Out of Her League Read online

  “Are you alright, miss?”

  “Yes, thank you,” she said with a squeak. She caught a glimpse of her dishevelled hair and flushed cheeks in the mirror. She plucked out the pins holding it in, untwisted it from its tight bun, and dragged her fingers through her hair to smooth it out. She re-rolled it in shape, stabbing the pins back in, as the lift dinged again and the two ladies exited without words. As the doors slid shut, she heard them begin their gossip. What right had those old biddies to judge her? She worked hard, had done ever since she was fifteen. That awful year when her father, Baba, died in a car crash, leaving just her and Mama to survive together. Mama had fallen apart, grieving into a bottle, and Ella had to balance work and school to hold their life together. Work had become a habit, a way to control her destiny as Mama lost control. Sex was part of that control. She didn’t chase mindless passion like her mother chased the buzz of alcohol. She controlled her desires.

  With an angry puff of breath, she pushed away her problems. Screw everything. Ella deserved tonight. She’d splashed out on a ticket to watch Joey tonight, a present to herself, a reward for her recent promotion at Kapow Advertising. Her best friend Sal might say that she didn’t know when to stop working, or how to have fun. Just look at her now. Tonight she would have fun, she would take everything Joey would give her. A fresh shiver of delight raced down her spine. Who the fuck cared about anything! She had a date tonight with her idol, and he was as courteous as he was hot.

  Chapter 2

  Ella blinked as the lift doors opened to the top floor of the hotel. Joey’s talk had been everything she’d hoped for, the highs of his league career, his bravery after his accident, and now she was about to meet him in his room. Her knees were weak as she tucked her phone in her pocket and walked slowly down the hallway to room 3201, her pace out of step with her rapid heartbeat. She paused outside his door, then leaned against the wall. She pulled out her phone again.

  Ella: Hey Sal, can we chat?

  Sal: Yeah. Are you ok, hon?

  Ella: I think I’m about to do something silly. Was it ill-considered, or just wildly risky? She wasn’t sure. She only knew that her heart galloped and her fingers trembled. With fear or anticipation?

  Sal: Ok? Silly, as in spontaneous and fun. Or silly, as in Help?

  Ella: I might have agreed to a one night stand.

  Sal: As in fun, then. Do it! You could do with some fun in your life.

  Ella: Hey, I have plenty of fun.

  Sal: Lol. No, you have pre-arranged sex with men you’ve interviewed about their ‘attributes’.

  Ella: Still fun. Plus you know why I need control in my life.

  Sal: Sure. But maybe it’ll be good for you to take a risk for a change?

  Ella: That’s not helping.

  Sal: Step outside your rules for once. No wonder you are nervous.

  Ella: Rules are useful. Besides, she might be assuming too much. The air had been electric between her and Joey, and a couple of touches in the lift had sizzled, but he’d only said ‘meet me’ not ‘fuck me’. Her thumb left little sweat smudges on her phone’s screen.

  Sal: Is he hot?

  Ella: Oh yeah! ... it’s Joey Mananui.

  Sal: That’d be why you’re nervous. Holy shit, girlfriend! Ella swallowed. Sal had nailed the problem. They’d laughed about meeting him in real life over coffee last week, when Ella had mentioned she was going to hear him speak. She might be breaking her own rules about sex, but it was Joey. Her first ever fan crush hadn’t faded.

  Ella: Yeah. His speech tonight was amazing.

  Sal: Do it. You’ll regret it if you walk away. Thank fuck for friends. Sal always knew how to get to the heart of things. This could be enjoyed and put away in her memory, a keepsake. Her fingers tingled at the prospect of tracing his biceps, trailing her fingers over his strong shoulders, and feeling his short hair against her palms. She pushed herself away from the wall, sent Sal a thumbs up, put her phone away again, and knocked lightly. A murmured voice called out a few inarticulate words and she eased out a shallow breath. A moment later, the door opened to reveal Joey. He’d ditched his tie and jacket, and his linen shirt clung to his rock hard chest, emphasising his flat stomach. He rolled backwards to allow her inside, and she entered. The door swung closed behind her with a quiet snick.

  “Hey, Ella, come in.” Only a few simple words, yet they rumbled through her in welcome.

  “Thanks.” How could one word sound so breathy? She knew why, because every word in his speech tonight had built the anticipation for this moment, as his resonant deep-toned voice had wowed the audience. To hear her name in his baritone now sent a new thrill spinning inside her.

  “Do you want a drink?” Joey rolled back into the wide lounge, with full length glass windows that gave an incredible view of Sydney at night. She bit her bottom lip and glanced around the penthouse hotel room. It struck her that she didn’t have all the power in this transaction, that she was entering his turf. His rich, luxurious turf. No wonder her pulse tremored with nerves. Damn it. Remember what Sal said. No regrets.

  “This place is amazing,” she said, deliberately avoiding the question about alcohol. Between that and the glamour of the room, the flutter inside her grew. She swallowed away the nerves and tried to convince herself that he was just another guy, that he wasn’t someone she’d admired for years. Usually she was the master of this type of encounter, believing that she worked hard, and therefore she deserved to take her pleasure where she wanted. And, oh boy, did she want to fuck Joey. She was damp for him already. It had only taken one glance at his handsome face as he spoke her name.

  “I bet you get a million emails after your talks. I mean, I know the whole story, and yet it gave me chills when you talked—” She heard the babble of panic in her voice and sucked in a deep breath as he continued to stare at her. Hungrily or annoyed, she couldn’t tell. The lights of Sydney harbour glowed behind him as she clenched the handle of her bag.

  He winked lazily, with a cheeky smirk. “My agent deals with those.”

  “Oh.” She clamped her other hand over her mouth, then let it fall slowly as his gaze raked over her. He rolled closer and stretched out his hands towards her.

  “You don’t have to be nervous around me.”

  “How can I not be nervous?” Her eyes darted around the room, “I mean, you are Joey Mananui, and I’m just .... me.” The last word came out as a whisper. The tremble in her voice irritated her. She swallowed away the sticky burr in her throat, and glanced back at his eyes, crinkled with amusement.

  “Hi, just me. I’m just me too.” He grinned, and she shook her head unable to prevent a smile breaking out.

  “You think I’m thinking too much.” Shit, was she thinking too much? Hadn’t she come here to enjoy herself?

  His mouth quirked at the side. “You are female. Comes with the territory.”

  Nervousness flipped into irritation and she hugged her bag against the flurry in her stomach. “And since you are all man – an important famous man at that - you think you can just smirk at my nerves.”

  “Your nerves?” He blinked once in exaggeration, still grinning. “Have we just time travelled back a hundred years or something?”

  “Fuck,” she whispered, then lifted her chin. “You know what I mean.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah.”

  Her arms relaxed, dropping to her sides again. “I guess you think I’m an idiot. I agree to come here, and now I’m all—”

  “All what? Bothered?” His smile grew, his eyes glinting with teasing laughter. Yes, she was bothered—hot and bothered—by the look in his eye. She was used to being the instigator. In charge. His fame shifted the balance away from her, but it was the way he held himself with utter relaxed confidence that altered everything in his favour.

  “There is no need to be afraid. Come and sit here.” He gestured to his lap, and his gaze burned on her skin as if he knew that she would do as he’d asked, commanded. The assumption prickled at her, a
nd she wanted to wrestle that power back.

  “I’m not—” It was true, she wasn’t scared, not of him. Only, perhaps, probably, of herself. She’d interviewed, as Sal called it, enough men that she knew the creepy wrong second-sense when she might not be safe. It was easier with other women, less risky. Joey gave her none of that sense of off-ness, only a good giddiness that made her pulse beat irregularly. She swallowed away the last vestige of doubt. This was the legendary Joey Mananui, she’d come here deliberately to revel in fandom. Time to choose to sit in his lap and kiss him. Sal’s voice rang strong in her head. Do it. Take a chance. She could tell plenty about someone’s technique, about whether they’d be selfish in bed or amazing, from a kiss. She’d dismissed many a potential partner after an ordinary kiss, and there was much less risk in kissing someone than ending up in their bed. God, she hoped he could kiss. As she stepped towards his chair to sit on his lap, he wrapped his huge hand around her hip and started to pull her towards him.

  “Stop thinking, Ella.”

  She tried not to bristle at the command. “Hang on, let me put my bag down, and I’ll sit down.”

  “Sure. It wouldn’t be the best start if you walloped me with that gigantic thing,” he said. She laughed, clean and clear as the warmth from his hand on her hip seeped through her clothes.

  “We already discussed this. If I had pockets...” She threw the bag onto the table where it landed with a clunk.

  “What have you got in there? Rocks?”

  She grinned. “Oh, all sorts of useful stuff.” A few lipsticks in different shades, spare tampons, an old school romance that she didn’t have on her e-reader, the kind of clutter that was in every woman’s bag because they didn’t have pockets. She unbuttoned her jacket as she stood before him, her fingers fumbling on the buttons as he kept his gaze fixed on them.

  “You’d need bloody big pockets to fit whatever made a dent in the table.” His dark brown eyes twinkled and her shoulders relaxed as she slid onto his lap. The chair wheels made it slightly awkward, stopping her from sitting completely sideways. She had to twist to face him, one hand landing naturally on his strong shoulder, the other resting on her own knee. Before she could process the heat of his skin, or the way touching him made her nipples tighten, he captured her mouth, his hot lips seared her. She sighed into his mouth. Joey. What she’d wanted was a clinical kiss to determine his skill level. What she got was something completely different. An opportunity for more. Heat. Connection. His tongue probed deep, his taste filling her, dominating her senses with rich chocolate and salted caramel, a heady mix, one that promised dessert. The taste of desire. Sinful. Exquisite. Her imagination was a poor cousin to reality. Warm satisfaction—she was correct, he was more than good at this—filled her torso, mingling with the heat of desire that began where their lips connected, and raced down to her core. She slid one hand up his neck. His short hair was rough against her palm as she threaded her fingers against his scalp, and he groaned into her mouth. She reached up, placed her other hand on his hard chest, the linen of his shirt soft under her palm while his heat radiated through the fabric. His masculine scent, salty, rich, sharp, sent a tremor of anticipation skittering over her skin. She shifted so one hip pressed against his arousal, as he coaxed her senses with his tongue. Her body melted, that warm rush of desire making her boneless against him until she jerked away, breathless. She panted, only barely noticing that he also breathed heavily.

  “Do I pass?” Only a man with supreme confidence could ask that question in this moment, in such a way that the only answer was Yes. Oh my god, yes. She could only nod. He’d blown her brains away with a kiss, tantalising her as she softened, wet between her thighs and ready for him. How good would he be! She should never have doubted her instincts. She’d known in the lift that this would be amazing and being correct grew the potential between them. A deep all-encompassing satisfaction, more than the physical, was possible with Joey. It ought to scare her, except it was so enticing. She slid her hand from his chest, trailing her fingers along his throat as he swallowed, her back twisting so her breasts pressed against his chest.

  “Joey.” She wriggled in his lap as she tried to get closer to him. He reached up and tucked an errant hair behind her ear.

  “You didn’t ask about my accident and how that might affect me.” His matter-of-fact tone jerked her back to reality. She tilted her head, puzzled at the sudden change in topic.

  “You can’t spring questions like that on me with no warning.” Ella inhaled sharply, “besides, I googled it on the way up here.”

  “What would we do without the internet?” He chuckled. He rested one hand on the middle of her back, and the other drifted from her cheek, down her neck, tracing the edge of her jacket. Sparks skittered across her skin, little bursts that almost distracted her from his question.

  “Don’t you want to know what I discovered?”

  “Sure, you might have terrible Google skills.” His dead-pan expression made her blink.

  “Hey, my google skills are—” Ella realised her error as a slow smile spread on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Oh, you tease. So, anyway, apparently, it all depends on the location of the injury as to how much sensation you have, but then, I figured that you wouldn’t have invited me here if it didn’t all, you know, work.”

  He nodded. “Yeah that sums it up. I can give you anything you desire.”

  “I want it all.” She captured his lips, trying to demonstrate her keenness in her kiss, to connect with ardour. He growled into her mouth, producing a vibration and a sound she wanted to treasure. She clenched her fingers against his head, as he stroked his hand down her side and up under her jacket. He tightened his hand over her breast, and she gasped at the burst of pleasure that shot through her.

  “Maybe we should move to the couch, so we have a bit more room,” he said. She broke the kiss and noticed her knee wedged hard into the wheel of his chair. Oh. She’d been so lost in the kiss that she hadn’t noticed. A sharp breath whooshed out, emptying her lungs, until she drew in a deeper breath and looked around the room, blinking. A seductive smile slowly grew as she spied a tall backed chair.

  “I have a better plan.” She stood up, using Joey’s shoulders to help her, marched to the chair, grabbed it, and placed it against the wall.

  “I like how you think.” He rolled to the chair and lifted himself from one to the other, his arms bulging through his thin white linen shirt as he swung across. Her hands tingled, she had to touch those muscles. Now. And without that pesky shirt in the way.

  She hitched her skirt up, not all the way, just enough that she heard his sudden intake of breath. Yes. This is the power she loved, someone at her mercy. She stepped across his lap.

  “Like this?” she asked, keeping her legs straight as she stood across him. His mouth parted, and his gaze stayed low, transfixed by the promise between her legs. A promise that throbbed deep inside her with anticipation. She slid her hands up her sides, still yet to touch him. He growled, deep in his throat, and grabbed her hips, dragging her onto his lap. He pulled her tight against him, his whole body connecting with hers in a surge of sensation. His hard cock made a tent in his trousers, pressed against her skirt, stretched over her hips, creating a barrier of her making. She would choose when to close that final gap. Her hands dropped to rest on his shoulders, as he kissed her. This kiss, even hotter than the last threatened to scorch her. His touch and his cock, hard and strong against her stretched skirt, his mouth against hers. It all added to something better than anything she’d ever experienced. She wriggled to get closer. He grabbed her skirt in his fists, and tugged it up to her waist, exposing her completely. She tilted her hips, closing the final gap between them. His cock rubbed against her panties, only her lace and his trousers between them. She slid one hand down, the cool fabric of his shirt soft under her fingers, until she reached his waistband. She paused, even though every fibre in her body wanted to rush, to grasp him and have him, because she
wanted to draw out this moment. To torture them both, to revel in this passion, to cement the memory in her brain of that one time she fucked her hero. She eased her hips backwards. He softened his grip on her waist, gave her the space she needed, while he kept up insistent pleasure of their kiss. She ran her thumb down the bulge in his trousers. He broke their kiss on a gasp. One that she replicated.

  “No wonder they call you Big Joey.” Her husky voice sounded like someone else, someone lost in passion. This wasn’t the impersonal encounter that she thought she preferred. This might be better, much better.

  “I thought that referred to the whole package,” he said, lazily. She flicked open his pants, and his cock sprang free. She wrapped her fingers around the hot length, silky skin against her palm as she stroked him, so thick that her fingers didn’t quite meet her thumb as she encircled him. A drop appeared on the broad head, and she brushed her thumb over it. Wet to match the wetness between her legs. A rumble of sound rushed from his throat. He buried his head against her neck, his stubble rough against her skin.

  She whispered against his ear. “Whatever you call it, I’m impressed.” She explored his length, taking her time with the hard, silky length, tracing each vein, wanting to remember every second of this encounter, before she lost her mind to the building tension. His teeth scraped against the tendons in her neck as his hands swept down her exposed legs. Rough calluses on his palms and fingers added to the building sensations. She stroked him tight with one hand, her other clutching at his skull, as his clever hands stroked broad circles on her inner thighs. Her legs trembled with need as her pulse raced, and heat seared her core.

  “Closer. I need...” She begged for his touch. He smiled against her skin, trailing kisses along her neck, as his fingers swept oh, so near, once again.