by Koko Brown
After stopping to stretch, he jumped on one of the open treadmills. Three times a week, he alternated between HIITS and plyometric exercises to increase his endurance. Eschewing weights, so as not to become too bulky, he maintained muscle with full body workouts two days a week.
Today more than ever Devin needed the monotony the treadmill afforded him, and he prayed the forty-five minute drill would cool his ardor. Several times, he’d been so close to slamming Gemma onto her back and ripping her clothes off, he’d gone to bed and jerked off to an image of her in his head. Awaking with another raging hard-on, he’d dressed and gone straight to her room to check on her.
Devin ran his hand through his hair.
Shit! He had it bad.
“What’s new,” he muttered under his breath. He’d been in love with Gemma for so long, he couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t. His love for her was one of the reasons he’d left Birmingham without saying goodbye. If he’d stayed, he would’ve ruined both their lives. Of course, after a couple months he knew he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. With his tail between his legs, he’d tried to reconnect. Each time led to a dead end with him sitting on the phone talking with Gemma’s mother, Gladys. He’d been content with the second hand contact for years, maintaining some kind of connection had been better than nothing.
Until a year ago.
Devin increased the level on the machine to nine, jacking his pulse up to eighty percent. Heart racing, he was reminded of last winter when he’d noticed her on the sidelines of a match against cross-town rivals Kent F.C.
Seeing Gemma again after all those years apart had knocked the wind out of him. She’d looked adorable in her skinny jeans, club jersey and sexy thigh-high boots. Her effect on him was so profound, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. In turn, he’d given up two goals. Not enjoying the death threats shouted at him, he’d snapped out of it by the third quarter and defended Croydon’s goal so they could go on to win 3-2.
After asking around, he’d learned she’d been there to support Top Flight’s newest client, Royce Benedict, Kent’s bullish mid-fielder. Armed with this information, he’d hatched a plan.
Devin still couldn’t believe it’d worked. Almost too well with her becoming his roommate practically overnight. Of course, that part hadn’t been part of his design. Needing to hit something, Devin punched the level button twice, increasing the speed of the conveyor belt. He hit his stride and ran full out. If he ever crossed paths with the wanker who’d attacked Gemma, he’d knock every tooth out of his head.
Still, no matter how horrendous the circumstances, it’d worked in his favor. Gemma was under his roof. And he’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t going to capitalize on the situation. She was just too hard to resist with her cock-raising curves.
Of course, the no-fraternizing clause in her contract was a huge stumbling block, but not an obstacle. They were both adults. They could keep a secret, right?
***
After taking a shower, Gemma pulled on a pair of white jeans and a pink tank top. She was flat ironing her hair when her cell phone pinged. Without even looking at the screen, Gemma knew who it was. And all morning, she’d struggled with how much of last night’s events she would divulge Yvonne Floyd-Saito was a smart business woman, but she wasn’t a machine. She remembered her birthday, always asked about her welfare and her family’s. She’d even invited Gemma to her family gatherings including her daughter’s second birthday party.
Still, Gemma decided to keep the conversation strictly centered on business. She didn’t want the conversation to drift to personal things, risk slipping up and putting her career on ice.
“Calling to see if I survived the big, bad wolf?”
“Guilty as charged.” Yvonne chuckled. “So, is the wolf ready to be tamed?”
“Lock, stock and barrel.”
In the pregnant pause, Gemma heard the blood pounding in her ears.
“Hmmm…I don’t like that.”
Gemma smiled. He’d had the very same reaction. “He’s assured me he’s ready to straighten up his act.”
“We’ll see sooner, rather than later. I already have an assignment for you. Croydon is hosting a youth soccer camp this weekend. According to the club, Devin’s on the fence about participating. Make sure he signs on. Once you get confirmation, announce it on his social networks.”
Gemma made a few mental notes and then moved to end the conversation. “I’ll text you as soon as I get confirmation.”
Her boss wasn’t ready to hang up.
“So?”
“So what?” On edge and unable to sit still, Gemma walked from the guest bedroom into the living room.
“What do you think of him? Besides the bad boy attitude, what do you think of Devin?”
“He’s nice enough.”
“Nice…nice…that’s all you have to say?”
Gemma’s heart raced. There was no way Yvonne could’ve known about their past or her temporarily moving in with him. Needing to deflect attention from herself, Gemma turned the tables. “Why are you checking out the merchandise? Aren’t you happily married to one of the sexiest men in football?”
“The sexiest,” Yvonne countered, “Still, that doesn’t mean I don’t have a pulse. I swear the guy is a triple threat: gorgeous, charming and panty-dropping sexy. If I wasn’t married to a great guy and the mother of two, I would so hit that.”
Gemma clutched her cell. For some odd reason, she wanted to snatch her boss bald headed. Of course, it was only a passing fancy because she was so not jealous.
“What about your ‘no-fraternizing’ clause? Would you really sleep with a client?”
“Honey,” she said, her southern accent dripping with sugar. “I started my firm sleeping with my first client.” Yvonne snorted. “But in all seriousness, sleeping with our clients is in poor form. If I stripped away the clause, the firm would be a revolving door of employees and clients.”
In all honesty, Gemma was secretly happy with the obstacle created by the clause. Last night, it kept her from making the biggest mistake of her life. If the threat of losing her job hadn’t been looming over her head, she would’ve tumbled into Devin’s bed. And where would that have left her? Picking up the pieces of her heart again.
“So the clause addendum stands. We’re offering representation, not a hook-up service. Of course, I don’t have to worry about you. You’re true blue, loyal to a fault. Not only to me but also your clients.” Yvonne suddenly paused. “Well, I hate to talk business then run. Bertram Fernier is on the line and we need to talk about a tennis racquet endorsement. I swear his French accent should be bottled and sold as an aphrodisiac. Have a good one. Don’t forget to text me.”
Long after the phone disconnected, Gemma stared at the screen. Had her boss been merely joking or testing her? No matter how much she turned their conversation over, Gemma came up without a definitive conclusion. Well, except for one—keep her knickers on.
“I don’t know about you, I can eat a horse.”
Startled, Gemma whirled around. She must have looked like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar because Devin’s expression turned from happy go lucky to awkwardly tense.
“What’s up, you okay?” Hair wet with sweat, his skin still flush. He looked freshly fucked.
“Yeah,” she gushed. “I’m starving. You kept me waiting a whole hour.”
His expression softened into a goofy smile and all she wanted to do was walk over and kiss him.
“Let me take a quick shower and then we can go.”
As soon as he disappeared down the hall, Gemma slumped in relief. She was so hot and bothered right now, she kicked herself for not packing her vibrator.
Needing a diversion, she dived into Devin’s social network. With more than four million followers, he was one of the most popular footballers in the league. His profiles were going to be one of the best ways to turn around his image. By the time he inked a multimillion dollar contract, the world was
going to think Devin spent his Friday nights with the Dali Lama.
“Gemma!”
Gemma removed her glasses. Did she just imagine Devin yelling her name?
“Gemma!”
Nope. She hadn’t imagined it. Pushing away from the dining room table, she got up and walked down the hall. What could he possibly want?
“Gemma!”
She followed his voice to the master bathroom. Hands on the door, she stopped at the last minute. She couldn’t go in there! What if he was nude? In her present state of arousal, she’d probably melt like Dairylea on a macaroni and cheese casserole.
“What do you want?” she asked through the crack in the door.
“Could you grab me a towel from the linen closet?”
“Sure thing.” Gemma turned around, but circled back. “What size? Hand towel or body?”
“A big towel, please.”
Gemma rolled her eyes. Just like a man to not know the difference. She walked back through the master bedroom and into the hallway. She didn’t waste any time selecting one of the bath sheets. The sooner she completed this chore from hell, the quicker she could get her mind back on her job and not the six-foot-plus Adonis soaping up his man parts.
With her heart pounding like it was going to jump out of her chest, Gemma pushed on the bathroom door. Warm and decidedly masculine, the room was spacious. A large two-sink vanity ran along one wall, and a garden tub made for two monopolized another. Between them was a door, which probably led to the loo.
“I really appreciate it.” Devin said, gaining her attention. “The cleaning lady forgot to refill the basket.” He nodded his head toward an empty wicker basket next to the shower.
Unable to move or utter a word, Gemma froze in the middle of the room. So, this is my brain on Devin Spencer. Covered in soap, his body was perfect. He slowly soaped his chest, and Gemma struggled with settling on which body part she liked best. His broad shoulders or his slim hips? Maybe it was his bum? Or possibly his muscular thighs?
Completely unaware of her dilemma, Devin moved under the rainfall shower head and rinsed off. Water sluiced said body parts, rolled in and out of his bulges and crevices, and Gemma concluded the whole was much greater than the sum of its parts.
Gemma chomped down on her bottom lip. It was so unfair for a human being to win the genetic lottery. Where she was curvy, a weekend binge away from being plump, Devin didn’t have an ounce of fat. All hard planes and muscle, he appeared to be carved out of stone.
“Do you need anything else?” In a vain attempt at self-preservation, she ripped her gaze upward.
“I think I have it covered…unless you want to soap my back.” His grin was so wicked, Gemma cursed her job, her boss and even her university counselor for recommending she go into sports management.
“I’ll pass,” she mumbled, backing away from him. “I’ll be in the living room.” Masturbating.
***
Chuckling, Devin closed the shower door. His seduction of Gemma Clarke had commenced with flying colors. He almost felt sorry for her. The moment she’d decided to room with him, she’d never stood a chance. At the top of his game, he could be just as tenacious off the football pitch as on it. And as a world-class goalie, giving up only eighteen goals last season, she was as good as his.
Devin smiled. Being around her made him feel good. Better than good, great actually. He enjoyed women but none of them compared to Gemma. She had a killer sense of humor. She was selfless. Independent and somewhat strong-willed, she still made him feel like a man, as if she needed him, valued him. And don’t get him started on that body. Her mouthwatering curves had starred in every one of his wet dreams.
If only she weren’t so adamant about adhering to the clause in her contract. Without a doubt, he would be plowing into her right now, slamming into her warm, wet body without any mercy. Mind in the gutter, Devin ran a hand over his abs. He didn’t stop until he palmed his cock.
Applying ample pressure, he slid his hand up and down his length, his ardor increasing with each stroke. His mind focused on Gemma’s image, envisioning her soft thighs wrapping around him, her pretty pink cunt drawing him in. Overwhelmed by a barrage of sensations, he placed his free hand on the bathroom tiles, steadying himself. Almost immediately, blood rushed south, making him unbelievably hard.
Faster and faster he pumped, a lump forming in the back of his throat. Anticipation building, his ardor rising like a tightly wound coil in his gut, he squeezed harder, applying more pressure at the base and letting up at the tip. His breathing growing ragged with each thrust.
“Gemma,” he groaned, thrusting over and over again until semen spilled over his hand like warm milk.
Devin grimaced as he rinsed his hands under the warm water. He’d jacked off twice in less than twenty-four hours, the most he’d ever done since he’d turned pro. Further proof Gemma was special. She had this knack of turning him inside out, making him thirsty for her undivided attention, making him pant after her like some randy teenager with his dick in his hands. Literally.
Too bad he wouldn’t want her any other way.
Gemma retreated to the living room. Hot under the collar, she glanced at the thermostat. Only twenty degrees Celsius, and her body was sweating like she’d just labored over a hot stove. Looking for some respite, she glanced at the bank of windows, running the length of the living room. In the distance, the London Eye spun slowly. Maybe some fresh air would do the trick. Pinching the top of her tank, fanning herself like a church lady, she stepped onto the balcony. Blues skies, and an unhindered view of London’s skyline greeted her. A balmy summer breeze ruffled her hair.
Still, the change of scenery didn’t completely mitigate the heat running through her veins. Before she did something foolish and desperately needing an outlet, Gemma punched in her parents’ number. Gladys Clarke always had the uncanny ability of making her blow her top. In this case, the end really did justify the means.
Her father answered the phone on the second ring. “Hey Daddy, is Mum around?”
“Who’s this?”
Gemma’s lips twitched. “Gemma, your daughter.”
“Gladys…we have a daughter?”
“I vaguely remember we had one,” her mother said in the background.
“If you two would stay put, stop globetrotting like no tomorrow, you’d see me more often.”
Her father’s deep throated chuckle drifted through the receiver. “Better make a visit before we leave for Mont Blanc. Your mum has it in her head to climb the blasted—”
“Don’t tell the chit that or she’ll never allow us to leave,” her mother groused. They exchanged a few words somewhere in the lines of ‘we’re the parents’ or ‘has she stopped us before’ and then the phone crackled.
“What do you need?”
Annoyed, Gemma stiffened. She’d hadn’t lived under her parents’ roof since she’d moved out for university. “What makes you think I need something?”
“Children always need their mothers.”
“You want me to need you.”
“Watch your tone, girl!”
10…9…8…7…6…5…argh! Not even counting worked. Abandoning that tactic, Gemma started to pace. Well at least, the conversation was serving its purpose, getting her mind off the temptation a few steps away.
Speaking of the two hundred pound goal keeper. “What’s between you and Devin Spencer?”
For once, her mother didn’t have a ready rebuttal. Gemma refused to let her off the hook. “I hear you’ve been right chummy, going for dinner and drinks.”
“We never went for drinks,” her mother balked.
Gemma rolled her eyes. With her staunch need to always be right, her mother couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
“Why are you playing both sides of the fence, Mum?”
“I didn’t mean it to happen the way it did. He kept popping up. Constantly asking after you, even when you cut him off.”
“And your motherly instin
cts kicked in.”
“He was so miserable without you, calling me all the time, sending flowers meant for you. What was I supposed to do?”
Gemma, her heart doing somersaults, refused to lose focus. “Umm…not talk to him.”
“Then you wouldn’t have a multimillion dollar client.”
Again, forest for the trees. “Stop justifying your reasons, and no more going behind my back.” Hand on hip, Gemma stomped her foot. In less than thirty seconds, her mother brought the six year old out of her.
“No can do, kiddo.”
Gemma glanced at her cell. Had she heard correctly? “Did you just say you were not going to stop seeing him?”
“You heard me right.” Her mother’s matter-of-fact tone triggered the usual response. Mouth open in a silent scream, Gemma stomped both feet.
“Did you forget how long it took me to get over him?”
Gladys huffed. “You’re still not over him and he isn’t over you.”
A light bulb suddenly went off in Gemma’s head. “You’re matchmaking.”
“Bingo! And it’s been a long time in the making.”
“Hold on, let’s back up. I thought you didn’t like him?”
“I’ll admit we didn’t start off on the best of terms. With him sniffing around your skirt all the time. But over the years, I’ve come to know Dev, and he’s become like a son to me. So guilt tripping me or looking for an ally isn’t going to do you any good. I have my money on the two of you working things out.”
“What about my career?” Why didn’t anyone take her job seriously? Had everyone forgotten how hard she’d worked to achieve her A levels, the four years at West Midlands College and a particularly arduous stint at Wooten School of Management?
“Jobs come ten a penny, you only have one true love.”
“I just can’t deal with this brand of crazy right now.”