GTFO of My Head

Chapter 4

The shower was as exactly as amazing as he had thought it would be. At first he had just suggested they rinse off the chlorine from the hot tub before getting into bed but then he'd seen the way the soap made her skin glisten and the bubbles slid over her tits and he'd had to fuck her. First up against the tile with her legs wrapped around his waist and then he'd had her face the tile and had her from behind and as the water started to grow cold they'd stumbled to the bed where he bent her over and buried himself in her until her body milked him dry. Now she was lying next to him on her stomach, her chin digging into his chest as she traced the tattoos on his arm.

"A lot of these are self-explanatory but you're going to have to explain why you have a quarter block of cheese on your bicep," she mumbled, poking a tattoo of a yellow foam cheesehead on the inside of his right arm, below where his ex's name was inked on his shoulder in big black script.

"Green Bay football fans are called cheeseheads," he explained as he traced the multicoloured feathers of the phoenix down her arm.

"Ugh, football. If I get the desire to watch a bunch of guys pile up on each other I'm going to watch rugby. No pads, no helmets, tight jerseys, short shorts. But I get it, it's a religion for you Americans," she held up her hand before he could object but he could do one better than just disagreeing about football.

"Did you know I played hockey?" he asked, leaning on one elbow so he could look down at her, still very much enjoying the view, especially now that she seemed less self-conscious and more relaxed.

"Don't bullshit me Brady White. Those thighs have never done a bag skate, ever," she replied, rolling her eyes and poking at one of his very pale thighs.

"Hey they held you up in the shower didn't they?" he responded and then immediately regretted it. She didn't overtly wince but he could see the light in her eyes dim and she turned her gaze away from his. He reached to touch her shoulder and then she did recoil, just by an inch but he hated himself for making that happen. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry," he whispered, running his hand down her back to where it swelled into the generous curve of her ass. "You know what they say, the softer the cush...."

"Don't," she snapped and rolled away from him, gathering the quilt around herself and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Sorry...that's something he would say and I just don't want to hear it," she explained through clenched teeth. Brady crawled over to her and tried, not very successfully to hug her around the quilt.

"I mean, he liked it once right?" he asked softly. He wasn't certain but he thought that she shrugged underneath the quilt.

"Until he didn't, yeah," she agreed with an audible sigh.

"Well fuck him, his fucking loss. I'm fucking loving all of it, obviously," he gave her a playful shove, hoping to lighten the mood but she didn't move. "You know what, that can be my goal for the time we're here. I'm going to make you believe that you're fucking sexy," he added, grabbing hold of the quilt and giving it as hard a tug as he could. She didn't shift but she did giggle and that was good enough for him. "Deal?" he asked, bouncing on the bed beside her.

"I mean...good luck with that, I guess," she replied, dropping the quilt down to her shoulders. He leaned over and pressed his lips to one bare shoulder.

"Good enough, now, you have made me work up quite an appetite, let's see if we can rustle up something to eat," he said, getting to his feet and heading towards the stairs.

"You're not going to get dressed first?" she called after him.

"I'm good with nudity. I told you, I want you naked all the time," he called over his shoulder as he bounced down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. His stomach was already growling at the idea of food. He had worked up quite an appetite, but he wasn't tired. He had the same rush of adrenalin as he did when he came off stage. This was when he wanted a can of monster energy drink and a bottle of Jack. Instead, he reached for a bottle of orange juice and a carton of eggs.