Three
With shaky hands, Celeste put the keycard into the door. When the light flashed green, she pushed it open and entered quietly. The room was semi-dark, only a slit of light under the bathroom door. She sighed. Brock must be in the shower. She looked around for any sign of Paul Heyman.
"I sent him back to his room early tonight."
She jumped at the sound of Brock's voice and she turned to look at him. He looked hot, wearing nothing more than a towel draped around his waist. He made his way across the room to her and stuck his hands on her hips. His hands on her always made her lose any anger she felt, regardless of how warranted it seemed to be. "Oh?"
"I needed a night with my favorite girl," he told her, leaning in to nuzzle her neck. She sucked in a breath. "I'm sorry Paul doesn't like you so much."
"Brock...maybe it'd be better if I just stayed home while you were on the road." His face snapped up to hers.
"What? No." He shook his head. "Celeste, don't think like that. I want you here. I wouldn't want to be having this much success with anyone else. Please don't think like that."
"I'm not here for you guys to torture, or leave behind at the arena."
"Baby, that was just a misunderstanding on Paul's part..."
"Because I went to get a cup of coffee." She shook her head. "It's ridiculous. Why am I here if you guys don't want me doing anything?"
He sighed. "Celeste, just take my word for it. I want you here. We're just trying to keep you safe. It can get dangerous if the wrong people get their hands on you just to get to me." She nodded and he leaned in, giving her a soft kiss. Her hands rested on his damp skin, the smell of soap torturing her senses. He pressed her closer to him as his tongue entered her mouth, exploring with expertise. She moaned, her hand running up the back of his neck to ruffle through his short blond hair. Swiftly, he lifted her up, her legs wrapping around him and taking her over to the bed, laying her down without breaking the kiss. Her breathing was catching as his lips traveled to her neck, nipping with his teeth before soothing with soft kisses. Her hand ran down his muscular back before pulling the towel away from him. He smiled against her lips. "Celeste..."
"Shut up," she breathed, kissing him, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he worked to strip her without breaking the kiss. When he had her stripped naked in front of him, he wasted no time sliding into her, causing her body to jolt. No matter how many times they made love, Celeste always had a difficult time adjusting to his size. He didn't give her much time tonight, though, as he began moving fast, sharp stabs of pain and pleasure shooting through Celeste as she cried out often. He wasn't in the moment, and truthfully neither was she. But his distraction was more evident to Celeste than hers was to him. He thrust wildly, their breathing labored and hitched, reverberating off the walls of their silent hotel room.
"Oh...Brock..." Her fingers spread out across his arms, pressing tightly, leaving white fingerprints against his tanned flesh. "Brock..."
"I love you, Celeste," he told her, kissing her neck. With a few more thrusts, it was over, with Brock rolling off of her almost right away. He kissed her forehead and curled under the blanket. He brought Celeste under with him and curled up against her, resting his head on her breast. For as long as they had been together, Brock had always rested on her chest after they made love. It was just a habit that he had. It was a habit that she treasured.
She looked down at the top of his head. She loved Brock; but Mark was right. There was definitely something that kept bringing her back. She sighed. She hated that Mark had put the thoughts in her head. She felt Brock's fingers stroking her stomach as his breathing relaxed. It was these moments that kept her bringing back. The moments when he told her he loved her, when he laid against her and ran his fingers over her skin. She sighed. The best thing she could do was stay away from the Undertaker.
Mark made his way back into the hotel. He had managed to find a twenty-four hour diner on the outskirts of town. After having dinner and signing some autographs, he made his way back to the hotel. He was exhausted and Unforgiven was coming up pretty fast. He was hoping to finally get the title off of Brock. Dwayne had dropped it to him back in August so he could have more time to pursue his blooming movie career.
What was worse was that his mind was on Celeste. He wondered if she was okay. He was horrified that Brock and Paul Heyman would leave her behind at the arena and tell her to find a way back. There was something so sweet and so vulnerable about Celeste, so he knew that the last thing he would ever do was ditch her. He readjusted his bag and entered the lobby, making his way towards the elevator. He shook his head. He couldn't be thinking about her. Brock Lesnar was her college sweetheart, and for better or for worse, she seemed like she was going to stand by him.
He sighed. Women were confusing. He also realized that he didn't know the mechanics of their relationship, so he couldn't call her stupid for sticking with him. She did love him, it was obvious. It just killed him to watch women anchored to men who treated them so indifferently. He dug into his pocket for his keycard and entered his hotel room. Whoever booked the room had a hell of a sense of humor; WWE Champion Brock Lesnar was right next door.
Celeste stood out on the balcony, wrapped in nothing but a rose pink silk robe. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she stared out at the city below. Brock was sound asleep, dead to the world. He wouldn't wake up until the first rays of sun came up. That or Paul Heyman started banging on the door for Brock to start training. Then she'd be locked up in the hotel room waiting for Brock to get back.
She heard the sliding door next door open and she turned to come face to face with the barrier between the two rooms. She rested her arms on the banister and leaned over to stare down at the plants and the flowers below.
"Fancy meeting you here."
She turned her head to see Mark leaned over the balcony as well, a glass of water in his hand. She sighed and stared back down at the ground. "What's the matter?" She sighed. "Come on, Celeste, you can tell me." She shook her head. "Come on. You look like you could use someone to talk to other than the Big Neanderthal." She shot him a look and he quickly apologized. "Come on, Celeste. I don't think I've seen you talk to one Superstar or one Diva since you've been on the road with Brock. Fill me in here. Talk to me."
She crinkled her face. "I feel like a whore right now," she replied softly, shaking her head. "I doubt you really want to hear about that."
"On the contrary," he replied. "It's obviously bothering you." She sighed.
"Any woman in their right mind would be pissed that her boyfriend just dumped her behind at the arena. Hell, anyone woman would have left after the second time. But he does this at least once a week." She sighed. "But he came up to me tonight, and told me he wanted me here and told me he loved me, and I just fell right into it. If I had an ounce of self respect I probably would have killed him." She sighed, staring down at the grass below.
Mark shook his head. "It doesn't make you a whore, Celeste. Our definitions differ greatly there. I think you just need to get your head straightened out." She nodded. "You're dealing with a lot. You're on the road all the time, and it's not like they treat you very well, honey. You're away from your family, and the only people you talk to are Brock, who is hot and cold with you at best, and Paul Heyman who just shouts and snarls at you. How far off am I here?"
She sighed. "You're more or less spot on." She looked through the glass door. "I should get back inside. Brock's stirring. He'll be out here in a minute if I don't go in. Have a good night."
"Night, sweetheart. Anytime you need to talk, I'm not hard to find." She nodded and walked back into the room in time for Brock to prop himself up on his arms.
"Honey?"
"I just needed some fresh air," she told him, "I was feeling a little warm." He cocked an eyebrow. "I'm okay." She untied her robe and took it off, the moon silhouetting her naked frame in the darkness. She slid under the blanket and curled up against Brock.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, kissing her forehead. She nodded, yawning.
"Yeah. I'm okay. You should be sleeping, Brock. Paul's gonna be banging on the door early tomorrow morning." Brock nodded and kissed her forehead before pulling her closer and closing his eyes. Celeste sighed; with Mark right next door, there was no way she was going to get her head straightened out.