by B. B. Hamel
His fingers move faster, fucking me deeper. “Again. Beg me, you dirty fucking girl.”
“Oh, god. Keep going.” I press myself close against him. Having his lips against my ear, whispering to me, driving me wild, it’s pushing me over the edge.
And all he needs is his fingers, pushing in and out of me.
“Oh, fuck,” I moan.
“Come for me,” he whispers. “Come for me right now, Brynn.”
“Fuck,” I gasp, back arching. He keeps going, pushing me over the edge as my orgasm rips through my body, threatening to overwhelm me.
It feels so fucking good that I forget where I am and who I’m with. It doesn’t matter to me. All I care about is this orgasm, this pleasure washing through me, making me whole.
“Fuck,” I gasp as I finally, slowly, come back down.
He kisses my lips softly and slides his fingers from my pussy. He stands up, licking them clean.
I sit there for a second before getting dressed. He watches me, a smile on his face.
Just as I manage to get my pants back on, there’s a noise in the hallway. We both look over as a janitor enters the open door, a pair of oversized headphones over his ears.
He looks just as surprised as we are. He mumbles something and backs out of the room, head hung low.
My eyes go wide. I’m fucking mortified. I feel like I could melt down into the floor and die right now in this moment. In fact, I welcome it. I want to disappear.
Sean just laughs. He grins and throws his head back, laughing loudly.
“Holy shit, did you see his face?”
I glare at him. “You asshole. Are you joking?”
“Don’t worry. He had headphones on.”
“You said we were alone.”
“I didn’t know there would be cleaning staff.”
I get up off the bench. For a second, I think I might hit him.
Sleeping with a player would ruin my career. If that janitor tells someone what he saw, and someone realizes what it means… I could be finished.
And Sean won’t see any effects at all. It won’t matter to him. Sean could fuck me on the Coach’s desk in the middle of the afternoon and everyone would just high-five him like it’s no big deal.
He has no clue. He has no fucking clue.
“You asshole,” I say, and storm past him.
“Brynn, wait.”
But I’m not waiting. Screw this guy. Screw him. I’m so stupid for letting myself get so close.
“Brynn, come on.” He jogs after me, catches up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. That could fucking ruin me, Sean. Oh, it’s so funny, this stupid slutty reporter sleeping with a player.”
I glare daggers at him and he looks surprised. “That’s not how I think of you.”
“Too bad,” I spit. “Everyone else does, and that’s your fault.”
“Brynn,” he says softly. “Just stay.”
I shake my head. “No, I shouldn’t have come to begin with.” I walk away as fast as I can.
This time, he doesn’t follow me. There’s a voice in the back of my head that wishes he would, but I tell that voice to shut the hell up as I storm out of the facility and hurry back home.
7
Sean
I can still taste her on my lips the next morning, but the way she left still lingers.
I fucked up. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I didn’t realize what it meant for that janitor to catch us. From my perspective, it’s no big deal, just a funny thing.
But for her, it could end her career. I can see that now. When I laughed, I was basically mocking her, laughing in her face.
Fucking hell. No matter what I do, I still manage to put my fucking foot in my mouth. She thinks I just see her as a plaything, a girl I can fuck around with whenever I want, but that’s not it.
That’s not it at all.
I wouldn’t go to all this effort for a fuck buddy. I have a fucking phone full of fuck buddies I could call on whenever I want to.
No, I see more for her. There’s potential there, excitement, passion, maybe even a future. Maybe that’s stupid and insane, but I can’t help myself. I keep thinking about what it would feel like to be around her all the time and I just…
I just want it.
Easier said than done. She hates my fucking guts.
Although she can’t hate me that much. I mean, the way she rolled her hips, the way she kissed me, licked my tongue, came on my fingers. There’s no way she hates me.
Not entirely, at least.
I head into the facility early and grab some breakfast. I talk to some of the guys but before I can head into the sauna, Coach’s assistant hunts me down.
Robby eyes me with a frown. He’s a serious guy, really smart. A lot of people say he’s the brains behind Coach, but I doubt it. He’s definitely a brain, though.
“Wood wants to see you,” he barks.
“Now?”
He nods. “Now.”
I sigh. “Lead the way, Robby, my man.”
He doesn’t smile. I guess it’s serious. I follow him to Coach Wood’s office and we step inside together.
Robby shuts the door.
“Take a seat,” Coach says. He looks tired, with a cup of steaming coffee in front of him.
I glance at Robby, who remains standing. I sigh and sit down.
Coach has a newspaper in front of him. I feel a stone in my stomach when I realize that it’s the Fargo Pioneer.
Oh, shit. What did Brynn write about me?
Maybe it’s something slanderous, something really bad. That’s probably why Coach is pissed. She was upset last night, went home, and wrote a really bad article. She knows I won’t contest it.
Oh, shit.
“Did you read this yet?” Coach asks me.
I shake my head. “Whatever it is, Coach, I didn’t mean—”
He holds up a hand. “It’s not bad.”
I sit there, a little stunned. “Not bad?”
“Were you expecting something bad?”
“Uh, no, but—”
“So why are you surprised?”
I shake my head. “Brynn doesn’t like me very much.”
He laughs softly. “Yeah, well, you must’ve done something right.” He clears his throat. “Basically, it’s about your rehab. How you’ve bounced back and how you’re getting stronger every day. No pain, still plenty fast, that sort of thing.”
I frown. I don’t remember talking to her about this…
Why would she write a good article? After the way things went down, I expected a hit piece.
“Well, good,” I say.
Coach sighs. “Not good. I’m glad she’s writing good stuff, but Sean, I don’t want you interacting with this girl anymore.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Look, I can’t forbid you from seeing her, I’m not your fucking father. But I can tell you, as your fucking coach, that you can’t speak to that reporter anymore. No more interviews, no more stories. Got it?”
I frown. “I don’t know,” I say.
“Look, I get it. She’s pretty, you like her. There are a million women you can sleep with, if that’s what you want. Forget about her.”
I feel a spark of anger. “It’s not like that.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Coach says. “No more interviews with her. Understand?”
I push back from my chair. “Is that all?”
He glances at Robby then nods. “That’s it. Have a good day.”
I glare at him and leave. Robby doesn’t smile as I pass him.
I’m pretty fucking confused as I head into the sauna.
I didn’t expect this, not even a little bit. Some awful, mean thing about how I’m always in pain and really slow these days, sure, I could see that. But something that compliments me? Makes me look better?
I don’t get it. What the hell is Brynn thinking?
I can’t stop wor
rying about her. I know Coach just banned me from talking to her during business hours, but I think we both know that’s not going to hold up. He can ban me all he wants, but I’m going to do what I want, when I want. And I want to see Brynn.
Practice goes smoothly, like always Coach keeps drills simple and I’m mostly throwing long balls all afternoon. Finally though, he calls a wrap and the players watch the usual stampede of reporters come stomping down to the field.
I look around for Brynn right away. Might as well not bullshit myself about it. I’m not going to keep away.
But I don’t see her. I dodge that asshole from the radio station, what’s his name, Jab or Joe or James or whatever, and skirt around the side of the field.
I hover and eventually get caught up by a CNN sports reporter. I answer his questions, glancing around the whole time, but she’s nowhere.
Fucking hell. Did Coach Wood have her press pass rescinded? I mean, it’s not the fucking White House, so he can do whatever he wants here. Still I can’t imagine he’d go that far and piss off a local newspaper. That’s some bad publicity right there.
Some reporters head into the locker room, and I decide to go give that a try. I get caught in another couple conversations before pulling myself away and hurrying inside.
I head through the halls. As I get close, I suddenly spot a bunch of people up ahead. Brynn is standing among them, laughing at something Felix just said.
She glances in my direction and frowns slightly. I hurry toward them. She says something to Felix and walks in the opposite direction.
“Sean, baby girl, what’s up?” Felix says as I head after her.
“Hold up, man,” I mumble, chasing after Brynn.
But she’s already gone. I turn the corner and don’t spot her anywhere. I curse under my breath and walk the halls, but she never turns up.
“Who you looking for, man?” Felix asks me as I head back to the locker room.
“Nobody,” I grumble.
“You read that article about you in the Pioneer?”
I shake my head. “Didn’t know you read local papers.”
“Of course I do. Gotta stay informed, and the local news media is the last bastion of unbiased reporting.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You serious?”
“Yeah, brother. Get you some local news.” He nods and claps my back as he heads out into the hall.
I sigh and sit down on the bench, hands ranging over the wood. I still remember her body, right here, just last night.
Brynn is avoiding me, and now Felix is turning intellectual. What the hell is happening here? I feel like my world is turned upside down.
I don’t know why she’d write a good article about me then avoid me the next day. It’s fucking confusing is what it is.
But I’m going to find out.
8
Brynn
I hate myself for avoiding him, but I can’t help it.
I can’t stand to see him right now. I don’t know why. As I drive back to the office, I keep flitting between anger at him and desire for him, and it’s confusing the hell out of me.
He spread a shitty rumor. He laughed at that janitor catching us. Sean can be a total asshole sometimes.
But he can also be incredible. He can make me laugh. He can get me off. I’ve never wanted someone the way that I want him.
And it’s not fair. I wish it were anyone but fucking Sean.
Unfortunately here I am, stuck in this weird situation with a guy that I hate but also really, really want.
I sigh and park in my usual spot. I head inside, stomping up the steps to my little cubicle toward the back. It’s in the corner of the office, in a damp and dark spot under a flickering fluorescent bulb.
I drop my bag and fall into my squeaky office chair. I sigh, leaning back, and pick up a copy of today’s paper from my desk.
I don’t know why I wrote that article. As I page through it and find my copy toward the back, I don’t even understand my motivations. I was so pissed when I left the facility last night, but when I got home, I just…
Wanted to say something nice.
I couldn’t bring myself to write an ugly article again. And so with the deadline looming, I knocked out five hundred words, painting him in the best light possible while still leaving room for future pieces.
I don’t know what I was thinking. I bet he’s just as confused. I couldn’t face him today, though. I couldn’t answer his questions.
If he’d asked me about the article, I’d tell him that I think he’s an asshole. That’s about as much of the truth as I understand at this point.
I put the paper down and sigh. I stretch my neck. I think I’m going to take a break from writing about Sean for a while. Felix gave me some nice quotes, and I have some ideas about his slot play that might make me an interesting editorial.
I turn to my computer, ready to start putting down words on the page, when I feel someone loom up behind me.
I turn in my chair. It’s my boss, Soren. He’s tall, pale, with bright blue eyes and light blond hair. He looks like some kind of Nordic vampire, like that guy from True Blood, the really hot one.
He frowns at me. “We gotta talk,” he says.
I cross my arms. “What about?”
“Come with me.” He turns and leaves. I sigh and get up, following him back to his office.
He shuts the door behind me. “Take a seat.”
I sit down. “Is this serious, boss?”
He sits behind his desk and sighs. He looks like a cliché newsman, tired and worn at the edges, but still hard as steel at his core.
“Not exactly,” he says. “It might even be good.”
“The suspense is killing me.”
“I’ve been getting good feedback about your Sean articles,” he says. “And I want you to write more.”
I frown. “Good feedback?”
“Emails,” he says, glancing at his computer. “Fifty of them so far.”
“Fifty?” I laugh a little. “I didn’t know we had fifty subscribers.”
He gives me a look. “How are you getting him to talk?”
I shrug. “Wit and whimsy, mostly.”
“Cut the shit, Brynn.”
“He likes me. I don’t know why.”
Soren sighs. “Fine, whatever. Just keep writing them. I want copy on my desk by five tonight. No more late night deadline beaters, you hear me?”
I hesitate. I really, really don’t want to write about Sean. It’s hard to ignore this, though.
“I had something about Felix lined up,” I say. “I want to talk about him playing slot, and he actually gave me some good quotes earlier, and—”
“Stick to the quarterback,” Sean interrupts me. “Fifty emails, Brynn. You never get fifty emails.”
I glare at him. “Doesn’t mean my stuff isn’t great.”
“Your stuff is fine. It’s why I keep you around. But for some reason, you’ve hit a nerve. Keep hitting it.”
I bite my lip. “I don’t want to.”
He frowns, surprised. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t want to write about Sean.”
He doesn’t move for a second, studying me. He slowly leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.
“Have I ever given you a choice before?” he asks.
I shake my head and don’t respond.
“Why do you think you have a choice now?”
“I don’t,” I admit. “But I’m appealing to your human side.”
“I have no human side.” He says it with a flat affect.
“I know,” I say, sighing.
“How are you getting him to talk, Brynn? Tell me and I’ll assign someone else.”
“I can’t,” I say. “I mean, I don’t know.”
“He just likes you.” Soren shakes his head. “What are you doing for him?”
I blink. The question seems almost innocent at first glance, but the implication washes over me.
“Doing for him?” I p
arrot.
“Pro players are like that,” Soren says. “They want things, especially from female reporters. You think you’re the first young, pretty reporter to do something stupid for some info?”
I stare at him, eyes wide. “You think I’m fucking him for interviews?”
“I don’t give a shit what you’re doing, to be totally honest. If that’s it, fine, whatever. Keep doing it, and keep writing about him. If it’s something else, tell me, so I can assign someone else. We all win that way, apparently.”
I sit there, totally taken aback. I didn’t think he’d actually come out and say it like this, even though I know everyone thinks it.
“Fuck you, Soren,” I say.
He barely reacts. “Write the article, Brynn.”
“Fuck you,” I repeat, standing up. “You sexist piece of shit.”
He shrugs, doesn’t answer.
“Asshole.” I turn and storm out of his office.
I’m buzzing with rage. I want to scream at all the dickheads that glance at me as I storm past. I’m so angry right now I can barely breathe.
I know this place is sexist. I know they all think I’m a slut just because I have tits. But I always thought Soren would at least pretend like he wasn’t a total piece of shit.
I guess we’re done pretending.
I sit down at my desk and grip the arms of my chair to keep from screaming. I’m so angry I can barely control myself.
And then I decide not to control myself. I decide I want to do something stupid, something reckless.
I decide I want to do something that feels good, even if it’s wrong. Even if it’s playing into my god damn boss’s hands.
Because he’s right. Soren’s right. I am fucking Sean, aren’t I? I mean, more or less. I’m not doing it for information, but I am doing it.
Fuck. Fuck Soren. Fuck Sean.
I pick up the phone. I call Sean’s number.
He picks up. “Brynn?”
“I want to see you.”
He’s silent for a second. “Okay. When?”
“Tonight. Ten. Your place.”
He clears his throat. “Sounds like a booty call.”
“It is. Is that a problem?”
He laughs softly. “Not at all, sweetheart. I’ll text you the address.”