Quarterback's Surprise Baby (Bad Boy Ballers Book 2)

by Imani King

  “Thanks, but I really don't want a drink. All I want to do is go to bed. Frankly, I just want to fuck.” I grab his hand and try to lead him toward the bedroom, but he stops short, his heels digging into the ground.

  “Is that all you want from me Odell?” he asks, suddenly serious. “We just had the biggest day of our lives, and that’s it?”

  “Right now, yeah,” I answer. “Come on, Gryphon, don't make me beg.” My voice takes on a whiny tone, and he grimaces.

  “I'm not just some fuck-toy to you, am I?” He is standing stock-still.

  “Are you kidding? Of course you are,” I answer, laughing, but Griff doesn't laugh. Doesn't he understand that I don't mean that? “Hey Griff, I’m just joking. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

  “I see how it is.” There's hurt all over his face. “I'm not good enough for you, am I? Not smart enough to take seriously. Yeah, I see how it is.” He sets the champagne down on the table. “I suspected as much, and it’s clear as day now. Forget it. I thought you would want to celebrate this victory, and be happy that I won't lose my career, but instead, you just want to fuck. I want to have sex with you too, Odell, more than anything. But not if you don't even care about me enough to see me as a person. I thought we were getting closer, but now I know that you don't give a shit. I hoped you were better than that.”

  Fucking hell. I don't know what to say. Every word he says about not losing his own career reminds me that everything I’ve worked for is on the line. Why is he making such a fuss, when I need him? I'm not ready to talk about what happened, nor do I want to blame him for the firm's stupidity and attitudes mired in the 1950’s. It’s just too hard though to feel happy about our victory when all it means for me is that I completely fucked myself over.

  I grab my bag.

  “Yeah, ok, thanks anyway.” I walk out and he shuts the door behind me. The silence in the corridor is deafening, and suddenly the hot tears I’d held back are coming, strong and insistent.

  16

  Gryphon

  “Coach,” I say. “You wanted to see me?”

  “I’m on the phone, right now,” he mouths, receiver in his hand. He holds up a finger. “Yes, Mr. Corbett. I understand the issue. Well, we really appreciate your financial support on this, but I don’t know if he wants to sell.”

  I wait. Must be one of those billionaires wanting to buy the team. I saw one of those Corbett boys on a magazine, Forbes I think it was.

  “Nicholas? Sure, I’ll call you Nicholas. We’ll be in touch, Nicholas.”

  He hangs up. “Thanks for waiting there, Griff, I had one of these rich guys on the phone. Seems nice enough, but you have to play their game to win their money.” He clears his throat. “Gryphon,” he says, voice still hearty. “I was very happy to hear that this nasty business seems to be finally over between you and your uh … ex. Plays a lot better with investors, not having my star quarterback up on charges.”

  “That's right sir,” I say slowly, trying to figure out his angle. “She’s dropping them and we’re considering a countersuit. Is that why you called me in?”

  “The reason I want to see you, Gryphon, is because I want to know that you'll be giving your absolute all to the game from now on. I’ve tried to be understanding about this mess you’ve gotten into, and I think we all want it to be over. I don't want to deal with a half-assed effort on the field any more from anyone, least of all you, my very expensive star player, and I want your word that you're going to be in peak performance from here on out. You know we need to make the championship and your role is crucial. I want your mind on the game.” He plays with the whistle around his neck. “And nothing but the game. At all times. One hundred and ten percent, you got that James?”

  “For sure coach, I will. I always give my best.” My jaw is tightening. Motherfucker. This now? After things finally let up? And if only it were because of Sabrina. My performance was suffering because I was afraid of losing Odell, and now I may have. And good riddance, I tell myself. At least I try to believe it. I’m going to kill it on the field.

  “If that's so, James, your best hasn't been very good these days. And if you don't get it together immediately, your place on the team is in jeopardy. And in the league. The NFL doesn’t tolerate half-assed QB’s who flirt with breaking the law, and then don’t play well. If you’re going to do one, you stay away from the other. Stay clean, and play well. You know that, Griff,” he says, his tone changing. “I will not tolerate the team losing because of you. You better know that.”

  “I understand, coach,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “That’s right. Get out of my sight, James,” he says. “Off with you.”

  I walk out the door, determined to give the performance of my life at the game tonight. I’m going to show him.

  “Gryphon,” He calls after me. “Hang on.”

  I look back through the door frame. “Yeah, coach?”

  His brows are knitting together. “I gotta know. What do you do with the team the other day?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “During practice. They’re a lot more nimble. Agility drills are through the roof.”

  I have to smile. It’s not what I did, it’s what Odell did. “That’s a trade secret, sir,” I grin.

  “I’ll trade your ass if you don’t tell me what it is,” he smiles back. “Good work, James.”

  “Thanks a million, coach.”

  “Keep it up. I mean it!”

  “You know it.”

  17

  Odell

  Sandra is not impressed. “What the fuck did you do, Odell?” She hisses as she pulls me closer to her to her side and we find a table.

  “Look I don’t need this right now,” I protest. “I don’t feel too well. It’s probably the stress.”

  “Do you think? Or is it something else?” She stares at me. “You’re glowing, you know.” We sit down, and I slump a little in the booth before giving her a sharp look. I don’t need her shit right now, especially not when I feel like crap in every single possible way.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap.

  “Oh, nothing. If it’s anything, you’ll find out soon enough.” She stirs her coffee.

  “Well don’t play with me, girl, I need to figure out what I’m going to do. My career is on the line, and I’m not in the mood.” I take a sip of my coffee, and it burns my lip. “Oh shit!” This is not my day. “If you can’t help me, then I don’t know why you even wanted to meet.”

  “I wanted to meet because I’m your friend,” Sandra says. “Whether you know it or not. I have been looking out for your best interests since the start. I told you not to get involved with an athlete, and I don’t support you not going to work. Calling in sick? Odell, this isn’t like you.”

  Her words sting. Yeah, it’s true. She did tell me that. But you can’t help who you fall for. Gryphon James walked into my life and now he might have ruined it. Left me without a man, and more than likely without a job. All I have now are my friends. And Sandra is my best one.

  “I called in sick, because I’m not feeling well at all, and I have to figure out a strategy to keep my job. Sandra, I need you to support me right now, not to say I told you so,” I mutter. “Even if you did tell me so!” Goddamn it, she did tell me so, but does she have to humiliate me?

  “Okay, okay. Well, let’s lay it all out here. First, we have to figure out what you’re going to do about Carlton.” She looks thoughtful. “You say that there’s going to be a meeting to decide your fate?”

  “Exactly. Tomorrow. But they've had a week to prepare for it, while I’ve been stuck doing odd jobs in the firm. I don't even know if we're doing the counter suit. At least I’ve got this win in my pocket, but with neither Carlton or Gryphon talking to me, I'm really not sure what to do.” I’m picturing a guillotine with my neck in it, and Carlton with the executioner’s mask on. And Griff standing beside him, laughing. “And honestly I don’t understand his problem. I got that witch
Sabrina Forbes to drop the case, possibly won us a counter suit, but instead of celebrating, he’s using my relationship as proof that women shouldn’t even be allowed to be lawyers! It's insane.”

  “That’s just completely ridiculous.” She slams down her coffee cup. “You might have a real case against him.”

  I suddenly remember the recording I made of Carlton’s spouting his bullshit. “That’s true, you know. I do have a secret weapon here.” I tap on my phone. “I secretly recorded some of the ridiculous shit he was spouting during that meeting.”

  “It’s a good thing you’re so suspicious!” she laughs. “That was quick thinking on your part.”

  “Right!”

  “If you can use that as evidence, you might be able to not only secure your position but also get Carlton removed from his,” she says.

  “It’s not admissible in court, but it might make me safe with HR. But, the reality is that, if it all goes bad, I also could be blackballed out of my profession. Nobody wants to work with the woman who makes it hard for the men who are trying to keep them down,” I say.

  “Well, that’s not entirely accurate,” She answers. Our food arrives, and immediately I feel like hurling. I don’t know why Sandra likes this diner food. It’s so greasy. I push the plate away as she digs in.

  “Oh no?” I ask, looking at her sideways.

  “You know who wants to work with those women? Other women!”

  “Right, that’s true. Smith Williams Smith is not the only firm in this world,” I muse.

  “Not by a long shot,” she says. “And if you’re half the lawyer you appear to be, then you’ll find another job. In a place that values you for more than just a token to look inclusionary,” she says.

  “Yeah.” There’s a not-so-secret reason that I work there in particular, though not the reason I made partner—that I earned. The firm hired me partially due to legacy, because my father was an original founder. Of course, he’s left the firm now for all intents and purposes, has moved to Switzerland, and is only on as an attorney emeritus; but it’s his name that makes up the firm’s middle name. The other names that flank it, however, is half Carlton Smith—who has increasingly blocked any progressiveness in the firm’s initiative or reputation—and another Smith who's largely retired now. I never met this other Smith, but I think Carlton is pretty happy to have the principal say in the direction and progress of SWS. He was probably glad when the other two became less interested in working and more into retirement.

  Until now. A wave of nausea hits me again as I look down at my steak and eggs. “Why do you even eat at this place,” I start to say, but before I finish the sentence I realize that it’s not just a wave of nausea, it’s more serious. I run to the bathroom and just get into the stall before the coffee splashes into the toilet.

  I hurl a few more times, before standing up and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Ugh. Washing my mouth out in the sink, I catch a look at my reflection. My hair is stringier and nappier than usual and I look exhausted, but Sandra is right. At least, I do have a glow about my skin. I don't look like something the cat dragged in. I should get myself to the hairdresser before this meeting, and maybe buy a new outfit.

  “Due for what?” I ask. “Color? Oh, I don't know, I think I'll hold off a little. I kind of like how my roots are growing in. I just need a little shaping.”

  She gives me a little side-eye. “Ok, Odell,” she says in a voice that sounds like it's meant for someone a little slow. “Can I get you a coffee—or maybe an herbal tea might be better?”

  “I'd love something to settle my stomach,” I say eagerly. “I've got a lot of stress going on and I'm really taking it hard.”

  “Sure, yeah,” she says. “Coming right up. Jenna, can you get Miss Williams a cup of ginger tea?”

  I hear an indistinct shout back but it sounds positive.

  “Well let's get that cut started anyway,” Mara says, leading me to the sinks. “You're going to be a new woman in no time. You've got a lot of life in you,” she grins.

  “I wish I felt it,” I say.

  “You seeing anyone, Odell?” she asks, as she leans me back in the chair.

  “I was, first guy in a long while, but it's not working out. You know, we both have careers—we're career people, and sometimes things don't mix all that well with working all the time.”

  “I get that.” She looks at me. “But do you want to have babies, uh… eventually?”

  “Sure, maybe eventually,” I concede. “But I just made partner, and I’m not really thinking about boyfriends and husbands and weddings and babies. But sure, one day!”

  “Well you don't want to wait too long,” she grins widely. “I'm sure it'll happen when the time is right.”

  “I'm sure it will!” I lean back into the stream of hot water, and she massages my scalp. I'm in a reverie now, as the tingling sensations swirl away all my worries and concerns. And any lingering thoughts of Griffon, Carlton, or anyone else.

  18

  Gryphon

  “Fucking great job, Griff!” yell my teammates as they pass. I'm gulping down some Gatorade like my life depends on it, and it probably does. It was intense out there tonight, but I think I've won back coach's respect, at least for now. He has to be impressed with my moves and the points I scored. Nobody worked as hard as I did, and nobody got the results I did either.

  I get back to the clubhouse, half hoping that Odell will show up again at the door, and apologize to me. I linger around my locker, getting dressed, but she doesn't arrive. Dammit. I'm finally on top of the world again. My lawsuit is out of the picture, my game is at its peak, and Odell still she doesn't think I'm good enough for her. Easy come easy go, I guess.

  “Where's your girl?” Drake asks. “You know, that sweet little piece of ass who looks at you like you're pâté on a cracker?”

  “What are you talking about?” I say, finally putting my shirt on. She's not going to show. “And don't call her a piece of ass, she's a lot more than that.”

  “She's your lawyer, is she not?” He nudges my arm. “Is she even allowed to be with you, man?”

  “What? I don't know,” I say. “I hadn't thought that much about it. We were together before she was my lawyer.”

  “Well that shit can get you in trouble,” he says. “Conflict of interest, and all that.”

  I shrug. “Odell didn't say anything about that.”

  “Well if you like her, you should be careful. You don't want it to get around.”

  “You don’t have to worry about it,” I say, slamming my door shut. “It's all over anyhow. We're not together anymore.”

  “You're not?” He screws up his face. “Say it ain’t so! She was fine! Hey, do you mind if I ask her out?” He dances around me. “Ain't no conflict of interest there! Just in-ter-est!”

  Anger wells up in me. “You'll stay away from her, Drake,” I growl. “If you know what's good for you.”

  “Hey man, I’m just playin'!” He backs off, his hands up in the air, a smile on his face. “Don't take things so serious!”

  I grab my bag and storm out. Something in me is still hoping I might run into Odell in the hall. However, once I'm in my car, I have to give up hope that she's going to come to me.

  Like they say, if Mohammed won't come to the mountain, the mountain will have to go to Mohammed.

  My car roars into life and I take off toward Odell's place.

  I hear her voice from inside. “Who is it? And what are you doing here at this hour?”

  “Odell, open up, it's Griff,” I try the door, but it's locked.

  “Shit Griff, ok, hold on.” She opens the door and wraps her robe around her a little more tightly. It's kind of flimsy as is—short, and filmy. She ties the sash around her and rubs her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “I couldn't let so much time go by without seeing you.” I run my hand through my hair.

  “Odell, can I come in?”

  “Yeah, get in here,” she
says. “Sorry, I'm a little out of it. I fell asleep on the couch.”

  “Damn, you look sexy,” I say. “I'm sorry to barge in you but …”

  She walks over and melts into my arms. Her body feels so warm. I crush her to my chest and kiss her hair.

  “Griff,” she says. “Where have you been?”

  “I won my game tonight,” I tell her. “I was incredible.”

  “I know, you're amazing,” she murmurs. I kiss her hair.

  “You really think so?” I ask.

  “Of course, everyone thinks so.” I pull her tighter.

  “Yeah, I don't care so much about what everyone thinks.” She looks up at me. “Just what you think.”

  “I missed you, babe,” she says. Her lips are a tawny rose pink, and so soft looking. I can't resist kissing her. Hard at first, claiming her, then tenderly. She responds immediately, hungrily. I undo her sash and let her robe fall open as she pulls my shirt over my head. Her skin on my skin is like velvet, soft and smooth, and she's saying my name so softly as I let my lips trail down the side of her face and to her breasts. I take one hardening nipple in my mouth and then the other, and her head falls back as she groans in pleasure.

  If all I am in the world is a fuck to this incredible woman, then I'm going to be the greatest fuck she ever had. My hand reaches around to her sweet, soft ass, and I slip my fingers under the delicate fabric of her silky panties, to caress the even softer skin underneath them. Her curves drive me wild and make me hard as a rock, but I don't want to rush her—I'm going to take my time and enjoy every moment teasing and kissing her before I satiate her with every inch of my cock.

  Her nipples stand at attention, and I suck and bite them as I slowly slip her panties to the floor. Her bare feet step out of the scrap of material and my mouth burns a trail down her stomach to her mound. Its scent and wetness are driving me crazy with desire for her. I bury my face in between her legs, kissing and sucking the rose petal tender skin that surrounds her clit, as she whispers my name over and over again. I hold her ass in one hand, and with the other, I reach a finger inside her, her dripping juices lubricating me as I slide in. I feel her trembling, quivering, and I get a little closer to her center, lapping and sucking at her sweet flesh as I caress her from the inside as well.