Roughing the Player (Chicago Outlaws Book 2)

by Magda Alexander

  “At some point, we’ll need to eat.”

  “We’ll order room service, and I’ll feed you in bed.”

  “And shower.”

  “Nuh-uh. For the next day, I want you to smell just like me.”

  Chapter 20

  Brock

  I’M STARVING, NOT FOR FOOD BUT FOR HER. The scent of her skin, as always, makes me want to devour her whole. I have to stop myself from attacking Ellie like the beast I am. But I’m still fully dressed while she’s almost naked. And something has to be done about this.

  “Should I undress you?” she asks, her eyes luminous.

  “Do you want to undress me?”

  “Very much.”

  “Okay.” Even though I’ll suffer the tortures of the damned with her hands on me.

  She slides her hands underneath the tuxedo’s jacket. I end up helping her since it’s a tight fit.

  “Rented or yours?”

  “What do you think?”

  She cocks her head to the side as she considers her answer. “Rented. I didn’t see a tuxedo when I put away your clothes in the condo.”

  “Wrong.” I brush a thin line of hair from her lips. “I had it custom made. I didn’t want to wear a rented suit on my wedding day.”

  “But you’ll never wear it again.” Her eyes narrow. “Unless you’re planning to get married again?”

  “No. Once is more than enough for me.” She has no idea she’s my one and only.

  “So, why?”

  “Because today’s special, and I wanted to wear a suit especially made for the occasion.”

  The vest comes off next. Her dainty hands attack the seed pearl buttons, and they roll off their holes one by one. By the time she gets to the lowest one, I’m hard enough to pound nails. “Hurry.”

  “Why? You took your time.”

  “Because I’m hard as stone, sweet girl.” I promised myself I’d keep my hands off her while she completed this task. But I don’t think I can.

  She peeks up at me through smoky lashes. “Patience is a virtue.”

  “Of which I have none.” I lean forward, nibble her neck. But she pushes me back to slide off the vest.

  The bow comes off easily. For a second, she dangles it from her fingers before she tosses it . . . somewhere.

  The shirt studs come off at a glacial pace.

  “You’re killing me, Ellie.”

  “You’ll survive.”

  Once the last one is gone, she slides her hands beneath my shirt. When her cool touch comes into contact with my hot skin, I hiss out a breath.

  She yanks down the shirt trapping my arms and bares my chest. With an impish look in her eyes, she wets her index finger with her tongue and circles my right nipple.

  “You’re playing with fire.” My voice’s pure gravel, but I can’t help it.

  “I know.” She stands on her tiptoes and circles her tongue around one nipple. While her fingers tease the other.

  I snake a hand around her nape and bend down to suck her tongue into my mouth, nibble at her lips, bite down. My hand wanders down to her sweet breasts. But she pushes me back again. “I’m not done.”

  We’re standing right next to the bed, so all it takes is one push for me to land backwards on the bed. While I lie prone, she removes my shoes and socks.

  She releases the belt, whips it in the air. And then she unsnaps my waistband, lowers my zipper, and snakes her hand within to grab her prize.

  “Oh, my. What a big boy you are.”

  “I’m not a boy.” I roll her over and proceed to devour her the way I’ve been wanting to most of the damn day. I lick, nibble, bite my way down to her core. When I get there, I widen her legs and settle down to feast on her. The honey-sweet taste of her pussy is beyond delicious.

  “Ahhh.” She wriggles beneath my assault, grabs my hair and wiggles under me.

  I don’t know how much longer I can stand doing this, so I stand and toss off the rest of my clothes. I grab a condom from the stash I’d stored in the night table and roll it over me while she silently watches.

  I lift her hips and position my hard cock over her opening. “Ready?”

  She nods.

  I ease into her slowly. As big and as hard as I am, the last thing I want to do is hurt her.

  Our coupling sounds loud in the confine of the room and so do her moans. “Faster, Brock.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Hang on.”

  She wraps her arms around my arms, and I go for it, surging into her with every ounce of my being. She’s blazing hot and so, so wet. For me. For everything I can give to her.

  “I’m coming, Brock.”

  So am I, but I don’t want to get there. Not just yet. Not before her.

  I don’t have to wait long. Her whole body grows rigid as she dissolves. I follow her into paradise.

  I collapse on her but immediately roll over taking her with me. As much as I weigh and as tiny as she is, I could hurt her. I clutch her to me as our breaths bellow.

  “How was that?” I ask.

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I catch my breath.”

  Chapter 21

  Brock

  EVEN THOUGH THIS IS THE PLAYERS’ REST DAY, I don’t get the time off. Instead, I spend most of the day doing social media. With the team being 4 and 0, you’d think there’d be lots to talk about. But turns out the media’s main interest is my married life. Seems like people love hearing how the love of a good woman reformed the league’s bad boy. I’d love to say no to spending the day doing interviews, but I can’t. Not as helpful as the Outlaws were with our wedding reception.

  Once the interviews are done, I head home. I step into the house to find Kaylee studying in the living room, Butch by her feet. “Your mom home?”

  “She ran to the grocery store. Should be back soon.”

  As soon as she says that, the sound of the garage door opening reaches me. Two minutes later, a breathless Ellie stumbles into the kitchen, carrying two heavy bags of food. “You’re here!”

  I walk toward her to take the bags off her hands. “Yeah. I cut out early. They understood. Newly-married man and all that. Need any help?”

  “Yeah. You can help me put away the groceries.”

  “Okay.”

  She directs me to put some things in the cupboard; others in the refrigerator.

  “I thought I’d have dinner on the table before you got home. But don’t worry, it’ll be done in a jiff,” she says, snapping on a retro red and white apron Betty Crocker would be proud to wear. But when she has trouble with the tie in the back, she turns to me. “Can you . . . ?”

  After I tie a perfect bow, I whisper in her ear. “I’m sure whatever you make will be delicious, but I didn’t marry you for your cooking skills.” And then so she understands exactly why I married her, I haul her into me and kiss her.

  “If you guys are going to do that, I’m going to leave the room.”

  “Go ahead.” I toss over my shoulder while keeping Ellie close.

  But Kaylee remains exactly where she is.

  Ellie frees herself from my embrace. “You shouldn’t tease her like that.”

  “Who’s teasing?”

  She shoots me a look with ‘Behave’ written all over it.

  Okay, I get it. She’s uncomfortable with PDAs in front of our daughter. But Kaylee’s got to get used to it. Because I intend to hug and kiss Ellie a lot. It wouldn’t hurt to schedule some private time, though.

  “Do you think you could get your mom to stay here a couple of days next week?”

  “Why?” she says, slinging some chicken into a pot.

  “So we could go have some sexy times at the condo.” I rub my hand across her delicious, round bottom. With the kitchen island between us and our audience in the living room, I’m pretty sure Kaylee can’t see us.

  “Shhhhh. Kaylee will hear.”

  “You liked the den of sin. You know you did.” The night we made love, I’d
tied up Ellie and spanked her sweet ass. She’d loved every second of it.

  She giggles. “It was kind of fun.”

  I’ve never heard that sound from her before. Not even when she was a teenager. She was such a serious little thing.

  After dinner is done and the dishwasher’s running, we sit in front of the TV to watch some baking show she and Kaylee love.

  After a while, I whisper in Ellie’s ear. “I’d rather do something else.”

  “Oh, God. Shoot me now. You guys going to have sex?”

  That girl has the ears of a bat.

  “Kaylee!”

  “That’s what married people do,” I say.

  “That’s disgusting. I’m going to my room.” And this time she follows through. She flounces out leaving us alone in the living room.

  “Is she going to spend the rest of our married life hiding in her bedroom?”

  “She’s a tween. That’s what they do.”

  “A tween?”

  “Meaning in between a girl and a teen.”

  We can’t keep walking on tippy toes around Kaylee. Sooner or later, she’ll need to accept our intimacy. And I know just the way to do it. “Does she have headphones?”

  Her brow scrunches. “Yes.”

  “Let’s make sure she puts them on.”

  “What?”

  I pull her to her feet. “Follow my lead.”

  The double bed in Ellie’s room is not big enough for the two of us, but we’ll make it work until the King-size gets delivered next week. But it does have one great feature. A nice, big, oak headboard.

  “Get on the bed. On your knees.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “It’s not what I’m going to do, but what we’re going to do. If there’s any damage, I’ll take care of it. Okay?”

  Her eyes grow big as saucers.

  I bang the headboard against the wall. “Moan.”

  “What?”

  “Moan.”

  She does.

  “Louder.”

  “Oooohhhhh.”

  “Now, yell my name.”

  A wicked glint shines in her eyes as she realizes what I’m doing. “Oh, my God, Brock. Oh, that feels so good. So good. Harder.” She’s clearly getting into the act, but then she giggles and that may spoil the whole effect.

  I kiss her and cover her mouth. “No giggling.” I spank her bottom, one, twice, three times.

  And that gets her motor running. She keeps up the yelling, the moaning, screaming my name and a couple of saints while I rhythmically bang the headboard against the wall.

  After fifteen minutes, I slowly dial it down. And then I strip the both of us and quietly, tenderly make love to my wife.

  When dawn comes, I roll out of bed. After a quick shower, I kiss Ellie, who’s still fast asleep, probably exhausted from our lovemaking. I walk out of our bedroom to find Kaylee parked by the kitchen island, a smoothie in her hand.

  “Good morning.” I head for the kitchen counter to grab some caffeine since I can’t function without it. To my surprise, the coffee’s already made.

  “I brewed it while you were in the shower.”

  A peace offering? Maybe. “Thanks.” I pour the java into a cup, add in cream until it’s the shade I like.

  “You guys were awfully loud last night.”

  Where’s she going with this? “Were we?”

  “The way you were going at it, I should have a little brother or sister in no time.” She’s made of tough stuff, my daughter.

  But I’m tougher. “God willing.”

  She squints. “I’m not going to take care of it.”

  Leaning back against the counter, I sip the fragrant brew. “You won’t have to. I’ll hire a nanny.”

  She scoffs. “Yeah, right. That’s not going to happen. Mom would only allow Grandma to take care of me.”

  Ellie had shared some of Kaylee’s upbringing, but I’m curious to hear her side of it. “What happened after you were born, Kaylee?”

  “Well, obviously I was too young to remember, but we all lived in the same house—Mom, Grandma, Steve, and me. While Mom attended community college, Grandma watched over me. When I turned two, Mom got a partial scholarship to Duke University and transferred over there. But I was too little to go with her, so I remained with Grandma. She hated being away from me. Although she tried to hide how sad she was, one day I caught her crying in her car. That’s my earliest memory of her.”

  Damn it. If Ellie had told me, I could have given her money so she could have hired a nanny and kept Kaylee with her. But from what Kaylee says, she wouldn’t have allowed that.

  “When I turned four, she couldn’t stand being away from me anymore, so she brought me to Durham. We lived in this tiny one-bedroom apartment, slept on the same bed. Every once in a while, she’d make this big production number out of eating noodles and peanut butter. I loved it.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yeah, I did. Weekends, Grandma would visit so Mom wouldn’t have to worry about me while she studied.”

  “I wish she’d told me about you. I could have made your lives easier.”

  “It was fine, Br—I mean Dad.” She doesn’t seem comfortable with the dad bit.

  I take another coffee sip. “You call me whatever feels comfortable to you, except Mr. Parker. That just sounds odd.”

  She grins. “Then Brock it is.”

  “Fine.” Can’t expect for her to call me dad when I’ve been her father for all of five minutes.

  Her brow scrunches. “I don’t have to change my last name, do I?”

  “Only if you want to.”

  “I don’t.” She hitches up her chin.

  She might look like me, but that gesture is pure Ellie. Seen her do that a million times.

  “Can I ask you a question?” she asks.

  “Sure.”

  “How was Mom as a teenager?”

  Tit for tat. She opened up about me. So I need to do the same about her mom. Can’t really fault her for her curiosity. “Pretty much the same as she is now. Only younger.”

  “Was she always so serious?”

  “Yes. She studied all the time. Got straight A’s in school.”

  “You hired mom as a tutor.”

  “I did. I wasn’t doing too well in English. Had a problem with Shakespeare. Macbeth to be exact. One of the football players in my team told me about her. So I asked her to tutor me. Every Thursday from six to seven.”

  “And you studied the whole time?”

  “Yes.”

  “When did I happen?”

  I drop the empty coffee cup in the dishwasher to give me time to think. Would Ellie like me to answer that question? “You should ask your mother about that.”

  “I already did. She won’t tell me.”

  Kaylee should know how she was created. If I were her, I’d want to know. So I go with my gut. “I got a B plus on my midterm exam. First time that had ever happened. So I went to her house to celebrate. There was a monster of a thunderstorm that night, violent enough to rattle windows and down trees. When the lights went out, she panicked. She tried to cover it up, but I knew.”

  “Mom’s not comfortable in the dark. That’s why we have a whole slew of flashlights around the house.”

  “She had one, but the battery was dead. She was so frightened. I put my arms around her to comfort her and . . . ” I’ll leave the rest out. Can’t really discuss the birds and bees with a twelve-year-old.

  “You conceived me.”

  I nod.

  “Was that the only time you two . . . ?”

  This is fucking awkward. But she deserves to know. “Yes.”

  “Wow.”

  Wow, indeed. I push away from the counter. “Do you need a ride to school? I can drop you off.”

  “No. I’m good. I take the school bus. But thanks.”

  I sling my duffel bag over my shoulder and head toward the front door.

  Before I get there, she says, “Brock?”


  I turn to face her. “Yes.”

  “Mom’s happy now. She wasn’t before.”

  I nod. “Thanks for telling me.” I intend to keep Ellie happy. Whatever it takes.

  Chapter 22

  Eleanor

  TWO WEEKS OF MARRIED LIFE HAVE BEEN, WELL, MAGICAL. There’s no other way to describe it. Brock comes home for dinner most every night, even though the team prefers he eat at the facility. He says he loves my cooking. But he doesn’t fool me. It’s something else he loves.

  Family life.

  You’d think he’d be bored to tears with our daily routine, but he seems to treasure the moments, even the simple ones, like cleaning up after dinner, and watching television together. Sometimes, Kaylee joins us, but most times she gives us privacy. Good thing because Brock won’t stop kissing me and holding hands. He leaves the more private stuff for the bedroom. And the really wild things to the condo. I never thought I’d enjoy being tied up and spanked. But, God help me, I do.

  Tonight, we’re watching one of my favorite cooking shows, and it’s bread week. Before too long, the participants are measuring and mixing ingredients. As they do, the tension builds in him. What is it about a cooking show that turns him on? Leaning into me, he whispers, “I love the way she’s pounding that flour.”

  “It’s called kneading.” I correct him.

  “The way she digs her fingers into the dough, forces it into submission.” As he speaks, his hand softly strokes my shoulders. When my breath catches, his fingers explore my aching flesh, finding the erotic spots that set my body on fire. When his efforts turn to unbuttoning my blouse, I protest, “Kaylee.”

  “She’s in her room.” He nibbles the bare expense of skin he’s exposed and heat streaks down to my pussy.

  “Ahhhh. I should tell him we need to take this to our room, but right now I’m loving what he’s doing too much to ask him to stop.

  His fingers cup my breast, play with my nipple, and I tip back my head to give him more room. When I do, he leans over to suckle my nipple. As he tastes me, I grow liquid.

  “Sweet Ellie,” he breathes over my trembling belly. “You want me to fuck you?”