Romance: SCREWED (An Arranged Marriage to the NFL Bad Boy) (A New Adult Contemporary Athlete Sports Football Romance)

by Bridget Lang

  “That’s it, beautiful,” I hear Jett’s groaning getting louder, thrusting into me harder, “Oh fuck, you’re so fucking incredible, so sexy, I’m gonna cum -”

  “Please,” I beg, still in the throes of pleasure, my pussy clenches around him with every thrust. “Cum in me. Jett, fill me up.”

  That’s all it takes for Jett to pull me into a fiery kiss, moaning into my mouth. His arms hold me tight as I feel his dick pulse, shooting his seed deep inside of me. We continue to kiss, gasp, and twitch with pleasure as we come down from our high. I fall against him, chest to chest, my head falls over his shoulder.

  “That was amazing,” I murmur in his ear. “I wish we could do it again right now.”

  Jett chuckles, his deep voice sending shivers through me. “Who’s says we can’t?” And before I know it, I’m tossed over his shoulder like a rag doll as he carries me off towards his bedroom.

  Chapter 7 JETT

  I toss Claire onto the bed, and she squeals in anticipation, grinning up at me. We’ve barely worn any clothes for the past week, and she still seems enthralled by me. I don’t know how I got so lucky to score this amazing woman in my bed in the first place, but the fact that she’s into me too is the most potent aphrodisiac a man could ever need. She throws her hands above her head and wiggles her hips, her legs spread wide. I see the glistening of her arousal juices between her legs.

  “Take me, baby,” she breathes.

  Oh, fuuuck!

  “Not yet.” I crawl onto the bed, settling between her legs. I have to taste her sweet pussy first. I run my tongue up the inside of her thigh and she shudders. I’m going slowly, taking my time, savoring her. The closer I get to her pink folds, the louder her sighs and gasps become. It’s an incredible rush knowing I have this effect on her. I gently kiss her clit and flick my tongue across it, she shivers. Yesss, that’s it.

  I love teasing her, and as much as she begs, I know that she’s being pleasured and loves it too. I suck, kiss and lick at her pussy lips, slowly running my tongue around her entrance without dipping inside or touching her clit.

  “I hate you,” she pants. I just smirked and continue building her up. My tongue trails delicately around and around until she is squirming and moaning, her breathing coming out in shallow pants. I plunge my tongue into her and wrapped my lips around her clit.

  “Oh, fuck!” she screams, her hand flies to my head, fingers entangling themselves in my hair while I quicken the pace of my tongue. I flick my tongue over her clit and she thrusts up into my mouth. She is getting wetter by the second, and I swallow every drop of her sweetness I can.

  She pushes my head back and wiggles out from under my face.

  “My turn,” she smirks, and she’s instantly on her knees in front of me. Her lips wrap around my cock and she slides me all the way to the back of her throat. Her moans vibrate up my shaft. She slides her mouth back and forth over my length before running her tongue up and down the veiny underside of my dick.

  “That’s it, baby,” I groan, guiding her head gently. “Get it nice and wet so I can fuck you the way you want.” I watch her sexy lips sliding along my cock and suddenly, I can’t take it anymore, I have to be inside her, connected to her primally.

  I push her onto her back, and she spreads her legs for me immediately. “You want this, baby?” I ask. I rub the head of my cock against her wet entrance.

  “Oh God, yes, baby,” she mewls. “Please, give me your cock. I need to have you in me.”

  “Well. I’ll never deny my beautiful wife,” I whisper, and in one thrust, I plunge myself into her balls deep, fully sheathing myself in her wet, velvety warmth.

  She moans with pleasure, wrapping her legs and arms around me, her nails dig into my skin as I pound her. I bite into her neck, growling, a primal sense of overwhelming pleasure rolls through me. She’s so incredibly tight, and the way she scratches at my back like a wild animal drives me crazy. I bend her almost in half, fucking her hard into the mattress, my hands running all over her body. They come to rest on her ass, and I give it a tight squeeze. The noise she makes tells me she approves.

  “Oh fuck, Jett, I’m gonna cum,” she whimpers. Her words only spur me on faster. “Jett, Jett, oh, oh!”

  I pull out just after I feel her pussy start to convulse. She shouts in frustration, glaring up at me, but she doesn’t have much time to be angry. I flip her over onto her knees as fast as I can, driving into her from behind, feeling her continue to cum around my cock as she shrieks with renewed passion.

  I can feel her starting to wind down as my own passion starts to well up to painful proportions. “I’m not going to cum alone, baby,” I whisper in her ear. One of my hands clamps onto her breast, rolling her nipples in my fingers, and the other reaches for her clit, drawing circles around it and strumming back and forth over it. Her weak spasms soon return to a full-blown orgasm, and I feel my dick twitch. I bite down on her shoulder as I release, shooting out in pulses what feels like a gallon of my cum into her still-clenching pussy. I let her ride out her orgasm, pushing back against me, until she finally collapses on the bed and I roll off her back and collapse next to her.

  I reach for her hand and lace our fingers together. I feel my heartbeat slow, and I know I want to say something to her, but I’m not sure how. So, I close my eyes, open my mouth, and let the words come from my heart.

  “I really love you, Claire.”

  Her head snaps toward me, a startled expression clouding her features. We stay that way for several minutes until, slowly, a contented smile spreads across her face.

  “I love you too,” she whispers, and for the first time, I feel at peace.

  Chapter 8 CLAIRE

  The next three months fly by in a haze of happiness. I have never had a man treat me so well. Hell, I’ve never had anyone treat me so well. My coworkers are the perfect balance of jealous and impressed, and I’ve had plenty of them ask to come over just to catch a glimpse of my handsome husband.

  The money is nice, too, and the house is excellent. Plus, the fact that I don’t have to worry about Aaron is amazing. But the best thing of all, truly, is Jett. Our marriage started off as a fake, but it took us very little time to realize that we each fill a space in the other that was hollow and empty and had been for long time.

  Yes, I’ve fallen head over heels for my husband.

  It turns out that Jett is so much kinder and goofier than I ever expected, and I think he was surprised when he found that I actually have a decent sense of humor. Somehow, overnight almost, he went from being the guy trying to help me out to being a real, honest-to-God husband. I am so damn happy that I sometimes have to suppress a giggle or two at work so my coworkers don’t think I’ve gone completely bat-shit crazy. We click so well that it doesn’t even matter that we skipped the dating stage. I am entirely his, and he is entirely mine.

  Right now it’s NFL offseason, and offseason conditioning hasn’t started yet which means two things. One, Jett is at home waiting for me, and two, I have to concentrate on not getting a speeding ticket. I ease up slightly on the gas pedal. I used to dread going home at the end of the workday, but now, a few short months later, it’s all I can think about in the afternoon.

  I picture Jett at home fixing dinner, wearing that goofy apron that always gets a giggle or two out of me, an episode of a show we both like on the DVR, and an ice cold beer ready and waiting for me. My husband likes to spoil me. Often all of these things are abandoned until we after a quick but passionate roll in the sheets… or the floor, couch, kitchen table…

  “Hey, Jett!” I call, rushing through the door. “I’m home.”

  No response. The massive house gives nothing but silence.

  “Jett?” I creep through the hallways, a niggling thought at the back of my head has me wonder if Jett has some sort of surprise planned. It would be just like him. Something feels off, though. I make my way towards the bedroom hoping my husband’s in there waiting for me in his b-day suit. I push the bedro
om door open.

  “Jett?”

  The scene in front of me stops me cold. I feel hypothermic, my legs too frozen to move, my blood turned to ice.

  On the bed, our bed, Jett is in his underwear snoring softly. His arm is thrown over a slender, leggy blonde wearing heavy makeup and nothing else. She slowly opens her eyes. As soon as she sees me, she sits up abruptly, her massive fake breasts barely jiggling as she does.

  “Jett,” she shouts.

  Jett moans something and groggily rolls his head, but doesn’t fully awaken.

  “Jett,” the blonde is louder now and nudges him hard in the ribs with her elbow.

  Jett raises his head, props himself on his elbows and looks as though he’s trying to focus.

  “Claire?” His words are slurred. Is he drunk? A ridiculous grin slowly spreads across his face. I want to slap him- slap the grin right off him. I want to claw out his eyes and spit on his bloody face. If I could get my feet to move from this spot.

  “What? What’s wrong? Claire?”

  He turns to the blonde beside him. “Jesus Christ!”

  “You son of a bitch,” I hiss shaking with rage. “How could you?”

  “It’s not what it looks like, I swear,” he says quickly. He tries to stand, but stumbles and sits back down on the bed. “I don’t know this woman.”

  “Excuse me?” the woman whines. She stands, and shows just how long and shapely her tan legs are. “You said you told her. You said you officially left her.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Jett looks confused, and I have to give him credit, he’s doing a damn fine acting job. “Claire, I’m serious -”

  “Save it,” I snap. My entire body is trembling now. I curse the tears that I now feel streaming down my face. I wish to hell he didn’t have the satisfaction of seeing me cry. “I should have known. I knew before we started this whole ridiculous sham that you were a bad idea, I should have listened to my gut instinct. A tiger doesn’t change his stripes.”

  “But Claire…”

  “Fuck you.” I slam the door behind me and hurry down the stairs bleary eyed from the damn tears that he doesn’t deserve. I hear him coming after me - he even manages to weakly grasp my arm a few times - but I shake him off easily.

  “Claire, please don’t do this. I love you!”

  As I cross the threshold of the front door, I turn to give him a final glare and immediately wish I hadn’t. He looks so pathetic standing there in his boxer briefs, his blue eyes pleading, his broad shoulders slumped. He looks sorrowful, anguished, defeated. A twinge tugs hard at my heartstrings. I almost want to wrap my arms around him and assure him that everything will be okay and all is forgiven.

  Fuck that. I am done being taken advantage of. Done letting men hurt me and wipe their feet on me like I’m a doormat. How ironic that the man who taught me that I’m too good to allow myself to be mistreated is the one who has hurt me the most.

  “I don’t ever want to see you again. Ever,” I snarl, and I slam the door behind me.

  I’m proud that I am able to contain myself until I’m in my car and halfway down the street before I fall apart so hard I have to pull over. I wrap my arms around my middle unable to contain the wails and wracking sobs that shake my body.

  Chapter 8 CLAIRE

  Knock, knock, knock.

  Two months have passed since my heart was shattered into tiny shards. I have been doing the best I can to put one foot in front of the other and try to piece together a normal life for myself. Whatever normal is.

  The first few weeks were crazy. I went straight to a hotel hoping for anonymity; it might have worked if Blonde Bimbette hadn’t run right to the media with her story. I’m not sure what exactly her story is because I avoid tabloids, newspapers, TV and anything else that might flash a picture of myself, Jett or Blondie Boobs like I’d avoid the plague. I only know that once her story was out, I had reporters following me everywhere.

  I rented myself a small apartment, and refused every cent of the money that Jett tried incessantly to give me. I did accept the gift of a body guard for the first few weeks until the paparazzi lost interest and somebody else’s gut-ripping heartache was the gossip of the day. Slowly but steadily, day by day I’m trying to learn to survive without Jett. I look around at my tiny apartment hastily and carelessly furnished with thrift store finds. It’s not the mansion I’d been in, but it’s okay.

  Except for all the door-knocking.

  Visitors are a constant. Almost daily, without fail, there is a knock on my door from somebody new. At first it had been Jett, until the third time I opened the door to his hangdog face and dumped a bowl of chocolate ice cream all over his nice, pressed shirt. That’s when he realized what ‘stay the fuck away from me’ really means.

  Now, it’s delivery people of all sorts- fruit baskets, chocolates, flowers, singing telegrams, and even a singing strippergram, which set me off so badly I think my shrieking may have broken the poor guy’s eardrums. At the very least it certainly traumatized him for future jobs. Jett has been going through every trick in the book to try to get me to talk to him, but I won’t budge. There’s no point. I will never be able to forget the sight that greeted me the fateful afternoon I swung open our bedroom door to find him and Busty Bimbo. No, what good would talking do? It could only serve to dig the knife deeper into my gut.

  I’m not ever going back.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  I open the door to a young, nervous-looking woman with black curls and flawless brown skin. “Look,” I say, holding up a hand before she starts talking, “Whatever it is, I’m not interested. I don’t care if he’s sent me a literal boatload of puppies and kittens, I’m not taking him back.”

  The woman frowns. “Excuse me?”

  “It may sound crazy to his star struck fans,” I continue, “but I really just can’t deal with him. I’m in no great hurry to file for divorce, but between you and me, that’s a forgone conclusion. I mean, everybody knows what happened. I’m certainly not going back.”

  “Ohhhh,” the woman says softly, a look of recognition dawning. “No, no, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to talk to you about Aaron Belson.”

  My stomach drops. Aaron? Why the hell would she want to talk to me about Aaron? Surely Aaron wasn’t trying to win me back too. I’d heard through the grapevine that he’d moved on and found himself a new punching bag.

  The woman looks over my shoulder at my sparse apartment. “May I come in?” she asks gently.

  “Please do.” I step aside and lead her to the small living room area of my studio apartment. I’m suddenly wondering if Aaron landed himself in lockup again and sent this poor woman to beg bail money from me. Maybe he’s unaware that just because I’m still married to Jett doesn’t mean I have access to his bank account.

  “What’s wrong with Aaron now?” I ask.

  “Well, nothing’s wrong with him,” she says bitterly, “and that’s the problem. My name is Nina Childs. I started dating Aaron right after you left, and well… things have gotten…” she turned her head to hide the tears starting to fill her eyes, but I saw them. I had been exactly where this woman was and I could read her like a book.

  “They’ve gotten bad,” I finish quietly.

  “Yes. To put it mildly.”

  “Did he hit you?”

  Nina looks down at her hands. “Yes. But the problem is, no one believes me because I didn’t report it right away. My lawyer thought we’d have a better case if I was able to find other women to testify as a character witnesses. I’ve tracked down a couple women but neither are willing. I can’t say I blame them, really. They’re both afraid to open a can of worms that might bring Aaron back into their lives. You’re my last hope, but I also figured you’d be the perfect person. I know how much he put you through.”

  “You do?”

  “Well, sure. I think a lot of people have put two and two together and figured out the truth. I had my suspicions, but it wasn’t until
Aaron admitted it all to me one night when he was drunk.” She shakes her head, and looks at me sadly. “I knew he was an asshole, but I still can’t believe he made you believe your husband cheated on you.”

  I frown. “Made me believe… What are you talking about? My husband did cheat on me.”

  Nina’s eyes widen. “You don’t know?” Her fingers fly to cover her open mouth. “Oh goodness, I thought you’d realized it by now. I knew from the tabloids that you and your husband were estranged but I thought maybe you split up over something else. I didn’t realize you didn’t know the truth.”

  “Truth?” My stomach is doing somersaults. A burning sensation starts in my chest and radiates to my extremities as scorching anger pulses through me. I can feel my cheeks reddening with the coming outrage and for once, it seems to be directed at the right person.

  “That girl, the blonde, was an old friend of Aarons,” Nina confesses. She must see the fire in my eyes, because she gradually scoots farther away from me. “She’s a porn star now. Aaron paid her to drug Lang at the publicity shoot that morning, then take him home and wait in bed with him until you came home to find them. I don’t know what he hoped to gain from the whole thing. Maybe he thought you’d come running back to him. Maybe he just wanted revenge for the fact that you left him.”

  “So that whole thing was just a scam? It was all set up by Aaron?”

  “Yeah.” Nina is chewing her bottom lip. “I’m so sorry. I really am.”

  I stride to the door and snatch my coat off the hook. “Sorry to rush you out of here,” I say, thrusting an arm through the sleeve and crouching to lace up my boots, “but I really need to find my husband.”

  “Sure, I understand.” Nina stands and eyes me apologetically. “I just need to know - will you testify?”

  I smirk and narrow my eyes at her. “I’ll testify,” I assure her. “You’re damn right I’ll testify.”