Offense & Defense: A MMF Sports Romance

by Alexis Angel

  Do I want that?

  The sex was amazing … the best I've ever had—his lips on my most intimate areas and me being so at ease with it, but Connor is my client—one of the most important clients at Gage Price, and I can't mix business with pleasure. It's just not a good idea.

  "Oh, I see him," Alicia jumps up excitedly. "It's Derek. Excuse me for a moment ladies. I'll be right back."

  Once Alicia walks off, Christine gives me a gentle nudge.

  "What's wrong?" she asks me. "Your mind seems like it's on another planet. Is everything okay? Alicia and I have been chatting away and you're sitting here and cold and quiet as an ice cube."

  "Sorry, I'm fine," I say, shrugging her off.

  "Give me a break," Christine says. "I've know you for too long Natalie—we go way back. I know when you've got things on your mind."

  "Okay, okay … you're right," I confess. "It's Connor."

  "Prince D'Avington? What about him? Wait—you don't mean to tell me that you and he—"

  I cut her off. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying."

  "Oh my God!” she exclaims in a loud whisper. “Are you fucking serious?! He's insanely hot; was it good? Tell me it was amazing!"

  "What is this, a game of 20 questions?" I laugh.

  "It was good,” I say after a pause a sip of my Cosmo. “No, not good … amazing. And yes, he's hot."

  "Good for you girl," Christine says, taking a sip of her martini.

  "No, that's the problem. It's literally tearing me up inside. On the one had, he's strong, and charming, and insanely good looking, but on the other hand, I don't want to risk mixing business with pleasure. You know as well a I do—that never ends well. And I'll be up for a promotion at Gage Price soon; I don't want to do anything that's going to jeopardize that."

  "You're overthinking this," Christine says. "It's fine. As far as I'm concerned, if you're going to work your ass off for him and the firm, you can have a little fun too."

  See? I told you. That's typical Christine advice: work hard play hard.

  "Ugh, I'm just so torn," I say. "He's a client, and what we—I—did was totally unprofessional. But I literally can't get him out of my mind. There are images that I can't get off repeat."

  "That good, huh?"

  "He makes me feel like I'm the most beautiful woman on the planet."

  "They all do, when they're trying to sleep with you," Christine says.

  "But this felt so … authentic, and don't roll your eyes; I know his reputation. I'm not the first women he's ever seduces in a shower."

  "That's what they all say."

  "I mean it though!" I insist. "What we shared felt so real."

  "So, what are you gonna do?"

  "I don't know. I don't think I can allow anything like that to happen again. But he was so hot … you have no idea, and he kind of … made me."

  Christine raises her eyebrows. I can practically see alarm bells going off in her brain.

  "Well, no one should make you do anything," she says. "You have to be comfortable with everything."

  "I know," I say. "I'm resolving right now—and you're my witness—to not let things progress any further with Connor."

  "Pinky promise?" Christine asks, sticking out her pinky finger. We lock fingers and I promise her that I'll never do anything that I'm not 100% comfortable with.

  But as soon as I agree, I start second guessing myself. Just thinking about him makes me wet.

  Is it true?

  Can I really resist Connor?

  114

  Connor

  It’s 12:15 when Natalie strolls through the dining room of Rue57, a French Bistro just a few blocks away from Central Park. I’ve never been here before, but when she suggested this place for our lunch meeting I agreed. It’s cozy and, even though it’s not an exclusive restaurant, it has a certain charm to it.

  “Right on time,” I tell her with a smile, getting up from my seat and pulling her chair so that she can sit. While I do it, my eyes roam up and down her body, the tight fitting black dress she’s wearing making it almost impossible to look away from her.

  “Wow, you do have manners, after all,” she laughs, the sound of her voice making my skin prickle; it sounds just like clear water on a sunny day. Fuck, I need to get myself together. I don’t know what it is about her, but just being around her is enough to make my heart work overtime.

  “You actually sound surprised, Natalie. I’m a perfect gentlemen, in case you haven’t heard,” I say as I go around the table and sit back down on my seat.

  “No, that’s not what I’ve heard,” she responds politely, looking into my eyes with that innocent smile of hers. Jesus fucking Christ, I could jump over this table just to kiss those perfect lips.

  “Then you’re listening to the wrong sources.”

  “Right, I should just listen to you, uh?”

  “See? You get it, love,” I grin at her, feeling the chemistry between us. There’s something here, I can fucking feel it. It’s like when your hair stands up because of an electric current—you can’t quite see it, but you know it’s there.

  We settle on sushi for lunch, even though this is a French brasserie, they have a sushi bar, and we order one large plate for the two of us. When it comes to the table it’s overflowing with cooked shrimp, sashimi, salmon rolls and a variety of other things I can’t really be fucking bothered to name right now. I prefer to eat things than name them, and yeah, the same goes for the women I fuck: most times I just fuck them and have no idea what their names are. “So,” Natalie starts, maneuvering two chopsticks and taking a thin slice of salmon into her mouth. “I have to ask. How do all these disasters always happen around you?”

  “Disasters? What do you mean by disasters?”

  “By disasters I mean showing up drunk to interviews on international cable networks, falling asleep during the State of the Union speech, and… Well, do I need to go on?”

  “Ah, I see,” I say, placing one hand under my chin and looking into her eyes. I’m going to play it straight with you: somewhere along the way, I’ve stopped hearing the words coming out of her mouth. I’m looking at her lips move, remembering how it felt to have them wrapped around my cock… Fuck, just thinking of that is making me fucking hard.

  “Hey, are you listening to me?” she asks, frowning.

  “Uh-uh,” I nod, grinning. I haven’t listened to a word she's said in the past five minutes.

  “Connor, this is serious. Someone’s not doing their job; your whole PR strategy is a complete disaster. You have to clean up your image after all these stunts of yours.”

  “You didn’t seen to mind my stunts last Sunday…” I whisper, leaning into her and giving her my best smile. No girl can resist my Royal smile. Except, of course, Natalie isn’t quite like other girls.

  “I’m serious, Connor. You have to do something about this or --”

  “Look, Natalie, I know. St. Albans is going through a crisis with the Constitutionalists, and the whole royal family is in danger right now. I thought it would blow over, but it hasn't. If they get what they want, the monarchy will be finished before anyone can say 'referendum.'” Sigh. Time to get down to fucking business, then. “This is exactly why I hired Gage Price. I know that I’ve been doing a poor job at representing the D’Avingtons, and I need to fix this whole mess so that I don’t pull the royal family into a deeper mess.”

  “We’ll help you,” she starts, but then corrects herself. “I’ll help you.”

  “You will,” I tell her, not a trace of playfulness in my voice. She wanted to talk business, so let’s talk business. “I’m spending a fortune with Gage Price, so it’s not like you have any other option but work with me on this.”

  “I know.” She purses her lips and looks down at her chopsticks, deep in thought. “But we have to… keep this a strictly professional relationship. What happened before … it can’t happen again.”

  “You’re just scared of what might happen… You’re scared of
the person you think I am, and you’re scared of what you might feel.” She bites down on her lip, but then remembers herself and looks up at me with a serious expression.

  “I’m not scared,” she tells me pointedly, “and you have to trust me.”

  “I will. But you’ll have to trust me as well; you’ll have to trust that I’m not what the fucking tabloids say I am. I’m much more than what YouTube videos show.”

  “I know that, Connor…” she whispers and, even though I believe her, I can’t help but throw her a curveball.

  “Then why don’t you prove it? I’m trusting you with my family’s future, after all.”

  “But… how? How am I going prove it?” Now that’s the right fucking question. And, true to myself, I have a fucking good answer.

  “Here’s how,” I reach into my coat and take a small wrapped package from the large pocket on the inside. I give it to her and, hesitantly, she accepts it. “You know… If you really didn’t think there’s something here, between the two of us, you would have scheduled the last meeting at the office… You wouldn’t have come to my apartment. But you did, Natalie. You did.” I reach for her hand and place mine on top of hers. “Your heart wants one thing, your brain wants another. You want some proof? Look at the way you dressed up for tonight… I mean, fuck.”

  She doesn’t say a thing, just looks into my eyes and soaks in my words. I can tell that she’s thinking over what I just said, perhaps trying to find an easy way out. Except there’s none.

  “You don’t need to say anything, Natalie. I get it. I’m not exactly Prince Charming. I’m a drunk, an asshole, and the last man any respectable parent in the world would like to see their daughter with. But I can be more than that. I am more than that. And, if you want to leave the door open for, well, something more…. Just put this on,” I point at the box in her hand, “and go to work tomorrow. I’ll know.”

  “What is it?” Her worried eyes go from me to the box, and I can’t tell she’s dying to know what’s on the inside.

  “You’ll find out soon enough. Just trust me,” I tell her, a grin on my lips. Oh, she has no idea what I have in store for her.

  No fucking idea.

  115

  Natalie

  Rise and shine, my alarm clock yells at me while it beeps incessantly. Still with my eyes closed, I roll to the side and crush the palm of my hand over the snooze button. Just five more minutes, I think with a smile, the memories of last night bubbling up to my mind. Yes, I said last night; after we were finished with lunch, our “meeting” stretched into a stroll through Central Park, and then we ended up having a few drinks at the 230 Fifth, a rooftop bar with an amazing view of the Empire State Building.

  You know, Connor’s right; he’s more than what the media says he is. He’s funny, smart and charming… And he’s gentle and tender as well. Sure, he likes to drop his fuck-bombs every thirty seconds or so, but that’s just for show. I guess that growing up as a Royal woke up that rebellious side of his, hence all the cursing, the crazy antics, and the tattoos.

  When we grabbed a cab, it was already 9 pm, the long shadows of the NY skyscrapers looming over us. With three margaritas in my bloodstream, I couldn’t help but squeeze his hand in mine as he reached for me. From there, it took just a few seconds for us to lean into each other and kiss. We made out during the short cab ride, and I even slid my hand up his leg, my fingers touching his hard cock.

  Thankfully, the cab stopped before things could progress any further; I threw one last smile at Connor and, with that, ran out of the car and into my apartment, leaving him behind. I dodged a bullet there, didn’t I? What, don’t tell me that I should've invited him in? You know very well that I can’t do that. We have to maintain a strictly professional relationship… Yeah, I know we made out last night, but that was a… bump in the road, I guess.

  Still smiling, I sit up on the bed and reach for my phone. I unlock it and, like I always do every morning, check my email before my feet even touch the floor. There are already ten new emails in my inbox, but the one that grabs my attention immediately is the one from my boss, Gage Price’s head honcho. My heart tightens up a little bit - he usually doesn’t email anyone directly unless there’s trouble, and I press my finger over his email.

  Dear Natalie, it reads, I’m extremely pleased with your work as of late. You have proved yourself essential in pointing specific areas of improvement to Gage Price's PR strategy concerning the St. Alban’s Prince, Connor D’Avington. I’m looking forward to your presentation. Keep up the good work!

  I smile like a fool at the screen; despite working harder than almost anyone at the office, it’s not every day that I receive emails like this one. And to get one straight from the boss himself…! Now this is how you start your day off on the right foot!

  I get up from the bed, feeling as cheery as a kid on Christmas’ Eve, and go straight for the bathroom. I take a long shower and then get dressed, putting on a formal skirt and a white shirt.

  Today’s the day I’m going to deliver my presentation concerning the “Connor makeover plan,” a 90-day strategy to change his image from drunk womanizer into a respectable member of the D’Avington Royal Family, and I want it to be perfect. I’ve prepared as well as I can, and I look good and professional. You’re going to rock, Natalie, I tell myself as I take one deep breath and look one last time at my reflection in the mirror.

  I grab my laptop and start walking toward the room when my eyes find a small wrapped box sitting on my bed stand. Connor’s gift! I completely forgot about it when I got home yesterday… After making out with him during the cab ride home, I was on Cloud Nine. There’s something in Connor that I’ve never found in any other man—sure, he makes me as horny as I’ve ever been, but it’s more than that. Exactly what it is, I don’t know. How can someone so different from me affect me this much?

  Well, let’s see what’s in the box.

  I walk toward the bed stand, grab the box and start to unwrap it. There’s a picture of a cylindrical white something on the cardboard, and there’s also the picture of a remote. “MAX PLEASURE,” it reads in bold pink letters. Oh, God, I can’t believe this. He’s out of his mind!

  My fingers are trembling as I open the package and pick up a small bullet vibrator. I turn the box around as I look for the remote, but it’s nowhere to be found. Connor probably kept it to himself. Oh, he’s insane, no way in hell am I going to wear this thing! To top it all off, today’s a big day for me at the office. Can you imagine how horrible it’ll be if he decides to turn this thing on while I’m delivering my presentation? No, no way I’m going to let that happen.

  I place the box and the bullet vibrator down on the bed stand and, in this exact moment, my cellphone vibrates. I pick it up, and there’s a new email in my inbox—one from Connor. As if he could read my mind, his email is a simple one:

  Let’s see how much you trust me.

  I look from my phone to the vibrator on my bed stand, and then back to my phone.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this, I think to myself as I pick the bullet up and, breathing deeply, hike my skirt up to my waist. I push my thong to the side and, pursing my lips, I manage to slide it inside of my pussy.

  After straightening my skirt again I take a few steps around the room, trying to get a feel for how it’s like to walk around with something like that jammed inside of me; to my surprise, it’s not uncomfortable at all. Still, I can’t believe that I’m allowing Connor to drag me into this.

  I must be out of my mind.

  116

  Connor

  I swear to fucking God it looks like Natalie is shaking as she walks into the conference room.

  I know I'm laughing inside, love. Trust me, it's really hard to keep a straight fucking face knowing what I know and what must be going through that girl's head right now.

  I'm sitting there in the conference room of the Gage Price headquarters in Midtown and let me tell you, if I didn't have this little remote control fo
r the bullet to give me something to look forward to, I'd probably be tearing my hair out by now.

  But the thought of future fun is enough to get me to focus on the fucking present, and say and do the things that these suits would expect from the royal representative from St. Albans.

  I've sat through three hours of presentations already with someone from the Royal Press Officer and if it hadn't been for the fact that Natalie's meeting is at the end to wrap up the day, then I would have probably fallen asleep by now.

  Not that this shit is boring. I mean, I absolutely understand the fact that the Royal Family needs to be represented properly at the United Nations. I also understand that back home the anti-Royalists would love nothing more than to use me as their scapegoat and poster child for everything that's wrong with the monarchy. So if sitting through three fucking hours of boring meetings lets me help Silas and my family fight back the Constitutionalists, then I can at least do that.

  Besides, watching her gorgeous eyes look at me is exhilarating. Watching her gulp in nervous anticipation just gets my cock twitchy.

  Nadia Scow, from the Royal Press Office turns to me.

  "This is Natalie Thomson, Your Highness," she says to me in full view and hearing of Natalie. "Natalie manages the account for us and is here to deliver a final status update."

  So, let me just start and say that I find Nadia the press officer to be a bit of an overzealous snob. She's got the bitchiness down fucking pat. And if she's not looking down at me, she's looking down at every woman that I decide to talk to.

  I can tell that she's not going to like Natalie.

  Not when Natalie's got that curvy as fuck body that she's using to walk over to the lectern. Not when Natalie's got that gorgeous fucking smile that she uses to greet her manager, George Brown, who is sitting across from us.