Then he takes a bottle of lotion and squeezes it onto his hands.
He starts with my feet, rubbing inch by inch up my legs.
“I’m going to fall asleep,” I say, my voice muffled by the sheets.
“Oh really?”
Blake slips his hand between my legs and rubs my thigh.
“You like this?” he asks.
“Yes,” I can barely even breathe the word.
“Good,” he says to me. He rubs his fingers over my sensitive nub and I shake from the pleasure. “Still good?”
“Y-yes,” I stammer.
His right hand massages my ass while his left hand gets to work between my legs. I’m instantly wet for him as he touches me in all the right places.
Then he slips a finger inside of me. Then a second finger. His thumb is working my nub while he slides his fingers in and out of my hot wetness.
I groan and pull a pillow to my face so I can scream into it without anyone hearing me.
I see stars as I come, Blake still working his magic with every single touch.
Knock knock knock.
“Ah!” I gasp in surprise. I stand upright, my legs shaking. Blake is still entirely naked and hard for me. “Get in the closet!” I hiss.
He laughs and follows my instructions.
I grab a bathrobe.
Knock knock knock.
“Just…a…second!” I say, still trembling from the aftermath of my orgasm.
I open the door without checking to see who it is.
It’s one of the clerks from downstairs. He’s pushing a rolling cart piled high with wood logs.
“Ms. Sanders, I’m sorry it took me so long to get up here. I have firewood - oh. You already have one going.”
“I had leftovers from earlier,” I lie quickly.
He looks perplexed.
“Well, please accept both of these bundles of wood.”
“When is the power back on?” I ask.
“Might not be for another six or so hours,” he says. “Probably around ten o’clock in the morning.”
“Great, thanks,” I reply, shutting the door. “You can come out now.”
Blake hops out of the closet wearing a cocky grin. He runs a hand under my bathrobe and up to my left breast.
“I think we can still have a lot of fun with hands only for another six hours.” He bends down to my ear and whispers. “I like being your dirty little secret.”
My body responds positively to this.
But the word secret is triggering my guilt horribly.
Blake doesn’t know that he’s Hazel’s dad.
But this is just for fun, right?
No harm in fun.
I tell myself that the rest of the night but I never quite believe it.
CHAPTER THIRTY
BLAKE
It’s eight o’clock in the morning when we finally stop touching each other.
Not slipping inside of her with my hardness is the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do, but alternating hands and mouth-only all night has kept us plenty busy.
“Camille,” I whisper. She’s curled up in a tight ball next to me. “It’s morning.”
She mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like fuck off.
I laugh and shake her awake.
“Hey, I gotta go soon. I need to make sure nobody sees me.”
She groans again.
“Camille, Janet is at the door asking for you,” I say a little louder.
She sits upright, her breasts jiggling from the movement.
“What? Oh, no. No no no.”
I burst out laughing and bend over to kiss her on the mouth.
“I’m kidding.”
She’s panting from the adrenaline rush.
“That was really mean.”
“I’m selfish. I wanted you awake so I could talk to you more.”
Camille relaxes and kisses me again.
“I hope that talking is a euphemism for something else,” Camille says.
I laugh.
“I barely even know you. I want to know you, though, if we’re going to keep doing this not-fucking-but really fucking thing.”
Camille shrugs.
“Who says we’re going to keep doing this?”
I kiss her again.
“I do. I say that we’re going to keep doing this.”
She fluffs up a pillow beneath her lower back and leans against it.
“Alright. Ask me anything.”
“What were you doing before your dad died?”
Camille’s smile falters.
“I’d just gotten my Ph.D. in chemistry. I was going to start working in a lab that Monday. But then…then all this happened.”
“But you hate football,” I remind her. “Why did you take the team?”
Camille tilts her head to the side.
“One question at a time. It’s my turn to ask you now. How did you really feel when you were traded to Austin?”
“Like shit,” I reply simply.
“Come on, give me more than that,” she says.
“I hated leaving San Francisco for Texas. But if I’d known that you were going to be waiting for me, well. I would have gotten there sooner. Okay, back to you. Why did you stay in Austin and take the team on?”
I hop out of bed while she pauses to think. The room is freezing; the fire I stoked late in the night now down to nothing more than ashes and embers. I build the fire back up while she talks.
“I knew I could do a lot of good with the money right away. Probably more good than I could do in a lab researching disease, to be honest.”
“No team, no money?” I ask her as I stoke the fresh wood.
“That’s right. Okay, my turn again. What’s the thing you miss the most about San Francisco?”
I climb back into bed now that the fire’s roaring again. “My apartment’s décor.”
Camille laughs uncontrollably. “Stop it. Tell the truth.”
“I am telling the truth. Don’t let any of the guys know, but I paid a fortune to this interior decorator to get my apartment exactly as I wanted it to look. She was worth every penny, too.”
“Did you sleep with her?” Camille asks, totally forgetting the rules we’ve set up together.
I grin.
“Maybe. But it’s my turn to ask you something.”
She sighs.
“Okay, shoot.”
“What’s your deepest secret?”
Camille blushes red and stares at her hands, picking at a hangnail on her pinky finger.
“I hate peanut butter.”
I throw a pillow at her playfully. She catches it.
“Come on. That cannot be your deepest darkest secret.”
“It is,” she says. “My turn.” She pauses, and a serious look comes across her face. “Do you still hate children?”
I’m taken aback by this question. I never, ever would have thought she would ask me that.
“What do you mean?”
“Kids. You said you never wanted them, then at the coffee shop you said you hated the sound of a baby crying. I didn’t know if maybe you’d changed your mind or not.”
“Why are you asking me this?”
She shrugs.
“It’s my turn to ask a question. I don’t need to explain why.”
I contemplate this.
“I haven’t changed my mind. I hate kids. I don’t want to be somebody’s father. I’m just not interested at all. Too many other things I want to do in my life without being interrupted by some little monster with sticky jam hands.”
Camille almost looks hurt by these words but she recovers, smoothing the duvet with one hand.
“You should probably sneak up to your room before you run into someone.”
I’m not sure what’s shifted, but the cozy little atmosphere we’ve enjoyed all night long has evaporated entirely.
“Alright,” I say.
I lean forward to kiss her but she turns her head.
“This was one night only, Blake. Just one night. That’s it.”
I nod.
“Works for me.”
But as I leave her hotel room a few minutes later, I realize something: one night isn’t going to work for me.
She’s changed me.
For good.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CAMILLE
“Camille, Blake Merriman in to see you,” my secretary says through the intercom.
My stomach does several backflips and a few dance moves.
“Send him in,” I say, my voice several octaves higher than usual. I reapply my lip gloss and run my fingers through my hair. The door opens.
“Ms. Sanders,” Blake says.
He’s wearing a black t-shirt that hugs his muscular arms. His hair is still wet from the after-practice showers. I was watching from my glass-walled office, the players almost like tiny ants down on the field. He shuts the door behind him.
“Don’t shut the door,” I say. I’m already blushing, my body on fire.
“There was something private I wanted to talk to you about,” he says, dropping his duffel bag onto the floor and making his way around my desk.
My heart is beating out of my chest. He rests his hands on either side of my chair and leans close to me.
“You’re telling me you don’t want this?” he asks.
I gulp.
“We said only one time.”
Blake nods and kisses my neck.
“That was one time. And this is one time.”
I moan as he touches the sides of my dress.
“Okay,” I acquiesce, grabbing his chin and forcing his mouth onto mine.
Our tongues slide together in a rhythm that soon matches my hips. He pulls me up onto the desk, sliding my papers out of the way. The phone falls onto the ground with a thunk.
“Ms. Sanders? Everything okay in there?” my secretary’s voice calls through the intercom.
I reach down to grab the button as Blake pulls off my panties.
“It’s fine!” I say with a squeaky voice. “Mr. Merriman is really clumsy.”
Blake flashes me a grin and disappears under my dress, licking me up and down and sideways while I bite my tongue to keep from screaming out in pleasure. Just as I’m about to come, he pulls away, unzips his pants, slips a condom on, and slides into me.
“You want to scream, don’t you?” he whispers into my ear.
I nod.
“Yes,” I whisper back.
“Everyone will hear us if you do.”
“I know,” I whisper, bucking against him, feeling his thickness inside me, filling me up and stretching my pleasure further than I ever though it could go. He slips a finger down to my nub and flicks it softly while he slides in and out of me.
I grab onto the desk and tilt my head back, my vision blurring. I have to seal my mouth shut with one hand while I crash into ecstasy.
No one can hear us.
It would mean the end of absolutely everything.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
BLAKE
“You need to be a little bit tighter when you pass, Josh,” I say to him as we walk down the concrete hallway from the locker rooms out to the parking lot.
“You need to be better at catching a football,” he retorts. “Hey, you want to come out tonight?”
“Where are you going?”
“Strip club,” he says. “Champagne room, man. It’s where it’s at. They let you do anything.”
I shake my head.
“Nah, I’ll pass.”
Josh looks at me suspiciously.
“Seriously? Are you seeing somebody?”
I shrug.
“Just not really in the mood for naked women.”
Josh laughs.
“I’ve never heard a straight guy say that before. You feeling okay?”
“Mr. Merriman, Mr. Roberts.” I hear her voice and chills run up and down my spine. The clicking of her high heels echoes down the hallway.
“Ms. Sanders,” Josh says. “Did you catch our practice today?”
I turn around and see Camille wearing a body-hugging red dress, her hair up in a prim little bun, glasses on her face. She’s wearing five-inch fuck me heels and it’s all I can do to not bend her over and take her for a ride with Josh watching.
“I did,” she says shortly. “I was hoping to have a word with Blake here.”
Josh grins at me.
“Take it easy, brother. And if you change your mind about tonight, just text me.”
“I won’t,” I promise him.
He walks down the hallway and out to the parking lot. Camille waits for the door to click shut before she talks. She steps closer to me.
“Mr. Merriman,” she says.
“Say it again,” I counter, stepping closer to her and putting my hands around her waist.
“Mr. Merriman,” she whispers, her mouth inches from mine. “You were terrible in practice today.”
I kiss her neck.
“Are you going to punish me?”
“Something like that,” she replies.
“You’ll forgive me for only thinking about your naked body under mine. It was a little hard to focus,” I whisper, kissing her neck again, this time flicking my tongue against her warm, soft skin.
“We need to go somewhere,” she whispers. She fishes keys out of her purse and pushes me aside. She opens up a janitorial closet. I pull the string on the lightbulb to turn it on. It smells like bleach in here, and it’s claustrophobic. But it’ll work for our purposes.
“What happened to only once?” I ask her, running my hands up and down her soft body.
“This is once. Once in a supply closet,” she says, pushing her glasses up her nose.
“I love this sexy librarian look you’ve got going on,” I confess, kissing her mouth. I flip her around and push her against the metal shelving. “Bend over.”
She folds and I inch her dress up her hips. “You’re not wearing underwear?” I ask her.
She turns around and smiles.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day too. I wanted to make sure you had full, unfettered access when the time was right.”
I’m hard as a rock as I unzip my pants, slide on a condom, and enter her from behind, her ass cheeks bouncing up and down as I slide into her. She groans and moans in all the right ways, and just as I can’t take anymore, I hear a key slide into the lock.
Camille is just about over the edge, too, and can’t be stopped. I reach out and hold the door handle. It wiggles in my hand as the person on the other side tries to get it open repeatedly.
They finally give up just as Camille finishes, her muscles pushing and pulling around me. I shudder to completion and we both are upright, Camille pulling her dress back down.
“Who do you think that was?” she asks.
I shrug.
“Who cares? They don’t know who’s in here.”
“Do you think it’s safe to leave?” She adjusts her now-crooked glasses.
“I think so,” I reply, zipping up again. I reach down to kiss her. “Maybe we can do ‘one more time’ again this weekend.”
Camille bites her lip.
“We’ll see how I’m feeling.”
And she flounces out the door, leaving me wanting more.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
BLAKE
“And it’s a touchdown from Merriman! Austin wins, securing its place in the playoffs!”
I tear off my helmet and feel the roar of the crowd in my body. It’s vibrating my bones.
My teammates crash into me, all jostling for acceptance and celebration.
I’m sweaty and happy. It’s a rush I can’t totally describe.
I look up at the glass box where I know Camille is, and I wink at her. I can’t see her; she’s too far away. But the cameras are all on me and I know she’ll get the message one way or another.
I run into the locker room with my teammates, each of us stripping down to noth
ing and hitting the showers. I’m walking on air right now. Nothing can bring me down.
“Merriman! Sanders needs to see you when you’ve changed.”
“I’ll bet she does,” Josh says to me with a hard glint in his eye.
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask him.
His face relaxes.
“She’s the owner. Of course she’ll congratulate the star quarterback on his winning touchdown. You’re probably in line for a bonus from all of that astounding work you’re doing out there.”
I pull on my polo shirt and khaki pants and slip into my shoes.
“Right.”
There’s a funny feeling in my stomach but I brush it aside. I grab my duffel and run up the steps to the sky boxes.
Camille is alone in there. She turns to face me.
“Blake,” she says. “Great game today. I think you’ll see your bonus a little sooner rather than later.”
I grin and step closer to her.
The room smells like nachos and beer, but the elegant leather sofas belie the tacky cuisine. There are glass windows overlooking the field below.
“I think I know what I want my bonus to be,” I say. She’s trapped against the back of the sofa.
“Someone might walk in,” she says. “They’ll see us in here.”
“Good,” I whisper to her.
“No, not good.”
She closes her eyes as I touch the side of her face.
“Then tell me to stop.”
“I – I can’t. I won’t,” she moans.
I slide my hand up under her skirt and move her panties to the side. She’s already wet for me. Soaking wet. The slickness turns me on immeasurably.
“I say hands and mouth today, what do you think, Ms. Sanders?”
“Just do it,” she groans. “Please. Please.”
I get on my knees and lift her skirt up, her panties still to one side. I lick her and she squeezes my shoulders like she’s hanging on for dear life.
“Oh. My. God,” Camille pants. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop-“
There’s a knock at the door and I jump away from Camille like she’s on fire.
Camille hastily pulls her skirt back down as the door handle turns and the door opens.
A little girl stands in the doorway. I’m not great with kids or their ages, but she’s probably five or six years old. She looks like a miniature Camille. Must be her niece.
DIRTY PLAYER: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Page 10