“Maybe I don’t even want to have sex with you.”
I roll my eyes, thinking of his clever mouth between my legs last night.
He smirks. “Okay. Maybe you’re right. I really do want to fuck you.” He frowns when he sees my envelope on the table. “What’s this?”
“My half of the tab for last night.”
He curses, stuffs the money in his pocket, and mutters something about not being able to win. Then stomps into the bedroom. “Come in here.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
He gets his wallet off the dresser and carefully puts the money inside. “Okay? We’re good?”
I nod and he steps in so close that his chest hairs tickle my nose. Then he leans down and whispers into my ear, “The next time I’m fucking you, I don’t want you to think I’m paying for it.”
“What about this apartment?”
“You are unbelievable, you know that?” He plops down on the bed and throws on some clothes. “I’ll have my brother draw up a lease and a god-damned bank loan for the two months down and the broker’s fee. Okay? His services are free, unless you want me to tally that up as well.”
He glowers, limps to the door, and slams it as he goes.
Wandering back to the kitchen, I put my head in my hands, a bit shell-shocked. After that, I curl up in a corner of his bed, feeling lost without him.
I promised the new me, no regrets, but maybe I should have second thoughts about jumping into bed with my fake fiancé. I certainly don’t regret paying my own way. I need to be able to face myself in the mirror.
After falling asleep for a couple of hours, I almost feel human, get up, and eat. As I grab a bowl of Cheerios, it dawns on me that someone must’ve gone grocery shopping. I make a mental note to get my own food, the less expensive kind, and clear out a cupboard.
When CJ doesn’t return by bedtime, I settle down on the couch and toss and turn most of the night wishing for him to come home. Now that the finances all settled, we can make love.
When he doesn’t show up on Sunday, I wonder if he changed his mind about our deal. I want to text him but don’t really want to know if he’s reneging. What if he kicks me out onto the street? What if he stops taking physical therapy with me? I was counting on his recommendation to boost my resume.
Shit.
Curse Des for completely ruining my life. I want my favorite jeans, my teddy bear, and my God damned computer. Funny though, I don’t want him. I don’t think I’ve loved him for the longest time but women in my family don’t leave their men. Hadn’t my mother told me that time and time again? Every relationship has its ups and downs.
Double shit.
On Monday, I put on my new-used clothes and head down the hill to Myrtle Avenue. I nod at my boss, surprised to see him at work so early.
“Hey, Tom.” I politely shake his outstretched hand, wondering if I’m about to get canned. Then I glance over his shoulder where me and CJ’s picture is plastered across his laptop screen.
Apparently, someone recognized us in the bar Friday night and snapped a shot. We look so happy that it makes me want to cry. I just ruin everything.
Tom turns the computer so I can read the article. “I just came in to congratulate you on your engagement. Are you giving your notice?”
Obviously, I hadn’t thought this thing through and I had no idea how fast his publicist would work. “No, uhhh... I want to work. I mean CJ insists.”
Then I sense, rather than see my fake fiancé behind me. His arm slips all the way around my waist, resting on my hip.
“She likes working and I need her.” He sounds sincere, giving me hope.
“Mr. Quinn, I didn’t hear you come in.” Tom pumps CJ’s hand like they’re best of friends.
CJ bends over, brushes his lips gently across mine, and the girls between my legs scream for more. If it wasn’t for my boss standing right there, I’d dig my fingers into the back of my fiancé’s neck and kiss him until he swears everything’s okay between us.
“Ready to start, my love?” Behind Tom’s back, CJ drops the fake smile and gives me a cool look.
“Uh. Yeah. Let’s get you warmed up.” I glance nervously at my boss but he’s oblivious to the tension between me and his new most famous client.
I know I made a horrible mistake by letting things go too far Friday night but I’ve never felt so attracted to a man. We had so much fun drinking and talking that I felt like I’d known him forever. What happened next just seemed so natural.
Obviously not. CJ must think I’m a huge loser. I picture him in bed last night with one of his many models and my stomach turns. I can’t really blame him, though. He got me off and I’d left him wanting.
Once I have him on the massage table and his tense muscles loosen under my touch, it’s as good a time as any to ask, “So I guess the wedding is off?”
As I knead into a thigh, he grunts with what sounds like agreement but says no more to any of my questions. Shit.
That night the king size bed stays empty and the food in the fridge starts to go bad so I freeze as much as I can. I add it all up with my computer’s calculator, floored by the cost of his Wagyu beef. Then I type it all into my spreadsheet.
I’m pretty sure I could afford the rent here if I found some roommates. And if I save for three months, I should have enough cash to pay CJ back in full.
Tuesday comes and goes without him saying a word to me other than about his knee. On Wednesday I pull him outside and into the doorframe where we shared our second hot kiss.
Before I can say anything, he hands me a manila folder. “Here. This is all the paperwork, including a pre-nup. Look it over. I have us scheduled at my brother’s office at four so we should miss rush hour.”
His voice is so cold that I grab his hand, freaked. “Listen. I’m really sorry. I probably didn’t handle the whole money thing very well.”
“No. You didn’t.” His eyes bore into me as his minty breath warms my face.
Like always, when we’re together, all I want to do is hold his big body tight, and feel him close to me. “I should’ve told you what a great time I had with you. The best date ever... uh, the only time someone’s, you know, made me come like that. I miss you. I’m just so really, fucking, sorry.”
I want to tell him I’m already head-over heels in love, but he’d just laugh me off.
A small twitch appears in the corner of his mouth. “Say it again.”
“I’m sorry?” I hope I don’t sound too pathetic.
“Not that, the other part.” He grins, making my stupid heart pound.
“The part about the really great time?”
“No, the part about where you said how you love when I put my mouth on your sweet cunt, licked your honey, and made you scream.”
He says it so loudly that I look around, wondering if anyone else heard. “I so did not say that.”
He kisses me, his tongue demanding entrance. Then suddenly I’m in his arms, and kissing him back like crazy, pressing my lower body into his. My fingertips find the sensitive area on the back of his neck, he groans, and his hands slide into my hair.
A group of teens walk by, and one snickers. “Get a room, you guys.”
One of the young men stops when he recognizes who’s making my knees buckle, “Jeesh. It’s CJ. CJ Quinn.”
The guys aim their phones and I start to protest but my big football goof just laughs. “It’ll go viral within the hour.”
“But how will we get any work done?” The paparazzi will be storming the castle.
“I can’t stay here, anyhow I’m ready for a bigger facility.” He cups my cheeks in his hands, hazel eyes holding me prisoner.
“Oh. Okay.” My heart drops. I guess I’m getting canned after all.
“Oh shit. I’m sorry. I should’ve said. I’m taking you with me. I got it all cleared away with Tom. You still work for him. I’m just renting you out for a few months until I’m back in shape. I promised him lots of publicity, so he�
��s good.”
Oh my God. I haven’t worked with top of the line equipment since I left home. I jump up and down, kissing him repeatedly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
He lifts his knee and circles it around. “Something about you is magic, baby. My doctor is stunned, my trainer is thrilled, and my manager is already renegotiating my deal. You did it.”
“What about that ad campaign. Have they signed it yet?”
“Soon. Soon. Jaz thinks it will happen as soon as I’m married to a wholesome girl from Minnesota.”
“Iowa.”
He chuckles and just like that it’s all good between us. Later, I meet his brother Andy and sign some papers. When we get back to our apartment, he pours me a drink.
“Happy?”
“Couldn’t be happier.” And I really mean it.
Like I said, since becoming homeless, I’ve started to live more in the moment. Who really knows what tomorrow will bring? I could get run over by a bus. No doubt when this football star leaves me, my heart will break into tiny little pieces but for now, I’m good. One thing’s for sure. I’ll never fall for another jerk like Desmond. In truth, no one will measure up after CJ. I’ll probably just grow old and get three or four cats to keep me company.
As he sits on the opposite side of the couch, I don’t understand why his hands stay wrapped around his drink instead of me.
“Want to watch a movie?” He reaches for the remote, I nod, and we pick the latest Vin Diesel flick.
Then jumping up to make some popcorn, I sit close so we can share the bowl. Instead of putting his arm over my shoulder, it drapes over the back of the couch. For the whole first half of the movie, I wait for him to touch me in some way.
I don’t get it. That bump rising in his lap means he’s more than interested so I reach my hands behind his head and bring his lips to mine. For a moment, I wonder if he’s going to respond, then he moans, and we kiss.
As always, we combust but he holds back, his tongue gentle instead of penetrating and his arm glued to the top of the couch.
Twisting, I press my hardening breasts into his upper body while my fingers dig into his scalp. I nip at his lip, squirming, wanting. His kisses deepen, and his hands slip under my shirt but only on my waist, making me crazy.
Why isn’t he touching the places that ache for him. I want his mouth on my clit. I want him inside me.
“I guess I’ll turn in.” He extracts himself from me and stands.
That’s it? I stare incredulously at his junk that says something quite different and reach for it but he’s fast, grabs my wrist, and shakes his head no.
Wow. I just sit there on the couch, silent, as he walks down the hall. I guess I really did screw up but talk about mixed signals?
The king-sized bed groans when he jumps on it. Then he tosses and turns for a long while before settling.
I don’t understand. I know I wasn’t exactly spectacular at sex the other night but he’s obviously interested.
About one in the morning I head into the kitchen for some warm milk. I hate the stuff but it’s supposed to make you sleepy. Anyhow, it gives me something to do other than think about his big muscled body and how his cock would feel sliding into me.
I almost jump a mile when a chair behind me scrapes against the floor.
“Can’t sleep?” He straddles and sits.
I shake my head no, my throat too dry to talk because his almost naked body is so awesome. He’s thrown on a pair of dark boxers riding so low that an arrow points to what I’ve been thinking about all night. His dark hair is all mussed and a sexy stubble of beard has grown in. Piercing gray eyes stare at me with want but he doesn’t make a move to touch me.
I take his hand and pull toward the bedroom. “C’mon, CJ. We need to do this. We both want it.”
He closes his eyes, pain furrowing his brow. “What the fuck. I promised you, Mel. No sex.”
My rules. I’d forgotten all about them. “Hotshot, I signed all the paperwork in the world to prove I’m not trading my body for money. We’re good.”
“You sure?” He clenches onto the chair, body sprung tight, searching my face.
After I nod, I don’t hear the next thing he says because he moves like he’s got the ball just outside the one yard line. In a flash, my t-shirt’s over my ears, then he lifts me onto the kitchen table.
When I spread my legs wide, his cock presses hard against my clit and I moan, squirming. I’m so wet, I’m sure he feels it under his shorts.
I open wide letting his tongue fuck my mouth while I wrap my legs around him, locking ankles behind his back.
A small growl sounds deep from within his chest. Then he leaves my lips, nibbles my chin, my neck, and my collar bone. When he goes for a sensitive nipple, I throw back my head and arch up with my hands behind my ass on the table.
“Fuck. You’re so fucking beautiful.” His tongue plays with one breast while a thumb worries the other, making the tips hard and pointed.
Zings go straight to my core, making me want so much more while he slides down my body. His stubble scratches at my stomach as his tongue plays with my belly button and his hands clench my butt.
Watching him between my knees, I lay back while he focuses on my clit, licking, touching, teasing. Everything’s on fire and I’m so close to coming I start shivering.
Oh my God. Orgasm imminent.
“Not yet, Iowa.” He steps out of his boxers and with me locked around his waist, walks to the bedroom. There he drops me onto the bed and opens the nightstand.
He tears open a condom with his teeth but I don’t want anything between us. “I’m on the pill. Clean. Tested just this week.”
His eyes go wide, he smiles as his cock springs toward me. “I’m clean too. Trust me?”
I nod, he drops the packet and climbs up my body.
Sweat is rolling off him as he settles between my legs. Resting on his elbows, he uses the outside of his knees to make me wider.
His silky cock teases at my entrance, playing in my juices.
“CJ. Dammit. Now.” I’ve never been so fucking ready to come as he pushes against my swollen clit.
Moaning, he slides so deep into me that his balls touch my core, making me buck for release.
“Oh God.” My orgasm is so close, I’m practically falling apart.
I push up hard, he growls, and we begin to rock. At first, he sets this maddeningly slow pace, all in control. Me? I’m arching up, needing that one touch that’ll take me over the top.
He swells inside of me, pumping faster while sweat rolls off his body, making us frictionless.
“Now. Dammit.” My fingernails dig into his butt cheeks, his hand slips between us, and a rough fingertip presses on my clit.
“Fuck!” I explode, reaching and bouncing while he rides me so hard, the bed posts pound against the wall. Something crashes off the nightstand, he shouts, groans, and releases.
My clit is so damn sensitive, it comes to life again when his liquid mixes with mine. I arch up, and damn if I don’t come again.
He moans at my pulsing and pushes in so tight I feel like we’re one. Then he turns onto his back with me on his chest and we lie together for the longest time.
While his fingers roam my lower back, I play with the small dark curls in front of my eyes, tasting his tangy sweat.
I must’ve fallen asleep with him still inside me, never wanting this moment to end.
Chapter 12
She’s mine. I knew she would be but never counted on falling for her. She’s my heroin, my pot and my cocaine. Ever since that first kiss, I’ve never wanted anyone more. And every time we fuck? Ah, hell. I swear if it weren’t for getting my knee back in shape, I’d never let her wear clothes.
I need to spend more time with my trainer as February turns into March. Then it’s April and Easter. My mom makes a big deal out of the holiday and I know better than to say no when she asks me to come home.
As long as I stay clear of the fake
fiancé thing, I can speak the gospel. I tell her how Mel is my physical therapist, my best friend, and how mind blowing she is at just about everything.
Mom tries to find out if I’m sleeping with her. Fornicatin’ is the term she uses, her new favorite word. This is pretty weird because she never used it with all the other women I’ve had, especially not Mary. When I ask her why, she clams up, just insisting I bring Mel home to meet the family.
It’s best not to argue with my mom when she gets something in her head. She’s got God on her side. I swear I can hear the gospel choir all the way up here. Mom’s leading the congregation as the rest pray for the redemption of my soul.
I don’t tell Mel we’re heading south until I can think of the best way to make her agree. Jaz, however is thrilled for the photo opportunity. My brothers and sisters think it’s a hoot. The church is all invited to the house for a big Easter party, complete with a giant yellow cake in the shape of a lamb, courtesy of Darlene’s Home Baked Goods.
Tonight, I throw a couple of hamburger patties on a frypan and slide some frozen fries into the oven. That’s the extent of my cooking skills, especially on her limited budget which she still insists on keeping.
She’s sitting at the kitchen table, wearing one of my football hoodies and a pair of used blue jeans with horizontal slits in the upper thigh.
Spatula in hand, I wander over and grab a kiss. My left index finger slides up the holes in her jeans tearing the cotton a little more, making her moan. Eventually I’ll make the pants unwearable in public. Those are way too sexy for anyone but me.
Laughing, she pulls away, and points to the stove. “They’re going to burn.”
Shit. When I’m kissing her, my mind goes blank and that needs to stop before the season starts. I guess I’ll just have to screw her until she’s out of my system but so far that hasn’t worked so well.
While our gourmet meal cooks, I pour us a glass of wine. “Would you like to get out of the city for a while? Go down south where it’s warm?”
Her blue eyes brighten. “Oh my God. I’d love to.”
Then her gaze lowers, pretty pink lips in a pout. “Probably costs a fortune.”
Busted Play: The Series (Players, Books 1-6) Page 5