by Max Monroe
She was my girl. My bombshell mystery package that only I had the pleasure of unwrapping.
Mine to kiss. Mine to hold. Mine to taste.
I sucked and ate at her wet pussy, and when I felt her orgasm vibrate against my tongue, I grinned like a greedy fucking bastard. When it came to Gem, all I could think was mine, mine, mine.
“Fuck,” she whispered once the fog of her orgasm cleared from her mind. “I’m pretty sure I’ve never come that quick in my life. I feel like I just got hit by an actual orgasm train.”
I smirked, made her squeal with one final, gentle lick to her clit, and slid her panties and pants back into place.
She didn’t know this yet, but that wouldn’t be the only time the supposed orgasm train made a stop at her house this evening.
“Ready, Gem?” I asked, and she tilted her head to the side.
“For what?”
“To go home.”
“My place or your place?” she asked and I grinned.
“I’d prefer not to have an audience tonight.”
“Your place it is,” she agreed on a giggle, and I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and led her out of the service closet and into the main hallway.
When she grinned up at me with those pretty blue eyes of hers, my heart swelled.
And right then, right there, I decided.
I wasn’t going to let her go.
My phone buzzed inside my pocket, and I set down the package in my hands to check my messages.
Leo: What are you doing, baby?
I quickly typed out a response that made me grin.
Me: Packing up all of your Nonna’s dildos… Taking pictures of her thongs… You know, the usual weekday responsibilities.
Leo: Christ, you’re never going to let me forget that disturbing reality, are you?
Me: Not likely. ;) What are you doing?
Leo: Thinking about you.
He was sweet, really, he was, but he was also a dirty little liar.
Me: That’s real nice, Leonard. But considering I know you’re in the middle of practice right now, I’m calling bullshit.
Leo: Fine. I’m thinking about you AND practice. But mostly, thinking about you.
Me: What exactly are you thinking about when you’re thinking about me?
His response came not even a minute later.
Leo: Your eyes. Your lips. Your angelic voice. Your pretty little smile. Every-fucking-thing that is Gemma Holden.
He was charming, I’d give him that much.
And his words, well, they made me blush to my damn toes.
Leo: And, if I’m being really honest, I was just recalling the exact moment I decided I was Gemma’s number one fan.
Me: Sounds like quite the moment…
Leo: Ironically, it was inside a supply closet, of all places.
Making up for the disastrous misunderstanding we’d had over the gig at Monarchy had been one of the highlights in my spank bank reel ever since. If for nothing else, I figured the fantasies associated with that day had made the fight worth it.
That fight, our first official fight, had been over two months ago, and thankfully, Leo and I had been back in business ever since.
Constant flirtatious banter through texts and phone calls and FaceTime.
Date nights whenever we could fit them in.
Frequent sleepovers.
Lots and lots of fan-fucking-tastic sex.
Yeah. Life was officially good.
And with everything smooth between us, we’d turned our focus back toward outside enemies.
For him, it was a flawless football season and the chance at the championship game—something every team was desperate to dismantle every time they had a game—and for me, it was peddling dildos with Alma.
Well, not that Alma was my enemy, but she sure as shit had the power to be a thorn in my side when she was feeling extra bossy.
It was safe to say my temporary three-month gig at Alma’s Secrets had been extended for an un-set amount of time.
Personally, I thought it was because she liked the company and the fact that I carried most of the workload.
Eventually, I texted Leo back, a smile tipping up the corners of my lips when I let my mind linger on memories of him and me inside a supply closet in Mavericks Stadium.
Me: I remember that moment. It’s my favorite.
Leo: Me too, baby. Me too.
Before I could respond with heart eyes or a kissy face emoji, another text came through.
Leo: Shit. I’ve gotta get back to practice, but I’ll call you after, okay?
Me: Sounds good. I’ll just be here packing up all of Nonna’s sex toys.
Leo: Goddammit, Gemma.
I giggled and typed out one final message that I knew would probably make him roll his eyes and smile.
Me: Have an awesome practice, baby!
I slid my phone back into my pocket, and it took a good five minutes to swipe the real-life heart eyes from my face.
But, eventually, I refocused on my workday priorities.
Alma and I had been hard at work for most of the morning. Well, when I said we’d been hard at work, I really meant me. She’d mostly just been gabbing in my ear and acting like she was working on her laptop.
I called bullshit, though.
Every damn time I walked past her screen, I found her messaging with her friend Marty on Facebook or watching pirated reruns of Dr. Phil on YouTube.
By the time the clock had struck noon, I’d barreled through over fifty inventory photos and managed to package up all of yesterday’s orders.
With me running the pleasure ship, Alma’s Secrets had never been more on top of shit than we were right now.
Funny how I’d never been good at any of my temp jobs until I found one where I stroked dildos all day.
I tossed the last package into the plastic bin I’d managed to talk the guy at the post office into giving me and plopped my ass down into one of the plastic-covered dining chairs. It squeaked as I adjusted in my seat, and Alma slipped off her reading glasses and let out a deep breath.
“We’ve been two busy bees all day, huh?”
“Well, I’ve been busy,” I answered with a knowing smirk. “But I’m not sure your three hours’ worth of Dr. Phil videos on YouTube counts.”
She grinned. “In my defense, that man would wear anyone out with his psychoanalyzing drivel.”
I laughed at that. “Then why do you watch him?”
“Because he’s entertaining,” she said through a giggle. “Plus, I’ve always had a thing for bald men.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And hungry,” she added and shut her laptop. “Time for lunch?”
Right on cue, my stomach growled its agreement, and I nodded. “You want to eat here or head to the diner?”
“Let’s eat here,” she said and stood up from her seat. “I just made a fresh batch of pasta salad last night, and I’ve got enough lunch meat to feed Leonard’s football team.”
I grinned. Alma’s pasta salad was legend. I didn’t think her theory about standing up to feeding the entire team had truly been tested, but I also didn’t think she was wrong. It was carb-loaded, one hundred percent guilty goodness.
“Sounds good.”
I followed her into the kitchen and helped set the table while she dished out the food. It didn’t take long, even for a slow little old lady, and within ten minutes, we were sitting across from each other and chowing down on turkey sandwiches, potato chips, and Alma’s homemade pasta salad.
Colorful penne, veggies, a little cheese, and some kind of Italian dressing and seasonings, it was hands down the best pasta salad I’d ever tasted in my life.
“I want this recipe,” I said and popped a forkful of penne into my mouth.
“That’s nice, dear, but you can’t have it.”
“What? Why not?”
She grinned. “Because it’s a secret recipe.”
“What do you mean, it’s a sec
ret?”
“I’ve never given that recipe to anyone. Not even my sister Darla.”
A guffaw mixed with a laugh as I judged her aloud. “Well, that’s a bit selfish, don’t you think?”
A soft laugh left her lips. “If Darla were still alive, she’d definitely agree with that. But I don’t care. It’s my recipe, and I do what I want with it.”
God, she was a trip. Ornery as hell, but entertaining nonetheless.
Foiled from adding a recipe to my very slim roster, I just grinned and savored the secret pasta. I’d learned since I’d started working for Alma that there was no use arguing with her. And there sure as shit wasn’t any way to convince her otherwise. The old biddy was set in her ways, and there wasn’t a single man, woman, or child on this earth who could change her. Luckily, even after I was done working for her, I had a feeling anytime I wanted her pasta, all I’d have to do was give her a call and come on over.
“So,” she said after taking a bite of her sandwich. “How are things going between you and Leonard?”
Leonard. I loved how she always called Leo by his full first name. Hell, sometimes I found myself doing it too just to tease him.
I shrugged. “They’re going pretty good, I guess.”
“You guess?” she asked. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Christ, she didn’t miss a beat.
“It means I can’t predict the future, but right now, things are good.”
“How good?” she asked with a little smile perking up her mouth.
“You do realize it’s awkward talking to you about Leo, right?” I asked, and she waved a hand in the air.
“Oh, don’t be so uptight, Gemma,” she retorted. “I’m an eighty-year-old woman who sells sex toys and lingerie, for fuck’s sake. Pretty sure I can handle whatever you tell me.”
I laughed at that. “Good to know.”
“That’s it?” she asked. “Good to know?”
I shrugged. “What else do you want me to say?”
“I want you to fess up and tell me how things are really going between you and my nephew,” she said without hesitation or shame. “I know you’ve been spending a lot of time together. Would you say things are getting more serious?”
I honestly didn’t know the answer to that question.
Yes, we’d reached a point where we used cute terms of endearment and shit.
And, no doubt, we’d been spending practically all of our free time together.
But Leo and I had yet to have any sort of deep discussion about where we were headed. Mind you, we weren’t dating or sleeping with other people, but for the most part, we were just kind of going with the flow.
If I was being honest with myself, deep down, I had a hard time wrapping my head around how polar opposite our lives were.
He was a professional football star for the New York freaking Mavericks.
And I was the temp who took inventory photos for Alma’s Secrets.
It might have just been my insecurities talking, but the scale felt a little skewed with him at the very tip-top and me plummeting straight for the bottom.
After we’d made up from the big fight, we’d both just kind of been riding the rails along with the train. I had a feeling neither one of us wanted to veer off track. “I mean, we’re not talking about marriage and kids, but things are going good.”
“What about the sex?” she asked bluntly, and I nearly choked on my turkey sandwich.
“What in the hell do you mean by that?”
“Is it good? Bad? Just mediocre?” she questioned with a little smirk.
“Things are good, okay?” I said by way of ending this discussion before it got out of hand. “That’s all you need to know. Things between Leo and me are good.”
She winked. “So, what you’re saying is, the sex is good?”
I snorted. “I’m saying there’s no way in hell I’m going to answer that question in the disturbing detail you’re hoping for.”
“Rats,” she muttered with an amused smile, and I just giggled.
Our conversation turned quiet for a few peaceful moments until Alma couldn’t stand the silence and resumed her chattering ways.
“I have an extra ticket,” she said and popped a potato chip into her mouth.
“An extra ticket?”
“To the play-off game in Pittsburgh.”
“Oh, who are you planning on taking?” I asked dumbly. Of course. The instant the words left my mouth, I knew I was in trouble.
“I’m going to take you,” she said and then added, “Well, technically, you’ll be the one taking me, but same difference.”
I quirked a brow. “But what if I don’t want to go?”
She grinned. “Oh, c’mon, Gemma. I might be old as dirt, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Plus, we both know you want to go support the incredibly handsome man in your life.”
The old biddy had a point.
“Where is the play-off game again?”
“Pittsburgh.”
“But that’s like a five-hour drive….”
“Even more reason to have you come along so I don’t have to do that long-as-hell trip by myself.”
What could I say to that? The mere idea of Alma making the long drive by herself made me instantly nervous.
Plus, I really, really wanted to see Leo’s play-off game.
Even though I might regret being stuck inside a car with Alma for five hours, the decision was pretty damn obvious.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go to Pittsburgh together.”
Our first play-off game was intense, and the crowd was on its feet. It’d been a madhouse of over one-hundred-decibel noise nearly the entire time we were playing, and I’d had to turn myself into a goddamn werewolf to hear Quinn call the plays.
But if shapeshifting was ever going to be worth it, I figured it was when we had so much on the line and a championship run still alive.
I could feel the sweat running all over my body despite the frigid Pittsburgh winter air, and Sean had been in full hype mode on the sidelines for an entire hour and a half. Waving his arms, jumping up and down, catcalling like a psychopath, he’d demanded our crowd get to their feet and do their part, and they hadn’t fallen down even a little bit.
Because of the overwhelming intensity pouring down around us, and the focus I’d been honing with a fine laser since we’d stepped out onto the field, I didn’t notice Gemma and Alma up in the stands until sometime during the fourth quarter when Cam had given me a nudge and pointed them out.
Apparently, according to him, they’d been raising enough hell together in the stands to get his attention. Considering I could barely hear myself think, let alone pick out two individuals without a strong reason in that mess, they must have been pretty fucking loud.
I’d given a quick jerk of a nod before getting back to focusing, but with the way Cam the puppy dog wouldn’t leave me alone as I finished putting all of my dirty shit in my bag after my shower, I’d say he hadn’t done the same.
“Come onnnn, dude. I want to meet them.”
He’d been relentless since even before the end of the game, and it’d been all I could do to tune him out and keep my head on the field. It was the first time Gemma had been there in the stands to see me play and the first time for my Nonna all season. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to Cam to split his attention between them and football, but I’d known if I’d let myself go down their road for even a minute, I’d have been fucked and we might have lost.
And he’d be feeling a lot differently right now.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m almost ready. Why are you rushing me? Isn’t Lana around?”
He pouted. “No. She couldn’t come. She had to work.”
“So, I’m your toy?”
He shook his head laughingly. “Nope. But your girl and the old lady are. I cannot wait to meet them. You should have seen the shit they were doing in the stands. I thought your girl was going to take off her shirt if it took me much longer to spot th
em.”
I rolled my eyes. I might have freaked out if I believed him for even a second. But Gemma wasn’t the type to take off her top at a football game, desperate for attention or not. “Her name is Gemma. And the old lady is my aunt Alma.”
“Alma, huh?”
I laughed, warning, “You better watch her. Give her attitude, and she’ll have you eating shit for breakfast.”
He smiled hugely and laughed. “Feisty. I love it. It’s my favorite quality in a lady.”
“You have no idea,” I admitted. Hopefully, she would give Cam a run for his money and then some. It might be nice to see him suffer a little bit.
I’d yet to confront her about her sex toy business since Gemma had broken the news, and I didn’t think I ever would. Still, just knowing made all the sense in the world.
Nonna was one of a kind, and she didn’t take crap from anyone.
I couldn’t imagine sex toys had been widely accepted in her time, but if there was ever a woman not to give a fuck, it was her.
“All right,” I said, swinging my bag onto my shoulder. “I’m ready.”
My excitement to see the two of them was almost overwhelming, but I’d forced myself to keep it in check because I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay with them. I never minded the rules of the team—you come as a team, you leave as a team—but I’d never had my two favorite people in the world come to an away game before.
Cam, on the other hand, didn’t try to contain his jubilation at all. He jumped up and down like a schoolgirl. “It’s about time.”
“Can you calm down?” I asked with a laugh. “If they meet you like this, they’re going to think you’re on speed.”
He shook his head and squinted. “You completely underestimate my power with the ladies, little Leo.”
“I don’t know. I’ve seen you struggle with charm.”
He scowled. “Bullshit.”