Looking at my ticket I found my spot next to a group of women dressed much like the girls on the train. Their hair was styled and their clothes were clearly designer. One of them had bright red hair and wore so many diamonds she looked as though she’d fall over.
She glanced at me as I sat down beside her. I smiled in greeting but she didn’t return it.
Okay then.
No one spoke to me and that was fine with me. I tried not to listen in on the women’s discussion about nightclubs and whether they wanted to call the red haired lady’s personal shopper at Harvey Nichols.
Soon my attention was on the field. The crowd was going crazy.
And my eyes found the one person I wanted to see.
He walked onto the pitch and my heart stopped.
The crowd roared. It was deafening. His name became a chant. But I knew that later, after the insanity was over, he would be all mine.
Then the game started and I was riveted. I had no real idea what was going on, but I enjoyed every minute of it.
At halftime a man came around with drinks. The women beside me took bottles of water and I took a soda. The woman with the neon red hair finally turned my way, her eyes assessing.
“And who are you?” she asked.
I was taken aback by the blunt rudeness of her question. No “hi, how are you?” or “My name is Lady Gloria of the bright red locks.”
She was sizing me up, taking in my casual outfit and ponytail.
“I’m Morgan Carter. And you are?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. This woman wasn’t nice, I could tell that easily enough.
I saw the ladies behind red hair exchanged glances.
“Morgan Carter?” Red Hair repeated.
“Yes. Morgan Carter.” Was she hard of hearing?
“I’m guessing you’re here to see Lucas then,” she said. I didn’t like the way she said Lucas’ name. Soft and sultry and possibly too familiar.
“Yes, Lucas invited me.”
“He’s always so kind to his pieces of ass,” she stated sweetly and her friends snickered.
My face flushed red. “You haven’t given me your name.” I purposefully ignored her comment, knowing she was looking for a reaction from me.
“No, I haven’t.” She sat back in her chair and uncapped her bottle of sparkling water. “My name is Marla Denham. Craig is my husband.”
Craig? I didn’t know who that was, but I simply nodded. Marla waved her hand towards her friends. “This is Tania and Fiona. Tania is dating Stefan Maez. Fiona is engaged to George Fletcher.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said to the other women. Tania smiled politely but Fiona barely acknowledged me.
Wow, bitch much?
“So you’ve been given a WAG ticket. You must be special,” Marla went on. I noticed her mouth was set into a firm line, her eyes steely. She practically spat out the word special as if it were a dirty word.
“A WAG ticket?” I asked, not knowing what she was talking about.
“Wife and Girlfriend. That’s what we are. WAGs,” Tania filled in with pride, as if that made her something incredibly special. I noted a slight accent. I wondered where she was from.
“Well I’m not a wife or a girlfriend, but I appreciate the ticket,” I felt the need to say.
Marla laughed. “Of course you’re not, darling. Lucas doesn’t do girlfriends. Everyone knows that.” Her condescension practically dripped from her mouth. She leaned in close to me, dropping her voice. “I only meant that you must be pretty spectacular in bed for Lucas to cough up one of these tickets. I must get your secrets.”
The three women cackled together and I briefly fantasized about punching Marla in her pretty face. Did everyone know Lucas and I were sleeping together?
Fiona snapped her fingers. “You’re that girl from the gossip mags. The one who left the pub with Alan and Lucas.” Her eyes sparkled meanly. “Tell me, what are they like together? I imagine sleeping with the both of them at the same time was quite amazing.”
I drew myself upright. “I didn’t sleep with Alan,” I argued and then realized I had inadvertently admitted to sleeping with Lucas.
Well what other reason did I have for being in this box? I was obviously his—how had Marla put it—piece of ass.
Marla patted my hand. “Well you’d best give the man what he brought you down here for. We all know how Lucas behaves when he doesn’t get what he paid for.”
My stomach twisted at her implication. The witch had basically called me a prostitute.
I tried to think of something to say back but my tongue was tied. Marla eyed me one last time. “Nice meeting you—I’m sorry, what did you say your name was again?”
“Morgan,” I replied through clenched teeth.
“Right. Morgan. I can never keep you women straight.”
Then she turned back to the other WAGs, ignoring me completely.
My throat felt tight and I felt angry tears burn my eyelids.
The match had started up again and I tried to concentrate on Chester. It was hard with Marla and the other women’s laughter and chitchat ringing in my ears.
Chester played really well. Lucas didn’t score a goal this time but he assisted with the three that led his side to victory. I was able to lose myself in the energy of the stadium for a while. I had to pretend that Marla and the others weren’t there.
When the final whistle blew I got to my feet and cheered with everyone else, but I felt less enthusiastic than I had earlier.
I had dealt with plenty of women like Marla in my life. Petty and mean spirited and most likely jealous. Though I wasn’t sure why she would be jealous of me considering she was already married to a football player.
It was obvious I’d never be welcome in the Chester WAG ranks and I didn’t really care about that. It’s not as if I expected to ever be a WAG. What a stupid acronym. Seriously. Why would I want to call myself that? Plus, Lucas and I were only having fun.
But her insinuation that he was essentially paying me to have sex with him through tickets and the trip to London hurt. Even though it shouldn’t. It had pushed my pride button big time.
After the match, I left as fast as I could, not bothering to say goodbye to the other women. Not that they cared. They hadn’t looked my way again. I returned to the hotel and changed out of my clothes into shorts and a T-shirt. I thought about heading home.
You’d best give the man what he brought you down here for.
I shouldn’t let a woman like Marla get under my skin because most likely that’s exactly what she wanted.
But I had been struggling with the nature of my relationship with Lucas from the very beginning. But what could I possibly expect from a man who I allowed to finger me in a bar bathroom?
So when Lucas had showed up I lost my cool a bit. I actually stripped in front of him, telling him to take what he obviously wanted.
“You want to tell me what this is all about?” he asked once I had gotten dressed again.
I wouldn’t tell him about Marla because I’m sure he’d tell me not to listen to her. Which I shouldn’t. She was obviously a grade A bitch face.
I let him kiss me and to soothe my pride and then we were leaving the hotel. Finally being out and about in London forced all thoughts of the WAGs and their shitty comments from my mind. For now.
We wandered down the street and found ourselves at a huge market full of clothes and trinkets.
“Are you hungry? I’m fucking starving,” Lucas asked, taking my hand and pulling me towards several food trucks.
There was every type of food you could imagine. I ended up ordering a Bento box and Lucas got himself an authentic spaghetti carbonara. We sat down at a picnic table to eat.
“So where are we exactly?” I asked, stuffing my face full of noodles.
“This is Spitalfield’s Market. Shoreditch is the heart of the rag trade and it’s become a hipster paradise in the last few years. I figured you being a woman and all, you’d like to check out the cloth
es.” Lucas had a dab of sauce on his chin and I reached over with a napkin to wipe it off.
I noticed that while we got several looks as we walked along, there wasn’t the fawning craziness that followed Lucas in Chester. In London it seemed he was just another guy. Which was nice.
“Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I’m clothes crazy,” I corrected him.
“I’m so sorry to make that assumption.” He grinned and I grinned and all was right in the world.
After we were finished eating, Lucas took my hand again and we meandered through the market looking at the booths. A table covered in copper jewelry caught my eye. There were necklaces made from heavy cast copper on black chains. I fingered one in the shape of a human heart.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, taking it from the jewelry stand and holding it up to my neck. I asked the woman selling them how much they were and was mildly shocked when she said one hundred pounds. I promptly put it back.
“Stuff is so expensive here,” I observed after we walked away.
“Welcome to London, love.” Lucas and I left the market and headed down a narrow side street. We passed several tour groups. Listening to the guide I deduced they were Jack the Ripper tours, which seemed a little macabre to me.
“I used to beg my mum to take Anna and me to London. I would be a right twat about it too. Pouting and throwing tantrums,” Lucas said as we walked through a pop up market in a warehouse.
“You being a twat? I can’t see it,” I joked. I stopped in front of a booth selling taxidermy animals and specimen jars.
“Mum explained that she would love to take us but we couldn’t afford it. She was working as a dinner lady at the primary school and picking up hours as a maid as well. She worked her arse off to keep us housed and fed. And all I could see was that I couldn’t go to London.”
He leaned down and peered into a jar filled with liquid containing a dead lizard. “Why sell this shit? Who actually buys it?” he shuddered, pulling me towards the next booth.
“Kids don’t always see what their parents do for them. I grew up with a single mom too. She worked three jobs just so I could play basketball and go to basketball camp. That stuff is expensive. I don’t think I thanked her until I was much older,” I told him.
We were back out on the street. Vendors were starting to pack up for the day and the people were changing from shoppers to younger, hipper night owls.
“Sounds like we’ve had similar lives,” Lucas mused.
“Yeah, except for the whole you became a famous soccer player thing,” I pointed out. Lucas slung his arm around my shoulders and kissed my temple.
I felt warm all over at the unexpectedly tender gesture. “There is that isn’t there?” he murmured against my hair.
“Did your mom ever get a trip to London?” I asked him. We were walking so close together. His arm still around me. It felt intimate. Familiar. I didn’t quite know what to make of it.
“After I signed with my first football club, I took Mum and Anna for five days to London.” His face was soft as he remembered. “My mother cried as the train entered Waterloo station. She hadn’t been to London since she was a girl. I will never forget her face as we walked along the Southbank and she looked out over the Thames.”
I leaned my head against his shoulder, my arm going around his waist. It seemed a natural thing to do. “That’s awesome.”
He gave me a squeeze. “Yeah, it was. Tell me about your mum. What’s she like?”
“She can be a pain in the ass.” Lucas laughed and I grinned. “But she’s my best friend. I’m an only child. My dad left when I was young, so she’s all I have. I didn’t grow up with much extended family as her parents died before I was born.”
“It sounds like you miss her,” Lucas surmised.
“I do. So much. Being so far away has been hard,” I found myself telling him.
We turned down a quiet street lined with Victorian looking houses. There wasn’t a soul around, which was odd considering we were in the middle of London.
“Will she come here to visit you?” Lucas asked.
“I don’t think so.” I felt so safe and warm under his arm. It was surprisingly comfortable to be with him like this.
“Why not? England’s pretty great, though I may be a bit biased,” Lucas remarked.
“She’s been sick. Her doctor thinks it’s her heart. I doubt there will be any traveling in her future for a while.” I sounded sad. I couldn’t help it. Thinking of my mom going through all of that without me there was hard.
“I’m sorry, Morgan,” Lucas murmured. I felt his lips in my hair.
“It’s okay. I’m hoping to see her soon.”
Lucas stilled. “How long are you here for? I just assumed this was a permanent thing.”
I couldn’t quite look at him when I answered. “I’m on a year long secondment. After that, it’s up to the company whether they want to take me on full-time.”
“Only a year huh?” He sounded funny. I glanced up at him but he was looking straight ahead.
“Yep,” I responded.
“Do you think your mum would like me?” he asked and I giggled.
“What woman doesn’t like you, Lucas? Mothers included.”
Lucas ran his hand up and down my arm. “I really only care about one woman liking me.”
What?
I swallowed, not able to speak.
The air between us was heavy with meaning I didn’t quite understand.
I had a feeling this trip would irrevocably alter things between us.
We walked a little farther in silence, our arms still wrapped around each other. “All the attractions are closed now, so we can’t go to the Tower or Westminster today. We could go back to the hotel for a bit, change into some evening clothes and then head out. Go to a club or something.”
I looked up at him. He looked down at me.
Things were definitely changing.
I could feel it. I was pretty sure he could feel it too.
His eyes were shining and I went up on my tiptoes to kiss him. I didn’t second guess touching him now. I just did it. As though it were my right to.
“Sure. Sounds great.”
Lucas
“Oh my god!” Morgan screamed right in my ear.
I plunged into her again, going as deep as I could. My balls slapped against her ass. I reached between us and pinched her clit. I felt her squeeze around my cock and groaned loudly.
It was a good thing the hotel walls were thick because otherwise our neighbors would be hearing quite the show.
We had a great evening of walking around Shoreditch. I wasn’t overly familiar with that part of town so most of it was as new to me as it was to Morgan.
I loved the way her face lit up at every old church and crumbling building that caught her eye.
We ended up on the tube and found our way to Piccadilly Circus where we walked until our feet ached. Finally we decided to head back to the hotel to get showers and changed. I had suggested going out to a club Alan told me about. Morgan agreed.
We hadn’t made it to the shower yet.
We had been fucking for almost forty-five minutes. My legs were quivering, my arms were shaking, my heart was hammering in my chest.
I flipped onto my back, pulling Morgan upright so she was straddling me. I was so deep inside her. She braced herself with a hand on my chest and one on the bed between my legs. She arched her back and moaned.
I ran my hand up between her breasts. Her skin was slick with sweat. I could feel the walls of her pussy spasming as she rode me hard, coming to a climax.
“Fuck!” I roared, digging my fingers into her hips as I pulled her down onto my dick. Then I came and we were both shouting at the top of our lungs.
Morgan collapsed on top of me, her hair covering my face. I spat strands out of my mouth and tried to breathe through the heavy dark mass.
Neither of us could speak. We could only breathe. I was exhausted. All the walki
ng and fucking, and you know, playing a football match, left me needing sleep in the worst possible way.
But I didn’t want to waste time with Morgan with my eyes closed.
Morgan rolled off me, cushioning her head with her bent arm. She stared at me, her expression unreadable. The after sex with Morgan had always been awkward. I refused to let it be that way this time.
I leaned over and kissed her deeply. “That was amazing,” I said into her mouth.
She sighed. “Yeah it was. I can’t feel my legs though.”
We both laughed. I ran my fingers through her hair. “Thank you for coming to London. I liked knowing you were at the match today.”
Morgan turned her head and kissed my palm. “I liked being there watching you.”
“You’re fucking beautiful. You know that?” I kissed her again. It was like I couldn’t stop. I was becoming slightly addicted to all the parts of her. Her lips. Her nose. Her eyes. Her amazing tits. Her gorgeous legs.
Her smart ass mouth that never failed to put me in my place.
She playfully smacked my arm. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
I pulled her back on top of me, our chests pressed together. I cupped her cheek, stroking the gentle slope. “Morgan, I’m not feeding you a line. You’re not like the other women. You’re something different.”
She chuckled. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”
I pulled her face down and our lips met in a tender pressing of mouths. “It is a compliment. So take it.”
She rubbed her nose against mine, smiling. “You’re so damn bossy.”
“And you like it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I do.”
“I need to get a shower. You want to come with me?”
“Uh. I guess.”
I kissed her again. Like I said, I couldn’t stop. I sucked her bottom lip into my mouth. I felt my dick start to get hard again; which surprised me given I had only finished fucking her.
“I’ll take extra good care of you,” I told her. I lifted her in my arms and carried her to the bathroom. Her legs were wrapped around my waist and she kissed a line from my shoulder to my jaw.
The Beautiful Game (Man of the Match Book 1) Page 22