Busted Play: The Series (Players, Books 1-6) Page 9
“Fuck it, Mel. Now!” He arches up so hard I see stars and rainbows, then everything breaks into little heart shaped pieces, a glorious high.
One last primal groan and his fluids fill me while my body echoes his final twitches.
Then, as my head falls onto his chest, I’m loving how I made this incredible athlete’s heart race out of control. Pulses slowing, I caress my fingertips up and over his abs while his hands rub up and down my back.
The air thick with the smell of our sex, I look up, unable to resist kissing him once more. “Love you, hotshot.”
He exhales a sleepy whisper, “Love you, too, babe.”
Chapter 3
My next game is in Giants Stadium and although I’d rather stay another night with Mel, I need my training so I can get back on top.
Lucky me, the guys are handing out a shit-load of advice which I mostly ignore. Fuck that, I just need a little time on the field. Exhausted and sore at the end of the day, I pick up the phone and speed-dial my publicist-man-Friday because I’m pretty sure I saw MJ in the stands, sitting with the WAGS.
He needs to shut her shit down.
“Hey, it’s me.” I park my ass down on the hotel bed, staring at an awesome view of the Hudson.
“Just a second, hun.” Jaz puts me on hold and when he picks up, the weird echo of speaker phone is gone. “I want to know what is going on with you and Mary Jane McAllister. We need to get a buzz going. She could be worth millions of dollars in free advertising. I can have you lined up with People magaz—”
“—Hold off. Me and MJ are definitely not back together. I’m with Melanie. I have been since last January.”
“Whoaaa… No way! You did not say that. Are you telling me that you’ve been back together with that girl for months and didn’t tell me?” When his voice goes up an octave like that, and his lisp increases, I know he’s really pissed-off.
“Seriously?”
While Jaz uses some imaginative cursing that I didn’t even know he had in him, I recall how Mel cooked up this wild idea after her boyfriend locked her out of her apartment. She needed a toaster and shit like that and I wanted to look golden for this advertising campaign.
“…I am your publicist, your oldest, dearest friend, and you don’t tell me something as important as this?”
There may be real hurt in his tone so I try not to be a complete ass. “I wanted to give me and Mel a chance without your interfering.”
“Is she pregnant?” He actually sounds hopeful.
“No.” A couple months ago, I recall that I may have lied about that. It was after a big party in Iowa, celebrating our fake engagement and the day I learned how seriously dysfunctional her family is. Mel’s father is a fucking dick. I still owe him for what he did to her as a kid.
Time to shut down Jaz’s fit. “Someday we’ll sit down over a beer and I’ll tell you all about it. Just know Melanie doesn’t get along well with her family in Iowa, okay? Don’t even bring them up.”
“But what about you and Mary Jane? Wait a minute… Do we have a love triangle here?” All of a sudden, Jaz giggles, those marketing wheels whirring in his brain.
“Don’t go there.” Shit. I may need a new publicist.
He’s clueless to how pissed I am. “What will your fans think when they find out you have two fiancés? Are you banging them both?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, no. Do not say anything. Got it?” I hang up.
After having such an awesome call with Jaz, I press my luck and call Mel.
“Hello?” Her tone is pure ice.
“What’s up?” I try to sound casual, hoping she didn’t see the shots of MJ.
“Your fiancé, that’s what.” She’s not just mad, she’s actually spitting into the phone.
“Ex- fiancé. We haven’t been together for over a year. What did she do?” I can only imagine as I hold my breath.
“Your ex showed up at my apartment and let herself in. How the hell did she get a key? Anyhow, she actually told me to get lost. She’s looney-tuney. I had to call your brother to come and physically remove her. She really believes she’s still your fiancé and called me trailer trash. I never lived in a trailer. You need to talk some sense into that woman.”
Oh man. This is worse than I thought. My ex has lost it. “I’ll fix this when I get home.”
“Fix it? Are you fucking kidding me? Have her arrested.” Melanie saves the f-bomb for truly pissed off moments.
“Call the locksmith when you hang up with me. I promise when I get home, she’ll be gone and I’ll make you forget she ever existed.”
She snorts as if she doesn’t believe me which I take as a personal affront. I’ll get her so worked up, the neighbors will be pounding on the ceiling.
With my sexiest voice, I whisper. “If I were there right now, I’d slip my fingers down the front of your pants.”
“Oh?” Her breath hitches.
I’ve never before tried phone sex and her interest sends blood rushing south. “Are you alone?”
“Uh huh.”
“Are you in the bedroom?”
“No. Just a second.” Her footsteps tell me she’s barefooted, probably dressed in yoga pants and one of my old t-shirts.
“Lay back on the bed for me, sugar. Take all of your clothes off.” I close my eyes, imagine her undressing, and push down my own sweats so I can grab myself.
The phone thumps as she places it on the bed, When she comes back on, her voice is low. “I’m completely naked, hotshot.”
A moan escapes out of me and I start to sweat. “Shit, Mel. I want you so fucking bad I’m ready to come home and slide into you so deep you won’t know where I stop and you begin.”
“Are we—”
“—Touch yourself. Tell me what you feel.”
“I’m wet. Real wet, CJ. And swollen, soft and thick.” She purrs her description into the phone, already too fucking good at this game.
As much as I want to slow it down, I want her as burning for me as I am for her right now. “Open your legs wider and slide down to the mirror. Can you do that for me, baby?”
The light beside the bed clicks on and the sheets rustle. “Okay. I’m there. Are you hard, CJ?”
“Fuck yeah.” I lay back with my cell next to my ear and start to slide up and down my swollen member with one hand. Damn if this isn’t sexy as hell.
Her voice is all sexy and quiet-like. “If I was there, I’d put my mouth around your beautiful cock and do that thing with my tongue you like so much. Would you like that?”
Hell yeah, I would, but it’s time for payback. “Are you watching your pussy?
“Yessss…” There’s silence as her breath grows more irregular.
“Make little circles for me around your nub, the way I like to make you come with my tongue. Tell me. What do you see?”
“The center is growing hard, wet, glistening, pointing.” Her panting drives me wild.
Moaning, I tighten my grip and yet hold back. “Dammit, baby. Pinch your nipple. Come for me. Press faster harder. I—”
“Oh, oh.” Her breath grows louder, more uneven.
“Touch inside, touch outside, slide in and out. Scream for me so I know when you come.”
“Oh, Oh my God.” She shouts. The sound of her having an orgasm takes me over the top. Holy hell. She could make a living at this.
I pump hard and take my own damn release, making a mess over everything.
“Mel?”
“Mmmm?”
“Holy shit. Don’t worry about me and anyone else, okay? You’re everything I need, everything I ever want. I fucking love you so much.”
“Love you, too, hotshot. ‘G’night.”
“’night, baby.”
I fall asleep, dreaming of her and thinking how lucky I am she loves me.
Chapter 4
Wow. I was really stupid to think he cared about his ex but still, I can’t ignore the fact she has a ring and I don’t. Yeah, I get that it’s my fault. I’m th
e one who said to take it slow but why the hell does she have to be so friggin’ beautiful?
She’s supposedly a model.
Riiiight…
I haven’t found one damn thing online that would make me believe it, other than her own headshots. That bitch probably never worked a day in her life.
I know, I know. I need to stop checking her out on Facebook but do it anyhow. The picture of him kissing her in the hotel room’s gone viral with over five-hundred-thousand hits. Plus, she’s posted photos of our engagement party in Iowa, the day I supposedly broke CJ’s heart. Not only that, there’s this blog about her upcoming wedding. The comments are so well written that she probably has a huge staff handling social media.
That just sucks.
I throw my work shoes into a bag, put on my sneakers, and head out. Hopefully, because it’s early, I won’t get bothered by stupid people with their camera phones hoping to get a shot of the woman that jilted CJ Quinn. All that died down months ago.
C’mon people. I just don’t matter that much.
I grab a coffee at the bodega, say hi to Ajiit and chat for a sec about his kids. Then I rush down the hill to the rehab center where I work. Kit, my most famous client, is waiting at the front door. A hockey player for the Rangers, he’s here on CJ’s recommendation.
I like Kit. Unlike CJ, he gave me no grief about being a woman in sports therapy and he’s kind of cute. With those dark lashes and French good looks, if it weren’t for being in love, I’d hit on him in a heartbeat.
“You’re late.” Leaning against the building, he winks, then slugs down some orange juice out of a carton.
“Sorry.” I work the key into the padlock and then he helps me lift the heavy iron gate with his good arm.
“Warm up for me?” I point to the treadmill while I switch on the breakers.
Then he walks, I power up the computers, and with the greatest restraint, avoid Facebook. I never said anything about Instagram.
“Oh shit.”
“What is it?” Kit pulls off his headphones, no doubt watching the distress crossing my face.
“Nothing. Just that witch from yesterday, Mary Jane McAllister. She’s waging a campaign on social media.”
“Oh yea. The press loves her.” He smiles.
I snort. “The woman is gunning for him. She really thinks they’re still engaged.”
“She’s got the ring to prove it.” He glances at my bare finger on my left hand which I immediately pull under the counter.
I don’t understand my need to tell him all this personal stuff. “Me and CJ have both been burned, so we’re taking it slow.”
He ups his gait to a jog, not yet breaking into a sweat, looking good. “I don’t get it, eh? I thought you two broke up last summer? Something about some party out west.”
I remember that night all too well. I thought I could handle anything, but when my Dad laughed about what he did to me as a kid, I lost it.
Now I go to therapy once a week to deal with incest. Shit.
I brush the crappy thoughts away and repeat the story me and CJ came up with. “No, no. The whole engagement was just for the press. He needed the publicity.”
Kit’s wearing this fierce scowl as he runs with clenched fists. “Know what? I love CJ like he’s my own brother, but he’s a real bastard when it comes to the women. You really should stay clear. What about the baby? Did he own up to that?”
“Nope. CJ’s publicist made all that up, too.”
“Merde. That’s just fucked up.” He glances down at the treadmill display, dark brows furrowed, and ups his pace again.
“You don’t understand. We had this arrangement. CJ had a bad reputation and was going to lose his advert deal and maybe not even get re-signed with his team because of his knee and this thing with an underage drunk driver.”
“He asked you to do that?” Thick lashes surround dark eyes that a lesser woman would drown in but I’m busy defending the honor of my man.
“Actually, I was the one who asked him. I was homeless at the time. I needed a toaster, a blender, everything, you know?”
“No cherie, not getting this at all.” His timer goes off, the treadmill slows, and I lead him over to his first set of pullups, watching his form on the machine.
When I’m certain he’s sitting tall, knees at a good angle, I continue. “It’s like this. My boyfriend at the time kicked me out of my apartment, changed the locks, and stole all my stuff. When I checked out what a lawyer would cost, it was more than everything I owned.”
“What did you do?” He stops to rest for a moment to regard me.
“Keep going. You owe me twenty.”
When he picks up his weights, I continue the pathetic tale of that phase of my life. “I stayed a couple nights in a shelter.”
I don’t share how the owner insisted I call home and get support from my family, something I could never do.
“Why didn’t CJ just give you the cash? I would’ve.”
I shrug. “He offered but I wouldn’t take it.”
“Why the hell not?” He jumps off the machine and walks to the next one in our regimen.
“Once a woman takes money, it’s like sex is owed. What would that make me? You guys just don’t get it, do you?”
“Whoaa. Don’t put me in a bucket with every other guy.” He touches my arm but I step back and direct him toward his workout.
“Okay, tell me this. Would you expect sex from a woman if you handed her a few thousand bucks?”
He at least has the decency to change the subject. “So what was with the fake wedding?”
“It’s simple. Like you now, CJ was in rehab, overheard my problem, and offered to be my groom.” I smile thinking of how he was so cool about it, but later found out he was so into me.
“Bâtard,” he mutters under his breath. “He took advantage of you.”
“No, no, he didn’t. We didn’t even, you know…” Not used to talking about sex with anyone but CJ, I imagine my face is bright red.
“But a fake wedding, fooling your family? Oui? That was okay?”
He has no idea how messed up my home life was so I don’t get miffed. I’m finally getting used to how most people feel about their families. It’s not their fault that my dad, if found out, would’ve gotten twenty years for touching a kid under the age of twelve.
Going to therapy has been helping and I don’t share that either. Again, time to change the subject.
“So, Kit. You’re looking good. Let’s check your flexibility, and I’ll go fill in all your insurance forms.”
“Merci, cherie. I swear you’re the best.” Unexpectedly, he gives me a big sweaty hug, and kisses me on the lips.
Dammit. I did not want nor expect that.
Suddenly a familiar hand is on my shoulder, turning me around, and I’m staring into the eyes of one very pissed-off CJ Quinn.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He glares at me and then Kit as he pushes the hockey player away.
Kit growls, “Va chier!”
“You fuck off.” CJ’s fists clench and I’ve never seen his jaw clench like that before.
Oh shit. I step in between them.
“Let it go. Today is Kit’s last day and we were just saying goodbye. Weren’t we, Kit?” I glare at the hockey player wondering how long CJ had been standing there and if Kit was purposely trying to make trouble.
He smirks at CJ. “It’s like she say. No big deal. We’re friends. Non?”
“You don’t have any female friends. You have fuck-buddies. Tell her.” CJ pokes Kit in the chest who swats his hand away.
Then Kit gets up into his face. “Ostie, at least mes amis know where they stand with me. I never asked one to marry me, let alone two.”
I point to a chair, worried for his health. “Please sit, Mr. Charard, while I finish your paperwork.”
“Email it to me. You get tired of him, call me, cherie. Despite what he says, I know how to treat a lady with respect.”
We’re not married and even if we were, that kiss meant nothing and it wasn’t my fault. Kit had probably meant to hit my cheek. Regardless, it doesn’t give CJ Quinn the right to be a complete ass to my client, one who’s references I desperately need.
CJ starts pacing up and down the center between the machines. “Is this what you do when I’m not around?”
It suddenly dawns on me that since we started dating, we’d been inseparable. We both hadn’t had a chance to learn to trust. My therapist says I need to learn to take deep breaths when I’m angry and think before opening my mouth.
It doesn’t really help because while I’m doing that, I step in front of him not noticing his eyes are on the floor. We both collide and I drop onto my ass, my muddled brain seeing stars.
“Oh shit.” He drops to his knees, face over mine, breath warm. “You okay?”
When my vision clears, I bring him down to where I’m laying by grabbing the back of his head, Then I kiss him so hard, he moans. I don’t want to fight. We’ve had so few moments together lately all I want is to make love. That’s the only thing he seems to understand when words don’t work.
When I stop for air, his brows are still furrowed. “If you want to play around, we’re done.”
My heart stops. “Seriously? Kit kissed me just to piss you off. What is it with you two?”
Releasing my hands, he rises off his knees. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Wait a minute. How long were you standing there watching us?” My back was to the door, but Kit must’ve known he was there and played him like a fiddle.
“Long enough.” CJ stands glaring at me with his fists clenched, nostrils flaring.
I cup my palms around the stubble on his cheeks, forcing him to meet my gaze. “I would never, ever cheat on you. I’ve only ever slept with one guy, other than you.”
Suddenly, he takes my hand, pulls me into one of the changing rooms, and locks the door.
He unzips his jeans. “Show me, baby. Hard and fast.”