by Ruby Madden
Wow, she was serious! I knew when enough was enough. I wasn’t a total jerk all the time.
“I’ll be right there.” I hung up and raced to change into something courthouse appropriate, completely forgetting about my urgent meeting with Cassandra.
Frank waited patiently for me while I got ready.
“You know what; I think I’ll drive myself this morning. I haven’t driven since,” I paused, stifling a chuckle. “Well, since that night.”
He understood what night I was referring to. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“No, but since when did I do anything that was good for me?” I winked at him and went in search of the keys to one of my other cars.
As I drove into the city, fighting the traffic, my mind wandered to Isla and her knee-jerk reaction to my proposal. I wondered what that was about? Most women would kill for the chance to have my seed. Why did she act like she wasn’t one of them? Everything about her was different and it both annoyed me and turned me on. I wasn’t used to women turning me down and acting like I wasn’t the best football player in the country. I mean, all the magazines and experts talked about was how I was beating records all the time. Why wasn’t Isla impressed by that? Everyone else was.
When I finally arrived at the courthouse, I instantly regretted not having Frank drive me or not inviting my security team to tag along. Press lined the streets for blocks. I was a spectacle and I hadn’t even parked the car yet. If they’d get out of my way, I’d have a better chance of parking this car, but as usual, a photo of me was worth far more than their lives to them.
“Get out of the way,” I grumbled under my breath. For the cameras, though, I smiled and winked like this was just another day in the life. Sometimes I hated my job. Sometimes when life got chaotic, like it was now, I wanted to pack it all up and go home, back to the place that made me a superstar.
With cameras flashing like lightening in a brutal storm and reporters fielding question after question at me, I could barely hear myself think. Pushing through them was like pushing through a line of four hundred pound linebackers.
Finally, law enforcement figured out it was in their best interest to corral the media and usher me in. “Out of the way! Out of the way!” Officers pushed their way through the throng of reporters and eager fans to make a path for me to enter the downtown courthouse.
“Go ahead, sport,” an officer said, offering a toothy smile.
“Thanks, man,” I said, as I yanked my arm out of the death grip a female reporter with sex in her eyes had on it.
The police and courthouse security managed to keep reporters out of the building while someone from my legal team escorted me through the building and into a conference room, where Isla stood, bent over a pile of paperwork, biting her lip as she concentrated. Even like that – stressed and nervous – she was more beautiful than any woman I’d ever met. How did she pull that off without even trying? She wasn’t covered in makeup and didn’t look like she tried to hard; she just looked this good naturally, like a real woman should. It amazed me more and more every day.
She looked up at me, a mixture of relief and fear in her eyes. “Finally,” she said.
“I missed you too,” I said, moving toward her to hug her like a proper fiancé would. “What’s all this about? I thought court was scheduled for this afternoon?”
“There’s been a change,” one of my attorney’s chimed in to explain. “We’ve received some information that may change everything.” He looked at the other attorneys.
The room suddenly felt heavy.
“What information? What are you talking about? Am I going to jail?” I started to hyperventilate. I’d worked too long and too hard to have it all disappear because I gave some drunk, horny bitches a ride.
Isla placed her hand on mine. “No, you’re not going to jail. At least, your attorneys don’t think so.”
The warmth of her touch threw me off balance. I couldn’t focus. This woman was poison to me. She made me lose my head and I didn’t like it, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull away from her. I took a deep breath and forced myself to keep things together as much as I could.
Paul, one of my attorneys, motioned for me to sit down. “Let me explain.”
I sat down, thankful Isla didn’t remove her hand from mine. Instead, she laced her fingers with mine and took the seat next to me.
“It seems Cassandra and her cohorts were paid a hefty sum of money to set you up,” Paul explained.
I was confused. “What do you mean? She just called me and said she wanted to talk to me. That was a set up? How?”
There was an audible gasp in the room. It was obvious they didn’t know anything about the phone call.
“She called me about an hour ago and asked me to meet her at her apartment. I was on my way there when I saw Isla’s messages,” I said.
Isla squeezed my hand. “I wish you had told me that. They found evidence someone paid the girls to party with you that night. They were supposed to take some photos of your… ahem… escapades,” Isla’s voice shook as she spoke.
“Who? Who would do that?” I asked, shocked this was happening to me. “Why would someone want photos of me banging three chicks? Well, I’d want that footage, but who else would want to see that?”
“We don’t know yet. The police are trying to figure that out for us, but in the meantime, why don’t you tell us about the night you met these women?” Paul laughed at the word women. We all knew those three bimbos were hardly women. They were groupies. They came a dime a dozen in my world.
I filled them in on the details I could remember. Isla filled them in on what she knew about that night. After our discussion ended, detectives filed in to listen to me tell them the same thing again.
“Now what?” I asked when everyone was up to speed.
“What time were you supposed to meet Cassandra?” Isla asked, her eye twitching.
“Are you mad at me?” I asked. “Jealous?”
She stepped on my foot with the heel of her shoes.
“Oh, so that’s how you want to play it,” I whispered. “I’ll remember that when we’re making Beckham junior.”
“If you two are done playing house, we’re going to need you to call Cassandra and tell her you were held up with a team emergency, but you’re on your way,” the female detective said.
“What? Why? I thought you said she set me up. Why would I want to see her?” I asked.
My attorneys exchanged glances. “Well, since time is of the essence here, we don’t have time for a long, drawn out investigation. We need you to work your magic – the good old Beck Alexander charm – and find out who hired her and why,” my senior attorney Paul said.
“How am I supposed to do that?” I didn’t like where this was going.
He patted me on the back. “I think you’ll figure that out all by yourself. Use that killer smile and whatever other part of your body that might persuade her.”
Isla released the grip she had on my hand.
I knew what they were asking me to do. “You want me to bang information out of her?” I got right to the point.
Isla stood up and walked out of the room.
I should have chased her, but that would have made me look like her little puppet. That’s not what I had in mind when I asked her to help me. I had to let her go, even if it made me feel like an asshole for doing it.
“Then what? Call you when she tells me?” I asked, referring to Cassandra. “What about court?”
Paul said, “Well, if you can get her to tell you who hired her, there might not be a court date later. In the meantime, your fiancée is going to have to sit and stew for a while. She’ll understand.”
They were right. Makeup sex was always better. I could smooth things over with Isla later. For now, I had to worry about myself and my career. I didn’t want to go to jail and I sure as hell didn’t want to give up my career because of some thirsty whor
es.
The police escorted me back out to my car. Reporters and fans were still huddled together, anxious to catch a glimpse of me. This time, their line of questioning was different.
“Are you ready for court?”
“Why did your fiancée storm off in tears?”
“How’s the case going?”
I stopped at the second question to look at the reporter. It was a man wearing a sneer on his face. “What did you ask me?”
He stammered, surprised I’d addressed him directly. “Um, yeah, your fiancée ran out the door. She looked upset. Did something happen?”
I didn’t know how to respond. Had she really been crying? Why?
My attorneys shoved me forward. “Forget about them,” one whispered in my ear. “Just keep walking.”
I walked, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around what had Isla so upset. Did she know something I didn’t know?
By the time I had my car on and was ready to peel out of the parking lot, I knew I had to forget Isla and her issues for now. My life was on the line and thinking about her wasn’t going to do anything for me. She’d have to wait. But, just when I thought I had her out of my head, there she was, parked on the side of the road, her head in her hands.
“Damn!” I hit my fist on the dashboard. “Now? Really? You had to do this now?”
I pulled over without bothering to look to see if there was any traffic behind me and nearly got side swiped by a guy with a camera hanging out of his window.
Isla startled at the sound of car horns.
I slammed my car into park and jumped out, ready to explode, but when I got to the driver’s side, I had to stop. She had tears streaming down her face.
I took a deep breath and motioned for her to lower the window down. “Can we talk?” She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Please,” I begged.
She motioned for me to go around and get in. Behind me, people were flashing pictures of us, one right after the other.
As mad as I was, I couldn’t bring myself to yell at her. “Why are you crying?”
She punched my arm. “You are a real piece of work; you know that? You’re really going to go screw some woman to get information out of her?”
Whoa, where did that come from? She’s jealous? What does that mean?
I couldn’t help myself. “Does this mean you want to have my baby? If that’s the case, we can handle it right now.”
Cameras still flashing, she punched me again, this time with less force. “You’re such a jerk! I don’t know why I like you. I must be a glutton for punishment or something.”
Chapter Nine – Isla
When I woke up this morning, I never imagined I’d be lying naked on Beck’s bed – the bed he swore he’d never shared with another woman.
He finally emerged from his office, where this whole affair began, carrying two glasses of wine and nothing more than a seductive smile on his rock-hard body. “Thirsty?” he asked coyly.
I was thirsty, but not for wine. After some heavy petting on the way here and the best tongue teasing I’d ever experienced in my life, I was more than ready for something in my mouth, but the shy girl that lived in me held me back.
Beck must have sensed what I was thinking. “Oh, you’re thirsty, but not for wine. Good. I’m not ready for wine yet either. We can save that for later.” He cast the glasses aside, letting them hit the hardwood floor and shatter at his feet.
“That was a bit dramatic,” I said.
He smirked, climbing on top of the bed, straddling me, his hardness teasing me on his approach. I bit my lip in anticipation of the pleasure I knew would come. Instinctively, I let my legs fall to the side to take him in, but to my surprise, he didn’t rush. He stopped, allowing himself to fall on top of my legs, his tongue making contact with my clitoris with virtually no effort at all.
Using slow, intentional movements, he moved his tongue over me, sucking my tender folds and sipping my juices as they flowed from my body. In and out, in and out, he teased me, while I moaned with pleasure.
One hand skimmed the contours of my curves, while the other worked its way up to my erect nipples and tugged gently at first, then worked it with more intensity, keeping pace with his tongue in my wetness. I reached my hands down, curling my fingers into his hair, wanting to keep him between my legs forever, but also hoping he’d give me his fullness soon before I exploded.
His fingers pulled and tugged my tender nipple, sending chills through my body as I tugged his hair. He moaned a low guttural sound onto the inside of my thigh, stopping to press small kisses into it, before moving down my leg to my ankles. He tickled my calves with soft kisses and licks and moved to my feet, cupping them in his hands and massaging them until I writhed with pleasure. This was a man who knew what to do to satisfy a woman in every way possible.
He lifted himself up, his fullness hitting my leg and looked at me with hooded lids, licking his lips. “You are so fucking sexy,” he moaned in between breaths.
I wanted to pull him to me, make him take me, but the look in his eye scared me. I wondered if it was real or another part of his act to get what he wanted?
I pushed the thought out of my head as he slid up my body, positioning his hardness between my legs, smoothing it over my wetness.
“You’re going to love this. You might want to take a few days off after this,” he teased. “It’s going to be a long night.”
Of course, even in the heat of passion, Beck couldn’t see past his ego far enough to act like a one-hundred percent normal human being. Why did I think he would?
“Don’t look at me like that.” He pointing to the scowl on my face.
“Like what? Like a woman who isn’t impressed by your…”
He sat up. My argument died right there. His body was too much of a distraction when he was fully dressed. Stark naked and glistening with sweat, it was incredibly difficult to breathe and even more difficult to speak. Why did I even bother to try?
“Can’t speak, beautiful?” He purred like the fierce alpha male beast he was.
I don’t know why I blushed. We’d just spent the last six hours exploring each other’s bodies. We had done enough to have broken down all barriers and inhibitions, but we’d not officially had full-on sex yet. I guess the good girl thing I tried hard to maintain was messing with my head, but the way Beck’s strong, knowing hands and his long tongue skimmed my body, my grip on that good girl was loosening piece by piece. If he kept teasing me with that massive fullness he had against my goose pimpled flesh, that good girl was going to die a horrible death.
“What is going on with you? Why do you have that look on your face?” Beck asked, looking at me curiously.
“What’s wrong with the way I look?” I could feel my defenses building up and fighting to creep out my mouth.
He smiled, humored by how quick I was to become defensive and angry. I hated that about myself sometimes, but there were times when it became necessary.
“You look like we got caught by your husband? Whoa, wait, you’re not married, right?” He answered his own question after laughing at my expense. “Yeah, no way you’re married. I would have been able to tell right away. The married ones always give themselves away.”
Way to kill the mood, bad boy!
I forced myself into a semi-sitting position, nearly toppling Beck over onto his back. “The married ones? You sleep with married women?”
It was his turn to blush this time. “Well, I have to be honest, there’s not much sleeping going on with the women.”
What a pig!
“Well, aren’t you Prince Charming? You have a way with words, don’t you? I’m sure your skanks love you for that,” I said, knowing full-well I sounded like a jealous woman – like he’d scorned me.
He smiled coyly, focusing his eyes on my exposed breasts. “Can we talk later? After we’re done?”
I yanked the sheet up over me so he wouldn’t have a reason
to be distracted. “No, I want to talk now.”
He sighed, pushing himself up into a seated position, his massive erection still very prominent. Because he was the kind of man he was, he didn’t bother to cover himself. Instead, he remained fully exposed and vulnerable in the sexiest way possible.
Why had I started an argument? I had a fine ass man – a damn football star – naked and begging me - and I chose this moment, of all moments, to want to be a whiny woman.
I had to remind myself I signed up for this. If I had an issue, I should have stopped this façade a long time ago. There was no going back now. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I liked him. It was inexplicable to me and probably would be to anyone who knew me. It wasn’t difficult to fathom on a superficial level. I mean, Beck was the sexiest freaking man alive, according to some magazines, but aside from that, he had some kind of power. Voodoo? Whatever it was I couldn’t resist him. Not at all. I was addicted to him and we’d not even experienced any semblance of a real relationship. Clearly, there was something wrong with me. There had to be.
“Well, whatever it is that’s going through that pretty head of yours, let it go. It doesn’t matter now. We have a baby to make,” Beck said.
A baby? Did I really agree to have his baby?
I didn’t get an opportunity to mull that thought over because Beck was still at full attention and ready for the next step. He covered my lips with his, simultaneously pulling me up and over to sit on his lap, where I made contact with his erection. He winced at the contact, but gripped my hips tighter, helping me remain in place. He didn’t have to worry. There was no way I was going to move away from him. His lips were soft against mine. He held me with such force and passion that breaking our connection would kill me.
Soon, I pushed my apprehensions aside and let myself enjoy the moment, enjoy the touch of his hands, the sultry, manly scent that permeated through his glistening pores, and the taste of his body. I opened my mouth wider, allowing him full access to my tongue. He didn’t hesitate to move his long, wet tongue inside my mouth, while also cupping my ass in his hands, swinging my hips in back and forth motions over the head of his erection, teasing my wet folds with the tip. He knew what he was doing: he was working me up to near explosive level convulsions.