Dirty Player (The Dirty Suburbs Book 2)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  “Latest fling?” she interjects, her southern accent wrapping around her caustic tone. Her venomous stare sweeps over my face before moving down my short, champagne-toned cocktail dress and landing on my tall, nude heels.

  Oh, it’s like that, lady? I clear my throat and set my plate on the table behind me, standing confidently. “I’m his fiancée, actually.”

  She takes me in from top to bottom yet again. A skeptical look settles on her arched brows. “His fiancée?”

  I smile sweetly, shoving my glittering diamond ring her way. Maxwell and I picked it out together at a sketchy kiosk at some random strip mall on the way up here. It looks good enough.

  Shellie visibly shakes herself out of her surprise. “I’m sorry,” she says with reddened cheeks. “I hadn’t heard that Maxwell got engaged.”

  I giggle trying to give off that bashful and head-over-heels vibe. “It all happened so fast. It was a whirlwind romance. Something straight out of a fairytale.”

  She runs her hand down the front of her peach gown. She’s a southern lady through and through. “Hmm. Maxwell doesn’t seem like the kinda guy who does fairytales.” Cynicism is written all over her face.

  This woman and her curiosity are starting to get under my skin. So, I feed her a line she can relate to or at least, respect. “Every man’s got a fairytale somewhere in them, I guess. For some guys it’s just buried deeper than others.”

  Her lips twitch slightly. “I’ve got to say that I’m very surprised by this.” She leans in and whispers. “I don’t know if you heard about that whole mess with Maxwell and Tiffany…”

  What a bitch! She’s trying to throw Maxwell under the bus. Good thing he forewarned me about the drama surrounding Oscar’s social-media-lovin’ little sister.

  I laugh gracefully. I lean in as if I’m about to tell her a secret. “Y’see, the trick with men like Maxwell is that they seem to be blowing in the wind, sowing their wild oats. But what a man like that needs more than anything is a strong woman. To anchor him, to stabilize him. And for Maxwell Masters, I’m that woman.”

  Shellie steps back and gives me another onceover. “Hmm…” she says slowly almost as if she’s speaking to herself. “I like you.”

  I smile widely. The feeling isn’t mutual, but whatever…

  Her eyes narrow. “Y’know – Maxwell wasn’t invited here today. Oscar didn’t want him startin’ any drama at this party. He’s been quite the troublemaker since he got drafted to the team.”

  My smile goes tight despite my attempts to maintain a pleasant demeanor. Would I get away with backhanding this meddling woman and calling it an accident?

  “Well, we have no intention of starting trouble here,” I assure her. “This really is a lovely party and we’re just happy to be a part of it.”

  “Anyway, I’m glad the two of you came. You should really stay for the brunch. It’s tomorrow at noon in the Downing Room.” Her smile inches toward genuine.

  The last thing I want is to spend another minute with a woman like Shellie Murphy.

  “I’m sorry. I’m afraid that we have to be back in L.A. sooner rather than later. We’ll be leaving first thing in the morning,” I say. And I’ll be jumping on a bus and getting my ass back to Reyfield.

  “No, I insist,” she says resolutely. “If Maxwell Masters is a changed man, I want my husband and the team management to see this new side of him.”

  It appears that Shellie does have a point. It would be in Maxwell’s interest to show the head coach and the other executives that he has settled down. Maybe this brunch isn’t a bad idea after all.

  “On second thought, I think we can move some of our commitments around. We’ll be at the brunch, Shellie.”

  Right on cue, a man in a chef’s jacket rushes out of the kitchen and ushers Shellie away to handle some disaster going on behind the scenes. I’m glad she’s fucking gone. I really can’t stand the woman but if Maxwell is going to charm his way back into the team management’s good graces, we need to be at that brunch tomorrow.

  Chapter 7

  Maxwell

  Faith stumbles onto the elevator and I follow behind her just as the doors are closing. “Gosh, that party was painful. I think I drank an entire bottle of champagne by myself just to get through it,” she groans.

  “Argh! Tell me about it,” I say as I press the button for our floor.

  Awkward isn’t a strong enough word to describe the vibe of my brief interaction with Oscar this evening. Everybody at the table could feel it. But I worked hard to dissipate the tension, pouring on the charm as best I could, and having Faith by my side is the only thing that made it bearable. She was really good at pretending to be my devoted fiancée and all the older women in the room gushed about how ‘cute’ of a couple we make. Also, the coach eventually seemed to relax a bit. We even shared a few laughs once he had a few measures of whiskey and pulled the stick out of his ass.

  Thank god the party is over and we can get some rest before heading back to L.A. in the morning. I actually rented a suite with one closed bedroom (for Faith) and a comfortable couch (for me). That way, Faith could have her privacy and we wouldn’t draw any suspicious attention from my teammates by renting two separate rooms.

  I stand in the middle of the lift and glance over at her, sagging against the elevator’s railing, fighting a losing battle against her fatigue. Her cat eyes flutter with sleep and a yawn shoots past her heart-shaped lips.

  “Sorry,” she apologizes with a soft giggle as she leans against the mirrored wall.

  My lips curl upward as I take her in. She’s so gorgeous. Long, lean and fit. She makes that cheap strip mall dress look like a million bucks. And I can’t help but ruminate about what she looks like underneath it. I can’t help but think about what she looked like last night, spread out in my bed, fingers stroking her sex, chasing her own pleasure.

  I’d love to take care of that body tonight. Show her how good I can make her feel. A woman like her needs to be fucked good by a real man. She deserves more than what her own fingers can give her and she definitely deserves more than some idiot jerking off on the other side of a computer screen halfway across the country.

  But my conscience warns me not to mess with this girl. She’s had a rough few days. She came to California expecting love and romance with a man she was falling for. What she found was a lying predator who was trying to take advantage of her gullibility. The last thing she needs is for me to corner her into sex.

  It’s bad enough that I was complete asshole to her earlier, when I basically told her to leave if she wasn’t willing to come to this party with me. What the hell was I thinking giving her an ultimatum like that? Yes, I’m desperate to save my football career, but that’s no excuse to hurt a woman like Faith. She doesn’t deserve that. She’s a good person. Maybe a little naïve, but still good.

  “Thanks for coming here with me, Faith. You didn’t have to do that. Especially after the way I acted this morning.”

  She shrugs, a soft smile pulling her lips. “Are you serious? If you’d seen the poor puppy-dog look on your face when I told you I was leaving, you’d understand why I had to stay. You looked like you were about to curl up into the fetal position in front of your hundred-inch flat-screen and cry into a bottle of twenty-year-old aged bourbon.”

  I laugh through my nose. “That’s what I looked like?”

  She nods. “That’s what you looked like. Typical bratty, entitled jock.”

  “If you say so.” I bite the inside of my mouth to keep from smiling. “Anyway, I’m glad you came. And I’m sorry I acted like a typical bratty, entitled jock.”

  “I forgive you,” she says, amusement playing in her eyes. She yawns again before biting the corner of her lip. “Oscar’s wife cornered me at the buffet table.”

  An eyebrow shoots up. “Oh?”

  “Yeah, at first she was a raging bitch trying to mean-girl me, but I charmed her so hard, she ended up inviting us to brunch tomorrow.” The elevator stops a
nd I step out behind her.

  “Really?” I ask as I follow her down the hall to our room. Although she doesn’t seem very drunk, I notice a slight sway to her steps and a slur in her tone. I don’t know why, but I find that insanely hot. She does kind of look like Marilyn.

  “Yup,” Faith says. She reaches into her purse and pulls out the key card. She makes a clumsy attempt to slide the key into the reader and it slips from her hands, falling to her feet. She looks down at it and giggles girlishly. I know for a fact that if she bends down to pick up that card, she’ll fall over in a heap. Before she makes any attempts to reach for it, I stoop quickly to retrieve it where it’s fallen between her legs.

  Despite my best efforts to be nimble, my fingers graze her calf as I reach for the card.

  Okay, maybe I could have tried harder at being nimble. Maybe I just really wanted touch her buttery smooth skin.

  Either way, the woman’s entire body trembles, reacting to my touch, and goose bumps spread down her legs. I look up at her from my position kneeling on the low-pile hallway runner. Her eyes are wide with wanting and her cherry-red lips are parted slightly. She steals in shallow breaths, evidenced by the quick rise and fall of her chest. Her pebbled nipples press against the champagne lamé of her dress.

  Fuck, I want to touch her again. I want to see her body react like that for me.

  “Maxwell…” It sounds like a quiet whisper, but the message is loud and clear; she wants me to touch her, too.

  My right hand goes to her ankle and trails slowly upward until it’s cupping the apple of her calf. Our eyes stay locked on each other as I venture higher and higher up her body. When my fingertips disappear beneath the hem of her short dress, her breathing hitches and her bottom lip quivers.

  I am so fucked.

  Heat crawls up my spine as I rise to my full height, slowly lifting the fabric of her dress as I go. She leans her head back against the door, thrusting her pelvis forward, wordlessly offering her pussy to me.

  “You want me to touch you, Doll Face?” My voice strains in my tightening throat.

  She nods. “So much. I want you to touch me so much.”

  I can see it. I can feel the waves of tension crashing inside of her. I bring my lips to her ears. “Faith, on a scale from one to ten – one being totally sober and ten being smashed beyond words – how drunk are you?”

  She’s slightly dazed as she speaks. “I’m smashed, but it’s not the alcohol…it’s you. I’m drunk for you.”

  Damn – there’s nothing like a woman who knows what she wants. And this woman wants me. There’s no way I’m going to deny her.

  “Fuck, Doll Face…” I feel arousal stirring to life in my pants.

  I rest my forearm on the door above her head and lean down over her. The way she looks up at me from under those lashes sets fire to my blood. My mouth presses against the lobe of her ear before trailing a warm path across her cheekbone and down to her chin. She tips her face subtly so that our lips catch. Her hot flesh presses against mine. She sighs lustily into the kiss.

  My hands circle around her waist and I jerk my hips forward, pressing my cock against the crotch of her panties. I want her to feel how much I’m aching for her. She mewls in response, hooking her fingers into the loops of my pants and pulling me closer.

  I growl as the animal inside of me comes alive. “God, your tight little body is just begging for me, isn’t it?” A purr steals past her lips and her eyes flutter.

  I slip my hands into her hair, tipping her head to kiss her deeper. She smiles against my mouth before she bites my bottom lip.

  Ouch! A frisky one!

  My hand comes down hard on her ass in retaliation and she moans again.

  This is gonna be fun!

  I’m already lost in her and we haven’t even taken off our clothes yet. I haven’t even sunken deep inside of her to feel her walls tightening their grip on me. She wraps both legs around me and rocks against my stiff cock.

  This woman…

  Now that I have better access, I grind my erection into the hot space between her thighs. I silently curse our clothing for coming between us. Just as I’m about to slide my fingers under the fabric of her panties and touch the silky softness that I know is quivering beneath, the elevator chimes, declaring its presence, and the doors slide open.

  Before I can catch my bearings, I see Coach Martineau and his wife step off of the lift, arm-in-arm, like the respectable older couple that they are.

  Of course they see me, with Faith half-dressed and pinned to our hotel door. Of course Martineau scowls like I’m the scum of the earth. Of course his wife looks horrified, shock registering on her gracefully mature face.

  Faith is frozen like a deer caught in the headlights.

  I’m the first one to move. I help Faith find her footing and then I stoop quickly to pick up the key card. I shove it into the reader and push the door open. “Have a good night, folks,” I say to the coach and his wife offering them a stiff smile before I yank Faith into our room.

  Chapter 8

  Faith

  Way to dampen the freakin’ mood!

  Before the coach and his wife stepped off the elevator, Maxwell and I had been so lost in each other that we would have probably fucked right there in that hallway. I was horny enough, that’s for sure.

  I haven't had this much chemistry with a man since...since...ever. And I had just enough champagne in my system to offer myself as an excuse when I step in front of the mirror tomorrow morning.

  But now, the moment is over. Sex is the last thing on Maxwell’s mind. He avoids my eyes as he stomps into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

  His coach really doesn’t like him and we only exacerbated the situation by getting caught humping all over each other in the hallway like sex-starved teenagers. Shit – we came here to fix Maxwell’s standing with the team and we only ended up making it worse.

  I hear the shower go on and I’m at a loss for what to do. I sit patiently on the edge of the couch and wait for him to emerge from the bathroom. Maybe he’ll want to talk about it. Maybe he’ll want to sit down with me and come up with an action plan for the brunch tomorrow.

  But five minutes pass. And then, ten. Twenty minutes later, I’m still sitting there like a fool, waiting on the off chance that he’ll want to talk to me after he’s done washing his foul mood away.

  I stand and peel off my stilettos then I step into the bedroom, flicking the light on and closing the door behind me. And I must be tipsier than I realized before because when my gaze lands on the plush king-sized bed in the middle of the room all I see is me and Maxwell, our sweaty bodies colliding and making magic.

  I didn’t come here for this. I didn’t come here to fall into bed with this strange, arrogant man that I don’t even know. But after the way he kissed me in the hallway, after the way he pressed his warm, solid body against mine, I just want to finish what we started.

  But, that’s not going to happen tonight because we fucked up. His coach caught us getting carried away in the hallway. Now, Maxwell is in a sulky mood and he won’t even get out of the bathroom, let alone look at me, let alone touch me.

  Just my luck, I sigh as I unfasten the zipper under the arm of my dress and watch the shimmery fabric fall in a pile at my feet. Then, I take off my jewelry and my bra, setting them on the nightstand. I catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror secured to the closet door. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes are wide, my nipples stand up like little points.

  I wanna fuck.

  “Not tonight,” I mutter under my breath as I grab a tank top from my luggage and pull it over my body. I climb into bed and try to get comfortable but all I do is toss and turn. And it isn’t the bedding that’s the problem. The mattress is comfortable and luxurious. The pillows are plush and the sheets feel like heaven. The bedding is definitely not the problem.

  I wanna fuck.

  And my body won’t settle down until I’ve satisfied the craving raging i
nside of me. I hesitate for a while because the last time I tried to ‘take care of my needs’ I was rudely interrupted and endlessly mortified. But I can still hear the shower running even after half an hour. Seems like Maxwell is literally trying to drown his sorrows and wash them down the drain. I think he’ll be in there a while…And I’ll be quiet.

  I throw off the covers then pull my panties off, tossing them aside. My legs fall open and my fingers find my clit, rubbing the little nub in quick, tight circles. Usually, I take my time and enjoy the experience but tonight, I just want to get the job done as fast as possible, blow off some tension so that I can finally go to sleep.

  I get worked up really quickly. I feel the lips of my pussy quivering against my fingertips…The edge is in sight…Just a few strokes away…Yes…Right there…That’s it. That’s it. That’s it—