Busted Play: The Series (Players, Books 1-6) Read online

  “So, one day you tell your Dad that Mom is feeding you pie at night. He freaks and tells you it can’t be. Mom would never feed you pie at night. You must be mistaken and refuses to talk to you about it. Now you’re on your own. If your own Dad doesn’t believe you about the pie, who will? So instead, from that point on, you try to convince your Mom, no pie at night. Sometimes she listens, sometimes she doesn’t but always there’s a kind of manipulation. That if you don’t eat pie, you will no longer be special or be loved.”

  “Wait here.” He jumps out of the limo, speaks to the front desk, and then comes right back. “We need to change hotels, and then come up with a new plan.”

  Chapter 14

  My phone is buzzing nonstop in my back pocket so I turn it off. I need a moment to think. My brain’s about to explode from her confession. Didn’t I know she didn’t get along with her family? I figured maybe her dad had spanked her as a kid or maybe he was a bit over-protective as a teen, the normal shit.

  Incest. Shit. How the fuck am I supposed to deal with that?

  I grab a couple beers and sit down next to this amazing woman. A part of me wants to believe she’s lying, that the man I shook hands with couldn’t possibly have touched her as a little girl. How the hell is she so normal?

  By the way she clenches her glass, the tears, and the silence, I know she’s told the truth. It takes all my self-control not to go back to that party and pound that bastard into the dirt. What kind of father messes with his own daughter?

  I swallow hard, open another beer, then dump it down the sink, opting for clear thinking, instead.

  She hasn’t said anything since we got back to the room. She just stares at the bubbles in her drink, swirling them around and around, eyes overflowing.

  I should say something but I’m not that guy. I’m also pretty certain she should speak to a shrink but who knows? That might not be right either. I finally decide on damage control with Jaz. Not because it’s the most important thing but because I can’t think of anything else better to do.

  His voice is up an octave, making his gay persuasion more pronounced. “Speak to me. What the hell just happened? Where did you go?”

  I glance over at her sad face and my chest tightens into a fucking knot. Just when did she become my whole world?

  “She felt ill. I took her back to the hotel. It happens.”

  “Everyone here is whispering all sorts of rumors.”

  The band is playing in the background and I have to shout to be heard. “You’re the master of deception. Just fix it.”

  “Fine, but give me something to work with. The press will want a juicy story and if we don’t give them one, they’ll make one up. One we might not like as much.”

  I don’t give a shit about the paparazzi or her fucked up family. My only thoughts are of Mel sitting on my couch, crying her eyes out. I suspect her siblings know a lot more than they let on and the fact not one of them called to find out if she was okay, pisses me off even more.

  I want to get back to consoling her so say the first thing that comes into my mind. “Tell them she’s pregnant.”

  Shit. The minute the words come out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back.

  Jaz gasps. “Is she?”

  I picture her large with my baby and wish it were so. “No, for fuck’s sake.”

  “I like it.” He hangs up and I may have just made things worse, but I’ll deal with that later. Right now, my lady needs me and I sit next to her on the bed.

  “Hey.”

  Sad blue eyes surrounded by wet lashes stare up at me. “Hey.”

  “You okay?”

  She shrugs. “Yeah. I guess.”

  I take her beer can, place it on the end table, and scoop her into my lap. “Can I get you anything?”

  Her fingers pull the hair behind my head and sharp teeth nibble my ear lobe. “Just you, hotshot. I need you inside me, fucking me hard. I don’t want to think, just feel.”

  I cup her cheeks, eyes glued to hers, not wanting to give her what she’s asking. I don’t want to fuck, I want so much more. “Let me make love to you, baby.”

  I haven’t used the ‘L’ word in so long that it surprises the hell out of me. If she notices, she says nothing but leans in, lips parted. That’s all the invite I need.

  I kiss her salty cheeks, her eyelids, and those freckles across her nose. Then one fist loops her silky hair holding her in place. My other hand caresses up and down her body, showing her how much I care.

  When she moans, my tongue plunges deep, mimicking what’s to come.

  Suddenly she stops tangling and sucks, nails sharp on the back of my neck, driving me wild. My little Barbie is sexy as hell.

  Imaging her mouth on my cock, my body shudders as I lay her back onto the bed. I could die a happy man kissing her like this, kneading her full breasts.

  When her hands slip to the hem of her dress, I grab her wrists and hold them over her head. Then I push my knee up between her legs,

  “Oh my God.” She pushes her wet core against my pant leg, wetting the fabric with her desire.

  This is how I want her, all hot and sweet. When I pull her dress up to her waist, I’m shocked to find a tiny thong instead of the Catholic-good-girl briefs.

  Oh shit yeah. Kneeling, I pull that tiny piece of fabric down her smooth legs, then spread her knees wide, staring at her pink swollen and glistening flesh.

  All mine.

  My fingertip slips along her wet length, she sighs, and opens wider. When her nub points up quivering, I can’t help but go down on her, sucking and licking. Then I have to unbutton my jeans and unzip my fly because she tastes of sweet peaches in the heat of a southern summer.

  I need her naked so I peel her dress over her head. Thank God for front closure bras. One click, one tug, and her breasts fall free.

  I swallow hard when she opens her eyes, the centers big, black, and dilated. Her lips are swollen from my kisses, the dark nipples of her breasts hard, and her legs open and waiting. Never have I been so damn into a woman. I want to own her, make her understand she’s mine forever and that none of her past shit matters.

  After kissing every inch of her body, I slip one finger in, then two, as she rubs against my thumb, trying to reach her need.

  Then suddenly she slips out of my grasp, pulls down my slacks and grabs my cock.

  “Oh fuck.” My self-control cracks like a tree in a hurricane.

  Then I turn her onto her hands and knees and enter her so deep our bases touch. She goes crazy, bucking back against me, making me swell inside her. Shaking, I hold her hips slowing her down, setting our pace. I drag in and out of her fully, while she whimpers with little sexy breaths.

  It’s the most fucking awesome thing in the world when we speed up again. She bumps into me all hard and fierce while I ride her hard.

  “Now, Dammit.” She sinks her teeth into my hand, thrusts her butt to my abs, and squeezes my cock with her inner muscles.

  “Oh fuck.” My cock goes so fucking hard.

  I press one finger to her clit while twisting her nipple. “Now baby, now.”

  She screams and then suddenly all her insides quiver milking me, prolonging my mind-blowing high.

  I pump and come hard and she meets me again, shouting my name. Finally, I roll onto my back and slide her sweaty body on top of me.

  Her heart beats like a jackhammer, as does mine.

  I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’m never letting her go.

  ~~~

  We board the flight, sit in first class, and yet she says nothing about the cost. That’s how I know how messed up things are inside her head. She awoke in the night and cried herself back to sleep. Then before the sun came up, she was sobbing again.

  She wept all the way to the airport and through security. Finally, in the boarding area, she’s calm and watching my laptop, leaning into my shoulder.

  “Mel, baby? You see this?” I turn my computer her way.

  She no
ds at the website I found with women who were abused as kids. “Thanks, but I’ll be okay. I’m not like them.”

  “I think you need to talk to someone.” In one of the many pages, I found a bulleted list for husbands and boyfriends. Apparently, her crying jag and denials are just the beginning of what may be a long hard road.

  “I told you. I’m not crazy, he is.” She starts to stand up but I’m too fast and pull her into my lap.

  “Baby, I’m not saying you’re crazy but you’re hurt. It says so right here. Says you should talk about it.”

  “I did talk, CJ. Look where it got me. I need to make it like it was before. I just need to fix this.” She shakes her head, face so sad that my stupid heart cracks.

  Suddenly, I’m so angry at her fucking father that if he were here, I’d kick him in the balls so hard that he’d never piss again. Then I have a better idea. When I get home, I’ll have a chat with my brother to see what her legal options are. Meanwhile I’ll just try to learn as much as I can about sexual abuse as fast as I can.

  So far, going just on instinct, it seems like I haven’t fucked up too bad.

  There is no normal, but if I’m reading this right, I only got a short window before she tries to bury all her feelings again and that would be bad. I remember she said there was a therapist at that homeless place she stayed at. Maybe she’ll talk to her.

  After she sleeps, we talk for a bit and then I lay it on her. “Mel? I think you should go talk to that therapist in the homeless shelter. I called someone there who can help.”

  Tears pour down her face but she nods in agreement. Well, it wasn’t the best I could have hoped for but at least I won’t have to commit her. I’m really worried she might harm herself.

  From the airport, I drive her right to a swanky place on Fifth Avenue. I sign a bunch of papers, promising to pay if her insurance won’t. Again, I know how much my baby is hurting because she doesn’t put up a fuss about the money. Then the doctor takes Mel by the hand and leads her into the office.

  Outside in the lobby, I wait and pace, wishing like hell she’d broken a leg or an arm. That, like my knee, can be fixed with time. This kind of hurt, I have no idea how to handle.

  While they talk quietly, I do some more researching, growing more despondent with each website. She may never recover and if she does, she may not be the girl I remember.

  Chapter 15

  Entering the peaceful room for crazy people, I figure this is CJ’s first step at kicking me out of his life. The sounds of the ocean that are supposed to chill me out, make me edgy. Why, oh why had I told anyone about the abuse? And why can’t I stuff my memories back where they belong?

  When I close my eyes, the ballerina is broken, lying on her back on the top shelf. The music won’t play and there’s holes in the jewelry box, like it’s been hit with a shotgun.

  The nice woman sitting across from me introduces herself as Doctor somebody, and hands me some tissues. Wondering why, I put my hand to my face, surprised to find it wet.

  “Want to tell me what’s going on?” She leans back and waits as if I would spill my guts to a perfect stranger.

  Finally, in the awkward silence I shrug, shredding the Kleenexes into tiny pieces. “It’s nothing. My Dad laughed at me, I left a party, and everyone’s making a big deal out of it.”

  “Okay.” Her face stays impassive. “What happened next?”

  “I ran out of the room. What else could I do? My whole family was there.” The knot in my throat is back, and again with the ache in my gut that refuses to leave.

  It hurts so bad and I just don’t understand why. “What happened to me was years ago. Why now?”

  She smiles sadly. “You’re ready. You weren’t before.”

  “It’s that simple?”

  “Funny enough, it is.”

  “Would you believe someone if they told you they were abused as a kid and yet had no proof.”

  “Is that person a liar?”

  I shake my head, no. “I’m not.”

  Then we talk for over an hour about everything. She gives me a prescription in case I can’t sleep along with some books. She tells me to stay off the internet until I feel stronger and wants to see me twice a week for a while but that sounds too intrusive.

  I promise to return in a week. I’m not crazy, just sad. On the way out, I crumple the prescription and toss it into the garbage. I’m not an addict, either.

  CJ jumps up and searches my face when I meet him in the waiting area. How long do I have before he kicks me out onto the street? My whole reality is skewed. I’m a zombie or in the twilight zone.

  I want there to be truth between me and CJ, too. Lies bring nothing but problems. When I told the shrink about the phony wedding she actually laughed. She figured my subconscious was trying to get payback. I agreed but explained that it doesn’t change the fact I don’t own a blender.

  In the next weeks, me and her talk about everything. We both figure the fake wedding is a really bad idea.

  I just don’t know how to tell CJ. He was counting on that to make his advert deal.

  Chapter 16

  I’m not sure what I expected, but not this. After Iowa, Mel started sleeping on the couch, saying she didn’t want to wake me up with her early morning crying jags.

  I don’t care if she keeps me up all night. All I want to do is wrap myself around her and make her forget everything but me.

  Most of the websites say don’t push and follow her lead. I say fuck that but do as they say. Instead I stay awake all night, praying she’ll come back into my bed. I guess our relationship was always about the fake wedding. She never really wanted me. Who am I kidding?

  Finally, after about four weeks of living in limbo, she sits me down and lets me have it with both barrels. “I’m calling off the wedding.”

  The room spins, my chest tightens, and I clamp onto the edge of the table. “You sure?”

  She nods, liquid pooling in the corners of her eyes. “I called Jaz. Told him he can make me the bad guy. He loves it. The whole jilted lover thing. I told him to say I’m still in love with my ex.”

  “Are you?’ My eyes snap to hers. What the fuck? She can’t possibly be considering going back to Des-picable.

  “Jeesh, CJ. No. Jaz wanted some reason so I gave him one.” Tears stick to her blond lashes as she shakes her head back and forth.

  “Then why, baby? Why? I thought we were good.” I cover her hand with mine, thinking physical contact will make her want to stay.

  “Because it’s a lie. We’re a lie. I talked it over with my Doctor and she agrees. I need to free myself from that kind of messed up stuff, where what’s said doesn’t match reality. She says in a way, I’m still reliving my past. That’s all kinds of fucked-up.”

  I nod, understanding that we need truth. For me, it’s easy. I’m so damned in love with her that my whole life is being sucked into a black hole. I can’t breathe without her.

  I stand slowly, kiss the top of her head, and leave because I don’t trust what I might say next. I would beg on one knee, cry, and she would agree to stay because she’s that sweet. What good would that do? I don’t want her for the wrong reasons.

  After wandering around town for over an hour and hitting a couple bars, I take the subway to my brother’s place in Brooklyn. A night owl like me, he’s still dressed and his computer is on with a bunch of work files piled high on his kitchen table.

  “Whiskey?”

  I nod and he takes out the Rebel Yell, the stuff from when we were stupid teens. I must really look like shit.

  “You want to tell me what’s up?” A couple glasses come out of his cupboard and he pours three fingers, each.

  “She’s called off the wedding.” My stupid voice cracks. A grown man crying. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  “Not surprised.” Andy pretends not to notice.

  “You knew?” My fists clench.

  “No, dude. I told you right from the start she was a good girl. I knew eventu
ally she couldn’t pull off a scam like that. So what happened? What brought it to a head?”

  His eyes are sharp and lawyer-like. I can see why he’s so good at his job. Without saying too much, I tell him about her childhood, what really happened at our party, and how she’s been trying to recover since. How she’s been crying nonstop.

  “Bro. I love her. I can’t let her go. She’s my whole fucking world. Like, my chest is all tight. It hurts so bad, I feel like I’m drowning.” I wipe away a fucking tear. Dammit.

  Andy’s studying his drink, now, giving me some space to pull it together. A good man to have at your side in times like this. “Stay here tonight. Drink. Do whatever you need to do. And give me your phone. No drunk texting. Women hate that.”

  My brother must’ve read my mind. “Shit. Then what can I do?”

  “Since when are you a quitter? Figure it out.”

  Chapter 17

  I stare at the door, numb and stunned.

  That was fast. Not even a goodbye? Just I need to get some air? I guess I was right to call off the wedding. I thought CJ would at least try to convince me to change my mind.

  Wow. Suddenly, the apartment seems way too big and quiet as I pace.

  In the past, I’d call my mom but since starting therapy, I’ve come to realize she was complicit in my abuse. When I told her about my dad, she should’ve protected me. I was just a kid, for crying out loud. For years, I’ve been dragging this guilt around but it really belongs to my parents.

  It still hurts like fucking hell to face my memories square on every day but it’s getting easier. It took someone else’s perspective to make me realize that none of what happened to me was my fault. Now, when I look for the jewelry box in my head, it’s faded and almost disappeared. In some ways, however, it’s like a toddler losing a security blanket.

  I grab the remote, channel surfing. What have I done?

  You freed him from the burden of having to keep a promise. The you before Iowa is not the you now.

  Around midnight, I get a text from Andy, telling me CJ is there.