Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

by Kat T. Masen

  “Listen, we can cut that footage and re-shoot? I won’t tell Cliff.”

  “I appreciate that.” I smile. “Can you give me a minute and I’ll be out?”

  She nods, closing the door behind her.

  I quickly read Logan’s message before heading to the bathroom to fix my hair.

  Logan: I’ve got this sudden urge to go sailing. I’m glad you need a man... and I’m sure you’ve got a line waiting to dock at your wharf.

  You can tell me more this weekend when I’m in town.

  He’ll be in town? I press dial, suddenly wanting to speak to him before I head outside. I don’t expect him to answer first ring.

  “You’re coming to LA?” I ask without greeting him.

  “I don’t even get a hello?” I can hear him teasing me with his smile. “Yes. For two days. We have a meeting with the US Soccer officials.”

  “We, as in you and Ash?”

  “No, we as in me and my female posse.” There’s a quick pause before his laughter filters through. “Yes, me and Ash. He’s leaving Alessandra behind. Thank God.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “Not sure. They’ve booked us somewhere.”

  I hear my name being called again. If I don’t hang up now, Wes could walk in and all hell will break loose. “Listen, I have to go. We’re in the middle of filming. I kinda stormed off set. Then George ate my bag. Long story…” I roll my eyes even though Logan can’t see me. “I guess I’ll see you next week.”

  “Till then.”

  We hang up, and without realizing it, I pull my cell toward my chest and smile. Jumping off the bed, I skip outside with a brighter attitude and make myself comfortable on the sofa. Wes picks up on my improved mood and begins the same conversation we started earlier.

  “So, a winter wedding. In Paris?”

  Resting my hand on his knee, I smile back with my heart in a much better place. “Sounds beautiful.”

  Chapter Nine

  “It all begins with something small.

  A trigger—warning us

  something dangerous lies ahead.”

  ~ Logan Carrington

  Flying with Ash is never easy. He fidgets constantly. Annoys you by beginning a conversation when you’ve just placed your headphones on, then forces you to remove them only to have him ask if he can eat your fucking pretzels.

  He goes on and on about Alessandra. Complaining about how she makes him throw his dirty clothes into the hamper rather than leave them on the floor, or how she scolds him for dumping wet towels on the bed. Honestly, that’s something I can’t fault Alessandra on—Ash is a fucking slob and no woman has ever been successful in changing him, no matter how much pussy they give up.

  We’ve flown first class to the States with the US Soccer officials wanting to meet to discuss the team they’re putting together for the World Cup trials. Chris had a lengthy conversation with Coach and there was talk about Ash and I playing for the US team.

  I couldn’t believe the news. World Cup—a fucking dream.

  Representing our country means everything to me, so I’m incredibly keen to get onto US soil and possibly get picked.

  That, and there’s one other thing—Emerson.

  Weeks have gone past without any contact, and just like we said we would, we kept it our secret. It doesn’t erase the constant reminder of that night, though. Fuck! I can’t even think about it now sitting next to Ash. Removing my headphones, I excuse myself to use the restroom, leaving Ash to watch some movie with subtitles because the fucker thought it would be porn.

  It’s a short walk to the main restroom, passing the other passengers who sleep comfortably in their sleepers or are busy typing away on their laptops. The hostess greets me, offering me a beverage. I tell her I’ll take a beer when I’m back at my chair.

  Inside the tiny cubicle, I take a piss then wash my hands thoroughly. Goddamn germs are everywhere, and I hate sharing such a small space. The quiet, confined area gets me thinking about Emmy again and the way we left things.

  It was never my intention to finger her fucking pussy in the lake. I was angry at her for being such a bitch and turning into one of those Hollywood divas, at Ash for marrying the first girl to suck his dick, and most importantly myself for letting Louisa go.

  I wasn’t thinking. Something about Emmy does that to me. She always has done since we were kids. She riles me up until I burst into flames, and do something stupid just to prove a point. But we aren’t kids anymore. We’re adults.

  I touched her to shut her up. To get back at Ash for being a hypocrite and making me choose between him and Louisa. I wasn’t myself that night—the anger had been bottled up for a while and coincidently quadrupled when the tabloids announced Manchester’s top player, Jared Carr, dating Louisa Hemmings.

  My Louisa Hemmings.

  Past. Fucking. Tense.

  Louisa wanted a life with me—marriage, babies, the big fucking castle outside London where she’d make me drive past every weekend. It was a relationship I never expected to last that long, but instead, it lasted a whole two years. The majority of that time was spent hiding it from the media and with her traveling globally for work. Most of our relationship was through text messages and video chatting.

  She was switched on—a career in marketing with her own firm set up in London. She thrived on schedules, routine, and planning. Everything had to be planned.

  Ash hated her, voicing his opinion on more than one occasion. “Does she plan when you fuck too?” he asked once when we were out drinking with the boys. “Monday… you get blown, Tuesday… she likes a tittie fuck and Friday night… you take her in the ass?” He knew I hated discussing my personal life and that ‘joke’ took it over the line. My fist almost smacking him in the face if it weren’t for Jerry, a teammate who held me back.

  We didn’t talk for weeks. I crashed at Louisa’s apartment until Coach pulled us in for a meeting. He warned the both of us that our three straight losses were not unfortunate, rather a lack of teamwork. We had to choose what was more important—soccer or women.

  I thought long and hard about what Louisa meant to me and if it was worth the fight. That was until Ash gave me another ultimatum—him or her.

  Ash had been my best friend since I could remember, he was my brother. Louisa was in my life for two years, I loved her but it wasn’t enough to give up everything I’d worked so hard for, and thus I ended our relationship thinking it wouldn’t be hard because I’d find someone else.

  It was more difficult than I’d thought. I missed the sex and her companionship. Despite her need to plan everything, I felt lost without someone nagging and getting me off my ass when I felt like doing nothing. I never let it affect my game though, training harder during the day and partying well into the nights on the weekends.

  I wasn’t prepared the night I ran into Louisa at that party. Her body wrapped around another man. She tried to be polite, apologizing for bringing this stranger to a mutual friend’s apartment. The manipulative bitch knew she’d gotten under my skin, and to pay her back I fucked her assistant against the brand-new Porsche that Daddy had bought her.

  It was the same night that Ash changed everything between us.

  “Bro, I gotta tell you something but you can’t flip, okay?” Ashley Chase had said this to me only once in the entire time I’d known him—the time he’d accidentally ridden my BMX into the lake and couldn’t retrieve it because it had sunk to the bottom. The important thing was that he survived.

  “I know you’ll be angry, but hear me out. That woman last night, the one with the long, dark brown hair... I... I married her.”

  There were no words left to say. He married her! He was forced to go back home to tell Chris and Abbi, and I tagged along to reap joy in the fact he’d be crucified.

  Then Emmy...

  Emerson Chase was never someone I’d considered jumping into bed with. I had my moments where I found myself infatuated with her, but then I’d become distracted b
y someone else. I enjoyed tormenting her, she was an easy target. Yet, this trip back home was different. She’d changed. Even before she told me what had happened, I could see she was troubled.

  Pushing her buttons was easy, but she always gave it back. She hated losing. Claimed she wasn’t competitive, but I’d never met a more competitive and stubborn woman.

  And sexy, hot...

  I can’t rid my mind of the image of her buried into me while we floated in the water. The way her body moved and so quickly peaking from the simple touch of my finger gliding in and out of her tight pussy. I wanted to stick my cock in her, and give her a taste of what a real man was all about. But I didn’t. Our ties were too strong and there was way too much at stake.

  I blame it all on her. She dared me like she’d always done.

  I wanted an escape just as much as she did, but I thought she’d have pushed me away by telling me how disgusting I am, and how dare I touch her.

  Yet, she didn’t.

  She couldn’t stop staring at me, even when we were standing in the kitchen her eyes trailing my body like a hungry beast.

  It started something bad.

  I just didn’t know exactly what that was yet. I knew it would be awkward, but only if we allowed it to be, and knowing the type of person Emmy is plus, the fact she has no interest in me whatsoever, I was happy to brush it off like nothing had happened between us. Take the memory of her and store it for times when I needed to jerk off and had no one sucking my cock.

  Until I watched her show—for the first time.

  We’d just flown back into London and I was eager to begin training again. It pissed me off that Ash busied himself fucking Alessandra every night, and so with a few minutes to spare I did what I promised myself I wouldn’t do, I streamed the last episode of Generation Next - The Proposal episode.

  I couldn’t fault the show. As far as my eyes were concerned this shit looked real, not two people acting in love. It was almost too perfect, and I had known Emmy for as long as I’d known Ash, and not one boyfriend or guy had ever made her smile that way.

  She fucking loved him, or should I say still loves him, and they're still living together.

  The dick fucks two whores then he expects to marry Emmy? You’re damn right it pissed me off.

  It’s the reason why I stopped contacting her. She enabled his poor behavior and in my eyes that made her weak.

  That whole family fucked me off right now.

  Chris was also on my back about training harder, continually pointing out my weaknesses and giving me a massive complex.

  Abbi kept pushing me to call my mom. Why couldn’t Mom call me? Was it that hard to pick up the phone and call your only son? She never cared when I was a kid so why would she start now?

  I didn’t need anyone. Just someone occasionally to suck me off and that wouldn’t be Emmy. At least, I didn’t think it would be her.

  Until she texted me.

  As much as I wanted to ignore her—I couldn’t.

  I just couldn’t stop myself.

  After heading back to my seat and sitting quietly for the rest of the flight, we land just before midday. It doesn’t go as smooth as I would like after being spotted by some fans in LAX where we are asked for some pics. Being that they’re girls, Ash laps it up and grabs the number of the blonde with the bouncing tits.

  Personally, all I want is to make a quick dash to the hotel to shower, get the grime and grease off me, then meet with the officials and definitely not think about pussy.

  “You want the blonde’s number?” Ash hands the paper over in the limo.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? Did you score a blowey off any of the girls at the apartment last week?”

  The girls who hang around our apartment are the same old leeches who follow us at each game and hover around the entrance of the locker rooms hoping to score some dick. The older one, a Scandinavian woman, sucked me off once with no happy ending. I wasn’t into it. When I started to chafe I politely asked her to leave. It was the oddest thing ever. Typically I’d be pulling her hair tight and watching her eyes bulge from my cock going down her throat.

  “Yeah, I did,” I say, to shut him up.

  He doesn’t press any further, busying himself with his cell.

  “Emmy is taking us out for a late lunch after the meeting. You got plans?”

  It catches my attention, yet I’m quick to keep my smile hidden. “Nope, where at?”

  “Hold on…” He types quickly and responds a couple of seconds later, “Some Indian place near Melrose.”

  I hide the grin trying to appear by grabbing my cell and typing a message to her.

  Me: Indian? You know what happens to Ash when he eats Indian? Burning assholes.

  I see the bubble bouncing before her response appears on the screen. Ash has taken the moment to call Alessandra, and already they’ve gotten into a fight over him being photographed with his arm around some woman at Heathrow.

  Emerson: Burning assholes. Great visual yet funny at the same time. I’ll make sure I order him the vindaloo.

  I sit back in the chair and stare out the window. Emmy was never on my mind before our trip back home, I guess since she’s announced her engagement on television I figured she’d forever be gone from our lives. We rarely see each other, and every time we do it stirs this weird emotion—like nostalgia. She was always around us as kids, annoying the fuck out of Ash and me. Third wheel as I liked to call her. It wasn’t until we left to train for the league did I think, thank God, we’ve finally gotten rid of her.

  “Fucking ball breaker. Did you see me fuck that woman in Heathrow? No. But Sandy seems to think so,” he yells into the air as I purposely ignore him.

  What the fuck’s new anyway?

  ***

  “Hey, lil’ sis.” Ash places his arm on her shoulder, pulling her in roughly for a hug.

  “Little? We’re twins. Granted, you came first but I slid out of Mom’s vagina right after you did.”

  Ash scowls. “Oh... hey ... thanks for that visual.”

  She’s still in his arms, watching me with a smile planted on her face. She looks so goddamn cute in this tight black bodysuit and skinny blue jeans. It shows every curve. And when I say cute, I mean fuck. I could just eat her.

  She plays with her hair, moving it to the side and exposing her skin. Untangling herself from his embrace, she moves closer to me and wraps her arms around my waist and places her head on my chest. The familiar scent—something sweet—tickles my senses leaving me holding on to her longer than I should. Remembering that Ash is standing next to us, I let her go and pretend as if that means nothing whatsoever. And that my dick doesn’t stir at the feel of her tits being pushed up against my chest.

  “Let’s go inside. I’ve got a hankering for something spicy.” Ash rubs his hands together with delight, abandoning us without waiting for a response.

  With the two of us standing outside the restaurant, she scans our surroundings to see if anyone’s watching. It’s Friday afternoon the streets are busy with locals and tourists. From where I stand, I don’t see anyone following her with cameras, but paparazzi have many tricks up their sleeves and it won’t surprise me if they’re hidden in the bushes or in the apartment block across the street.

  “Hey.” She smiles nervously, a slight blush against her delicate skin.

  “Hey, that’s all I get? No, nice to see you, Logan. You look so hot I can’t stop thinking about your body in Sports Illustrated magazine.”

  “You are such a love-O.” She tilts her head with a smirk, keeping her gaze lifted. “Let’s go burn Ash’s asshole.”

  I follow her lead, purposely walking a step behind so I can watch her ass sway.

  Fuck, why do I torture myself? Because you remember how damn good her ass feels in your hands.

  The restaurant is small and intimate—decorated in maroon and gold. It appears to be rundown with old weathered paintings. Only a few peo
ple sit inside, keeping to themselves in the dark corners. Emmy chose this place because she knows it’s not a crowd-drawer, therefore, won’t attract the paparazzi. The staff are very accommodating, offering the menu and serving the dishes with jugs of cold water.

  “Fuck, this is spicy.” Ash wipes his forehead with his napkin, taking a long gulp of the water and immediately refilling the glass.

  “Hot? Is it?” Emmy questions, her eyes wide with an innocent pout.

  “You don’t think so?”

  “I eat here all the time. Got a stomach made of steel,” she says, patting her belly and pretending she didn’t tell the waiter to add more curry powder to his dish.

  “I just never...” he stops mid-burp, “… eaten anything so hot.”

  “Seems fine to me,” I chime in, hiding my smile behind the fork strategically placed to my mouth.

  Ash takes a break from eating, his uncomfortable stance making this moment too comical. Leaning back into his chair while breathing in and out at a steady pace, he motions the waiter and requests another jug of water.

  “How was the meeting? You didn’t tell me what happened.”

  “They’ve asked us to represent the States in the World Cup trials. Do you even know what this means, Emmy?” Ash bellows with excitement.

  “That you’ll play for the World Cup?” she answers looking back and forth between Ash and me.

  “It’s what we want but ultimately, the decision comes down to Coach Bennett and our commitment to the Royal Kings. It’s not as clear-cut as we would like it to be, but Dad’s handling all that. The problem is we’ve only just negotiated new contracts, so I don’t know...” he trails off with worry but quickly smiles again. “If we play trials we’ll get to move back home for a while. I’ll fucking love that. I miss this place.”

  There’s a mixed look of concern on Emmy’s face. “Uh… that’s great, I guess. When do you find out, and where will you move to?”

  “Here,” I tell her, face blank watching her reaction.