Smutlympics!

The Olympics are finally here and we're celebrating with scrummy, sporting smooches which suits me perfectly.

My steamy scene is from SCORED a sexy soccer novel available at Amazon. (Amazon UK). Leave a comment to be in with a chance to win a bronze, silver or gold prize - details here - don't forget to leave your email address.

Blurb

Okay, so I eat, sleep and breathe football and reporting the beautiful game is my dream career. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have time for a major crush on the England captain, Lewis Tate. The bloke is sex on legs, hot with a capital H. Add in his awe-inspiring talent, his brooding good looks and what’s not to lust after?

So my excitement is sky-high as I set off with the official press team to cover England’s battle for the European Cup. But when a series of unfortunate, or as it turns out fortunate events, attracts Tate’s attention my way, who am I to say no?

Add in a misogynistic manager, an over-zealous colleague, two blue silk ties and some incredible ball-handling skills and it becomes clear the road to victory, for me, will be an intensely erotic journey. Determined to savor every moment, I hang onto my sanity as best I can while living the fantasy and wondering if it can ever become reality. Because once Lewis Tate has taken me to heaven and back, its clear no one else will ever compare.

* * * * *

Here is the excerpt. The hunky captain Lewis has asked Nicky to meet him in secret before he has to dash off to the next match, be warned, its HOT...

The knowledge that Lewis had gone out of his way to contact me, and not only that he wanted to see me, had my mood sky-rocketing. However, the switch from the doldrums to euphoria had given rise to insomnia and I hardly slept all night. But I wasn’t complaining. I was more than happy to set my alarm, get up, shower and curl my hair. Because getting ready to meet the man my obsessive brain had fixated on was hardly a chore. It was a pleasure, an excitement, and I had to force myself to nibble on a biscuit as I dressed, knowing if I didn’t eat I would feel nauseous by midmorning.

A quick cab ride took me to the cathedral, delivering me a few minutes before nine. I paid the driver, alighted and stood at the base of the steps leading up to the grand entrance. I rolled my lips in on themselves. The color of my new lipstick wasn’t exactly suitable for a place of worship but then neither was my underwear—a sexy pink and black lace-trimmed set with tiny bows on the cups and thonged panties.

But it didn’t matter because praying wasn’t on my mind today, neither was looking at the magnificent architecture. This morning my hedonistic thoughts were going to be directed at a certain captain I hoped would already be waiting for me inside this holy building.

Did I feel sinful?

Hell yeah. I would have to make up for it later and be sure to do some extra good deeds.

The entrance was quiet and still. Through the second set of heavy doors it was even more so. The atmosphere heavy, cool and silent. At first I thought the pews were deserted, but as I walked down the aisle, my soft shoes silent, I spotted a figure partially obscured by a thick pillar.

Lewis?

He wore a hoody again, the dark material pulled up and over his head so his face wasn’t visible. He was looking downward, as though studying his clasped hands and deep in prayer.

It had to be Lewis.

I sidled along the pew toward him. Hyper aware of every noise in the silence—my breathing, my hands on the wood, the beat of my heart.

He didn’t look up.

I edged closer.

Suddenly my confidence started to slip. What if it wasn’t him? Perhaps it was some hobo who used the cathedral for shelter. He might have a knife, want to rob me, rape me, kill me, and here was I offering myself up to him like a sacrificial lamb.

No. I was being silly. Lewis had worn a hoody like that when he’d come to the cathedral before. It had to be him. I tried to flush macabre images from my mind and hold onto a thread of sensibility. I had arranged to meet him here, at nine. He was here, that was all, nothing to fear.

A sudden loud clanging vibrated through my head and I froze. My body tensed and my legs trembled—fight or flight? Panic rolled up from my feet to the top of my head and for a second my focus fuzzed.

I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. It was the bells in the high-domed steeple clanging out that it was nine o’clock. I waited, I don’t know why, until the ninth ring, then continued toward what I hoped was Lewis.

I stopped just two meters from the man, pretty sure it was him. But didn’t dare speak. I just stood, waiting for him to acknowledge me.

Eventually he turned and the hood covering his face shifted. He had on black shades and sported a good growth of light brown stubble that sat heavier in the dink in his chin.

“Oh, it is you,” I said on a sigh and sat down.

He removed his glasses. “Well if you had to get this close to realize then my crude attempt at disguise is obviously working.” His voice was low and hushed.

“I thought you might be a tramp or something, having a snooze.” I spoke equally quietly.

“I’m sure Gucci would love to know that about their new range of casual sportswear.” He smiled and his face softened. “How are you?”

“I’m good. You?”

“Not bad.” He glanced at the gap between us. “Better if you would sit closer.”

I slid my bum along the wood until my shoulder brushed his. He reached for my hand, held it, palm up, and traced a circle at the centre. Renewed longing sped through me as I was treated to a flashback of him holding my breast. How he’d touched me with just the right amount of pressure, tweaked my nipple with just the right degree of tension. How we’d been so rudely interrupted...

I tried and failed to suppress a small sigh.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. How did you get on with Fellows? Did he buy your story about you being in the bathroom?”

“Yeah, I think so, but he’s keeping a pretty tight rein on everyone at the moment. He’s a goddamn control freak.”

“He’s just doing his job.”

“That’s very understanding of you, considering.”

“Considering what? The way he spoke to me in the bar or the way he made you leave just when things were getting hot between us.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Things were getting pretty hot, weren’t they? I left feeling like a man in the desert who’d just had his water bottle taken away.”

“I know what you mean.” I looked at his legs, his thick strong thighs resting over the seat of the pew, his jeans a little faded in all the right places. “When are you going to Kiev?”

“Later today. We’re flying up. You?”

“I’m catching the evening train. I’ve got some cheap place booked once I get there. Should be okay just for two nights. I’m there to see you thrash Sweden not wallow in luxury.”

“I wish I could get you into our hotel.”

I rested my other hand on his forearm, felt hard tendons and heat beneath the super-soft material of the hoody. “I think we were lucky to get what we had. I knew it wouldn’t take long for them to move you back into your suite.”

“It’s nice, the new room. Perhaps you’d like to see it when we get back to Donetsk.”

“And how would I be able to do that?” I couldn’t keep the incredulousness from my tone.

He paused for a second. Cocked his head. “You forget, Nicky, I'm a man who gets what he wants.”

I swallowed tightly. The determination in his eyes, the way his jaw had set, sent a thrilling shiver of anticipation through me. “And you want...?”

He stroked the back of his index finger down my cheek then threaded his fingers into my hair and held the back of my head. “I want you, Nicky. Don’t you get that? I want you with me, next to me, in my bed, in my pool. I want to get to know everything about you.”

An emotion scarily like fear bubbled within me. This dream was just too perfect. I didn’t want it to pop. It would send me reeling, tumbling into oblivion. I wasn’t sure how I would pick up the pieces. Who would ever compare to Lewis Tate? Was I being crazy to listen to him speak this way? Making me feel like I was the only girl for him?

I had to know. The sooner it was out in the open the better. Because the longer I let him make me believe I was special the harder it would be when I realized I didn’t mean anything to him. “But why? Why would you want me when you can have anyone? There are a million women out there who would happily throw themselves at your feet”

He frowned. “But I don’t know them and I don’t care about them.”

“But how can you not?”

“Because you’re the first real woman I’ve met in a long time. You’re not pretending to be something you’re not and that appeals to me.” He leaned closer, his cologne infiltrating my nostrils and threatening to remove my ability to think straight. “A lot.”

“But I’m just Nicky Thomas, sports journalist. I come from Stoke and have a middle-class, unremarkable background. Why would someone as amazing as you, with all your footballing credentials, want me?”

He shook his head and appeared bemused. “What does football have to do with me admiring your professionalism, being comfortable with who you are and fighting for what you want?” He paused. “You do still like me, don’t you?”

I nodded. Unable to trust myself to speak and gush about just how much I liked him. How much I would like to cover him in whipped cream, sprinkles and chocolate drops and spend an entire day eating it off him.

“Good,” he said. “Because if you can just cope with this craziness for a little while longer, in few weeks the tournament will be over and we won’t have to sneak around.”

“You mean—”

He brushed his lips over mine. “Yes, honey, I mean this is just the start of something. Well, it is for me anyway. It’s been a long time since I’ve met anyone who’s been my last thought as I’ve gone to sleep and my first thought each morning.”

Oh, fuck. Now he’s got me.

I became a puddle of romantic ideals falling toward him. Didn’t he know what kind of effect sentiments like that had on a girl? I reached for his shoulders, pressed my body to his and allowed him to kiss me into a stupor of longing. He was my every thought too. When I wasn’t with him I was thinking about being with him and when I was with him I just couldn’t get close enough.

He tangled his fingers in my hair and held me firm as he kissed and explored my mouth. I let him in and melted under his touch. The way he was clasping me was so possessive, so masculine and dominant. Little thought kernels of what he could do to me, how he could make me feel, in bed, began to pop like candy in my belly. Imagine if he held me like this when he...

Oh, sweet Jesus. I was getting turned on again. Shit, and in a holy place.

Lewis groaned and sent kisses across my cheek, tugged my hair firmer so my head tipped, then licked and nipped at my neck. Lust shot to my pussy. It was like there was a wire from the skin on my neck to my clit and his attentions sent white-hot streaks of pleasure zapping down it.

“Lewis,” I murmured, trying to move my head but unable to. I discovered that far from feeling frustrated I reveled in the hold he had on me. That fact that I couldn’t move and he was doing what he wanted to my neck was a massive turn-on.

“Ah, honey, I could have fucking killed Fellows the other night. Walking away from you took every ounce of control I had.”

His breath was scalding hot against my flesh and I shivered with pleasure at his heated words.

“It was okay for you, though,” he went on.

“What do you mean?”

He released the grip on my head and brought my face level with his. “I think you know.”

I swallowed. I did know.

“You used it, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“Don’t act coy.” A slow smile spread on his face. “Because it makes me so horny to imagine you using your vibrator and thinking of me.”

I opened my mouth but no words came out.

He took full advantage and kissed me again. This time he slipped his hand up my top and cupped my breast over the new bra.

I pressed closer for more. Why did we have to be fully clothed and in a cathedral? Right now I would sell my soul to be naked in bed with him and no other person for a hundred miles around.

“I can just imagine you,” he said, tweaking my nipple through silk. “Lying on the bed, legs spread, that buzzing shaft penetrating your sweetness, getting you off, making you pant and sweat.” He paused. “Did you think of me?”

Fuck yes.

“Tell me,” he whispered, “Please, I want to know.”

“Yes. Yes I did.”

I felt his body tense and his shoulders hitched, like he was pulling in a deep breath. “And did you say my name?” He switched his attentions to the opposite breast.

“Yes, over and over.”

He fluttered his eyes shut and let out a long deep sigh. “Oh, fuck, that mental image of you is so hot,” he muttered.

“Lewis Tate,” I said in a scolding whisper. “You’re a bad boy picturing such things in a holy place.”

His eyes pinged open and his gaze trapped mine. For a split second I thought he might grin. He didn’t. “Tell me you’re not thinking them too.”

“Yes, I am, but—”

“But the difference is you’re not going to have zipper marks permanently imprinted on your genitals.” He shifted on the seat. “Fuck, you make me so hard.” He shook his head and muttered, “So hard it hurts.”

That knowledge thrilled me utterly. “Is that so?” I ran my hand down over his chest, his abdomen, then settled it on the solid wedge of flesh at his groin that was pushing and straining against the denim.

“That’s not helping.” He moaned. His face twisted and his eyes screwed up tight.

“I know what will, though.” Fuck. Had I really just said that? Double fuck. Had I really just thought that? I had, and it seemed I was the biggest sinner of the lot because I didn’t care. I wanted to act on my impulse. In fact, I wasn’t sure anything could stop me. Not now the need, the desire, had flooded my brain like a tsunami.

I tugged at the button on his jeans, freeing it with a quick flick of my wrist.

“Nicky,” he said, parting his lips on a pant. “What are you doing?” He opened his eyes. They were dark and smoky, their normally crystal-clear depths clouded with lust.

“I’m going to help you out with that zipper problem.” As I spoke I tugged down the zip on his jeans. The flesh beneath burst forward, the cotton of his briefs not as efficient at containing his cock as the denim had been.

“Ah, fuck, really, here?” He hissed in a breath as I cupped his shaft through cotton.

I glanced around. “We seem to be alone.”

“But anyone could walk in—”

I kissed him, cut off his words, the same way he had me earlier. “I somehow don’t think it will take long.” I sought the waistband of his boxers and delved inside. Bulging, heated flesh strained forward and I gripped it eagerly. Ecstatic to finally have his cock in my hand. “Now just let me down there,” I said, nodding between his knees and finding myself admiring the proud, scarlet shaft filling my palm. The head was wide and shiny and blushed with arousal.

He didn’t speak, just spread his thighs and let me maneuver myself between him and the pew in front. “Keep look out,” I said, finding a prayer cushion for my knees and settling into the softness.

“I’ll try.” His cheeks were flushed, his jaw tensed.

I gave him a sexy grin then poked out my tongue and stroked it through the deep slit on the head of his cock. Pulled in his flavor and swept it over my palate. It was sweetly bitter with a salty creaminess to it. Delicious.

“Ah, shit, that’s so horny seeing you do that.” He tipped forward and gripped the backrest of the pew behind me, effectively embracing me within his bulk and engulfing me in shadows. “Fuck, be careful. I’m so near coming already.”

“Keep looking out,” I said, then stretched my mouth wide and took his head between my lips.

He groaned low and guttural. I would have loved to play with him. Fret my tongue around the rim of his glans and hear more of his agonized pleasure echo up to the ceiling. But I didn’t dare. It was bad enough God was watching us but the thought of someone else catching us didn’t bear thinking about.

Squeezing his shaft, I dropped down, stretching my lips around his wide girth and taking him as far to the back of my throat as I could. Once his glans settled there I set up a rapid bobbing rhythm, scooping my tongue around his shaft and making sure he hit my tonsils each time.

He hissed in rapid breaths and pressed one hand over the crown of my head. His legs tensed around my ribs and I knew I was doing it right. Just right.

“Ah, fuck, seriously. If you don’t swallow best stop now, because I am about to...”

Oh, I swallowed all right. What was the point in not?

I increased the suction, picked up the speed. He pulled in a massive breath that he didn’t release. His cock was steely, bloated with blood. I couldn’t reach his balls due to his clothing but I was damned sure they’d be packed up tight and getting ready to explode.

They did.

In a sudden surge, semen blasted into my mouth and his shaft gave several powerful pulses. I swallowed rapidly, pulling his glans deeper than ever and adoring the sensation of his hot, milky liquid spewing down my gullet.

He held the back of my head. Not uncomfortably so, but with a spine-tingling amount of control in his grip.

“Ah, ah, yeah, that’s it, fuck...”

Suddenly he leaned forward, scooped his hands under my arms and plonked me on the pew next to him again. “Fucking hell, Nicky.”

I was still swallowing and missed the feel of his cock in my mouth—we’d just got acquainted.

Wiping the corners of my lips, I glanced around. The place was still empty, which was just as well because I got the impression Lewis hadn’t attended to his look-out duties with any degree of concentration.

Quickly, he tucked away his deflating cock and re-did his jeans. “Bloody hell,” he said. “That was so damn hard and fast.”

“I didn’t think we should linger,” I said.

He too swept his gaze around the place. “Thank God no one came in.”

I rolled my eyes heavenward. “Well, you’re in the right place to thank him.” I grinned.

He cupped my cheek, kissed me gently. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m sure that was one hell of a sin but it felt bloody amazing.”

“I’m glad I could help you with your problem.” I cast my attention downward. “I wouldn’t like to think that the captain of the team had any needs unattended to.”

“Oh, honey, how little you know of me.” He grinned wickedly.

“What do you mean?” A flurry of excited butterflies swarmed in my abdomen.

“You don’t know what you’ve just started.” He paused, touched his nose to mine. “Because that was just to take the edge of what I want to do to you. The best is yet to come.”

“When?” I could hardly restraint the need in my voice.

He frowned. “Like I said, I’m a man who gets what he wants, Nicky, and I want you. So you can rest assured it won’t be long.”

A sudden high-pitched beeping caught his attention and he glanced at his silver wristwatch. “I have to go. I gave myself forty minutes to get here, meet with you and then get back. Figured I could make something up about a walk around the park or a trip to get a few souvenirs if anyone noticed.” He lifted my hand and kissed my palm. “I have to go.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll see you in Kiev, at the press conference.”

“Yep. Good luck, not that you need it.”

“A bit of luck never does any harm.” He stood and tugged me with him. “And right now I feel like the luckiest guy on earth.”

He certainly looked like he’d had a weight lifted off him. His shoulders, though still hard and tense, weren’t bunched up around his ears, and his limbs looked loose and pliant. It would have been so nice now if we could just stretch out in bed, soak in a bath or massage one another. Let him enjoy his post-orgasm glow and perhaps bring me into the same state.

But that wasn’t the case and instead we moved from the pews, down the aisle and out in to the dazzling morning sunshine.

I turned to him. He wore his shades again and his hoody was up and around his face. “I guess its goodbye then,” I said.

“Give me your phone.”

After rummaging in my purse, I handed it to him. He fiddled for a few seconds, tapping his finger on the screen. A double beep came from his pocket.

“I’ve just sent myself a text,” he said. “Now I have your number. He leaned forward slightly, as though to kiss me.

I stepped back and shook my head. Glanced at the shops and the cafés on the street opposite. “Someone might see.”

“But I’m in disguise.”

“Not worth the risk.” I shrugged.

He sighed. “You’re right.”

“Go, look, there’s a taxi.”

He gave me one last lingering look then trotted down the steps, held out his arm and hailed a passing cab.

I hope you enjoyed that steamy, stolen moment. Have a great day.

Lily x

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