"Oh, I see. You're just using me for your money."
There was no mistaking the long, lingering, lusty glance that she ran up and down his body. "For now," she replied mysteriously.
She leaned in and kissed him once more, this time just giving Chase a light little peck on the lips. And then, tugging her hand out of his, she hurried back off down the hallway, skipping over to the elevator around the corner.
For a solid minute, Chase just leaned against the doorframe of his open room, looking after her. He wasn't expecting her to suddenly reappear and come back, but he needed some time to sort out his scattered thoughts.
It wasn't until he'd stepped back into his room, letting the door close behind him, that he even remembered the original purpose for even asking Katy out. At least in that respect, he admitted to himself, he could consider the night a success. She hadn't even said anything about the deflated footballs, and it seemed like they'd completely slipped her mind.
But even though answering that concern had been his primary goal going into the evening, at some point, it had taken a wild left turn - one that he never could have seen coming.
He slowly crossed over into the living room area of his suite, sinking down onto the couch. He clicked on the television, but just stared blankly at the flickering colors and moving shapes.
Katy was cute, but she wasn't the hottest girl he'd ever taken out. He'd fucked supermodels, even! Why was he suddenly hung up on her, finding himself drawn into deep conversations with her, sharing intimate details of his life? What made her different from all of those others?
And she clearly liked him back, he pointed out to himself. From how she threw herself into kissing him, to that last, lusty glance she'd given him before leaving, she clearly wanted him, at least as much as he wanted her. So why hadn't she come inside?
She'd said no to him, he realized. When was the last time a girl had said no to him? When was the last time that any woman hadn't been willing to do anything for him, whatever he needed to get himself off?
Chase stood up, crossing over to the minifridge in the room. His hand stretched for one of the beers inside, but he changed his mind at the last second and grabbed a bottle of water instead. He pulled the cap off and took a long gulp, draining a third of the bottle in a single swallow.
This wasn't bad news, he pointed out to himself as he sat back down on the couch. Katy wanted to keep on seeing him, which meant that she'd still probably talk to him first if she had any suspicions about the deflated footballs. And sooner or later, she would say yes to his invitation to step into his room, and then he'd peel that tight little black dress off of her, claim her, fuck her.
That was what he really wanted, after all, he told himself. He just needed to get his cock into her, and then he'd be able to move past this hangup in his head. After that, he could-
Could what? Dump her? Go back to fucking other women? What was his end plan, here?
Chase didn't know, and the thought kept him awake for a while, staring off into space as he finished off the bottle of water.
Finally, he pushed the whole issue off to one side inside his head. He could figure out some solution later. For now, he would just go with the flow, see what happened, let things progress on their own.
Still, when he finally climbed into bed, he spent too long just staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, his cock standing up from his hips, rock hard, as he remembered the soft, warm feel of Katy's body pressing up against his, back in the bar's rear booth.
Chapter Sixteen
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
Did you know that, when a football team plays at away games, they basically rent out an entire hotel - not just for the players, but also for the coaches, assistants, and just about anyone else who needs to go with the team?
I did not know that - up until I got a call from the team's travel agent, informing me that they'd booked a plane ticket in my name, and I needed to report to the airport first thing tomorrow morning!
Blearily, I packed a bag and headed off to spend the next week on the other side of the country, in sunny and warm California.
At least, that's what I imagined - until the plane touched down amid pouring rain, and the captain informed us that the rain was likely to keep on pouring down for the rest of the week at minimum.
At least the hotel accommodations were nice, I pointed out to myself. The hotel had a gym and pool, although the pool was overflowing its holdings thanks to the rain, and the gym was immediately filled with sweaty, grunting football players, handling absolutely absurd amounts of weight on the machines. They all greeted me politely enough when I tried stepping in, but I soon gave up, feeling far too intimidated by the massive muscles.
Besides, I had Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram accounts to run! Instead of touching any of the workout machines myself, I snapped a few pictures, even getting a couple of the absolutely massive fullbacks to take smiling selfies in front of all the equipment. I also joined the team in heading over to the stadium for their practice, tagging my posts with sarcastic, witty comments about "sunny California providing a warm welcome."
I spent most of the rest of the next few days just looking forward to the evenings, when practice finished.
On one hand, I told myself, this was just because I needed to keep an eye on the players to make sure that, while they went out and had fun, they didn't do anything too explicit and public that would get them plastered across the front page of the sports section - or, even worse, the entertainment section.
But with their ringleader, Chase, no longer heading out to blow thousands at the strip clubs and titty bars in the area, the rest of the players seemed surprisingly docile. Some of them even began staying in at the hotel, throwing parties in their rooms. The manager of the hotel complained to me about the cleaning bills, but I considered those a more than acceptable cost to pay in exchange for stopping reporters and photographers at the front door.
And what about Chase? Why wasn't he going out and throwing bills at loose women each night?
That, I had to admit to myself, was the strangest part of all.
Seth Chase, football quarterback and star player, seemed totally infatuated with me!
We spent just about every night together - no, not in that way. We'd go out for dinner, or sometimes even order in, chowing down in Chase's hotel room (which was much nicer and larger than my own, I noted with a pang of envy). After dinner, we'd go out to concerts, stay in and watch movies, or sometimes even just talk, sitting together on the sofa in his room.
No matter what activity we chose, however, we always seemed to end up back in his hotel room, arms wrapped around each other as we kissed, our bodies grinding together.
Since that first night, he seemed to be better about not moving immediately towards peeling off my clothes - but I could always sense that the man hungered for more. Whenever I sat atop him, straddling him as our lips met, I could feel him between my thighs, hard and pushing against me even through his jeans.
A little part of me couldn't seem to stop fantasizing about him, about how amazing it would be to just lose my inhibitions and let him do whatever he wanted with my body. And although I blocked out that voice in my head, it kept on growing stronger with each night that we saw each other. Each time I kissed him goodnight and stepped out of his hotel room, I found it a little harder to leave.
Chase clearly felt that growing attraction building, as well. "When am I going to convince you to stay over?" he whispered into my ear one night, in between taking little nibbles on my earlobe.
I giggled at the warm touch of his lips. "How about after you win the Superbowl?" I joked back to him, trying not to squirm too much in his arms. "Ooh, that tickles!"
"Come on," he pressed. "I don't know why I put up with this teasing from you - you realize that I could go out and get laid in a second, don't you? My legion of whores are probably confused about where I've been for all this time! I feel like I'm going to explode down there!"
/> "You can always fix that by hand," I fired back. I sat up and narrowed my eyes down at him. "And if you think that telling me how many other women are lining up to fuck you is the best way to get in my pants, you should probably go read one of those idiot's guides to dating."
Chase smirked at me, and I couldn't keep up my glare. "You're killing me, Katy," he groaned through his smile. "I seriously keep on fumbling the ball because my hard-on gets in the way."
"Poor baby," I purred back to him, pulling his head up against my chest and stroking his hair. "So hard, having a girlfriend for the first time in his life."
That was another fact that I'd uncovered during my nightly talks with Chase. The man had gone from being unpopular in high school, to an absolute stud in his college and post-college NFL years, without ever passing through the intermediate stage of actually dating a girl, taking her out and considering her his girlfriend!
As soon as I learned this fact, I gleefully held it over his head, teasing him about it whenever I saw the opportunity. Chase bore it with quietly injured dignity, sometimes trying to tease me back about my own dry streak. I didn't let those retorts bother me, and he'd given in to just putting up with my mocking remarks.
"Is that what you are to me, then?" he asked, not lifting his head up from my chest. I could feel his breath soaking in through my top, hot against my breasts. "You're my girlfriend, then? Seems weird. Am I supposed to buy you roses each week, now?"
"Most definitely - and chocolate, too," I replied promptly. "Maybe some sparkly jewelry whenever you put your foot in your mouth."
He didn't look up at me, but I swear that I could feel the man smirk gleefully! "I could put something else into my mouth right now," he murmured up to me. "A little cold in here, or are you just thinking about joining me in bed?"
He kissed my chest, and I felt his lips bump against one of my nipples, hard and poking out against the fabric of my bra. I started to bring my hand around to slap him, just gently, but then he bit down a little, and a moan slipped out from between my open lips.
"Ooh, someone likes that, do they?" Chase murmured, and he rose up, pushing me back to recline onto the couch behind me. He nibbled at me again, and I felt one of his hands slide up along the inside of my thigh. "What else can I do to make you feel good?"
"You could buy me some sparkly jewelry," I gasped out, knowing that I ought to pull his hand away, move out of range of his mouth. I just couldn't do it, and instead sank back into the couch, melting into a puddle of pleasure. "Something really expensive."
"I thought you didn't like hearing about me throwing money at women?" he replied, as his hand reached the intersection between my legs, pressing up against me. I shivered as his fingers rubbed back and forth, sending sensation through the fabric and into my crotch.
On his knees in front of the couch, between my spread legs, Chase next slid his fingers up to the button that held my jeans shut. "Maybe I should get you ought of these tight pants," he suggested, leaning up to whisper the words into my ear as I squeezed my eyes shut in pleasure.
"Such a bad idea," I whispered back - but I lifted my hips up a little as his fingers found the button. It seemed to pop open at just a single touch, my zipper tugging itself down without any intervention.
A moment later, I gasped again as Chase's fingers pressed up against my stomach, sliding down to tase at the elastic hem of my panties. "Oh my god," I whispered hoarsely as he moved those fingertips into very inappropriate areas.
"That's the kind of reaction," he replied, kissing me fiercely on the lips. I pushed back eagerly against his tongue, feeling his fingers toying with me, flicking and spreading me but not entering me all the way.
Even that exterior touch, however, was enough to make me shake and shiver on the couch as he kissed me. It really had been way too long for me! I felt like the swimming pool outside, already overflowing its banks and surging back and forth, ready to spill over at any second.
Chase's other hand slid up my side to my shoulder, played with the strap of my tank top. I dropped my shoulder as he tugged the strap off to one side, letting it slide down to my upper arm. Chase kept on tugging, and I felt inch after inch of my breasts sliding out, exposed to view.
Most of my attention, however, remained on his hand, finally daring to duck slightly inside of me. "Oh, yes, right there," I moaned out as he hit an especially sensitive spot, sending a bright little burst of nearly painful pleasure through me.
Chase worked his fingers back and forth expertly, and even though I knew that he was grinning that self-assured little smirk, I couldn't help but respond to his touch. "Oh god!" I gasped just a minute later, as I felt my entire body shudder! My own fingers, clutching his shoulders, squeezed into claws as they curled up, and I could feel my toes curling similarly in the thick carpet on the floor.
After the wave of pleasure subsided a bit, I reached down and dragged his hand out of my pants. "Holy shit, no more," I told him, still panting heavily as I tried to get my breath back.
"See, now I think that it's only fair for you to return the favor."
"Oh, really?" I asked, running my hands down the man's chest. He rose up from his kneeling spot on the floor, putting his crotch in front of me. I sat up, popping open his jeans and tugging them down.
For a moment, I almost lost my cool. Holy shit, he was huge, even bigger than I'd imagined based on the online pictures! I leaned in, nibbling on the head of his shaft through his tight boxers.
"This is what you want?" I asked him between nibbles.
"Yes," he grunted back, his eyes squeezed closed almost to slits.
I gave him one last, soft little nibble - and then, before he could react, I rolled to the side, hopping up off of the couch and tugging my clothes back into position.
"What the hell?" Chase exclaimed in surprise as I buttoned my pants.
"I guess I'm just tired - and you've got your next game tomorrow, so I shouldn't keep you up!" I retorted back merrily. "So I'll see you tomorrow, after you play! Maybe, if you play especially well, we can go a bit further than tonight!"
He just stared at me, not even bothering to pull up his pants. I almost felt bad for him, knowing how bad he had to be blue-balling - but he'd had everything handed to him, including sex, for all his life! It felt really good to torture him this way.
"See you tomorrow!" I told him, ducking in to kiss him lightly, and then leaving his room.
As the door closed behind me, I heard him let out a groan of pure tortured agony, and I had to cover my mouth to muffle my laughter.
Chapter Seventeen
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
I headed back up to my room, taking a moment to wander through the other floor rented out to the football team, looking and listening for parties. The doors to some of the defense's rooms stood open, and I saw football players drinking with some young women inside, but nothing looked too out of control. They waved to me instead of trying to block my view of any illicit drug usage, which also boded well.
I returned back to my own room, closing the door behind me - and then peeled off my clothing, heading straight for the shower. "Oh my god," I murmured to myself as I tossed my sodden panties into the laundry hamper and climbed, naked, into the shower.
Leaning up against the tiled wall as the hot water poured down over me, I let my own fingers stray south, replaying the events of the evening. Good lord, it was getting so hard for me to hold back! I wanted Chase, more than I could ever have foreseen!
Why was I holding back? I asked myself, as my fingers rubbed back and forth over my clit while I pictured the man's big cock taking me. Clearly, we both wanted each other - and I was definitely succeeding in getting his crazy, wild outings under control! Why shouldn't I give myself what I wanted - a night of wild, animalistic pleasure with the man?
But some puritanical part of me still held back. I didn't know if I wanted to somehow find a way to know the man even better, or if I needed to see some true sign from him, something to co
nvince me that this all wasn't just some sort of elaborate act or deception. Why he would put so much effort into seducing me, when he could have just about any woman he chose, didn't make sense, but the thought still persisted.
In the meantime, in an effort to distract myself when I wasn't hanging out with Chase from thoughts of him, his touch, his body, I decided to throw myself into my work. Already, my efforts with the Hawks' social media were yielding results. I saw increased fan participation and a better ratio of kind to disparaging comments coming in from all directions, but I redoubled my efforts. There were always more fan questions to answer, more comments to reply to and resend out to everyone.
And some of my efforts paid off in unexpected ways.
A couple days after I began putting all of my excess energy into running the social media accounts, I received an email from ESPN, the sports network! The letter came from a member of their editorial team, and the man expressed appreciation for the high quality of my efforts online. He concluded the letter by letting me know that, if I ever had an idea for a harder-hitting sports journalism piece, to let him know!
I turned the idea over in the back of my mind, trying to think of some topic about which I had enough experience to write. I needed something that would interest the fans, but also something from which I could offer a unique perspective, as an insider with the Hawks.
At first, no ideas came to me. But then, one evening after I had returned from an especially sweaty and tempting session with Chase, I suddenly straightened up in the shower, hit by a bolt from the blue.
A couple of weeks ago, I remembered noticing that the footballs in the Hawks' locker room had been curiously soft, as if they weren't fully inflated. I'd mentioned it to Chase, and I now recalled that, for just a moment, his face froze up, and he gave me a curiously robotic reply. I'd brushed it off as nothing, but I now found myself wondering about whether there was something that Chase didn't want to tell me.
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