they taste like something. I swear my old nutritionist was allergic to seasoning. Her recipes were so bland, you'd think she'd explode if she added a little pepper to her chicken."
I laughed. "I am definitely not opposed to pepper."
We were in her family's kitchen, going over some last-minute items before she left for her afternoon training.
It was early March and my second week in Chicago. With regionals coming up fast in April, I'd hit the ground running the minute I arrived. Between onboarding with the Moores, trying to get situated in my new home, and collaborating with Haley to create a system that worked for her, I'd barely had time to sleep.
Thankfully, Derek and Haley were as warm in person as they'd been during my interview. They had high standards, but that only pushed me to work harder and be better, which was easy when I enjoyed what I was doing.
My instincts had been right: working with an individual athlete fit my style way better than spreading myself thin with a team. I had the freedom to experiment with different recipes and methods, and Haley was responsive to most of my suggestions.
Overall, it was a smooth start to my new life, but that didn't stop me from checking the clock every two seconds. I was itching to talk to Vincent. We didn't get to video call each other often, and my body was already thrumming with anticipation.
"I forgot to tell you earlier, but my grandparents are in town," Haley said. "My dad and I are having dinner with them earlier, so we don't need to check in tonight. You can take the rest of the day off."
My pulse sped up. "Are you sure?"
She nodded. "I know the past two weeks have been crazy, so get some rest. Let's meet back here tomorrow, same time, same place?"
"Sounds good." I said goodbye to Haley and left, my face breaking out into a grin. Her timing couldn't have been better.
I had the afternoon off, and it was evening in London, which meant Vincent and I could talk for as long as we wanted.
I practically floated on my way back to my apartment. It was only a ten-minute walk from Haley's house, but my face was already stinging from the wind by the time I got home. Chicago winters were brutal, but even that wasn't enough to ruin my high.
I quickly showered and changed into a silk nightshirt and lingerie (just because Vincent wasn't here in person didn't mean I couldn't dress up for him). I topped it off with some mascara and lip gloss before I took my laptop to my bedroom and logged on at our scheduled call time.
Vincent's face filled my screen, and my heart cartwheeled just like it had the first time we kissed.
His dimple flashed. "Hey, buttercup."
"Hi." I smiled back, soaking him in. God bless whoever invented video technology. The firm curve of his mouth, the sculpted arch of his cheekbones, the teasing gleam in his eyes—they were so sharp and vivid, it was like he was actually standing in front of me.
"Tell me about your day," he said. "I want to hear all about it."
We always started our conversations with detailed rundowns of our day, including what we ate and which errands we ran. To other people, it might seem mundane or even boring, but I lived for these moments. Now that we lived in different cities, I didn't want our connection to hinge only on big life events; I wanted to know the same details I would've been privy to if I were still in London.
After I finished, Vincent told me about training and Spike's apparent aversion to talking.
The bodyguard seemed determined to blend into the background, which was his job, I guess. I was just glad Vincent had someone looking out for him. Even though the intruder hadn't made another move since the Angry Boar photo, not a day passed when I didn't worry about him.
I kept that to myself. Vincent would worry about me worrying about him, and that was a vicious cycle we didn't need to get stuck in.
"Great match over the weekend, by the way," I said. "Defense looked good."
"Yeah?" Vincent drawled. "How good?"
"Good enough for me to look up the club's captain." I tapped my fingers against my desk and pretended to think. "Have you heard of a player named Vincent DuBois?"
"Vaguely. He sounds like a charmer."
"He is. He's good-looking too. Tall, dark, handsome…just my type."
"Is he?" Vincent said silkily. He leaned in, an ember of heat flaring in his eyes.
"Mmhmm." My breath hitched as the mood shifted from playful to something heavier, more electric. Anticipation curled low and hot between my thighs.
The hardest part of a long-distance relationship was not being able to touch each other. Our conversations filled an emotional void, but they couldn't satisfy my need for physical intimacy.
My toys got the job done, but they weren't him. Unfortunately, they'd have to do until one of us could visit the other in person. Unless…
An idea took shape in my mind. It was something I'd never had the guts to do, but this was Vincent. It was now or never. "I forgot to mention one thing."
"What's that?"
"I went shopping for some new lingerie over the weekend." I leaned back, my stomach fluttering with a mixture of nerves and excitement. "Black lace. It's gorgeous."
Vincent's eyes darkened. "Show me."
A thrill coursed through me at his command. I pushed away from my desk and knelt on the bed so he had a better view from my computer.
The air pulsed as I pulled my silk nightshirt over my head, leaving me in a semi-sheer lace bra and matching thong.
My heart raced. We'd sexted before, but we'd never sent nude pictures or engaged in cybersex. This was a whole new level of eroticism, and I would've chickened out if Vincent's sharp intake of breath didn't ignite something deep inside me.
"Do you like it?" My voice sounded almost too breathy to be mine.
His eyes traced the swell of my breasts and the curve of my hips. They lingered between my legs before they met mine again. Little fires erupted everywhere his gaze landed.
"I'd like it better if it was on the floor," he said, the steel in his tone betraying the softness of his words. "Take it off."
My heart rate sped up from a gallop into a full-fledged frenzy.
This was it. The point of no return.
Are you really going to do this?
I stared at myself onscreen.
The video version of me stared back, her cheeks pink and her lips parted as she slowly reached behind her and unhooked her bra. She tossed the scrap of black lace aside before she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her thong and shimmied out of that too.
It felt like an out-of-body experience, but my senses returned to me when the last stitch of clothing fell off my body.
I kneeled there, fully naked and vulnerable. My body thrummed with nerves but also…a tiny thrill. It was my first time being naked on camera, and while it was scary to put all of myself out there like this, it was arousing in a way I couldn't name.
My nipples pebbled into diamond-hard points, and wetness pooled between my thighs.
I swallowed, my attention shifting back to Vincent. He'd removed his own clothes while I'd been stripping. He watched me from his desk, his eyes dark and hooded while his hand gripped the base of his impressive erection.
"Touch yourself for me," he ordered. "Play with your nipples and cunt. I want to see how you get yourself off when you're alone at night."
His words zipped through me like an electric shock. My pussy clenched with need, and I kept my eyes on his as I spread my legs wider.
I curled my forefinger and rubbed the slick, swollen nub while my other hand played with my breasts. I alternated between them, tugging at and pinching my nipples until jolts of pleasure shot straight to my clit. I was on fire, every inch of my body blazing despite the winter chill seeping through my apartment.
Vincent groaned, his hand twisting up and down his cock. Seeing him so turned on turned me on even more, and I couldn't hold back a moan.
"Oh, God." I whimpered, my head falling back as the beginnings of an orgasm coiled at the base of my spine. The slick, erotic sounds of Vincent jerking off mixed with my heavy pants.
I thought having sex over video would make me feel disconnected, but this strangely felt more intimate. We couldn't hide here. There were no sheets or dim lighting to soften the experience or conceal any insecurities. It was only us in all our raw, naked glory, taking pleasure for and with each other in the ultimate expression of trust.
I wouldn't do this with anyone else. I'd be too afraid they would pick apart my flaws or use it against me somehow, but Vincent? I trusted him whole-heartedly, and any self-consciousness I might've felt at pleasuring myself on camera was long gone.
I rubbed faster, my breaths turning erratic as my orgasm crept closer and closer and—
"Stop." Vincent's harsh command brought the impending wave to a halt.
I whined in protest but obeyed. My fingers were sticky with my juices, and my core continued to pulse after I pulled away.
Vincent hadn't come yet either, but pre-cum leaked from the tip of his cock and smeared on his stomach.
My mouth watered. I wanted to reach through the screen and lick him clean. To taste every inch of him and make him lose control the way he could make me lose mine.
"You're thinking about sucking my cock, aren't you?" Vincent drawled. His voice was still soft, still lethal.
"Yes," I breathed, too turned on to play coy.
"Is that what you think about every time you finger fuck yourself, sweetheart? Taking my cock down your throat and choking on it?" His silky tone camouflaged the filthiness of his words.
I shook my head slowly. "I don't use just my fingers."
His jaw clenched, a predatory gleam flashing in his eyes. "Show me what else you do." The silkiness was gone, replaced with a guttural growl.
I licked my lips, my skin buzzing as I scooted toward the edge of the bed and opened my nightstand drawer. I retrieved my biggest toy—a thick, ridged dildo with a flared base and curved shaft. I didn't use it often because it was a little too big, but I was feeling ambitious and more than a little aroused.
When I returned my gaze to the screen, Vincent was strangling his cock so hard I was surprised it didn't burst.
He didn't have to tell me what to do. I already knew.
I knelt on all fours, angling my body so he had an unimpeded side view as I slowly pushed the dildo inside me. Despite how wet I was, my muscles involuntarily clenched at its size.
I stopped three quarters of the way in, my body taut, my skin coated with sweat. The pressure was unbearable, and I could feel every nerve come alive with equal parts pleasure and torment.
"Keep going," Vincent ordered. "I want to see you take every inch of that cock like it's mine. Like I'm the one making you scream while I stretch that tight little pussy wide open."
My mind swam from the obscene picture he painted. It was the last push I needed, and I managed to take the remaining inches of the dildo until it hit the most sensitive spot inside me.
I cried out, my back bowing at the sensation. The edges of my vision darkened, but I had enough sense to pull the toy out so just the tip remained inside me. I pushed it back in, slowly working my way up to a steady rhythm. In and out, deeper and harder, fucking myself with long, mind-melting strokes that I imagined were Vincent's.
"Tell me what else you think about when you're fucking yourself."
"I…I think about you finding me like this," I panted. "You come home early, and you walk in on me playing with myself. I don't hear you enter, so you grab me and…and…" I hit that sweet spot again, and my brain short-circuited. "Fuck."
"And what?" Vincent growled. "What do I do to you when I see you taking that cock like a greedy little slut?"
I could barely breathe through my lust-soaked haze. "You grab me and fuck me. Hard. You make me take your cock anywhere you want, and you won't let me come until I'm begging for it. Begging for you."
He hissed, the sound low and tortured. "Does that turn you on? The thought of me punishing you for coming around a cock that's not mine?"
"Yes." The confession spilled out as a whimper.
"I bet you'd like it if I pushed you to your knees and fucked that sweet little throat until you gagged, wouldn't you? You'd probably come just from my cock filling you up."
My replies turned incoherent. I closed my eyes, letting his dirty words and my imagination run wild as I fucked myself eagerly with the toy—except it was no longer a toy. It was Vincent, here with me in Chicago, his hands in my hair and on my hips. He pounded me relentlessly, and I could feel every inch of him inside me.
Our ragged breaths synced as we urged each other on, our bodies slick with want, our flesh slapping against each other in perfect unison. It was raw and fierce and primal, and I'd never felt this close to anyone, like I could spend the rest of my life lost in this moment and never tire of it.
A deep, pulsing heat coiled in my belly. Tremors quaked along my limbs. My muscles stiffened, and I was so close, so—
"Stop."
"No!" I cried. Tears of frustration sprang to my eyes. The dildo was still inside me, but this was my second ruined orgasm of the night. I was shaking, so close to breaking that I could barely remember my own name.
"I said stop, Brooklyn."
I let my hands drop in defeat. My walls continued to clench, grasping desperately for a release that hovered just out of reach.
"We're almost there." Vincent's voice turned soothing. "Do one more thing for me, and you can come."
"What is it?" Despite my disappointment, my skin tingled in anticipation of his request.
"Get another dildo from your drawer. Leave the one you have in."
My face blazed, but I didn't argue. I crawled over to my nightstand again. I could only imagine what I must look like, sweaty and messy and so fucking wanton with my pussy stretched around the toy still buried inside me. I fumbled through the drawer for a second before I selected a slightly smaller dildo.
"Good," Vincent said when I returned to my earlier spot on the bed. He was still grasping his cock, his eyes so dark they resembled pools of obsidian. "Now suck it. Show me how you'd take my cock if I were there."
My mouth watered again at his command. I gripped the base and sealed my lips around the tip of the dildo. I slowly lowered my head, imagining it was Vincent sliding past my tongue. I gagged halfway, drool leaking down my chin, but I eventually did it. The tip of my nose touched the mattress as I took the entirety of the toy down my throat.
Triumph sparked in my chest.
"Look at you." Vincent groaned. "You look so good stuffed with cock, sweetheart."
His praise washed over me, adding to the heat in my veins. I'd used multiple toys before, but never like this. Never in front of someone else, and never while they were urging me on, telling me how much they wanted me, how fucking beautiful I looked and how desperate they were to touch me.
I kept one hand wrapped around the base while the other reached behind me to steady the toy in my pussy. I fucked back against it, my mind blanking with each thrust while I continued to suck on the dildo in my mouth. I was stuffed so full I couldn't focus on anything except the pressure and sheer, blinding pleasure. My muscles trembled, my core throbbed, and my lungs burned, but I kept going until I finally, finally heard the magic words.
"Come for me."
That was all it took.
I exploded, my poor, hypersensitized body coming apart at the seams. The endless edging and dirty talk lit me up and tore me into a thousand pieces. It was a white-hot detonation that shredded every nerve, driving the air from my lungs and wrenching a cry from deep inside me. But my screams were muffled by the cock still lodged in my throat, and I lay there, my muscles locking and releasing in helpless spasms as the waves of my orgasm crashed over me.
I heard Vincent come with a loud grunt of his own, and I turned my head just in time to see thick, white ropes of cum spill over his fist and onto his stomach. His head was thrown back, his muscles strained, his body trembling as he came completely undone.
It was the hottest thing I'd ever seen.
My orgasm finally abated enough for me to take out my toys and catch my breath. When we both came down from our highs, we exchanged small smiles, our faces flushed with sated pleasure and quiet intimacy.
"You're perfect," he said, his voice rough but so sincere it melted what was left of my defenses.
My eyes prickled. "I miss you."
"I miss you too." His mouth tipped up. "Next time, we'll do that in person."
An ache ripped through me. "Next time" wasn't soon enough. I needed him right now, right here.
But that wasn't possible, so I gathered myself together and upped the wattage of my smile. "Only if you promise not to torture me like that again."
Vincent laughed, the sound huskier than usual. "If I do, I promise I'll make it up to you."
"Make it up to me how?"
He raised an eyebrow. "It wouldn't be any fun if I told you, would it?"
"Fine," I said with a genuine grin. "It's a deal."
We stayed on for a while longer, completely unselfconscious despite our nakedness. But eventually, we had to say goodbye, and I logged off with a familiar hollow in my chest.
Later that night, after I changed the sheets and showered for a second time, I went to bed alone and closed my eyes, imagining that Vincent was lying right there next to me.
The fantasy wasn't real, but for now, it was all I had.