by Penny Ward
This whole thing hadn't been easy on either of them.
Harper felt ashamed of herself and embarrassed by the way she had jumped to the worst conclusion and let her mind build a whole scenario that didn't exist in reality.
“Beau...I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have assumed...”
“I know it looked bad. I understand that but I'm telling you; you are the only woman I want.” Beau pulled her over to the couch with him and sat Harper on his lap.
His lips met hers and she sighed against him.
It felt good to be honest with her and get all of those bottled up feelings out into the open and out of his head.
It felt even better to have her forgiveness and have her back in his arms and back in his life.
The whole time that she was gone from him made him feel empty.
“I’m falling for you too,” Harper whispered to him, curling up in his lap and resting her head on his shoulder.
She felt like she was home.
Chapter Sixteen
Beau played in the game with a clear head and an added vigor that helped him score three of the teams four goals, bringing them to the victory they needed over the Wildcats.
The post-game celebration was huge but Beau seemed distracted. He called the manager, the coach and Harper into a small room and closed the door.
Not twenty minutes later, with Harper by his side, Beau had finally come to the conclusion he was searching for.
He finally knew the answer.
Beau gathered everyone in the pressroom at the office and reporters milled around checking with their cameramen and making sure they had a good view of where the interview was going to take place.
“Are you sure about this?” Harper asked Beau, rubbing his shoulders.
His muscles were tense with nerves and stress and she hated to see him worry about anything.
Beau nodded and reached up to hold her hand. “It's time to start the meeting.”
The room grew quiet when Beau came into the crowded conference area and sat down at the head of the long table.
Harper watched him open the meeting by greeting the press and waiting for everyone to take a seat.
She stayed out of the view of the cameras, waiting for Beau to be done so they could go home.
This was a big day and she knew it was going to be hard on him.
It was bittersweet.
“I called this press conference today to make an official announcement on a few changes in the line up as well as in the coaching department. Things are going to be different, but the Warriors are going to continue to be strong and continue to be a solid team throughout the adjustment period and flourish afterwards,” Harper saw him visibly gulp as he prepared to break the news.
Beau looked over at her with a smile that reassured her that everything was going to be alright.
“Come out here and join me, Harper,” Beau pulled out a chair next to him and gestured for her to come take a seat at his side.
Harper hadn't expected to be called to go up in front of all of the reporters and the staff.
Being in front of all of these people made her a little nervous, but she smiled and sat next to Beau.
She would kill him for this little surprise later.
“I've been with the Warriors for fourteen years now. I started my career right here at this field, signed my contract here in this very room and played my first pro game outside of this building. The staff and team have been my family for so long and they will continue to be my team and hold a place in my heart.”
Murmuring broke out amongst the crowd.
“As one of the only players still active from my rookie season, I've known the days were limited that I would still be starting on the field and be able to achieve the level of skill that the Warriors demand and deserve to have. I have to face that the time has come. I'm not a rookie anymore and I've put in a good many years on this team and given them the better half of my adulthood. Today I'm announcing my retirement from the team,” Beau cleared his throat and Harper reached over to hold his hand gently on top of the table.
“I'm not leaving the team entirely though. You guys can't get rid of me that easily.”
The reporters laughed along with him, “I've been offered a part time job in the training room and coaching staff assistant. I accepted the position and the natural transition from player to coach. I'm going to miss being out on that field, but there are things in my life that are more important to me than soccer and they deserve my focus right now.”
Beau kissed Harper on the cheek.
“Dedicating my life to soccer and the game had always been my plan. Finding love and having a family wasn't written in there, but plans aren't concrete and I'm going to dedicate my life to making sure that the right people know that they are loved and that they are the most important in my life.”
Beau helped Harper up from her seat, even though she didn't need the assistance, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he spoke.
“Thank you gentlemen for your time today. We’ll talk again, I’m sure,” Beau said with a wink.
They closed the door behind them and watched for a second as the press packed up their bags and finished up notes and talked about what they had just heard.
A few were on their phones with their bosses, relaying the news to get the covers of the tabloids rolling with the breaking news of the retirement.
“Everyone is really going to miss you playing... but I don't think anyone is going to miss it as much as you,” Harper laced her fingers with his.
“I'll still kick these young kid's asses up and down the field any day of the week,” Beau said, laughing and he meant every word of it.
“And to think you're going to stop playing just as I started to actually understand and like the game,” Harper giggled.
Beau smiled as he looked at the team logo, “The greatest team ever.”
“But maybe just a memory…” Harper didn’t like bringing the situation down, but she knew how dire the books were.
“No, not a memory. We’ll still be kicking goals next year.”
“Next year? What about the debt? Have you forgotten about that? Sorry to bring the buzz down, but the team is drowning in debt.”
“What debt?”
“Like I told you before - the club is five million dollars down. That’s a lot of money Beau. It can’t keep going like that.”
Beau smiled, “I think if you recheck the books, you’ll find that the club is actually three million dollars in front.”
“I’m good with numbers, Beau…”
“But the club has received a private donation worth eight million dollars today.”
“What?”
“I figure if a club can give you everything that you ever wanted in life, and it needs you… and you can help, then there is only one thing to do.”
“Eight million?” Harper asked in surprise at Beau’s donation.
“Don’t worry Harper. I’ve been good with my money and investments. There is plenty more of that in the bank.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“I know,” Beau smiled. “Now, after all that excitement, I’m feeling horny.”
“My office?” Harper smiled.
“Nothing would turn me on more.”
Harper swayed her hips away from Beau and led him down the hallway to her office. With a cheeky smile, she closed the door.
“Is it locked?” Beau asked, already feeling hard.
Harper smiled. She opened the door slightly, leaving it a little bit ajar, “No, it’s not.”
“Oh. The media is still out there and could come looking for us. That’s a little bit dangerous, don’t you think?”
“That’s the point. Now, you need to bend me over this desk and take me hard.”
“Yes ma’am,” Beau pulled Harper into a deep kiss.
Harper’s hand ran down to met Beau’s groin and he was already about to burst out of his pants.
“This is so nau
ghty,” Beau moaned.
“So bad…” Harper whispered as she unbuckled Beau’s pants.
His pants dropped to the floor and his large cock jumped out, ready for action. To see him so ready, so wanting, only made Harper wetter.
Beau took control and bent Harper over her desk. She fell forward, pointing her wetness out for him. Beau’s hands ran under her skirt and yanked down her underwear, exposing her wetness.
His hands ran over her exposed butt, massaging it with desire.
“So naughty…” he moaned.
Then…
“Oh,” she yelped.
He pushed hard into her, forcing his stiff cock deep into her opening.
“Fuck…” she couldn’t stop the words escaping her mouth.
Beau pumped deep into her.
Hard.
Fast.
Powerful.
“Oh yes…” Harper moaned.
He gripped her hips and rammed her against the desk, driving her into the edge of the table. She reached forward and tried to grip hold of something, but her hands couldn’t find anything.
He pumped faster.
Creak.
They both froze.
The noise came from down the hallway, and Harper’s office door was still slightly ajar.
They listened to the footsteps come closer…
And closer…
“Oh no,” Harper whispered, still bent over the desk. “What if it’s the media?”
Beau held her hips tight with his hands, still with his throbbing cock deep inside her.
But the heavy footsteps turned away.
And they both breathed a deep sigh of relief.
“Good,” Harper said, her head still on the desk. “Where were…”
Before she could finish the sentence, Beau thrust deep into her again.
“Oh!”
Hard.
He was taking her like a real man should.
He was dominant.
Strong.
In control.
Primal.
He owned her.
“Yes…” he moaned. “Yes Harper!”
He gripped her tighter.
Harder.
He thrust faster.
“Yes!” he groaned. “Harper!”
He thrust deep into her one last time.
“Yes…” he sighed as he finished, falling on top of Harper.
“Oh yes,” she moaned. “I have never been taken like that before. That was something to remember.”
“Don’t worry about remembering that,” Beau smiled. “Because we’ll do this again… a lot.”
After dressing back in their clothes, they walked out of the Warrior's team building and Beau realized that this was the last time he was walking out of that building as a Warrior player.
He would be a coach for the team but it wasn't quite the same as being a player.
It hit him that he had expected to be sad about the loss and the change, but he really wasn't.
He looked over to Harper and smiled.
He couldn't believe how lucky he had gotten when she had come into his life.
She had saved his team from being destroyed, and given him a kind of feeling that he thought didn't exist in the world anymore.
He was so grateful to have her.
'There has always been so much more to life with Harper,' Beau thought lovingly and he was glad that the future was theirs.
The End
The Billionaire CEO
By
Emily Cooper
THE BILLIONAIRE CEO
Sexy, tough billionaire playboy Jackson Windsor was the last person I expected to spend a night with...
When I arrived at his remote mansion to interview him for my paper, a brutal storm struck. Next thing I knew, we were pressed together, spending a sexually tense night together in the isolated location. I wasn't supposed to fall for the smooth bastard, especially when I knew his past in so much detail.
After a lustful, earth-shaking, toe-curling night of passion, he opened up and exposed his darkest secrets…
If I write an article based on what he told me, I can forget about tonight ever happening again. But all good things must come to an end, right?
Except our ending was one I didn't see coming…
So today is the day.
As I step through the revolving doors of the dreary grey building, I have a clear purpose in mind.
Today is the day.
For the last four years I’ve worked as a journalist for Leading Edge Press, a popular printed and online news publication that is currently in its tenth year of operation.
As I walk through the building, I see a thriving workplace filled with diverse furnishings and enthusiastic employees. The inside of this building is a stark contrast to the outside.
From its perky red retro chairs, to its stark white tables, to its alien-like designed computer pods, and lime green sofas - where all news writers are encouraged to sit and find their “inner inspiration” - the whole floor screams a modern twist on the 60s era. It’s like Andy Warhol walked in and went crazy – bright colors and stenciled canvases catching your eye from almost every viewpoint.
It’s a mecca for artsy types, and that’s a large part of the reason why I love my job so much.
As a fine art graduate from NYU my two passions meld here, words meeting images in epic utilitarianism.
Leading Edge Press has published hundreds of my stories, from my humbler beginnings as the resident ‘How To’ girl, followed by a stint of reporting on Manhattan’s most trendy hotspots, and now my most recent promotion as a more serious journalist.
My career highlights have been on the back of tough investigative journalism into how billionaire bachelor Jackson Windsor has been destroying lives through his African diamond mines. I was up to my third hard-hitting article on the handsome man when he completely disappeared off the map.
After the success of my brutal articles, I have had my pick of hard-hitting stories - whether it’s highlighting political scandals, detailing the latest breakthroughs in medicine and science, or investigating controversial foreign affairs.
That is until Hank McAllister tips the scales yet again. He often rips my feature articles into shreds and demands they be rewritten with less “emotional attachment.”
But today is the day.
Hank is a product of the “baby boomer” generation. He doesn’t believe in climate change, gay marriage, feminism or environmental groups.
“Radical hippy, left winged jargon” he calls all of it. “Turning the world into even more of a backward place than it already was to begin with!”
And even though he’s been a news editor for twenty odd years, he still doesn’t understand the evolution of journalism over that time, a movement that no longer shies away from uncovering the darker facts, no matter how shocking they might be.
If he wants a story on Jackson Windsor’s illegal diamond mining in Zimbabwe with forced labor and torture camps, then he should be prepared for the gritty facts, not an innocuously polished article with a few comments from the heads of mining companies swearing that nothing criminal ever happens under their jurisdiction.
After all, where’s the truth and journalism in that?
I don’t know why Hank chose to be the publishing supervisor here.
He’s nothing like the rest of us writers, and he hates the kind of stories we churn out to our readers. But he’s a brilliant editor; I need to credit him with that much.
Even if you write the crappiest and most unprintable story, once he’s finished with it and blasted you about all the things you need to change, it comes out as good as gold. When he’s not being an arrogant son of a bitch, he’s almost respectable.
I stroll into Hank’s office with my head held high, steady breaths and rehearsed speech, but as soon as I see his shiny bald head look up at me all my confidence just melts away.
Today has to be the day…
I have decided today i
s when I finally tell my prick boss of an editor to stick his chauvinism where the sun doesn’t shine.
“Ah, Claire!” he bellows as I walk in. “Sit! I have a new assignment for you. Scrap that last story you did. This is better!”
“What? But I was up all night finishing it,” I protest, sinking down into the chair opposite him. I’d stayed up until three a.m. editing the final draft of my feature article on the torture camps in the Middle East.
Surely he’s not suggesting I get rid of it completely?
“Tough. I want a different angle now,” he huffs. “Besides, there’s something big in it for you. And by big, I mean dollar signs, baby!”
Oh man, here we go.
Hank has that gleam in his eye, the one he gets when he’s on the verge of catching a big fish. I hate it when he calls me ‘baby’ too, like I’m a fine piece of meat that he’s been admiring.
I’m twenty-six years old!
“Hank, I told you to stop calling me that,” I say sternly, narrowing my eyes on him. “It’s not appropri—”
“Oh cool your jets!” he interrupts, refusing to look me in the eye. “Why do you have to be so uptight all the time? Good thing you’re one of my best writers, Claire.” He stops to take a breath, shuffling some papers in front of him. “Anyway, back to the issue at hand. I need you to interview Jackson Windsor.”
He states it matter-of-factly, like it’s not even up for discussion.
“Wait, hold up. You want me to interview him?” I ask, screwing my face up at him like he’s just made some crude joke.
“Well, unless you know of anyone else worth interviewing…of course I want you to interview him!”
“But he’s a famous recluse. He has disappeared off the face of the earth,” I laugh. “No one gets to interview him. In fact, no one’s heard anything about him for like twelve months.”
Hank grins at me keenly. “Exactly. Hence why this is our cash cow, baby!”