Flames

Push, part 2

Seth was still wired from the show, so when he set his bag down in the hotel room, he promptlyly forgot all about it until he heard the zipper snag on its weak spot. He knew that spot off by heart and how to ease the zipper free, but Becky still had trouble with it. "Whatcha doing, Becks?" he said in a sing-song voice. "I already gave you back your phone, remember? Remarkable restraint in staying off Twitter for the whole ride, by the way. I'm proud of you."

Kneeling by his bag, Becky batted her eyelashes. "Does that mean I'm a good girl, then?"

"Depends on why you're going in my bag." Seth reached for it, but Becky grabbed it first and pulled it out of his reach. "Becky. . . ." His voice held just the hint of impatience. "What are you looking for? Tell me and I'll find it for you."

"I'm good," she assured him. "I just need a minute." Then she plopped down on the bed and started working on the zipper again.

Seth dived and tackled her, wrenching the bag away with one hand while wrapping his other arm around her waist. "Tell me what you want," he growled against the back of her neck, "and maybe I'll get it out for you. There could be a surprise in there for you that you're not supposed to see yet. . . ."

"There's not," Becky said, voice full of confidence until he nuzzled her neck, the friction from his beard making her squirm. She could have broken away from him easily, but since she didn't even try, he played along, pressing the length of his body along hers and pinning her to the bed. "And what's this maybe business? You said you would—"

"That's when you were being a good girl." Seth kept teasing her neck to keep her from noticing the hand he was sliding down her hip and into her pants. He could tell the exact moment she realized, because everything about her rose: the depth of her breathing, her ass, even her temperature. "Now you're not." When Becky started working herself against his fingers, he pulled his hand back just enough to make her whimper. "Uh-uh. Tell me what you were looking for."

Becky turned her head just enough that she could look at him, and the fire in her eyes made his hands clench. "Maybe that's my surprise," she replied, voice ragged.

Something in her gaze told him that whatever she had planned would be worth it, so he sat back on his knees and let her go. Becky took her time turning over and pulling her legs free, letting her feet linger over his thighs, and she scuttled back against the scrolled headboard before he could reach for her. "Go get it," he said at last.

She grinned, wicked and carnal. "Nope." Then she leapt on him, straddling him Seth so hard he nearly lost his balance and toppled them both to the floor. He gripped her ass hard enough to bruise, but Becky didn't break their kiss, rough and hungry. When she tried to grind against him, though, Seth bit her lip and made her gasp. She didn't move back far, though, her face close enough that her uneven breaths mingled with his. "In the ring tonight . . . when I pushed you?" She paused just long enough to bite his lip in retaliation, her eyes gone dark. "The way you smiled. . . ." She brought her hands up to his jaw and raked her nails through his beard. "It looked like you kinda liked it."

Seth's heart was hammering so hard he could barely hear a word she said, but all he needed to know was in her eyes. "Maybe I kinda did." He moved his hands down to her thighs and dug in, grinning as her eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

Without warning, Becky pushed him down against the bed, gave his chest an extra shove for good measure, and then stood, wobbling a bit on her feet. "Get me your bracelets," she ordered, holding his gaze.

Fuck yes. Seth nearly crashed to his knees in his haste to get to his bag, and he almost laughed at himself. Trying explaining THAT injury to Hunter and Steph. 'Sorry I fucked up my knee again. Becky wanted to top me, so I had to get my bracelets'. For a moment he thought about teasing her in turn, bringing out his slip-on wristbands instead, but his cock felt like it was about to explode. "Fuck," he swore. Normally he wrapped them together, but he could only find one. "Here's one—"