Hooked

by A. M. Hargrove

  “Just wait until we get back to the room. I’m totally going to show you.”

  And I do. We barely make it inside the door, where I pull his pants down to his knees and start sucking him off. I’ve pushed him against the wall, and have him deep in my throat. One hand massages his sack while the other fists the base of his cock. His heavy breathing spurs me one. My cell phone beeps, but I ignore it, continuing to work his cock over. Releasing him for a second, an impish smile creeps over my face. I lick my finger and he moans, but my mouth covers his cock again. My wet finger slides inside his puckered hole, and he lets out a long, deep groan. I can almost count the seconds before his cum shoots down my throat as I suck him dry.

  My phone beeps again, but now I’m ready for some action. Mark’s eyes are heavy and sex-filled. His lips entice me to my feet because I want to kiss him, and he fills my mouth with his eager tongue. My shirt lands at my feet, along with my bra. He takes a nipple into his mouth and draws on it, pulling and biting. When he releases me, he says, “I had no idea you liked to play so dirty, Riley.” My pants follow the rest of my clothing to the floor. He fumbles around a minute, which I assume he’s searching for a condom.

  “I’m going to fuck you till you scream.” Then he pulls me to the couch and has me lie, stomach down, over the arm on the end. He enters from behind, slowly, and then pulls all the way out. “Knees together,” he instructs. When he slides in and out again, he says, “Lock your ankles.” And, oh, it’s so good. The tightness, the friction is crazy. Every time he pushes inside, my pelvis hits the arm, and the pressure on my clit sends me closer to the edge. “Is this good?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I moan my answer.

  “Good. You’ll like this even better.” Then he lets out a deep chuckle as he plays tit for tat. He’s copying me. Hands spread my cheeks, and his finger rims my back door. With a little nudge, he pushes his way in.

  The sensations are triple-timing me. Between the sofa arm, his dick, and finger, I’m coming all over the place. One of his hands grips my hip, and he lets out his release, too.

  Suddenly, there’s a loud bang on the door. “Riley, you in there?”

  Shit, it’s Randy.

  Turning, I look at Mark and cover my lips, telling him to keep quiet.

  “Riley, open the door, or I’m letting myself in.”

  The fuck. He has a key. I always give him one, dammit.

  “Hang on a minute,” I yell.

  “You’re late for your photo shoot with the kids. They’ve been waiting on you. Get your ass down there.”

  “Shit.”

  Mark pulls out, we jump up, and I run to the bathroom, trying to get myself in order.

  “Riley, come on,” Randy yells. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Mark runs in the room, half-dressed. “What should I do?”

  “Get dressed and get out there. Tell him I had a headache or ate something that upset my stomach.”

  “Which one?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” I’m so flustered I can’t think straight.

  “I’ll tell him something upset your stomach.”

  “Yeah.” Fuck. I race to get dressed when he leaves. I hear the door open and Randy’s voice. It’s raised, but then Mark tells him and he calms down somewhat.

  “Why didn’t she call me?”

  “Guess she forgot.”

  When I join them, I feel like I just ran a marathon.

  “You okay?” Randy asks.

  “Yeah, better. Sorry I didn’t call.” Boy, do I feel guilty as hell.

  As we head to the door, Randy puts on the brakes, bends down, and holds something between his thumb and index finger. “Stomachache, huh?”

  Mark and I look at what he’s holding, and it’s an empty condom wrapper. Shit.

  “And is that why your clothes are over there?”

  Double-decker shit. With whipped cream on top.

  MARK

  Riley’s beautiful, but she’s so much more so as she poses for pictures with the Make-A-Wish kids. And there’s nothing fake about her radiant smile or the quiet conversations she has with each of them. She doesn’t speak loud to be heard or to have the reporters gathered there to collect sound bites, unlike Justin. I’ve lost all respect for him as he continues to say ridiculous one-liners to the kids that can be overheard by the crowd.

  “She’s great, isn’t she?”

  I look down at Randy, whom I had the unfortunate pleasure of standing next to the entire time. His glower has been constant when aimed in my direction. I’ve done my best to ignore it.

  “There is a reason she’s America’s darling,” I muse.

  “And you’re going to mess that all up.”

  I’ve been biting my tongue, but now I turn to face him. “Why don’t you say what you really want to, Randy?”

  He doesn’t waste time. “Okay, here it is. You’re bad business for Riley. This coming year she has a shot at number one. She’s playing the best I’ve seen her play. She doesn’t have time for distractions. Honestly, she’s better off hooking up occasionally with Justin when she needs someone. He gets it. He gets her. And he’s busy himself, unlike you. He won’t be an attention-needing man. You don’t have a job. Therefore, you’re demanding more of her time than she really has to give.”

  I’m about to lay into him, when Riley’s hand lands on my arm. “Hey, you two. Sorry it took so long.”

  For her, I lose my glower. “You looked great up there.” I lean in and kiss her lips. Yes, I want to do that, but I also want Randy to see that he’s not going to push me away. “You are so fucking awesome.”

  She grins and hikes herself up to whisper something back. “You’re fucking awesome, too, on the green, in my bed, against the wall, between my legs.”

  I lower my hand to slide down her back and pat her butt. “Stop, you’re getting my dick hard. You’re going to have to stand in front of me the rest of the time if you keep at it.”

  Spinning around, she presses her back to my chest and wiggles her ass against me.

  “You’re not playing fair,” I say, nuzzling in her hair to speak in her ear.

  Her answer is cut off as Justin calls her name and waves her to come back to the makeshift stage.

  She turns to face me. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

  When she walks away, my eyes are glued to her form. I can’t believe how goddamn lucky I got. I remember kissing her all those summers ago. She’d surprised me then at the end of her vacation. We didn’t get the chance to pursue anything because she left the next day to go to California. As time zoomed by, we never connected. I was in college, or she had a boyfriend, or I only saw her in passing. I never thought I’d have the opportunity to see what could be until now.

  The kids are off the stage when Riley gets up there. Justin wraps an arm around her, tugging her close.

  “When I heard Riley here was a part of the event, I knew I had to be a champion for the cause as well,” Justin says.

  One of the reporters holds up a hand, and Justin nods for her to ask her question. “What about the two of you? You were in a relationship a few months back? Are you together again?”

  “Great question,” Justin says. “Believe me, I’ve been thinking that very thing. What do you say, Riley? Is the dynamite couple back?”

  I take a step forward before I catch myself. What am I going to do? Beat my chest and throw her over my shoulder? I can have private words with him later.

  “It’s dynamic,” she says to Justin. I see her mouth form the word idiot, and I have to laugh. She aims her piercing gray eyes at the crowd. “And this isn’t about us. It’s about these wonderful children. I don’t have any of my own, but my heart goes out to the families that have to go through so much to battle what they do. That’s what we’re here for.”

  Another reporter, ignoring her comment, shouts, “You call yourselves a dynamic couple? Do you mean power couple?”

  “They would make a perfect pair in golf,” Randy
says for my ears.

  At the same time, Riley tries to say, “We are not—”

  Someone else cuts her off, “Do you think marriage is in your future?”

  “Absolutely,” Justin says. “Last time we were here in May, Riley and I went to the corn festival to celebrate the harvest. It was delightful.”

  “Corn festival in May? They don’t harvest corn here in May. It doesn’t begin until mid-June at the very earliest,” Riley mutters. “And we are not—”

  “Do you guys still practice together?” It’s another question from the crowd.

  “She played better this year for it,” Randy says to me.

  Justin is saying, “I hope so. I have better hand-eye coordination when she’s around.”

  The asshole winks and tries to rope his arm around Riley again. I can’t watch anymore. I trust Riley, but between Randy and Justin, I need a drink. If I don’t calm down, I’ll end up making a scene. Somehow I think that’ll be worse for my girl. I open my clenched hand.

  “Are you ready to be Mr. Riley Wilde?” Randy asks.

  My eyes narrow as they focus on him. “What are you saying now, old man?”

  I’ve lost all decorum. Riley might hate me for this, but he’s been trying to get a rise out of me for days.

  “Are you ready to give up your career and follow her around the world to tournaments to support her?”

  “I’ll always support her.”

  “From afar? How long do you think that will last? Riley’s a beautiful woman. And with her earning potential, some guy will be willing to give up his career to be there for her whenever and wherever.”

  “And what? You think that’s you,” I chide.

  “Oh, I would be better for her because I know what it takes for her to be successful. But I have a family and would never dream of it. Besides, you’ll never make the kind of money she makes. Will your ego handle that?”

  A muscle in my jaw ticks as I try to bite off the nasty things I want to say. “You have no idea what I make or what I could make.”

  “In other words, no. You’re going to find another job and make your career. You’ll leave her to go at this game alone. And she’ll do it. I see how she looks at you. But one day, she’ll resent you for it. Or you her, if you give up your life for her. It will never work out between the two of you. Her career has to come first. And if you can’t accept that, you should move on.”

  I don’t bother saying anything else to Randy because I’m seriously ready to knock the shit out of him. Striding off, I send a text to Riley to meet me in the bar.

  On the way, I get a call.

  “Ben,” I say into the phone and push back all my anger.

  “When are you leaving our great state of South Carolina?”

  Not soon enough, I think. “On Monday, I believe.”

  “Why don’t you have dinner with my wife, Samantha, and me on Friday or Saturday?”

  “As I mentioned, I’m here caddying for Riley Wilde. I’ll need to check with her, but I think Sunday would be better. She’ll be playing until then.”

  “Okay, let me know what day. We’ll make it work. But I really want to give my final pitch before you leave. I have something else I want to put on the table that might sway you to say yes.”

  I chuckle. “You drive a hard bargain, Ben.”

  “I go after what I want. And I want you on our team.”

  “I’ll get back to you after I talk to Riley.”

  “Sure, and you make sure to bring her with you if I didn’t say that earlier.”

  Ending the call, I find a seat at the bar in the clubhouse.

  “A whiskey, please.”

  By the time Riley shows up, I’ve had a couple. Her eyes are hard, and I know she’s pissed. I sigh, ready for her verbal beating.

  “You left me again. Is this going to be a pattern with you?”

  I hold up a finger. “This time my motives were purely altruistic.”

  “How so?” she asks with her brows arched.

  “I would have been arrested for hitting an old man and a dumbfuck. I didn’t think you wanted that to be on TMZ.” With air quotes, I add, “Jealous boyfriend beats up Riley Wilde’s coach and former lover. See pictures below.”

  Her hand drops from her hip, and she looks less likely to throttle me.

  “What did Randy say now?”

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle. But between the pair, I had to walk away or I’d need a lawyer.”

  She laughs. “I don’t know whether to be mad or what?”

  “Or what?” I say and take her wrist to pull her close.

  Her mouth gives under mine. Just as I start to take it deeper, she pulls back.

  “How much have you been drinking?”

  “Not enough,” I mutter and swallow the rest, emptying my glass.

  “Let’s get you back to the room. We have an early start in the morning.”

  I leave some cash for a tip on the counter and knock my fist to get the bartender’s attention. He glances in my direction in acknowledgment. I get to my feet.

  “You know I had a hard-on for you all day. I kept imagining fucking you on the green.”

  Playfully, she smiles up at me. “We can make that happen.”

  “Fuck, Riley, don’t tease me. I have no control when it comes to you.”

  She only laughs and loops her arm in mine to lead us to the front. We end up in the island van headed back to the hotel to my great disappointment.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you Ben called and wants to have dinner with us before we leave. I thought maybe Sunday night since you’ll be playing until then.”

  “Is there any other time? Sunday night is the big gala. It’s where all the major sponsors come in and present their checks. I wish there was some way I could work that out, but I can’t miss that,” she explains.

  “You didn’t tell me about that.”

  She frowns. “I’m so sorry. With everything else going on, I must’ve forgotten to tell you.” Absently, she mutters, “Randy thinks I need to hire an assistant because I can’t keep everyone in the loop.”

  I can’t immediately think of a solution. “I have to see Rhoades. He wants to offer me something else.”

  “Can’t he tell you over the phone?”

  “This could be my future boss, Riley. The least I could do is meet him and his wife. And want you there with me.”

  “You know you’re absolutely right. After everything you’ve done to help me out, I feel like shit that I can’t make it. But you should go.”

  “Will the kids be there? At the gala?” I ask.

  “Well, no, it’s a black tie affair. But the press will. My presence will be missed if I don’t show up. Otherwise I would skip it and go with you.”

  “I didn’t bring a tux. So I guess that settles it. I won’t leave you stranded on the course. I’ll go to dinner with Rhoades Sunday if it works for him. And you’ll go to the gala without me because you need to be there, unless you can find time to have an earlier dinner with them another night?”

  “Mark, I don’t know. I don’t make it a habit of going out on the evenings before I have to play.”

  “Gotcha. We’ll work it out.”

  RILEY

  This is the first time we sleep in separate beds since the night we arrived. I’m pretty damn upset with him. He knows this isn’t a tournament and that it’s a charity event, but the whole reason I’m here— we’re both here—is to champion the Make-A-Wish Foundation. This is all about bringing in large sums of money to help these kids. The gala on Sunday is the closing event. I explain it to him until I’m blue in the face—or at least that’s how I feel. The bad thing is, I see his side, too, and I really do want him to get this job. He deserves something this awesome. What a damn dilemma.

  This is all my fault for not telling him about the gala. I thought I had, but I’ll take the hit for missing it. Randy is probably right. I do need an assistant. There are way too many details in my life that need attention th
at I’m missing.

  My poor pillow. I’ve beaten the shit out of it tonight. It’s better than punching the wall. Only I’ve gotten hardly any sleep. And tomorrow the real golfing begins. Randy will be on my ass, worse than he already is, and that dumbass Justin doesn’t understand the meaning of no.

  I give up on sleep well before the sun’s up, shower, dress, and decide to sneak out to watch the sun rise. But I’m surprised to see Mark in the living room of the suite when I exit my bedroom.

  “You’re up early,” he says.

  “Yeah. You are, too.”

  He closes his laptop and says, “Couldn’t really sleep either.”

  We both start to speak at once, and then kind of laugh. “You go first,” I say.

  “What I was going to say is that last night sort of got away from me. I’m sorry about that.”

  Shuffling my feet, I admit, “I’m sorry, too. Randy is right in that I need an assistant to keep some of my stuff from falling between the cracks. I can’t keep up with it all. And it’s no use for me telling you I mentioned everything to you when clearly I didn’t.”

  Nodding, he asks, “What were you going to say?”

  “Oh. I was going to ask if you wanted to join me outside for an early breakfast and we could watch the sun rise.”

  His gorgeous smile warms me. “I’d like that very much.”

  He’s already had a shower, too, so we head to the hotel café and order a to-go breakfast of coffee and egg biscuits. Then we head out to the terrace that overlooks the ocean and watch the sun lighten the horizon.

  “It’s really something, isn’t it?” I remark.

  “I think so,” he says, reaching for my hand.

  Glancing over at him, I notice he’s not even looking at the view, but staring at me instead.

  “You’re not even watching the sun rise, are you?”

  “Nope. I have no reason to with you sitting next to me.”

  Is this the same man who I was so pissed at last night? How did I let that happen? But then he has to open his mouth and shatter my illusion.

  “I think Randy is right. Maybe I shouldn’t be your caddie—that I’m nothing but a major distraction for you. This is a time when you should be completely involved in your game, and with me around you can’t be.”