by Lilly Wilde
“Yeah. Got it.”
“We’ve already prepared your statement. Sending to you within the hour. Look over it. Memorize it. Don’t go off script. Too much is depending on getting this exactly right. We’ll keep it short and sweet. And then at the right time, Connie will step in and end it.”
“Got it,” I repeat. “Thanks, V.”
“I’ve gotta say, I’d enjoy this game far more if I were watching you play, Branch.”
“I agree with Curtis. It’s not the same when you aren’t the one behind the ball,” Jimmy says.
I take a swallow of beer. “Tell me about it.” If someone would’ve told me—even a few hours ago—that I’d be sitting in Jimmy’s man cave watching a playoff game with Jimmy and Dad, I would have dropped dead on the spot. And as for enjoying the game, I’m not. I’ve cursed the TV screen all four quarters, frustrated as hell that I’m here instead of on the field.
My phone dings. Recognizing the alert, I stop mid-conversation to check out the latest news. ESPN is reporting my leave—along with it, news of my endorsement with Raine Industries. I shake my head with a grin. It’s all playing out as Vaughn said it would.
One less thing I have to worry about.
Dallas takes the win by a field goal. A lucky one at that. But at this point in the season, a win is a win.
“How’s Mary taking all of this?” Dad asks as I walk him to his pickup. “Me and you, I mean.”
“You know Mama. Head games and dramatics.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, that’s Mary all right. But otherwise, she’s okay?”
I realize he’s more concerned about Mama than he wants to let on. Does this mean he’s… nah, can’t be. “Yeah, she’s in a good place. I think better than she’s been in a while, but that’s what scares the hell out of me. When she’s doing well, she seems to think she’s “cured” and goes off her meds. Then all hell breaks loose.”
“But when she’s herself, she’s pretty amazing, isn’t she?”
I lift a brow, giving Dad a sidelong glance. “Uh, yeah.” He can still say that about Mama? After all she’s done? Hell, he must be crazier than she is.
“I’d like to see her, Branch,” he says casually.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Even though I’m pissed and have barely spoken to Mama since our talk, I struggle with the need to protect her. It’s been this way for so long that it’s become my default. It’s always the same. She does something totally fucked up, yet I don’t allow my anger to take over because I need to shield her. “You seem to be one of her triggers.”
“Yeah, because she was afraid of the truth coming out. Now that everything’s on the table, I think she’ll be okay with my visit.”
“Yeah, it’s definitely all out there. I still can’t believe any of it.”
“Are you gonna be all right? With Mary? I know it’s difficult learning the person you’ve championed for so many years has let you down in such a major way.”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Not gonna lie. It’s been tough. For a minute, I considered walking away altogether and hiring a full staff to take care of her.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Jace.”
“He’s lucky to have you,” Dad says, stopping a few feet in front of his truck. “He and I are going out on Lake Blue Ridge tomorrow. You should come.”
“We’ll see.”
“As for everything else, including me, take your time and sort through it all. And if there’s anything I can do or explain, I’m here.”
I nod, at a loss for words at the paternal overture that’s been absent in my life.
“You never said, how did you take it when Mary told you that she and I are still married?”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“No. She didn’t.”
I lie in bed and frown at the ceiling. Stuck here. In Blue Ridge. Sorting through more than I expected. More than I can comprehend. The truth can be as catastrophic as the lie. And I’m still unsure how I feel about either end of the spectrum, so I go through the motions.
Only one thing is certain at this point—I won’t let Jace know the severity of Mama’s ways. Of the damage she’s caused. His view of her somehow remains untarnished, and although she doesn’t deserve it, I’ll make sure it stays that way.
Taking care of someone else, only carving out little edges for myself. That’s how it’s always been. And every day I’m home, I’m slapped with that reminder. When I’m in Dallas, I can forget. But here, there’s no escape. I catch it from all sides. Twenty-four hours a day.
I toss and turn, unable to find sleep. I’m pissed off. Frustrated. And it will only get worse without the game. Without something or someone to pour those frustrations into.
“Fuck this.” I reach for my phone and dial Connie.
“Branch?” She answers on the third ring. “Is that you?”
“Who else is brave enough to risk your wrath by calling at four in the morning?”
“True,” she replies and clears her throat. “What is it? Is something wrong? Is your mother okay?”
“That’s still up in the air. I’m not calling about that.”
“Okay. What then?”
“Remember that girl who slid past security at the last postgame party?”
“Oh God. Which one?”
“The one who was screaming she wanted to touch me. You know… the one who threw her panties. Her card was attached. Remember? I asked you to hold on to it.”
“Oh, her,” Connie replies, the disdain obvious in her voice. “The over-the-top redhead. I remember that one.”
“Do you still have the card?”
“I have every item I’ve received from your list of harlots, Branch.”
I laugh. “Can you get her to Georgia?”
“For what? On second thought, never mind.”
“Just for a night.”
“You woke me up for this? You should be focused on your family and getting back to work, not on whose thighs you can get between.”
“If you had any idea what I’m dealing with, you would’ve already arranged a different chick every night that I’m here. Besides”—my lips spread into a grin—“who says I’m gonna get between the redhead’s thighs? Maybe I plan to hit it from the back.”
“If I hadn’t already fallen victim to your lewd remarks, I’d be offended.”
“See, that’s why you’re my favorite press agent.”
“I’d better be your only press agent for years to come.”
“You will be. So do your job.”
“Arranging your booty calls is not part of my job description,” she fires back.
“But you do it so well. Come on, C. I’ll get you that new car you’ve been wanting.”
“The sordid things you talk me into,” she mumbles and lets out a sigh. “Fine. When do you want her there?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I suppose this is the part where I say I’ll take care of it.”
“Yep. And remember…”
“I know, I know. One night and then get her out.”
“You’re the best, Connie. You know that, right?”
“Just make sure I get that car. In red. And I want it by the end of the week.”
“Consider it done.”
“Branch?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re actually buying me a car just for making arrangements to get you laid?”
“Come on, C. You know me better than that.”
“True. So what gives?”
“Happy Birthday.” After all Connie has done for me over the years, she deserves far more than a car, but I figure this is a good start.
She’s irritating me already and it’s only been ten minutes. “Sugar, what’s with all the questions?”
“Sorry. I’m just surprised… and nervous. I didn’t think I’d hear from you,” she says.
“You didn’t,” I reply, pulling
a couple of condoms from my pocket and dropping them on the bedside table. “You heard from my press agent.”
I pull off my shirt, toss it on the bed, and step toward the opposite side of the room.
She opens her mouth to speak but momentarily falls silent, her eyes drawn to my chest. “Still. It’s like a dream come true.”
I study the attractive redhead. “Is it? So you dream about me?”
“A one-on-one with Branch McGuire? Are you kidding me? What woman wouldn’t kill to be in my shoes right now? I have to keep pinching myself to make sure this is all real.”
My gaze travels the length of her body, my lips spreading into a slow smile when I see exactly what I expect—her eagerness to please me. To give me anything I want. Like all the others. It’s in the way her eyes fall to the tenting of my gym shorts, the way her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and the way her nipples press against the thin fabric of her dress. “And just so there aren’t any misconceptions, you do know why I invited you here?”
She takes a seat in the chair across from me and crosses her legs. The hint of lust in her blue eyes answers before she does. “I know precisely why I’m here. I didn’t throw my panties at you just for the hell of it.”
I laugh at her candor. “What’s your name again?”
“Tori,” she says.
Simple enough. A name I can easily remember. And just as easily forget. “Do you know what I think, Tori?”
“What?”
“I think you should take off your clothes and come show me exactly what you dream about.”
I assume the seat next to the bed, the reason that prompted my call to Connie already pushed to the back of my thoughts. Tori stands and fingers the zipper of her dress, easing it down, exposing her creamy white skin and a rack most chicks would die for. She turns away from me, stepping out of the dress and bending over, sliding the thin material of her thong over her curves and down her legs.
“Nice ass.”
“I’d like to think so,” she says, tossing her dress onto the chair behind her and facing me, her fingers unclasping her bra and revealing the tight pebbles at the peaks of her breasts.
I slide my hand into my gym shorts, freeing my erection, already hard as stone. “Do you think you can handle this?”
She sucks in a breath, her steps faltering when her eyes fall to my cock. “I’m gonna give it the old college try.” She lifts her gaze to mine and her expression unmasks her submission.
I wink at her. “Something tells me you’re gonna do much more than try.”
“Your cock is fucking gorgeous,” she says, her eyes focused on my shaft. She falls to her knees, and without hesitation, she takes me whole into her mouth.
“Impressive,” I whisper as she slowly feeds every inch of my dick between her lips a second time.
She’s at the root, her suction tight as she pulls to the tip and twists her hand around me as she goes down again.
“Mmm,” she moans, flattening her tongue against the underside on the way up. “You taste amazing.” She kisses the head, licks the tip, and then her lips wrap around my dick, leisurely fucking me with her mouth. And it feels fucking incredible. My hips lift, meeting her, urging her to take me all the way to the back of her throat. And she does.
Again.
Again.
And again.
She looks up. Her eyes hot on mine, moaning around my dick as she tastes me. I watch her tongue tracing the crown, her lips parting as they move over my shaft, and the lust in her gaze as she swallows me.
“Yeah, just like that,” I murmur, my thighs clenching as I get harder.
She moves into her rhythm again, her mouth drawing up and down over the thick length of my cock. I close my eyes and recline my head, taking pleasure in the warm wet of her mouth as it envelopes my dick with each full stroke. Her movement is slow and purposeful, and although it feels good as fuck, I want better than good. I deserve her best effort, and if she doesn’t know how to give it, I’ll take pleasure in showing her.
I sift my fingers through her hair and grip a handful, standing and moving her with me. Only then do I take control of her, plunging and driving into her mouth with fierce repetition.
“That’s better,” I grunt, picking up the pace, fucking her mouth with an aggressive rapidity that hits the back of her throat with each thrust. Her lips tighten around me, and her eyes water as I plow deeper into her mouth.
She gasps for air, struggling to keep up, her hands gripping the back of my thighs for leverage.
My balls tighten. The crown of my cock prickles and my release comes barreling to the surface. And then, gripping both sides of her head, I climax with a long groan.
I look down at her, our eyes making contact. “I want you to swallow it. All of it.”
She nods her compliance and I flood her mouth, spurting in long waves until my come is slipping along the edge of her lips.
When she’s licked me clean, I motion for her to stand and I lift her, carrying her to the king-size bed and placing her directly in front of me. Grabbing the black packet from the bedside table, I rip the foil, pull out the condom, and roll it over my length.
Tori props on her elbows, her legs spread, her breathing shallow, and her eyes crawling over me.
I grasp her ankles and pull her to the edge of the bed. My hands move under her thighs, pushing her legs back until her feet are over her head. Within the next second, I’m driving into her with a deep thrust.
“Oh fuuuck,” she cries out.
I bring my eyes to hers. “You good?”
“Yes,” she gasps. “Don’t stop.”
With a firm grip on her thighs, I pull out. And on my next plunge into her hot channel, I move deeper, the head of my cock hitting the end of her.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” The words slip from her lips with each rock of my pelvis.
In and out.
Over.
Over.
And over.
Relentlessly, I pummel into her wet center as her moans fill the room. And that’s all I want to hear. Not the questions I don’t intend to answer. Not the fascination she has with me. I didn’t have Connie arrange her visit for that… didn’t have her fly first class for that. And I didn’t put her up in the best hotel Blue Ridge has to offer for that.
All I want is this. Her pussy. Her beneath me. Her legs spread and my cock planted inside her, working her over and taking from her what I need. Fucking her until she’s breathless, until she’s gasping my name in tandem with that final stroke, and then I want to send her back to wherever she came from.
I look into her eyes and tell her how wet her pussy is. How hot it is. How it feels better with each stroke. I say all the dirty little words that make the walls of her sex pulse. And I whisper the shameful taunts that make her clench tighter around me. I watch as the ferocity of my thrusts plays out in her expressions. She wants more. She can take more, so I take the liberty of giving it. I make damn sure her trip is worth it, giving her tight little cunt a fucking it won’t soon forget, hitting those spots that make her moans deeper, her cries louder, and her pussy wetter. Yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure she’ll never forget this night.
But despite what this redhead said, I know this can’t be what any woman dreams about. Being treated this way. Being nothing more than a vessel for my frustrations. And that’s all she is. Someone to pour my load into. Someone whose name I’ll forget as soon as the door closes behind her. Yeah, I’m a raging asshole, but at least I’m honest about it.
Present Day
OVERHEARING HAYLEY ON THE PHONE, I stare at her—incredulous—as she arranges a sitter for her cat Channing Tatum.
“Sorry about that,” she says when she ends the call. “Mom and Dad won’t help out, so I had to make other arrangements. Can you believe them?”
“Er… what do you mean?”
“Mom expects me to leave Channing Tatum at home for five hours by himself while she parties with her ‘lady friends,’�
� she air quotes. “And Dad, he’s practically useless.” She rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her iced tea. “Now that Channing Tatum is sick, Dad treats him like he’s a burden.”
“I’m sorry.” That’s about all I can muster. I can’t relate to her affection for the feline version of Channing Tatum. If she had the real thing, well, that would be an entirely different story.
“Thanks for not saying anything weird like you usually do.”
Me weird? You’re the one throwing away good money on a sitter for a cat you call Channing Tatum. Of all the names you could have chosen, you give that crazy cat the name of one of the sexiest guys on the planet. I’d love to see your Channing Tatum pull off a Magic Mike lap dance that brings in nearly two hundred million at the box office. Yeah, I’m the weird one. Of course, I don’t say any of this aloud because she appears so torn up about the state of her beloved pet. “Are you gonna be okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. But I’ve gotta go. I have to pick up Channing Tatum’s prescription and get him to the sitter’s. I’ll call you later and you can fill me in on Mr. Celebrity,” she teases, looking over her shoulder at Branch and back at me, fanning herself with her hands. “He’s so flippin’ hot!”
“Speaking of Mr. Celebrity, I need to get his order in. And I stand by what I said last night—cut your losses with that lowlife boyfriend. You deserve better.”
We hug goodbye and she walks across the dining area toward the exit. I stare after Hayley and wonder how the hell she’s gonna cope with a broken heart and the loss of Channing Tatum.
Regardless of the impending heartache, she needs to dump that cheating ass Derick. I should’ve done the same when Ethan cheated on me. I saw the signs, but like Hayley, I was quick to assume it was something else. I’d wanted it to be something else. I’d initially attributed the changes I’d seen in Ethan to his new work schedule. But even after he’d had time to adjust to the night shift, he remained distant. So my next assumption was that he was internalizing the pressures of fatherhood. His dad was an abusive, alcoholic deadbeat, so Ethan was determined to do better by our daughter. But when that assumption went south, I latched on to the next possibility. To be honest, I’d thought up countless excuses. And although the proof had been staring me right in the face, I’d chosen to ignore it.