Counter Play: A Sports Novella (Players Book 2)

by Stella Marie Alden

  “Is she pregnant?” It’s annoying how he sounds hopeful.

  “No.” I stop feeling bad about lying.

  It happened after a big party in Iowa, celebrating our fake engagement. It was the day I learned how seriously dysfunctional her family is. Mel’s father is a fucking dick. I still owe him for what he did to her as a kid.

  It’s tough to focus on my publicist’s hissy-fit and calm him down. “I promise. Someday we’ll sit down over a beer and I’ll tell you all about how it happened. Just know Melanie doesn’t get along well with her family in Iowa, okay? Don’t even bring them up.”

  “But what about you and Mary Jane? Wait a minute… Do we have a love triangle here?” All of a sudden, Jaz giggles, those marketing wheels whirring in his brain.

  Shit. Once Jaz has something in his head, it’s hard to get him to let go. “Do not start anything.”

  “You’re the one who got into this mess by not telling me about your girlfriend. If you don’t want to lose your sweet adorable baby-face on all those billboards, best let me deal with this. What will your fans think when they find out you have two fiancés? Are you banging them both?”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, no.” As I stare at a spider dropping down from the ceiling, I can just hear my mother chanting.

  Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.

  Jaz is still carrying on when I put the phone back to my ear. “… and mighty with me. Remember, I know what you’re like. Virile men need to stick their dick everywhere.”

  Shit. This is not a conversation I want to have with my gay friend. “That used to be me. Not now. Since meeting Mel, I swear I’m different. It’s all about her.” I smack the spider between my hands and toss it into the toilet.

  “So says the man with two fiancés.” He hangs up and a shudder goes through me, wondering if he really got what I was saying.

  After having such a fucking awesome call with Jaz, I press my luck and call Mel.

  “Hello?” By her frigid tone, I know she’s furious.

  “What’s up?” I try to sound like I don’t notice as I picture her oh-so-cute scowl.

  “Your fiancé, that’s what.” Mel’s never been jealous before and the Neanderthal part of my brain is loving it.

  “My ex-fiancé?” I have to swallow down a chuckle.

  “Jeesh. CJ. This is so not funny. Your Mary Jane showed up at my apartment and let herself in. How the hell did she get a key? Anyhow, she actually told me to get lost. She’s looney-tuney. I had to call your brother to come and physically remove her. She really believes she’s still your fiancé and called me trailer trash. I never lived in a trailer. You need to talk some sense into that woman.”

  Oh man. This is worse than I thought. My ex has lost it. “Just be nice to her and I’ll figure something out.”

  “Nice to her? Are you fucking kidding me?” Melanie saves the f-bomb for truly pissed off moments.

  I know it doesn’t say much about my character, but the fact she is so angry turns my cock rock hard. “Are you jealous?”

  “Me? Jealous over a bombshell model that you never mentioned? Hell no. One that has my God-damned apartment key and a rock the size of Gibraltar? No. no. I’m good, I’m good.”

  She starts to snicker. “Ah shit. I can’t stay mad at you.”

  I chuckle with her, loving her even more for her sense of humor. “Call the locksmith when you hang up with me. I promise when I get home, I’ll make it up to you.”

  She snorts as if she doesn’t believe me which I take as a personal affront. I’ll get her so worked up, the neighbors will be pounding on the ceiling.

  With my sexiest voice, I whisper. “If I were there right now, I’d slip my fingers down the front of your pants.”

  “Oh?” Her breath hitches.

  I’ve never before tried phone sex and her interest sends blood rushing south. “Are you alone?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Are you in the bedroom?”

  “No. Just a second.” Her footsteps tell me she’s barefooted, probably dressed in yoga pants and one of my old t-shirts.

  “Lay back on the bed for me, sugar. Take all of your clothes off.” I close my eyes, imagine her undressing, and push down my own sweats so I can grab myself.

  The phone thumps as she places it on the bed, When she comes back on, her voice is low. “I’m completely naked, hotshot.”

  A moan escapes out of me and I start to sweat. “Shit, Mel. I want you so fucking bad I’m ready to come home and slide into you so deep you won’t know where I stop and you begin.”

  “Are we—”

  “—Touch yourself. Tell me what you feel.”

  “I’m wet. Real wet, CJ. And swollen, soft and thick.” She purrs her description into the phone, already too fucking good at this game.

  As much as I want to slow it down, I want her as burning for me as I am for her right now. “Open your legs wider and slide down to the mirror. Can you do that for me, baby?”

  The light beside the bed clicks on and the sheets rustle. “Okay. I’m there. Are you hard, CJ?”

  “Fuck yeah.” I lay back with my cell next to my ear and start to slide up and down my swollen member with one hand. Damn if this isn’t sexy as hell.

  Her voice is all sexy and quiet-like. “If I was there, I’d put my mouth around your beautiful cock and do that thing with my tongue you like so much. Would you like that?”

  Hell yeah, I would, but it’s time for payback. “Are you watching your pussy?

  “Yessss…” There’s silence as her breath grows more irregular.

  “Make little circles for me around your nub, the way I like to make you come with my tongue. Tell me. What do you see?”

  “The center is growing hard, wet, glistening, pointing.” Her panting drives me wild.

  Moaning, I tighten my grip and yet hold back. “Dammit, baby. Pinch your nipple. Come for me. Press faster harder. I—”

  “Oh, oh.” Her breath grows louder, more uneven.

  “Touch inside, touch outside, slide in and out. Scream for me so I know when you come.”

  “Oh, Oh my God.” She shouts.

  Chapter 4

  Wow. I was really stupid to think he cared about his ex but still, I can’t ignore the fact she has a ring and I don’t. Yeah, I get that it’s my fault. I’m the one who said to take it slow but why the hell does she have to be so friggin’ beautiful?

  She’s supposedly a model.

  Riiiight…

  I haven’t found one damn thing online that would make me believe it, other than her own headshots. That bitch probably never worked a day in her life.

  I know, I know. I need to stop checking her out on Facebook but do it anyhow. The picture of him kissing her in the hotel room’s gone viral with over five-hundred-thousand hits. Plus, she’s posted photos of our engagement party in Iowa, the day I supposedly broke CJ’s heart. Not only that, there’s this blog about her upcoming wedding. The comments are so well written that she probably has a huge staff handling social media.

  That just sucks.

  I throw my work shoes into a bag, put on my sneakers, and head out. Hopefully, because it’s early, I won’t get bothered by stupid people with their camera phones hoping to get a shot of the woman that jilted CJ Quinn. All that died down months ago.

  C’mon people. I just don’t matter that much.

  I grab a coffee at the bodega, say hi to Ajiit and chat for a sec about his kids. Then I rush down the hill to the rehab center where I work. Kit, my most famous client, is waiting at the front door. A hockey player for the Rangers, he’s here on CJ’s recommendation.

  I like Kit. Unlike CJ, he gave me no grief about being a woman in sports therapy and he’s kind of cute. With those dark lashes and French good looks, if it weren’t for being in love, I’d hit on him in a heartbeat.

  “You’re late.” Leaning against the building, he winks, then slugs down some orange juice out of a carton.

  �
��Sorry.” I work the key into the padlock and then he helps me lift the heavy iron gate with his good arm.

  “Warm up for me?” I point to the treadmill while I switch on the breakers.

  Then he walks, I power up the computers, and with the greatest restraint, avoid Facebook. I never said anything about Instagram.

  “Oh shit.”

  “What is it?” Kit pulls off his headphones, no doubt watching the distress crossing my face.

  “Nothing. Just that witch from yesterday, Mary Jane McAllister. She’s waging a campaign on social media.”

  “Oh yea. The press loves her.” He smiles.

  I snort. “The woman is gunning for him. She really thinks they’re still engaged.”

  “She’s got the ring to prove it.” He glances at my bare finger on my left hand which I immediately pull under the counter.

  I don’t understand my need to tell him all this personal stuff. “Me and CJ have both been burned, so we’re taking it slow.”

  He ups his gait to a jog, not yet breaking into a sweat, looking good. “I don’t get it, eh? I thought you two broke up last summer? Something about some party out west.”

  I remember that night all too well. I thought I could handle anything, but when my Dad laughed about what he did to me as a kid, I lost it.

  Now I go to therapy once a week to deal with incest. Shit.

  I brush the crappy thoughts away and repeat the story me and CJ came up with. “No, no. The whole engagement was just for the press. He needed the publicity.”

  Kit’s wearing this fierce scowl as he runs with clenched fists. “Know what? I love CJ like he’s my own brother, but he’s a real bastard when it comes to the women. You really should stay clear. What about the baby? Did he own up to that?”

  “Nope. CJ’s publicist made all that up, too.”

  “Merde. That’s just fucked up.” He glances down at the treadmill display, dark brows furrowed, and ups his pace again.

  “You don’t understand. We had this arrangement. CJ had a bad reputation and was going to lose his advert deal and maybe not even get re-signed with his team because of his knee and this thing with an underage drunk driver.”

  “He asked you to do that?” Thick lashes surround dark eyes that a lesser woman would drown in but I’m busy defending the honor of my man.

  “Actually, I was the one who asked him. I was homeless at the time. I needed a toaster, a blender, everything, you know?”

  “No cherie, not getting this at all.” His timer goes off, the treadmill slows, and I lead him over to his first set of pullups, watching his form on the machine.

  When I’m certain he’s sitting tall, knees at a good angle, I continue. “It’s like this. My boyfriend at the time kicked me out of my apartment, changed the locks, and stole all my stuff. When I checked out what a lawyer would cost, it was more than everything I owned.”

  “What did you do?” He stops to rest for a moment to regard me.

  “Keep going. You owe me twenty.”

  When he picks up his weights, I continue the pathetic tale of that phase of my life. “I stayed a couple nights in a shelter.”

  I don’t share how the owner insisted I call home and get support from my family, something I could never do.

  “Why didn’t CJ just give you the cash? I would’ve.”

  I shrug. “He offered but I wouldn’t take it.”

  “Why the hell not?” He jumps off the machine and walks to the next in our regime.

  “Once a woman takes money, it’s like sex is owed. What would that make me? You guys just don’t get it, do you?”

  “Whoaa. Don’t put me in a bucket with every other guy.” He touches my arm but I step back and direct him toward his workout.

  “Okay, tell me this. Would you expect sex from a woman if you handed her a few thousand bucks?”

  He at least has the decency to change the subject. “So what was with the fake wedding?”

  “It’s simple. Like you now, CJ was in rehab, overheard my problem, and offered to be my groom.”

  “Bâtard,” he mutters under his breath. “He took advantage of you.”

  “No, no, he didn’t. We didn’t even, you know…” Not used to talking about sex with anyone but CJ, I imagine my face is bright red.

  “But a fake wedding, fooling your family? Oui? That was okay?”

  He has no idea how messed up my home life was so I don’t get miffed. I’m finally getting used to how most people feel about their families. It’s not their fault that my dad, if found out, would’ve gotten twenty years for touching a kid under the age of twelve.

  Going to therapy has been helping and I don’t share that either. Again, time to change the subject.

  “So, Kit. You’re looking good. Let’s check your flexibility, and I’ll go fill in all your insurance forms.”

  “Merci, cherie. I swear you’re the best.” Unexpectedly, he gives me a big sweaty hug, and kisses me on the lips.

  Dammit. I did not want nor expect that.

  Suddenly a familiar hand is on my shoulder, turning me around, and I’m staring into the eyes of one very pissed-off CJ Quinn.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He glares at me and then Kip as he pushes the hockey player away.

  Kip growls, “Va chier!”

  “You fuck off.” CJ’s fists clench.

  Oh shit. I step in between them.

  “Let it go, Chance. Today is Kit’s last day and we were just saying goodbye. Weren’t we, Kit?” I glare at the hockey player wondering how long CJ had been standing there and if Kit was purposely trying to make trouble.

  He smirks at CJ. “It’s like she say. No big deal. We’re friends. Non?”

  “You don’t have any female friends. You have fuck-buddies. Tell her.” CJ pokes Kip in the chest who swats his hand away.

  Then Kit gets up into his face. “Ostie, at least mes amis know where they stand with me. I never asked one to marry me, let alone two.”

  I point to a chair. “Oh grow up, both of you. Please sit, Mr. Charard, while I finish your paperwork.”

  “Email it to me. You get tired of him, call me, cherie. Despite what he says, I know how to treat a lady with respect.”

  After he slams the door, I turn my gaze to CJ, my ears burning because I’m so damn mad. “You don’t get to treat my friends that way.”

  We’re not married and even if we were, that kiss meant nothing and it wasn’t my fault. Kit had probably meant to hit my cheek. Regardless, it doesn’t give CJ Quinn the right to be a complete ass to my client, one who’s references I desperately need.

  CJ starts pacing up and down the center between the machines. “Is this what you do when I’m not around?”

  It suddenly dawns on me that since we started dating, we’d been inseparable. We both hadn’t had a chance to learn to trust. My therapist says I need to learn to take deep breaths when I’m angry and think before opening my mouth.

  It doesn’t really help because while I’m doing that, I step in front of him not noticing his eyes are on the floor. We both collide and I drop onto my ass, my muddled brain seeing stars.

  “Oh shit.” He drops to his knees, face over mine, breath warm. “I’m so sorry, babe. You okay?”

  When my vision clears, I bring him down to where I’m laying by grabbing the back of his head, Then I kiss him so hard, he moans. I don’t want to fight. We’ve had so few moments together lately all I want is to make love. That’s the only thing he seems to understand when words don’t work.

  When I stop for air, his brows are still furrowed. “He kissed you, dammit. On the lips.”

  “Yeah, to piss you off, no doubt. What is it with you two?”

  Releasing my hands, he rises off his knees. “Never mind that. I’m going to kill him.”

  “Wait a minute. How long were you standing there watching us?” My back was to the door, but Kit must’ve known he was there and played him like a pro from Dover.

  “Long enough
.” CJ pouts like a big kid and toes the floor.

  I cup my palms around the stubble on his cheeks, forcing him to meet my gaze. “Did I act like I wanted him to kiss me? Think, honey. You, more than anyone, should know what I’m like when I want a man. Kit was just being a jerk.”

  Hurt eyes search mine, breaking my heart. I would never, ever cheat. “I’ve only ever slept with one guy, other than you.”

  Suddenly, he takes my hand, pulls me into one of the changing rooms, and locks the door.

  “I almost lost it, baby.” He unzips his jeans. “I need to fuck now. Hard and fast.”

  Oh man, he doesn’t need to ask twice. I’ve missed him so damn much and his dirty talk has my pussy slick. Without another thought, I kick off my shoes, drag off my slacks and already damp undies. Then I lock my ankles behind his back, one of my pants legs stuck around a foot.

  Impatient, he lifts me up and sets me down on the sink’s countertop, his mouth on my mine the whole time. His tongue demands entrance even as his hands spread my knees wide open.

  No place else to go, the arches of my feet grab onto the edge of the granite top as he steps in close, sucking in his breath. The centers of his eyes blacken, his brows crease, then he slides an index finger along my clit from front to back.

  I’m so wet, that calloused finger sends juices flowing. When he puts it into me, and then adds another, I moan, my ass coming up off the counter.

  Suddenly he drops onto his knees, his tongue all over me. Then his hands tear open my shirt, buttons flying. So as not to have to buy another bra, I unsnap the front closure giving him immediate access.

  Then as he continues his assault on my sex, his hands slide up my body and caress my breasts. Holy friggin’ lord have mercy. Pulling, sucking, nipping, playing. My whole body is on fire. I’ve never felt so high and so damn sexy.

  When he stops, I moan.

  “Just a second.” Standing, he releases his cock and rubs the tip around over my swollen clit.

  “Oh.” I open wider and brace my palms against the wall mirror.

  “Baby…” He slides in all the way, his hands on my knees, stretching me more than ever before.