Groupie (Juked Book 2)

by ME Carter

  I look at the ruined shirt in my hand and realize it’s the very first Mutiny shirt I ever owned. It was my favorite, and now I have to throw it out.

  It occurs to me that maybe it’s a fitting metaphor for my friendship with this team. I’m no longer the groupie who parties with them. I’m a genuine WAG, whether they all like it or not.

  Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to throw out my old reputation with this shirt and get a new one.

  Tiffany was basically fine. I knew that when I took her home that night, but I was shaken by seeing her bloodied up. If it had been a man that had lifted a fist to her, I would have tracked him down and given him a taste of his own medicine. Being that it was another woman, well, the only thing I could do was take care of Tiffany.

  Nate and I had words first, though. He was pretty pissed when he found out his wife had gotten smashed at a game and acted like that. But that didn’t keep him from running his mouth at me. He vowed to make my life hell if I ever got in his face again, to which I rolled my eyes and walked away. Telling him to get his wife under control was hardly stepping out of line, especially when someone was injured by her actions. Not to mention, the owners don’t like it when people close to the organization draw negative press to the team.

  After Daniel found out what happened, he went straight to Coach and warned him before word got around. Jessica was immediately banned from coming to any more games. If she wanted to buy her own ticket, she was welcome to, but she wouldn’t be getting any more perks on the company’s dime.

  I was glad she didn’t get away with the assault, but even a week later, I still worry about Tiffany. Her lip healed quickly, but Jessica was just one of many angry women. Now that the gloves have been thrown off with one, would it be a ripple effect? I need to talk to Daniel again and find out if any other precautions are being taken. I need to be able to concentrate during the games, and I’m not sure I can if I’m worried she’ll be attacked again.

  I’m still deep in my thoughts when I push through the door into the locker room after practice. I’m dirty and sweaty, and want to shower and go home for a nap. I barely register the snickers until I’m all the way to my locker. That’s when I see them.

  There are naked pictures of Tiffany plastered all over it.

  “What the fuck is this?” I say under my breath. I can barely breathe as I take the pictures down.

  “What’s the matter, Rookie? It’s just a naked girl.”

  I look around and realize the pictures are everywhere. In all sizes. Everyone is looking at them. Everyone is seeing my girl nude.

  “Take them down,” I growl.

  “Why? It’s not like we haven’t all seen her naked before,” Shivel taunts. “Hell, we’ve all stuck our dick in that before.”

  I grind my teeth. I will not punch him. I will not punch him. I will not punch him. I am still a rookie, and this is my job. I will not punch him.

  “You won’t even look at the pictures. Have you….” He laughs maniacally. “You haven’t tapped that yet, have you?”

  Refusing to answer, I go for the biggest pictures first and tear them down. I’m pissed at my teammates. Not one of them is helping me. They’re just watching and smiling and laughing, like it’s entertaining to them. My girl is on display and these jackasses are acting like it’s no big deal.

  “Well, it’s a good thing I have this picture then,” he says, shoving his phone in my face. He has the picture on his fucking phone. I grab for it, but he pulls it out of my reach. “I have proof of that freckle next to her right nipple. It’s dark brown so it stands out. See it right there? And you should see how her eyes roll into the back of her head when she comes,” he says with a smirk. “It’s really hot, and she is not embarrassed by how much noise she makes.”

  I am this close to bashing his face in. I’m angry and embarrassed and humiliated… for Tiffany. She doesn’t deserve this. She made mistakes—a lot of them—but she’s a good person. I have no idea if she knows Shivel has this picture, but I know she wouldn’t want them plastered all over the locker room.

  “Oh, and look at this.” He’s zooming in on the picture, but I refuse to look. “Look at how one of her pussy lips is slightly larger than the other. Like she’s not quite symmetrical.”

  That’s it. I lose my resolve and attack. I am barely aware of the punch I throw until it lands on his jaw with a crack. I get another punch in, this time in his gut. He doubles over, and before I know it, we’re on the ground, me on top of him, pounding him as hard as I can. He starts to fight back, but before he can even land a punch, I’m being ripped off him and slammed into the wall.

  The blood is roaring in my ears. Slowly, my tunnel vision clears, and I realize Christian has a forearm across my throat. He and Daniel are trying to talk me down while Shivel is wiping his face with a towel. He spits blood on the floor.

  “Fucking psycho!” he yells. “We don’t need someone like that on this team.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Mack,” Daniel says.

  “Please,” I whisper to Christian. I’m still fighting him. “Please get the pictures down. The entire team is looking at her, man. That’s my girl. Please.”

  He looks around like he’s just now aware of the pictures everywhere. “Oh shit.” He doesn’t let me go yet. “Daniel, these pictures need to come down now.”

  Daniel looks around with the same expression on his face Christian had seconds ago. Me, I feel like crying, like I’ve been violated, but I refuse to be a pussy in front of these assholes.

  “Get these pictures down,” Daniel directs at the team. “Now!”

  They reluctantly start pulling pictures down, but they aren’t quick to throw them away. More than one of them stare at it for a little too long. “These pricks are looking at her, man,” I say to Christian, practically begging him to help.

  “Hurry up, fuckers,” Daniel says. “And if I see any of you looking, you’re gonna answer to me.”

  “I don’t see what the big deal is,” Mack says. “She’s just a fucking groupie.”

  I see red and lunge, but Christian holds me tighter. I close my eyes, willing myself to calm down. I pray this is a terrible dream.

  “She’s his woman,” Daniel says loudly. “I don’t give a shit if she was a groupie, a stripper, or a fucking porn star. This is his woman. That makes her off limits.”

  There are chuckles and groans from my teammates.

  “What, you have a problem with that?” Daniel says. “Hey, Mumbo, I found a nudie pick of your girlfriend on my phone. Want me to forward it to the entire team?”

  “Fuck you, man,” Mumbo says.

  “Cachiery, I found an old pic of your wife, sucking Donaldson’s dick before you got married. Want me to share?”

  “You’re crossing the line,” Cachiery says in warning.

  “No, I’m not,” Daniel says. “I’m making a point. You fucking douchebags need to think about what you’re doing. This is your teammate. How the fuck do you expect us to win if you’re disrespecting one of us like that?”

  Mack chuckles. “He’s a fucking rookie, Daniel. He’s my backup.”

  “Not if he kicks your ass, he’s not,” Daniel says, picking Mack’s phone up off the floor. He looks down when the screen lights up. “What the fuck?” he says when he realizes what he’s looking at. “You did this?”

  “What?” Mack asks. “If she didn’t want people to see her that way, she shouldn’t have sent me the picture.” I hear a crack, followed by Shivel’s cry of protest. “What the fuck, man? That’s my phone?”

  “Oh. Sorry,” Daniel says sarcastically. “I guess I broke it.”

  “You need to go,” Christian whispers in my ear. He moves his arm off my throat and forcefully pushes me out of the locker room. I lean my head against the wall and take deep breathes. It takes everything in me not to barrel back into that room and go after Shivel again. Before I lose my cool, Christian returns and tosses my car keys at me.

  He leads my down the hallway, m
aking sure I don’t turn back. The bright sunlight blinds me momentarily.

  “Take a run. Go to a bar. Punch a wall,” he says when we get to my car. “I don’t care where you go or how you handle this, but make sure you figure out how to come back tomorrow without throwing a fist.” He snatches the keys from my hand and opens the door open for me. “Daniel is taking care of the team right now, and this shit won’t ever come up again. But you can expect Shivel to make snide comments. He’s a dick. Be ready.”

  I nod and get in the car. He slams my door behind me as soon as I’m seated and waits until I’m driving away before going back inside.

  I’m still so angry and humiliated. Not just for Tiffany, but for me. I’m not sure how to deal with it, but there’s only one place I want to be. I put my foot to the gas and head that direction.

  He paces the room, still covered in sweat and filth from practice. He keeps running his hands through his hair before finally clasping them together and resting them on top of his head.

  “Do ye know what that’s like?” he finally says. “Standing in the locker room in the middle of all my teammates? Teammates who have fucked my girlfriend?”

  I reel back like I’ve been slapped. I knew he was upset when I let him in. The fact he was still in his practice clothes was an indicator he had left early for some reason, but I never imagined it had anything to do with me. And I never, ever imagined this topic would be coming up again. He’s been the first one to say my past didn’t matter. He said it made me who I am, and he liked who I am. Apparently he lied.

  “They’ve all seen the freckle on yer nipple. They all know what ye smell and taste like, and what ye look like when you come.”

  My face feels like it’s flaming. I was finally starting to believe he wasn’t ashamed of me, that he wasn’t embarrassed by my past. Now I’m just angry and sad and humiliated. All at the hands of the man who said I’m better than being made into an object.

  “Why the hell were you talking about all that stuff with your teammates, Rowen?” I ask. He refuses to look me in the eye. He keeps pacing, like a caged animal. Like what his coworkers think of me is more important than what he thinks of me. What I think of me. “Why am I the topic of conversation in the locker room?”

  He whips around so fast, it actually makes me take a step back. I’ve never seen him so angry before. “Because they have a fucking picture, Tiffany. A naked picture. Of my. Fucking. Girlfriend.”

  My chest tightens. How can they have a naked picture of me? We’ve done a lot of crazy shit, but it’s always been the rule: no pictures. Ever. They are too high-profile. It would be a PR nightmare.

  “Shivel says you sent it to him. Were ye fucking sexting with him?”

  “What? No!” I’ve been blindsided by this conversation. Why would Mack say that? The no-picture rule was his idea. I’m stunned to know he not only has this picture, but he’s passing it around like it’s nothing. Like I’m nothing. Since when do friends treat each other this way?

  “I got into a fight with Shivel over it. I could be demoted back down to the practice team over it.”

  I’m trying to keep up with all the conflicting emotions I’m feeling, but Rowen doesn’t seem to notice. He keeps ranting.

  “Do ye have any idea what it’s like to have my teammates, my coworkers throwing the intimate knowledge they have of ye in my face? Intimate knowledge that I don’t even have?”

  As much as I’d like to tell him he knew what he was getting into when he dragged me out of that party and begged me to be his girlfriend, I don’t. I’m still too upset to know what to say. I can’t find the words to form coherent sentences.

  “How could ye do that stuff with them, Tiffany?” He continues to pace and tugging on his hair like he does when he’s tired. Or upset, I guess. “That picture….” He looks up, like he’s looking to the heavens for answers on why I could be so sinful. “They’ve all seen you naked, Tiffany,” he whispers.

  Suddenly, he’s in my face, speaking gently. I can no longer tell if he’s hurt or on a mission. “They’ve heard the sounds and seen the faces you make when they’ve given you pleasure. How can they know that, and I don’t?”

  His lips are suddenly on mine, but it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like passion and respect and love. It feels like… like a conquest.

  My heart breaks. Shatters.

  Everything he said to me over the last several months has been a lie. Everything about me being worth more than what I have to offer between my legs, everything about wanting me for me, sex be damned, everything about me being special enough to wait until the timing is right… in the end, it was all a lie. When things get hard, all I am to him is what I am apparently to everyone else: a conquest.

  I feel stupid and let down. Like I’m nothing. Like this is all I’m good for. So I don’t stop him. I let him use me, use my body, like so many others have.

  His kiss gets more frantic, and I respond. But this time it’s not the natural response of arousal. I’m going through the motions. Motions I know will get any man hard. I slide my fingers into his hair, pulling handfuls until he groans with pleasure. It works. Before I can take my next breath, he’s ripped my T-shirt over my head and unclasped my bra.

  “Oh my god,” he says as he lowers his head to my breast. “That freckle is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” His lips close over my nipple, and he sucks fervently, creating tingles throughout me. I cry out and hold his head tighter as mine hits the wall behind us. He continues to circle my nipple with his tongue as he works to slide my yoga pants down my hips. As soon as they hit the floor, I step out of them and kick them aside. He’s too busy looking at my body to look me in the eye.

  He wraps one of my legs around his hip and slips a hand inside my panties. “Oh fuck,” he says, moving his lips back to mine. “You’re so fucking wet. Do you taste as good as you feel?”

  I let him explore my most private areas. I hide nothing from him. He slips two fingers inside me, and we moan simultaneously. “Holy fuck,” he groans and curls his fingers back and forth inside me. My breathing picks up even more as I ride his hand, his green eyes taking it all in as he watches me chase my orgasm. He doesn’t have to say it, but I know it’s one of the sexiest things he’s ever seen. I can see it in his eyes… the reverence he thinks he’s feeling.

  It doesn’t take long before the familiar sensations wash over me, and I cry out as I orgasm. Rowen keeps curling his fingers, and I come over and over and over. He kisses my lips and my neck, and nibbles at the spot behind my ear while I come down from the high. When I can stand on my own two feet again, I open my eyes and look at him… the handsome man I mistakenly thought liked me for who I am and not what I can do for him. The man I fell in love with, so he could break me.

  “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he says as he puts his fingers in his mouth, sucking my juices. “And you taste as fucking amazing as I thought you would.”

  He leans over to kiss me again, and I turn my head, putting my hands on his chest to stop him.

  “What?” he asks.

  “You can leave now,” I say.

  “What? Why?”

  He’s confused, and I try desperately to turn off any emotion I have left for him. “You’ve seen my freckle. You’ve seen my orgasm face. You’ve tasted me,” I say as I move out from behind him and start toward my bedroom door. “You know everything your friends know, so the playing field is officially even now, right?” I walk away, not even looking over my shoulder when I say, “Lock the door on your way out, would you? I have to get ready for work.”

  I shut the door in his face and go into my bathroom, turning on the shower as hot as it will go so I can clean myself of the filth that is Rowen’s judgment.

  I fucked up.

  I fucked up so bad.

  I treated her like a groupie whore, and I hate myself for it.

  “What are you still doing here, Rookie?”

  Daniel and Ch
ristian are headed my way. Everyone except me went straight to the locker room after practice. I decided to stay and do some drills for my cross kick. They’re not bad, but I’m not putting them where they need to be. Plus I have this whole mess with Tiffany on my mind, so I have energy to burn right now. I definitely don’t want to be in close quarters with Shivel.

  “Doing a little extra practice,” I say as I flip the ball up with my toe and catch it.

  “Three hours of drills and a scrimmage wasn’t enough for you?”

  “I’m still keyed up. Might as well take advantage of it.”

  Daniel squints, like he’s assessing me. “Need some help?” he finally asks.

  “Yeah, sure.” I toss the ball his direction, and he bounces it off his chest before the three of us scramble for control. Christian breaks away and dribbles down the field. It takes a few seconds, but my frustration pushes me to catch up with him. When I do, I stick my foot out and sweep his leg. He goes down quickly but pops up even faster.

  “What the fuck, man?” he says, getting in my face. “We’re messing around, not taking pussy shots. You could have broken my ankle.”

  “Well, maybe ye should be faster, old man,” I mouth off at him. “It’s not my fault you’re losing your touch.”

  “You little punk-ass piece of shit. What the hell is your problem?”

  “Yer my problem! You and all the rest of them.”

  “Whoa,” Daniel says, getting in between us, putting his hands on our chests, and pushing us apart. “I don’t know what is going on, but you need to calm the fuck down, Rookie.”

  “Did you fuck her?” I yell at Daniel.

  “What?” He looks at Christian, then back at me. “Did I fuck who? Quincy? What are you talking about?”

  “Did you fuck Tiffany?”

  He drops his arms and shakes his head. “Are you kidding me? That’s what this attitude is about? It’s about a chick?”