by Andrea Rose
“I won’t fucking admit something that’s a lie.”
“You’re ignoring me. Right after you fucked me and I said no to you buying my apartment. You used me for sex, Tyler, like the old you would have.”
Voice broke, eyes stung and the first sight of New York City rose in the distance. I pressed my nose to my hand and stared back out the window.
“You’re the first person I’ve fucked in a long, long time.”
Tyler turned up the radio.
The steering wheel squeaked in his grip as Brown Eyed Girl came over the station. He punched at it until the screen went blank and the speakers hissed with white noise.
“You broke it.”
“Someone’ll fix it.”
“Pull over,” I ordered.
In an abandoned mall carpark, I investigated who was around before deciding we were safe and alone and climbed back into the car.
Our heads dropped sideways to each other.
“I used you,” he admitted.
It hurt.
“That what you need to hear?” he added. “Will that make this easier on you?”
“It’s over. This is really over?” I didn’t want to believe it.
“Like we promised, once we’re back in the city.”
“We haven’t hit the city yet.” I said in panic.
“And?”
I shifted in my seat and took out my hair clip.
Eyelids lowered, I bit my lip and made bedroom eyes. If he wanted me to feel powerless, I’d make him feel the same.
“Use me for the last time,” I demanded. “Right now.”
“Don’t tease me,” he said and turned out the windscreen.
“Fuck me how you fuck your whores. That’ll be the last unprofessional thing I ever ask of you, Tyler King. I wanna see why fucking someone you don’t care about is so much hotter for you.”
“I didn’t fuck—”
I stole his right hand and pressed it between my crotch. He growled, leaping forward to fall into my chest to gnaw at my breasts. My fingertips pulled wildly through his hair as his nose pushed aside my neckline and my nipple caught between his lips.
“You want to be used, whore,” he huffed, eyes burning bright. “You want your king to use you, hm?”
I accepted his tongue into my mouth, heaving as he twirled my nipple between his roughened fingers.
“When I ask you who I am, you call me a king,” he ordered, palm sliding up my throat.
I snarled back and yanked my pants off in the car seat, pressing his hand against my wetness.
“You can’t please like a king.”
“We’ll see.”
He snagged a fist of hair and tilted my head back. Fingers slid inward, controlling my pussy in firm, knowledgable strokes as his eager thumb circled my clit.
“I know everything about pleasing you…”
I groaned when his fingers spread me wider and fucked me.
“You’re gonna cum for me like the naughty whore you when I tell you.”
I refused to make a sound. He picked the wrong woman to play this game with.
I held onto my orgasm, clenching tight as his thumb smothered firmly down my taint and pushed inside me. I had to stay strong if I wanted the upper hand.
Agony.
Vicious, sweet agony.
He kissed me intensely.
If this is how he fucked his whores, then he did a damn good job faking passion towards them.
“Who am I?” he said, tugging with precision against my G-spot.
“My king…” My fingertips buried into his jaw.
“Who the fuck am I?”
“My king…my fucking king. Uh!”
I pained to cum so bad—Tyler even more talented with his hands than his mouth—but held on.
“Cum for me, Ari. Cum.”
I was out of breath but held on. “Like fuck,” I puffed.
His tongue circled my ear as he fondled and edged me to the verge of collapse.
“Please, Ari,” he crooned, “Please cum for me.”
His own breaths heavy, aroused and hungered, I knew I’d teased him long enough.
I lugged him from me and hitched my pants back.
“What the fuck?” he said stunned and fell back in his seat, hands in the air.
My body teetered on an orgasm, so near cumming the slightest bump might set me off.
Tyler’s cock pressed painfully tight against his zipper. Time to get my upper hand.
“Consider us even,” I said.
“You’re done?”
“Yep.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“To remind myself I’ll do just fine without you.”
I licked my lips and finished what he started, rubbing a hand beneath the fabric of my panties as the other bunched my hair atop my head.
“You look at me when I come,” I uttered.
Tyler gnashed his teeth, entranced in my self-pleasuring…
My pussy spasmed at my own touch. I gasped, climaxing as my hand sliced down décolletage, eyes fixed on Tyler. He gyrated in his seat and rubbed at my thigh.
“You are a fucking sorceress.”
His head threw back and a hand slapped loudly to the roof, a strangled groan coughing out his throat.
I covered my mouth.
Tyler’s eyelids drooped.
I’d made the man cum in his pants without even touching him.
A silent truce was draw and we didn’t speak until we reached a truck stop at the city’s limits.
I sat in the backseat of my Uber, ready to part on our separate ways before hitting downtown. I saved my words, climbing into the door Tyler held open for me.
I was silently howling out for him to drag me from this seat, turn that car around and take us back to Maryland.
“You stay safe, kid,” he said and reached through the window, shaking my hand as our final farewell. “I’ll see ya ‘round.”
28
“Pack up and fuck off,” Yuri said leaving La Maison one evening. “Phoebe’s gone dark so there’s a spare private jet and a box at the Lightning game. You leave in two hours.”
“I can’t go.”
“Then find me a Phoebe. Someone needs to be in that twenty-five thousand dollar seat.”
I chased after her down the corridor, while firing off an email blast, wanting to stir up engagement rumors on the couple before tomorrow.
I’d never force them to propose but Tyler had a hard time staying on people’s lips now he was behaving. That meant I could have some fun with the rumor-mill in the meantime.
“Where is Phoebe?” Yuri continued. “She has a fitting this evening with wardrobe.”
“She’s probably getting over jet-lag before her interview.”
“Whatever.” Yuri handed me a bagel from her exclusive pastry tray in her office. “If you have it under control then take it as a holiday, girl.”
“Thank you. But no.”
“Don’t enjoy time with your client, Ariana?”
I bit down and chewed a while.
“He can be draining.”
“I get it. You’ve done an amazing job with him. The public seem to be loving whatever you’re doing.”
“We’ll wait to see if it holds up.”
She stared from her window and drew from her vapor cigarette. “Glad you didn’t fall for the man. I’d been worried, seeing you both in that first meeting giving goo-goo eyes to one another.”
Some bagel caught in my throat. My cough hacked and Yuri passed me a bottle of water.
“Me and Tyler? Oh, right. He’s very handsome but lucky for you, he’s not exactly the sure thing I’m looking for,” I said.
“I’d sue you if I ever found out, too.” Yuri tapped her finger and kept her eyes out the window.
“That too.”
“Go please. The jet will be ready in an hour.”
I headed for her door.
“Wait,” she said.
“Yes?”
She walked beside me and checked the corridor.
“Ariana, would you be willing to take on a more personal task for me?”
“Anything.”
“Steal Gavin Spiros’ cellphone for me without him noticing.”
I flinched and she pat me forth.
“This one will be paid under the table. Go. Now. Quick.”
A private jet to a a five-star Presidential Suite in Chicago dampened some fears about being alone with Tyler since the Uber.
I sat in the stands right behind the Lightning side.
My hands busied themselves twisting at an old baseball cap Tyler had forgotten at the office last month after his Vanity Fair interview.
Fireworks exploded center field.
Bright blue.
Red.
A smoke bomb filled with lasers like Lightning.
The Lightning, led by Tyler in his full kit, ran through the cloud. An uproar of charged Lightning fans cheered for their hero and slapped their blow up Thunderclappers.
I swelled knowing that man had been mine once, if only a short time.
“S’pose a thank you is in order,” Gavin Spiros shouted at me, a pint of beer in one hand, hot dog in the other. “You’ve done good. Listen…No booing is a nice change. And to think I’d given up on the kid.”
I cringed as he fell into his leather recliner and turned to Tyler holding his helmet high to greet his fans.
“Just doin’ my job like you asked, Gav.”
Tyler jogged over to stand right in front of me, pretending that while he stretched he didn’t want to pass a glance. He’d thrown some eyes at Gavin already—I knew he’d seen me here too.
Turn, Tyler, I begged. Just once.
Gavin burped.
“How you handling Josh and a healthy Tyler on your books? Seems like a lot to juggle at once, two careers at tipping points like theirs.”
He gave me a telling scowl and took a bite of his sausage. “You saying I can’t handle it, Maldova?”
“I know you can’t handle it, Gavin. If Yuri couldn’t handle two contracts that big alone, no one could. My question is why take Josh on before Tyler got injured? You were already one of the busiest men in the business, managing KSE and Tyler. Why take on another up-and-comer’s workload and their staff?”
He bided his time in chewing, holding a finger up to give him a minute.
I shrugged cutely. “I don’t want an answer. These are bigger questions far beyond a PR girl.”
“You tryna tell me somethin’?” he said, resting his food on the table.
I sipped my coffee and turned my attention back to my client, whose pert butt looked amazing in those tight spandex pants.
“Not my business,” I said with a shrug and took my puffer jacket off revealing my low-cut Lightning tank. “Just trying to make conversation.”
Gavin stood up and wiped his oily hands on his pants. Eyes to my cleavage, he forgot what he was mad about. He turned back to cheer as Josh Hale came on field.
In his pocket, I saw my latest assignment:
Gavin’s phone.
But how could I take it when the pig loved that thing almost more than I did mine?
My fingertips edged slowly for the corner of metal peaking out. He reached down and got out to snap a photo of his new mealticket.
I squished my hands beneath my thighs, accepting I’d have to wait for the help of a real rule-breaker to get this job done.
I just had to endure three hours beside this slob before I could ask that rule-breaker for help.
29
I zig-zagged through the upper levels of the stadium trying catch up to Tyler.
He’d had accepted another post-game interview without my permission—He knew how much I hated that.
Two mis-turns and a toilet break later, I huffed and puffed in front of Media Room 305:
CRTV Sports
A flash of my media badge.
The large team of staff and other players let me squeeze through them to stand right of camera.
“Congratulations on the win, Tyler,” the interviewer started.
I snapped a photo for his social media.
“Thank you.”
“How’s the injuries?”
“All but healed. I was blessed to walk away with little more than flesh wounds and a few bruises. Nothing got too broken.”
He threw me a passing glance.
The interview continued smoothly until questions turned to Tyler’s addictions and his eyes widened at me to step in.
I signaled to the producer to wind it up.
Tyler said hello with a double-pat on my arm and took a swig of water.
“A double-pat?” My nose puckered. “That’s where we are?”
I trailed three steps behind him after he’d accepted my suggestion to hide in a darkened commentator box ’til he wound down.
“Nice to see you,” he said in there.
“Is it?”
“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say?”
“I don’t know,” I confessed and closed the door. “I’ve never been in this situation before.”
“You mean a professional discussion between colleagues?”
He drank more water then smashed the bottle down on the desk, plastic crinkling.
“Is Chrissy here?” he asked.
“Haven’t seen her.”
“Strange. Thought you guys were always in touch these days.”
He had a temper—Asking for his help stealing Gavin’s phone would have to wait a few days.
I messaged Chrissy in the meantime:
Get me Gs phone
…Then tossed it in my bag.
“Somebody’s jealous,” I said and stole a sip of water to which he didn’t stop me.
“My assistant speaks to my publicist more than I do. Forgive me for feeling left out.”
“She speaks to everyone more than you do. You never have your phone.”
I leaned over a soundboard to stare upon the illuminated green field.
“Congratulations on your first game the other week,” I said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I was cheering from my desk.”
He stopped staring at me, finished off the water then made his way for the door in heavy silence.
“You gonna ignore me forever?” I said.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I was in the middle of trying to win a pretty important football game.”
“Ari or Ariana, and that was an hour ago. Right now it’s just you and me and you’re still being a jackass.”
“You wanted this.”
“Your cold shoulder?”
“Don’t you get it? I’m surprised you’re not the one saying this. You’ll be at more games with me, Ari and, I’m sorry, but I’ll be cold with you at every one because if we’re caught making even a hug or a look by a camera, it could ruin this for me.”
“For you?”
“For…us, I dunno.”
“Why haven’t you answered one of my messages?”
He released the door to swing closed again.
“Not even one.”
“‘Cos I’m not pandering to your sudden interest in pursuing this in secret. You made your point. This won’t work. In between daily trainings, winning pro-league football games, keeping a pretend girlfriend and the time my head hits the pillow at night, I don’t really have the time.”
“You’re mocking me?”
“I’m forgetting you. I’m back to my old routine where your role of hands-on publicist doesn’t fit. Instead, keep doing whatever you’ve been doing these last two weeks that has kept you out of my sight.”
He fanned my flames like he wanted. “Weeks telling me I’m scared, I’m the one who needs to take a risk, you run away the minute the risk becomes a challenge.”
“Or maybe it’s as simple as the sex wasn’t as expected.”
“Who are you? You made me open up to you more than I had to…anyone…ever.”
“I made you?” he said. “I didn�
�t make you do anything.”
A person swung open the door, hitting Tyler in the face. He cowered back toward me, hand to his eye.
“What are you doing in here?” An amped up Wesley Brown, the Lightning head coach, leaned into the room. “I’m not interrupting am I?”
“Nope, ” Tyler said and shook out the knock.
Wes angled him a celebratory beer which Tyler declined with a wave.
“So this is the woman I’ve been hearing all about,” he said at me.
Through warm eyes and a beaming smile, he shook my hand and pulled me in for an unexpected hug
“Thank you.”
“Oh…Uh…You’re welcome.”
“Don’t send men to do a woman’s job,” he continued. “Knew it’d take a true beauty to tame our Tyler.”
Despite his age, Coach Brown knew how to make a girl blush. “I think it took a bullet to tame him. Otherwise, I’d say he’s done most of the taming for himself.”
I couldn’t stop watching Tyler, the way he seemed so lost in the corner, tapping the empty water bottle at his head.
“She’s not Phoebe,” he said, standing to his feet.
Coach turned to him then back at me.
“Oh? I thought I saw you…Never mind. My apologies.”
“Coach, this is Ariana Maldova, my media representative. Ariana, Coach Brown.”
“Wes, please,” he said, shaking my hand a second time.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Tyler’s publicist, by the way, not a media rep. Completely different things.”
My eyes threw daggers at Tyler. He caught them and pulled them back through his unkempt hair.
“Then obviously it takes a true beauty to tame our public Tyler too.” He gave a tight lipped smile and released his grip. “Haven’t seen a negative headline in weeks. Pleased the kid can focus on the important stuff again.”
“Firstly, Coach, I’m not a kid anymore.”
Tyler pulled a black singlet top down over his abs.
“Second, Ariana, you gotta leave and get an early rest. You’re leaving early tomorrow, right?”
His eyes said what he meant: ‘Get out of my sight.’
He’d let go.
How did he beat me at this game? I thought I had a steel heart.
“Leaving so soon?” Wes said. “Well, I hope you had a fun time with us. He gives us a good show, this…man.”