Perfect Game

by Collette West

  PERFECT GAME

  COLLETTE WEST

  Copyright © 2015 Collette West

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States of America.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. They are not to be misconstrued as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  Cover designer: Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

  Editor: Allison Williams

  Proofreader: Mickey Reed

  Dedication

  To women able to tame the player inside the jock.

  Chapter One

  Scott

  "Oh my God, what time is it?"

  "I dunno, darlin'," I mumble. "Go back to sleep."

  "I'm serious, Scott. Wake up! We overslept, which means you gotta get out of my hotel room right now!"

  She jerks away from me and I immediately miss the warmth of her naked body stretched across mine.

  I smile up at her. "Then why'd you let me in if you had no plans on finishing what you started?"

  "Really?" she huffs, tucking the sheet beneath her arms and glaring at me.

  Shit. She wants me to leave, and I was kind of hoping we could fool around some more now that we're up.

  "What?" I shrug, trying not to let my smile falter. After the friggin' amazing night we had together, I thought Carrie McKenzie would never want to leave this bed. I know I sure don't.

  "Sorry, Harper, but I don't do morning-after photo sessions, if that's why you're still here."

  "Ouch. Talk about kicking a guy where it counts, McKenzie. Damn, I never pegged you for a ballbuster." I wince, shielding my eyes with the back of my arm like I'm blocking out the sun and not her stinging reminder of how the tabloids have been ripping me apart lately.

  These last few weeks have been hell after a hacker tapped into my phone and released an entire album of my most intimate selfies, featuring over a dozen naked women. And not just any naked women, but some of the biggest drama queens on the planet.

  "So tell me, Scott. What did your long list of celebrity girlfriends think when their naughty bits ended up splashed all over the Internet?"

  I don't need to look. I can feel the glare of her hazel eyes burning through me. So I deflect her anger the only way I know how—with a cocky smirk and a smart remark. "You know, you're kinda cute when you're jealous, Care Bear."

  "I'm not jealous. And quit calling me Care Bear."

  And that's when I know I have her. I can hear it in her voice. She's afraid she gave it up to the wrong guy, thinking that I'm as bad as they come. But I had a lot of fun with her last night and I want her to know she's the best lay I've had since all of this happened—make that the only lay I've had since all of this happened. It hasn't been easy dealing with everyone's snide comments on the size, color, shape, and circumcised status of my dick. To be honest, I wasn't sure I'd be able to get it up after having the world examine every inch of what I have to offer, but thankfully, Carrie McKenzie proved I've still got it—even if she made me hand her my phone before she let me enter her hotel room. She was delightfully buzzed and sexy as hell, so why is she covering herself up when I've already explored that luscious body of hers?

  I tug at the sheet. "You have nothing to feel insecure about. It's a thing of beauty for a man to have a real woman to hold on to. All the models and actresses I've been with are so friggin' thin that I swear their chests are flatter than mine. You, on the other hand, have a slammin' body. I can't keep my hands off you, baby. Your curves drive me crazy."

  "Damn right they do." Her mouth turns up a little when I run my thumb up her shoulder and across the tan line that, last night, I naughtily followed all the way down with my tongue.

  "So, darlin', why didn't we do this a whole lot sooner?"

  Yeah, we flirted with each other for weeks in spring training, but she'd always put me in my place. I could tell that it was only because the other guys were around and she was new on the job. She didn't want to get hit on by every horny bastard on the Kings, but I knew she was feeling me. I'd look up and find her eyes on me whenever I adjusted my cup out on the field. I'd come up beside her in the locker room with nothing more than a towel slung around my waist just to watch her lips part and see that gorgeous shade of pink enter her cheeks.

  But what I loved the most was watching her nipples harden every time I let my gaze linger on those spectacular breasts of hers—the ones I couldn't wait to get my hands, lips, and tongue on. God, I'd wanted her from the first moment I saw her, and yeah, I was long overdue and probably anything in a skirt would've gotten me off, but last night, Carrie got me hard for her over and over again. She was better than I ever could've imagined.

  But now, she pulls the sheet up higher, swatting my hand away. "Because, Scott, even though I'm attracted to you, I'm not a big fan of your 'one and done' mentality, okay?"

  "Sorry, sweetheart, but you're not gonna change me. It's no secret that I'm a love-'em-and-leave-'em kinda guy. It's just how I operate."

  "Aren't I the lucky one?" she mutters.

  But that's where she's wrong. The women I sleep with aren't the type who tend to stick around—they're more concerned with advancing their careers and having their name linked with mine in the press. And after my notorious photo leak, no decent girl will ever want something serious with me. I'll keep on attracting the kind of women who are only after me for the sex, the money, or the fame. And it sucks because I think I really like this girl, but there's no way I'm letting her in on that little secret if she wants me to bail. I'll play it cool. Put up a front. But not before I call her out first.

  I sit up in bed, taking the sheet with me. Carrie can no longer hide the swell of her breasts, and I hungrily rake my eyes over her body.

  "Then why'd you cave after blowing me off for so long? You played hard to get all during spring training. Then we come to Panama for this meaningless exhibition game before the season starts and, suddenly, you can't get enough of me. What gives?"

  "Let's see. Maybe because you doused me with Gatorade last night?"

  It's a Kings tradition—one that I started. Whenever one of us has a game-winning hit, I haul the Gatorade bucket out of the dugout and dump it over the head of the player who came through in the clutch. Last night, when our shortstop, Brooks Davison, blasted a home run over the left field wall, I was ready to celebrate our victory over the Panamanian national team, even if I had to wait a half inning in order to do it. Yeah, it was a game that meant nothing in the standings, but it was so worth it—because my plan worked. It got Carrie out of her clothes and into bed with me.

  "Ha! That scream you let out was priceless." I chuckle and she shoots me a dirty look. "Carrie, you were standing so close to Brooksey while you were interviewing him that I was abl
e to get the two of you in one shot." I pump my fist in the air. "Direct hit."

  "Yeah, keep patting yourself on the back for that one, Harper. I still feel all sticky thanks to you."

  I want to laugh at that so badly, but I know she won't like it. Damn right, I made her sticky…in all the right places. I enjoyed licking that sugary sweetness off her body. It made everything that went on between us that much hotter.

  "I've been trying to give you a Gatorade bath for weeks now, but you're too damn fast." I guide my fingers back over her collarbone. "You always manage to get away from me—just in the nick of time."

  "Can you blame me for trying to stay away from you?" She falls back against her pillow, pursing her lips, and I hope she doesn't regret sleeping with me.

  The sparks have been flying between us for weeks, and boy, did our bodies ignite once we got between the sheets. She can deny it all she likes, but with the way she was all over me, I know she wanted me just as much as I wanted her. She thoroughly enjoyed my body. Her hands seemed to be everywhere at once—running down my back, skimming my ass, gripping the insides of my thighs. It was almost more than I could bear, feeling her touch me like that, but it got even hotter when she began pleasuring me with her mouth, nibbling my neck, licking my abs, circling my nipples with her tongue. God, the things she did drove me insane.

  So it's no wonder I can't stop touching her. My hand finds its way down to her breast, cupping it, loving how it fills my entire palm.

  "But I finally wore you down, didn't I?"

  "Oh sure. It was a blast riding back on the team bus without a bra, in the child-size T-shirt my cranky producer managed to find for me."

  "Hey, I was a gentleman. I lent you my jacket." I swirl my thumb around her nipple, showing her how much I appreciate her feminine attributes.

  She starts to squirm under my expert touch. "Which you wouldn't let me return to you. Oh, no, you made sure…I followed you…into the hotel bar." She pants, fighting the rampant desire I'm stirring within her using just my fingers.

  "I wasn't letting you get away that easily. You really thought you were goin' up to your room without me?" I laugh, bending down and taking her nipple into my mouth.

  "You made sure of that…after the second round of tequila." She grabs a fistful of my sandy-brown hair, pulling my face away from her glorious rack.

  "Carrie, c'mon. Say what you want, but I've caught you staring at me more times than I can count. You've been checking me out nonstop ever since your first day on the job." I groan, annoyed that she interrupted what I was doing to her.

  "Who wasn't after seeing you in those photos? And I do mean all of you." She reaches under the sheet, clamping her fingers around my rock-hard shaft.

  I grit my teeth. She looked at the photos. Sure, why wouldn't she? By the way she's holding my erect dick in her hand, I think I lived up to the advance billing and then some. There's no doubt by the way I made her scream last night that I'm man enough to please her.

  "So—" I gasp, closing my eyes as she increases the pressure of her hand, loving how she likes to take control. "You were…curious?" I sputter, getting more and more aroused by the thought of her touching herself while she was looking at images of my naked body. The foreplay between us began long before we crawled into bed together last night.

  "What do you want me to say? That I didn't have the most mind-blowing sex of my life? You're amazing in the sack, Harper. But you already knew that. You certainly don't need me to tell you." She runs her fingers down my length until I feel her thumb glide over the tip.

  "So, I was the best you've ever had, huh?" I let out an agonized grunt when I feel myself involuntarily twitch in her hand and watch a sultry smile spread across her face.

  She releases her grip on me before playfully shoving me onto my back. "Don't push it."

  "Oh, baby, c'mere. Let me give you some more of that sweet lovin'." I reach for her, but she pulls away.

  "Why? So you can act like it never happened the minute you walk out the door?"

  "Don't be like that."

  "Like what? Honest? Realistic?" She slides over, and I'm afraid she's going to get out of bed, but instead, she bends her head, fluffing out her honey-blond hair, her sexy bedhead look making my dick throb even more.

  So she does want to continue this… But I gotta give her my standard line and get her to back off. We'll have one more sex-crazed romp in this bed together and then I gotta shut it down. Yeah, I'd love to see where this could possibly go, but I'm probably just some novelty to her anyway. Something she can tell her friends about—that she banged the "cock seen 'round the world." If we keep seeing each other, she'll get sick of being the punch line to the joke soon enough. I have a feeling being around Scott "Cyberdick" Harper would get old real fast for a self-respecting chick like Carrie McKenzie. She's so hot. She can get any guy she wants without having to put up with all of my shit.

  "C'mon, Carrie. It's for the best. You don't wanna be my girlfriend. I'm too much to handle."

  "Really? I think it's more like you're scared shitless to even try."

  I am, but only because I have her best interest at heart. She's too nice a girl to be saddled with my damaged reputation. She needs to move on and forget all about me. I have to make her see that I'm no good for her. I was weak. Last night, I gave in to my desire to have her, but she shouldn't have to pay the price for it.

  "I mean, what's the point? I'll only screw it up. You want honesty? That's me being honest." I raise my arms above my head, showing off my guns for her, remembering how she clung to them last night when I pounded myself into her, and made her cry out for more. "You knew the kinda guy I was when you invited me up here. I've been up front with you about who I am. You knew this was only gonna be a one-time thing."

  All she wants to do is talk, and I've never talked so much in bed in my entire life. It's such a waste of time when we could be fucking each other senseless. If this is gonna be the last time I get to be inside her, then I want to enjoy it.

  "So, we're supposed to pretend like nothing happened? How is that even possible, Scott? We're going to be around each other a hell of a lot after this. I'm only in the first year of a five-year deal with the TV network the Kings just so happen to own."

  "Relax. Maybe I'll get traded," I joke to cut the tension, but all I see is panic flash through her eyes at the thought of me leaving the team—like she might actually care about me or something.

  But she quickly composes herself. "With the hot bat you've been swinging? I don't think so. But you know it's going to be extremely awkward being around each other from now on, and if it shows on camera, I could end up getting fired."

  So she's worried about her job, then, and not me. Damn it. I gotta get a grip. I can't be with this girl—not after this—so I gotta stop looking for excuses to hold on to her.

  "I seriously doubt that, darlin'. Your physical attributes make you a valuable asset. Your boobs alone should have their own Twitter account." I lower my head to her chest once again.

  "Gee, thanks. It feels so good hearing that the New York Kings hired me for my body and not my brain."

  I freeze, my stubble grazing her delicate skin.

  Shit. Did I just fuck this up by offending her? I meant it as a compliment.

  "Carrie, calm down. You've got nothing to worry about. You're a professional. I'm a professional. Nobody's gonna find out. You have my word."

  My eyes find hers. I'm desperate to reassure her because she really is awesome at what she does. She's the best clubhouse reporter we've ever had.

  "Yeah, right. I'm around you guys all the time, hearing the sort of stuff I wish I could unhear, like who cheated on his girlfriend the night before or who scored with the fan in the front row." She reclines back on her pillow and gazes forlornly up at the ceiling.

  I need to ease her fears. She's not gonna have to deal with any fallout from this. I won't see her name dragged through the mud. She's not like the usual fame whores I'm with. She's e
ntitled to her privacy.

  That's why I'm ending it…now.

  Let's face it. She probably has zero intention of bragging about our night together. Truth be told, she'd most likely be mortified to have people find out that she slept with me. Man, I wish I hadn't taken those stupid photos with those posers, because now, they're screwing up what I could possibly have with the girl I really do want.

  I shift onto my elbow, stroking her arm. "Carrie, I promise. My lips are sealed."

  "Until it just so happens to slip out when you want to one-up one of the guys and you can't resist shooting your mouth off about what we did."

  "I won't do that. Trust me. I've learned my lesson—the hard way." I straddle her body, letting her feel my hard-on between her legs.

  She can't think this was a mistake. I won't let her. Not when she feels this fuckin' good.

  "You're such a moron." She giggles, relaxing against me, and spreading her legs farther apart, giving me access to her hot, wet center.

  "And you're beautiful." I softly kiss her lips.

  "Go on," she whispers against my mouth.

  "And sexy." I kiss her again, this time biting her lower lip before sliding my tongue into her mouth, and she responds passionately, kissing me back long and hard.

  "And…?" she asks provocatively, raising an eyebrow and making my heart thud in my chest.

  "Downright gorgeous," I say, stating the obvious. She's not the most famous woman I've ever been with, but it doesn't matter. My dick comes alive just listening to her deep, sultry voice.

  She cries out as I thrust into her without warning, feeling just how ready she is for me. "Jesus, Harper. Why do you have to be so irresistible?"

  "Because right now, you want this just as much as I do. So let's stop questioning this insane chemistry we got goin' on and just enjoy it." I pull her against me as she wraps her legs around my waist, which changes her position and draws me even deeper inside her.

  "Scott, how can you say that you don't want to do this again?" She looks up at me through half-lidded eyes while I grind my hips against hers, tossing her ankles over my shoulders, letting her heels dig into my back.