Hang Em' Up: A Bad Boy Sports Pregnancy Romance

by Ashley Stewart

  David was already gone when she made her way to the front of the house and walked outside to the car, which surprised her. Did he have multiple drivers? How much would that cost? Probably more than she would make in a year, she thought with a wistful sigh as she was greeted by Charles.

  “I do hope you aren't too disappointed in the way the night's turned out,” he said as he helped her into the back. He climbed into the driver's seat before continuing, “Beautiful women like you shouldn't be disappointed like that.”

  She giggled softly and hid her blush.

  “That's very kind of you to say, Charles,” she said with a smile. “And no, I'm not disappointed. Just tired, and looking forward to a good night's sleep,” she reassured him as they pulled out of the driveway and made their way to her house. “It's been a long night.”

  * * * *

  Well, this news put a damper on things this evening, David thought as his driver pulled into the parking garage for Westley Entertainment. He thanked him, got out of the car, and began to hastily make his way back up to his office, phone already out and dialing his secretary. While the phone was ringing and his headset was in place, he was sending out messages to his corporate associates, and prepping for a public statement.

  It was a shame, as he had been having such a lovely time with Angela. He had to admit, things were progressing with her more smoothly than he had anticipated. Of course, once news broke out that his former assistant was found dead, things would no doubt hit more than a few snags between them, but it wouldn't take long to iron things out with her; he had yet to not get his way, and he wasn't about to start. She'd already accepted his offer, signed her contract to start once she had published his interview, and was already cozy in his bed for at least one night; talking her out of anything rash wouldn't take much on his part, he realized as he walked into the elevator to head to his office.

  “Yes, Mr. Westley?” The doors closed behind him as his secretary picked up the phone. He waited for the bing of the elevator before responding.

  “Yes, I need you to open my schedule for tomorrow – something's come up.”

  “Is this related to what happened to Melissa, sir?”

  “Of course it is!” he snapped, already irate that this conversation had gone on longer than anticipated; he wasn't used to people questioning him when he gave an order. “Get it done, call whoever you need to. Arrange for some kind of apology gift for the wealthier of our clients for the inconvenience.”

  “At once, sir,” the secretary replied in a timid voice, clearly intimidated by his tone. He didn't bother with pleasantries before hanging up; he had too much to do, and too much on his mind to even care. As the doors opened to reveal his office on the top floor, he shoved his way in past the doors before they were even fully open, and stormed over to his desk.

  In a flurry of movements that looked almost too fast for him to be able to do in a suit, he sat down, flicked the switch on his computer, set his briefcase down beside him, and flipped the lid of his thermos open, taking a swig of his tea. One handedly, he keyed in his password and began to pull up documents and programs for chatting with some of his clients, and noted that the ones that he was looking for were online.

  Perfect, he thought with a grin. Things would go much smoother than he thought.

  * * * *

  “I can't thank you enough, Charles,” Angela said as she stepped out of the car with his help.

  “Oh, nonsense!” he said with a wave of his hand. “It was an absolute pleasure! You're one of the more pleasant ones to drive around!” he said as he tossed a wink at her. “I'm sure I'll be seeing you more, Miss Parker. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening and get enough rest!”

  “Thank you, Charles, and I hope you do the same!” she said as she turned and walked up the steps to her house. Unlocking her front door after taking a deep breath to brace herself, she opened the door and stepped inside. She barely got her shoes off before Kaitlyn was there in front of her with two mugs of tea and a worried look.

  “There you are! I've been trying to reach you!” She handed Angela one of the mugs which she accepted gratefully. “Did you get my photo?”

  “I did,” she replied with a nod as they walked over to the couch beside the chaise lounge and plopped down on it. “And here I had been hoping to come back and share the good news that I took the position.”

  “Do you think this is why it was open to begin with?” Kaitlyn asked with wide eyes.

  Angela paused in drinking her tea to ponder the question. She couldn't honestly say that the thought hadn't crossed her mind after she heard it, and she'd be downright lying if she said that it wasn't the first one that came across her mind, but she wondered at the validity of it. Really, they only knew what the news article said – that the assistant was dead, and found in the river.

  It was murder that much was pretty certain. The possibility that it wasn't was there, but it was incredibly slim. The question remained, that if it was proven to be a murder, why her? And who did it? Also, and the one that made her skin crawl, would she be next because of her newfound position? Once she was publicly his assistant, and was officially working for Westley Entertainment, would that put a target on her head? The possibility caused a wave of nausea to hit her, and she sipped at her tea to try and chase it away. It was still too early to have such thoughts; it might have been a random, unfortunate mugging that just happened to be poorly timed. It would still be unfortunate, to be sure, but at least it wouldn't be incriminating to her new boss, or worse, a threat to her.

  “I hope not,” she said finally after she'd taken another liberal mouthful of tea. “If nothing else, it would complicate my new employment at bit, don't you think?”

  Kaitlyn sighed and sipped at her own tea, tucking a leg under her as she did so.

  “It's just so crazy,” Kaitlyn said. “The timing of it, I mean. You know? It's absolutely bizarre that he was looking for a replacement, and now this! Isn't it crazy?” She sipped at her tea more as she stared at her, waiting for a response.

  “No, it's definitely crazy,” Angela agreed with a nod. “Honestly, I don't quite know what to make of it, but for now, it's best to just wait for more information and see where the chips fall.”

  “What do you suspect, though?” Kaitlyn asked. “I mean, you're usually not wrong about this kind of stuff. It's why you're such a good journalist!”

  “I know, I know,” she sighed and wondered how she was going to word it without her roommate being suspicious of her new boss, and paramour. “I think that there's more going on than we realize, and that it's entirely too soon to say much of anything.” There, she thought. A diplomatic answer that wouldn't potentially jeopardize anyone's reputation before any evidence came forth. Maybe she wouldn't do horribly as an assistant after all, she thought as she finished her tea and went off to sleep.

  * * * *

  With morning came a new day, and a new opportunity to make some lasting, profitable connections, David thought as he ate his breakfast. A simple meal, really: just some eggs, toast, and sausage with some orange juice. As he worked around a mouthful of toast, he messaged Angela about having lunch together, and asked what time she would be available for him to pick her up. Idly, he wondered if she would even be up at this hour.

  He needn't have worried, as he hadn't even finished his piece of toast before he got a response from her. Flicking his finger across the screen to view the message he read her response saying that one thirty would be ideal, and he messaged her back in the affirmative before polishing off the rest of his breakfast. Dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a napkin, he rose for the day and went to his bedroom to dress.

  His thoughts immediately drifted to Melissa, the poor girl. She may have not been the best of assistants, but it didn't make her death any less... unfortunate. Not only because of the waste it was, but because of the fact that it was now going to reflect poorly on him. He grimaced as he slipped on a pair of designer jeans. Walking shirtless
to the wardrobe, he considered what shirt he should wear as he let his thoughts wander.

  He would need to get ahead of this tragedy, he noted to himself as he pulled out a gray button up shirt to wear and set it to the side. He would need to make a public statement about how unfortunate her death was, and how deeply affected he would be by her loss before speculation started to brew. This interview he was having with Angela couldn't come at a more opportune time, he thought with a grin. After finding an under shirt, he pulled on the button up and began to secure the buttons, already planning the eulogy of a speech he was going to give about how sad Melissa's death was.

  Really, it wasn't a complete lie, he reasoned as he finished up with the buttons. He was saddened that she had died. Unfortunate business, but what could he do about it? And would curling into a ball and weeping really do anyone any good?

  Still, if it was something that Angela would use as an excuse to worry about her new job, it needed addressing, to avoid it snowballing into something more than it was. It wouldn't do to have her worry, he rationalized as he strutted out of the door and into his living room. He had some time to kill, after all, and it wouldn't do for him to arrive to early, lest it appear that he's overly eager, he thought as he pulled out a book and began to read.

  He was the one in control here, after all.

  * * * *

  Was it still a date if you were interviewing the man you were fucking?

  It was a question Angela had been mulling over all morning as she stared blankly at her closet, trying to decide what on earth would be best to wear. Should she dress in a sexy little dress that hugged her in all the right places, or should she dress professionally, with a business pant and a button up top? She could always go half way on both, and wear an alluring blouse with a tight pencil skirt – goodness knows that she had the ass for it, she rationalized as she pulled out a heather gray pencil skirt lined with a narrow black trim, and a long sleeved black top with exposed shoulders.

  Brushing and fluffing her hair out and applying some makeup, she went to her kitchen and settled on making tea for breakfast after she opened the refrigerator and saw that it was woefully empty. Ignoring the grumbling in her stomach and firmly reminding herself that she was going out for lunch not too long from now, she sipped on her tea and waited for David to text her and let her know that he was on his way.

  It didn't take long after that for him to let her know that he was on his way, and after she stepped into some black kitten heels and walked out of her door, sure enough, there was David's car. Surprisingly, it was David that was driving this time, rather than Charles. She wondered at the change, but shrugged it off and hopped in the passenger seat of the car.

  “Thank you so much for picking me up, David,” she said with a smile as she shut the door and buckled her seat belt. Was it awkward to thank him for that? It was hard to say, and she tried not to feel like everything she was doing was awkward.

  “My pleasure, Miss Parker,” he said with a grin.

  That struck her as odd – was it odd for him to call her by her surname when they had already slept together, or was he just flirting? She wasn't entirely sure how these sorts of things went anymore.

  “Now then,” he said as they pulled away from her home and made their way to their destination. “Vietnamese sounds good to me. How about you?”

  “Umm, yeah,” she said, a bit more irritated that before. Why was he acting so casually? They'd already had sex! Surely, that changed some things for them, right? He could have at least told her that she looked nice or something, she thought grumpily. “Sure, that sounds great.”

  “Outstanding,” he said, lips quirking into a smile. “I own one of the best places in the city. Let's head over there, and we can pick up where we left off, yes?”

  “That sounds like a plan to me,” she said in an almost flat tone, her irritation at an all-time high. Why was he acting as though nothing had happened? Was this some weird form of power play on his part, to show that she was replaceable, or was this legitimately his way of behaving with people he's slept with? She didn't even know anymore.

  They made small talk, about the weather, about her impending work for him as his assistant, and all of it was ridiculously platonic, given the circumstances. The wooden dialogue between them was driving her crazy, but still she didn't say anything about it, opting instead to wait and see how things turned out after the interview. For all she knew, he was trying to be somewhat professional until after they finished up this part of the interview, and was just being achingly good at it. So, as hard as it was for her to not get angry at it, she did her best, though she couldn't help the irritation that clawed at her insides from it.

  As they pulled into a parking garage beside a rather luxurious looking Vietnamese restaurant. She was surprised when he drove all the way to the top floor of the parking garage, needing to show his ID to the service man on the way to the last floor. What was that about? She wasn't entirely sure, but finally, he pulled into a parking space and killed the engine.

  “Hold on,” he said as he got out of the car. Confused, but not entirely opposed to waiting, she stilled, hand hovering over the door handle a moment before unbuckling her seat belt and letting her hands fall back into her lap. She watched as he walked around to her side of the car and opened the door for her.

  “Oh, thank you,” she said in a surprised tone as she swiveled in her seat to stand up. Getting out of the car and stepping out of the way for him to shut the door, she turned to say something to him, only to be cut off by his lips crashing into hers. She squeaked in surprise when he pushed her against the door of the car, pressing his body flush against hers. She moaned against him as his hand came up and tangled itself in her hair, tugging her head in the right position for him to kiss her more soundly.

  “You're a dirty little minx, distracting me the whole ride like this,” he growled against her as he hitched her skirt up. She bit her lip as his hand slid up her thigh. “This is what I've been thinking about the whole way here.” His hand slipped to the junction between her thighs, the pads of his fingers brushing back and forth over the fabric of her thin cotton panties, where the evidence of her arousal was already beginning to gather. Had she really been that eager? “You want this, don't you? You want me to finger fuck you right here and make you come.”

  “Yes,” she keened.

  “I could just fuck you against the car,” David groaned into her mouth as they kissed again. One of his fingers slipped past her panties, and slowly began to trace her outer labia. She whimpered at the teasing touch, and tried to rock her hips against him to get his fingers to slip into her. “You would like that, wouldn't you? For me to just rip your skirt off…” he spun her around and pressed her against the car, “bend you over and fuck you senseless, wouldn't you?” She was positively drenched between her legs now, and was panting softly.

  “Y-yeah,” she swallowed when David bit into her neck, and she nearly choked on a moan when he actually slipped a finger inside her. He avoided her clit, but otherwise was at least inside her.

  “Noted,” David said, still only just stimulating her enough that she wanted more. “And why on earth would I give you that? Have you earned it?”

  Her response dissolved into a quiet moan as she felt him remove his finger, hand skimming over her womanly folds, not entering her again, but teasing until she was practically sobbing.

  “Yes, yes, please,” Angela panted. “I'll earn it, I'll earn it, I swear, but please,” she keened, trying to press herself harder into David's fingers so they would enter her. “I need to come, please fuck me, please, sir.” She was scarcely making sense, and she knew it, but at this point, she was open to saying whatever it would take for him to just give her what she wanted. The ache in her core was near unbearable, and she craved release like it was a drug habit that she just couldn't kick.

  “My, my,” he cooed, his slicked finger finally sliding back into her tight channel.

  She actually sob
bed in relief at the welcome intrusion, finally getting some of the friction that she so desperately needed, but she knew she needed more of it, and for David to just fucking move his fingers.

  “You're so eager,” he growled into her hair as his fingers began to pump inside her slowly. “But you've been good enough to earn this, I suppose,” he added a third finger.

  It left her a babbling, writhing mess, desperate for him to find that stroke that would send her careening off the edge.

  “Calling me, 'sir,' certainly helps. You're such an obedient little thing, aren't you?”

  Still, he wouldn't touch her clitoris, and that fact was enough to nearly drive her mad with want to just finish.

  “N-no teasing, please, I can't take it, David!” She hoped her begging didn't sound like whining, but she'd do or say anything at this point if it meant he would let her come.

  “Again,” he growled into the skin of her neck. “Say it again.” He began to move his fingers inside her again. “Call me sir, and I'll let you come. I'll even give you my cock.”

  “Sir,” she rasped. “Please, sir, please let me come, sir.” She leaned further against the car for enough leverage to arch her back into him, feeling his hard length through his pants just as he withdrew his fingers. Though she whimpered in protest, it wasn't long before he was unbuttoning his jeans and lining up his engorged cock at her entrance.

  “Try to keep it quiet,” he said as he teased her entrance with the head of his cock. “I may own this floor of the garage, but it's still open air parking, after all.”

  “Ah, yes, okay, sir,” she said softly, deliberately lowering her voice to show that she was being obedient.

  “Such a good girl, listening to me so well,” David purred against her as he slid his manhood into her womanly folds.

  She gasped at the feeling of being filled, knowing that it was less than a full day since she had last felt his cock inside her but still loving the sensation of being so thoroughly stretched at her core. She keened in pleasure at the way that they seemed to fit like a lock and key. David's erection was just long enough and thick enough that the pleasure never quite morphed into pain, but still made her feel like she was completely filled with his cock. Or maybe that was thanks to his dexterous fingers working her so thoroughly beforehand, it was honestly hard to say; both times that they’d had sex now, he was attentive to her and made absolutely sure that she was thoroughly lubricated. When he was at last buried to the hilt, they both heaved a sigh at the sensation of their hips touching from how deeply seated his cock was.