I’m so wet that, as we practice the parade portion of the pageant, my juices are dripping down my thighs, making them slippery and totally fucking distracting.
I try to wipe away the proof of desire by rubbing my knees together, but it’s not enough to make any difference.
And then, I fucking do it.
I fucking fall. Again.
This time, I face-plant even worse than the last time—if that’s even possible.
I hit the stage hard, and there are no sexy billionaire boyfriends to help me up this time. They tried to be here, but the pageant director was immovable on that front. No men allowed.
I fumble and shake as I try to pick myself up with dignity, but I’m not sure that’s going to be possible.
To my relief, Miss Ireland and Miss Japan come running to my aid.
“Ooch. Fucked that one up, didn’t you?” Miss Ireland drawls in an accent I find absolutely adorable.
She ruffles my hair, her tits bouncing just inches away from my face—not to mention her pussy as she crouches down to help.
But considering that everyone else on stage is naked right now, I think I’ve been desensitized a bit.
“Poor lass—what’ve you hurt?” she asks.
“Just my pride,” I say with a wince.
“Back on the horse, then,” she says, grinning. She and Miss Japan both take me by the arms and help me back to my feet, and we continue with the parade like nothing happened.
But my luck doesn’t hold up for long.
“Bit of a one-trick pony, ain’t ya?” Miss Australia sneers with a cackle, sashaying past all three of us and jumping ahead in the line-up. “You’re fucking unco as fuck, mate. If you’re not gonna watch where you’re going, might as well put a bag over your head—save us the pain of looking at ya.”
I roll my eyes. What a bitch. Women are supposed to empower each other and lift each other up, not tear each other down by laughing like a hyena when one falls and busts their ass...no matter how many times it happens.
I push that little incident behind me and imagine Chase and Eric back at the hotel, fucking me with their huge, thick, and throbbing cocks. I want them to have their way with me, over and over again.
Having sex with them will clear my head. That’s all I need—another fuck and some more of their delicious cum.
After my set is over and the practice concludes, I begin walking backstage en route to the limo I know will be waiting for me. I’m mentally exhausted, but physically burning up and ready for the guys.
I put my pink silk robe on and pop open a Protein Plus shake. I slurp it down like I haven’t had a drink in a decade. I pull out my phone to tell Eric and Chase that I’m on my way.
That’s when I stop in my tracks. There’s a text message from Ryan waiting for me.
Need to talk. I’m in Japan. Where are you?
Fuck.
Why is he doing this to me? This little text message is really throwing a wrench into my night plans with Eric and Chase. I’ve already handled enough drama for a night.
“Kara?” I hear a man’s voice call out.
Shit.
I turn around and gasp.
Ryan is backstage. Our eyes meet, and my stomach flips. Bile forms in my throat, but I wash it down quickly with another gulp of my Protein Plus shake.
He must see how white my face is—or maybe it’s green. Either way, I know I look startled and probably like I’m getting ready to barf all over him.