The Beautiful Game (Man of the Match Book 1)

by A. Meredith Walters

  Yet I couldn’t stop myself from enjoying the moment.

  He pressed his thumb against my clit and my vision went black. I felt woozy as the combination of the booze and the first orgasm I had experienced in years hit me like a freight train.

  “Oh my god,” I called out.

  “I’m not done yet—” Lucas began to say and then he stilled. His face going white.

  I pulled back slightly, looking at him with concern. He didn’t look good. He was sweating profusely. “Are you okay?”

  “Just give me—” He lunged towards the stall, slamming the door open with enough force to shake it on its hinges. He dropped to his knees and retched into the toilet.

  I sat in the sink, my body still thrumming with the aftermath of the orgasm and watched as the guy who had given it to me heaved over and over again.

  Damn, that did a number on my self-esteem.

  Lucas shuddered and collapsed against the toilet bowl. I hopped down and straightened my skirt. I looked in the mirror and cringed. My mascara had smeared and my lips were red and raw. And was that a hickey on the side of my neck? Just great.

  I got a paper towel and wet it, trying to clean myself as much as possible. Lucas continued to groan from his spot on the floor, his head hanging low in the toilet bowl.

  Do I leave him?

  It was tempting. The acrid smell of vomit was making my stomach roll. I turned to leave.

  Damn it, I couldn’t leave the poor guy.

  “Uh can I do anything for you?” I asked, feeling incredibly awkward. Only five minutes before the footballer had his fingers inside me and now he was clutching the toilet, retching up the contents of his stomach.

  This night had taken a surreal turn, that’s for sure.

  “Just go,” Lucas muttered, not bothering to lift his head.

  Clearly, he wasn’t a very pleasant sick person. In spite of his less than agreeable demeanor, I carefully lifted his head from the toilet and leaned him back against the wall. I grabbed a wet paper towel and cleaned his face off. He had gotten vomit down the front of his shirt.

  He tried to swat my hand away. “Stop it. I’m just trying to help you. This floor is disgusting, you should get up.”

  Lucas shook his head and then groaned again. “I can’t move. If I do I’m going to throw up all over you.”

  I sighed. “What about that guy you came in here with? Should I get him?”

  “He’ll just give me a rash of shit.” Lucas’ chest heaved and he quickly leaned back over the toilet gagging.

  “I think you’ll just have to deal with that. I’ll be right back.” I opened the door, the noise of the bar assaulting my ears. It had gotten a lot busier since I had gone into the restroom. How long had we been in there?

  There was a line of people waiting to go in and I stopped a woman as she tried to push past me. “There’s someone sick in there. Puke everywhere. I would find somewhere else to pee,” I told her. She made a face, said something rather nasty, but the line quickly dispersed.

  I saw that my co-workers were still in their corner booth but I needed to find Alan Cole. He wasn’t hard to locate. I just had to look for the large crowd of people.

  I pushed my way through the throng and found Alan holding court. He didn’t seem to be overly drunk. His gregariousness seemed his natural state.

  “Hey!” I yelled, trying to get his attention.

  “And then I passed Bradley the ball and he went on to score a goal from halfway line. It was incredible,” he was saying and everyone hung on his every word.

  I grabbed his arm. “I need to speak with you,” I shouted.

  Finally Alan looked down at me, grinning widely. “Of course you do, love.” Everyone laughed. The women in the group looked irritated.

  I gave his arm a pull. “Come on.”

  “I love it when a woman gets bossy,” he chortled to more laughter. I rolled my eyes but didn’t bother to chastise him. I had to get him to Lucas before someone discovered the footballer face down in his own vomit.

  “Hold on, where’s the fire?” he laughed.

  I stopped outside the women’s toilet. “Your teammate is in there. He’s really sick. I think he needs help getting home.”

  Alan looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

  I pushed open the bathroom door, pulling Alan inside with me. The smell of puke hit us and Alan gagged. “It smells like arseholes in here.”

  “He’s over there,” I told him, pointing to Lucas who still had his head hanging in the toilet bowl.

  Alan took one look at Lucas and started laughing. “You are such a twat, Bradley,” he snickered, walking over to Lucas and hoisting him to his feet.

  “Fucking hell, Cole. I’m going to vomit all over your ugly mug,” Lucas muttered, hanging on to Alan as if he might fall over.

  “Is that what you were doing in here the whole time with this lovely lady? Throwing up? You couldn’t think of anything better to do with that beautiful piece of woman?” Alan laughed, glancing at me with eyebrows raised.

  I felt my face flush as images of what we had actually been doing all that time flashed in my mind. It had been pretty good up until the whole vomiting thing.

  “Damn, I can’t drag you out there like this. Everyone with a phone will be taking pictures and videos. The last thing you need is another front page of you looking like a tit,” Alan lectured.

  “As if you’re one to talk,” Lucas countered.

  “And we didn’t drive. Fucking hell. I didn’t know you were this pissed,” Alan said, sounding annoyed.

  “Ah, so pissed means drunk,” I exclaimed.

  Alan and Lucas both looked at me as if I had lost my mind. “He was just talking about being pissed and I thought it meant he was angry. Because in America pissed is angry. And never mind…” I muttered, feeling like an idiot.

  “Yeah, okay now that we have that straight, I have to figure out how to get Mr. Wankered out of here without too much of a fuss. Fuck me you’re heavy.” Alan leaned Lucas against the sink, looking exasperated.

  I pulled out my phone. “Why don’t I call you guys a cab and have them pull around back, that way you can get out of here without too much notice,” I suggested.

  Alan grinned. “So much more than a pretty face I see. But there’s the whole problem of getting him out of the bloody toilet.”

  “He’s going to have to walk without looking like to much of a drunk ass,” I said, not wanting to look at Lucas. I felt weird around him. Particularly since he was acting like our ten minutes in orgasmic bliss had never happened.

  Though to be fair, we were more focused on staying up right.

  Still I felt strange being in this situation with him. After all he had his fingers in my—

  I started to get hot all over again. Lucas was looking at me. I wouldn’t meet his eyes. It was all so freaking mortifying. I doubted I’d ever see him again. And he probably wouldn’t even remember what happened. I was just one of a hundred girls he hooked up with on a regular basis.

  The alcohol buzz was wearing off, and now I was left feeling like a total and complete idiot.

  A total and complete idiot that hooked up with random hot football players in pub restrooms.

  Ugh.

  “I’m fine,” Lucas barked, trying to shake his friend off him. He stumbled, almost falling over.

  “Sure you are, mate,” Alan scoffed, rolling his eyes. He glanced at me. “Think you could call that cab, my lovely, while I deal with this miserable cunt?”

  “Uh sure.” I held the door open as Alan shuffled Lucas through it.

  “Hold on a minute,” Lucas said, struggling against Alan’s arm.

  “We need to get you home before you vomit on anything else.” Alan tried to maneuver Lucas out the door.

  Lucas reached out and grabbed my arm, shocking me. I looked up and found him staring down at me, his eyes on fire. “Thank you. For everything.”

  Was he thanking me for helping him while he pu
ked? Or was he actually thanking me for letting him into my panties? I really hoped it was the former.

  “Sure. Don’t mention it.”

  Really, don’t mention it.

  “I’m Lucas Bradley,” he continued, still holding my arm. Still looking at me with dark, unreadable eyes.

  “Nice to meet you, Lucas Bradley. Now I think it’s time for you to get home.” I extracted my arm from his grasp and patted his hand as if he were five.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, pushing against Alan who was still trying to move him along.

  “Morgan Carter.”

  He smiled. I smiled.

  And then his eyes rolled up into his head and he passed out.

  “Shit. Help me out here,” Alan grunted as he tried to stop Lucas from hitting the floor.

  “There’s no way I can help you carry him,” I protested, looping one of Lucas’ arms around my shoulders and trying to stay upright. The guy was heavy.

  “Well, I can’t do it myself. Come on before people realize we’re dragging a drunken football player out of here.” Alan directed us towards the kitchen door, which sat off to the right of the bar.

  We moved as fast as we were able to but not fast enough to stop people from realizing something was going on.

  “Oh my god, that’s Lucas Bradley. He’s completely arseholed!”

  “Who’s that girl with them? Is she going home with both of them? What a slag.”

  I ducked my head, my hair covering my face as I saw people take out their phones and point them in our direction.

  The bar manager, seeing what was going on, held open the kitchen door so we could move past. He stopped a group of people from following us.

  “Shit. That’s going to be all over the Internet in about thirty minutes,” Alan muttered. “He’s going to be angry as hell.”

  “Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten so drunk,” I remarked primly.

  Alan laughed. “Fair point well made.”

  The cab was waiting when we came out the back of the pub. Alan handed the cabbie a wad of cash. “Keep your mouth shut and drive us to The Meadows, Lache Lane.”

  The cab driver scrambled out of the driver’s seat and opened the back door so Alan could all but shove Lucas inside. Alan turned to me before getting in. “I shouldn’t have to tell you it would be a dick move to tattle to the press do I?”

  “Excuse me?” I drew myself up indignantly. “Why would I go to the press?”

  “Lucas is something special. He’s a big deal around here, soon to be a big deal everywhere. He’s a good guy who makes some stupid mistakes once in a while. I hope you aren’t one of them.”

  “Look, we’ve all been there. Plus I don’t really care who he is. Just make sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit, okay?”

  Alan grinned at me. “You’re good people, Morgan Carter. It seems like Lucas chose a good one to mess around with for once.”

  “There was no messing around. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I huffed, mortified again.

  “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m just disappointed I didn’t get to you first.” Alan winked. “Thanks again, love.”

  And then they were gone. I heard giggling and murmurs of conversation. I turned and saw about a dozen people taking pictures of me as I stood there, watching the cab drive away.

  “What are you staring at? Move along!” I shouted, giving them the finger.

  One of the women gave me the finger back and called me a bitch.

  I let out a sigh and went back into the pub.

  Lucas

  I felt as though I had been run over.

  Or a cat shat in my mouth.

  “Turn off the light,” I groaned, covering my eyes with my arm.

  I heard laughter. “That’s the sun, Lucas. Now get up, your interview is in an hour and a half.”

  I squinted at my sister who was opening the curtains letting in that god-awful sunlight.

  “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Slowly and painfully,” she answered with a grin. “Have fun last night?”

  I rolled over, pulling the duvet over my head. “Why didn’t you go to Mum’s? Then you wouldn’t be here annoying the fuck out of me.”

  “Now, don’t be cross. You always say such nasty things when you’re hungover.” The duvet was pulled back and Anna yanked on my leg hair.

  I sat up, kicking at her hand. “Stop that! What are you, two?” Then my stomach rolled and I had to dash into the en suite before I vomited in my bed. Unfortunately there was nothing to come up but bile and stomach acid.

  “Ugh,” I moaned when I was finished. I opened the medicine cabinet and found a packet of Alka Seltzer.

  “You look like hell,” Anna commented. She leaned against the doorjamb watching me as I drank a glass of fizzy water. “Why would you go out and get wankered when you had this interview today? I thought you were stopping all that stupid stuff.” Anna looked disappointed, which only made me feel worse.

  “I didn’t mean to get so pissed. It just happened.” I pushed past her back into my bedroom. I looked down, thankful that I had passed out with my clothes still on. Otherwise I would have traumatized my poor sister.

  “It always just happens. Mum would give you a right bollocking if she were here.” Anna shook her head. She was two years younger than me, but often acted as though she were the older sibling. Even though I had been the one taking care of her for years.

  At twenty-one, she was a bit of a know it all. After moving from Kent, she went on the straight and narrow. She had just started her final year at uni and planned to go to medical school. And while I loved her more than anything, sometimes I wished she would shut her gob.

  “Well, Mum isn’t here, is she? And I don’t want you going tattling either. It was one night on the lash. Not a big deal. Now get out of here so I can get a shower.”

  Anna smiled. “I’m making a big fry up. Just for you.”

  The thought of greasy food made me want to throw up again. But hell if I’d admit to it. “Sounds good. I’ll be down in a few.”

  Once Anna was gone I sat down heavily on the bed. I smelled horrible and I was pretty sure that was dry vomit on my shirt. I quickly took it off and stuffed it in the overflowing hamper. My head felt as though it were going to split in two.

  I couldn’t believe I had drank so much last night. Alan and I had started at The Ewe before going to the Red Lion and then ending up at The Thorny Rose. I lost track of how many drinks I had consumed, having paid for none of them. I blamed Alan. It was his fault I had moved from beer to liquor then back to beer.

  And then there was the American woman.

  Most of the night was a blur, but I remembered her clear as day. I had been a complete git, barging in on her in the women’s toilet. She was beautiful; I knew that much was true. I could still see her long dark hair and equally dark eyes.

  One minute she was telling me to get the hell out of her way, the next my tongue was down her throat and my hands in her knickers.

  I didn’t usually operate in such a brutish way. I was kind of ashamed of how caveman I had behaved.

  The last thing I remembered was throwing up after she came all over my fingers.

  And I wasn’t sure if I ever got her name or not.

  I wasn’t a stranger to one-night stands and random shags in public places. My rising celebrity made it all too easy to take good looking women home.

  But I usually at least bought them a drink or a cab home. Puking and then passing out afterwards was a new one even for me.

  I didn’t have a lot of time before Mo would be here so I had to get myself together quick. I picked out a pair of jeans and a button up shirt before making my way into the bathroom.

  I stood under the hot spray long enough to turn my skin red. My mind kept drifting back to the woman last night.

  The encounter had been hot. I remember her tasting like strawberries and smelling like vanilla. And her skin had been soft.

/>   I had liked the sounds she made when I was getting her off. She hadn’t been a screamer–thank god.

  I was getting hard just thinking about how wet she had been.

  I wrapped my hand around my cock and started to pump thinking about how much I liked kissing her. And touching her.

  Christ.

  “Mate, you don’t have time for a wank. Mo just showed up.”

  “Fuck!” I shouted, dropping my hand from my dick and wiping the steam from the shower door. Alan stood there eating a bagel and looking a little too bright eyed for my taste.

  “Get out, you perv!” I roared, turning off the water. I was now experiencing the worst case of blue balls I had ever had.

  Alan didn’t move. He leaned against the vanity eating his bagel, seeming incredibly amused. “He looks pretty mad too,” he warned, licking cream cheese from his thumb.

  “What the hell are you even doing here?” I asked, wrapping a towel around my waist. I grabbed my toothbrush and quickly brushed my teeth, shoving Alan to the side so I could spit in the sink.

  “I couldn’t very well drive home last night could I? Anna said I could spend the night.”

  “Oh did she? And where the hell did you sleep?”

  “With Anna, of course.”

  “Motherfuck—”

  “I’m kidding, Lucas. Calm down,” Alan chuckled. “You’re cute when you get all worked up.”

  “Seriously, get out. You’re making my head hurt.”

  “You were so messed up last night. I had to pay the cab a mint after you puked in the backseat.” Alan finished his bagel and wiped his hands on his trousers.

  “Alan, if you don’t want my fist down your throat, get out now.” I glared at my best friend for emphasis.

  “Yeah, yeah. Okay. I’ll see you downstairs. I’ll try to get Mo in a good mood before he kills you.”

  I closed the bathroom door in my teammate’s face and then locked it for good measure. I dried off and got dressed, though not quickly. I wasn’t in the mood for my agent to give me whatever grief he planned to dish out.

  “You look like dog shit,” Mo announced as soon as I came downstairs.