by KB Winters
By the time my first group of girls arrived, Mr. Football was the last thing on my mind.
5
Chance
Monday morning came around way too fast. Granted, I’d spent most of the weekend drinking and fucking. That always seemed to make time hit fast-forward. As I reclined back in bed after shutting off my alarm clock, I grinned to myself, thinking of Lacey’s face as she’d rode me hard and fast. Damn, I couldn’t get that girl out of my head. It had been a long time since anyone had knocked me senseless like that, but the way she’d taken charge of me, riding me like I was a tool for her pleasure. Fuck… that was too hot to forget. Most women I brought home were more interested in asking me about football, the cars I drove, or my second home in the Virgin Islands. They had the gold digger stink on them, but they were hot, easy, and suitable for a night.
Not Lacey. I wasn’t even sure she knew I was a football player. She’d never asked. Our night together had been pure lust. Sex. Heat. Pleasure.
And damn it, one night wasn’t nearly enough.
But I didn’t know her last name and she’d left before I woke up and could ask for her number. I was considering going back to the club and asking around. Maybe she was a regular.
The mystery and unattainability factor only made me want her more.
The alarm rang a second time and I groaned. One slap and it shut the hell up. I heaved out of bed and stalked naked to the master bath. I jerked off in the shower, finishing with a massive orgasm under the spray of hot water as I pictured Lacey’s perky tits bouncing as she rode my nine-inch cock.
“Shit, I gotta find that girl.”
Three hours later, I found her.
I arrived at Harvest House, my own personal prison for the next five weeks, and was greeted by an uptight woman who acted like she hadn’t been laid in a decade. She introduced herself, but I instantly forgot her name. It was something bland, just like the rest of her. How many shades of taupe were there?
“This is our main activity center,” she explained, ushering me into a large open room. Childish artwork decorated the walls and everything was painted in bright colors, a stark contrast to the woman beside me. “We have a variety of after-school programs. Most of our students come here for help through a myriad of tutoring programs and after-school workshops to teach skills like cartoon drawing, creative writing, and carpentry. Then, we have a large gym facility in the other wing.”
I nodded politely through her whole speech. The truth was, I didn’t care what the organization did or what they had planned for the future. All I cared about was what I was expected to do for the next five weeks until my time was done.
I was about to ask her to cut to the chase when she stopped herself and smiled widely. “Aha, there she is. That’s Lacey Hart. She’s going to be in charge of your schedule and keeping you nice and busy around here.”
Every inch of my body lit up. Lacey Hart was Lacey. My new fantasy.
She was dressed down in a pair of fitted grey pants and a turquoise button-up shirt, both hugging every inch of her delicious curves. Her hair was pulled back and held in place with some kind of hair tie, showcasing the back of her delicate neck that I should’ve left some marks on last night. Normally it wasn’t the kind of outfit that would stop my heart and send all the blood racing to my cock, but on her? Damn it if she didn’t look just as sexy as she had wearing that short dress and heels at the club.
Besides, for all I knew, she could be wearing some seriously fuckable panty set underneath her conservative attire. I grinned, deciding that she most definitely was. Something black and sheer. Mmmm. I’d be peeling it off her curves by the time the sun went down.
How long did I have to stay and work?
“Lacey,” the woman at my left called over the full roar of children.
Lacey turned, a smile etched on her pretty face, but it faltered when she spotted me. I arched a brow at her and it tugged up one corner of my mouth into a quirked smile.
Surprise, baby. It’s me.
Lacey reached up as though to rake her fingers through her hair, realizing a moment too late that it was all pinned back. She fidgeted with her collar instead and then started across the room, calling out something to the band of girls behind her as she went.
“Lacey, this is Chance Beauman. He’s the football player that I told you about this morning. He’s here for the next five weeks from noon to four. As I said, use him however you see fit” —Lacey blanched at this turn of phrase and I grinned deeper— “and let me know if you need anything.”
Lacey nodded. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Beauman.”
I leaned in a little closer as I took her offered hand. “Please, it’s Chance.”
“Right.”
The woman on my left smiled, completely oblivious to the apparent tension between us. “Nice to have you here, Chance.”
She wandered off but I didn’t tear my eyes from Lacey’s long enough to see where she went. Lacey cut her gaze away and then dropped her hand from mine. “What are you doing here?” she hissed. “Is that why you singled me out at the club? You thought you could get a free pass on your service if you…” she let the rest of her question trail off but there was no doubt to her meaning.
“What? No! That’s insane. How would I even know you worked here?”
Lacey leveled me with a fierce stare. This was a much different version of her than the flirty, sexy woman I’d met the other night. “My picture is on the company website. I’m in the brochures. It’s not that farfetched to think you did a little research on me.”
I folded my arms. “And I knew you’d be at the club how?”
She stopped, her eyes going wide, as she apparently realized the ridiculousness of her theory.
I smirked. “Yeah, exactly. So, don’t go getting all up in arms. I’m just as surprised to see you as you are to see me.”
Lacey, still flustered, shook her head. “Okay, fine. However this happened, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that no one here ever finds out about…well… that.” A pink tinge spread over her cheeks and my dick twitched. She was even more gorgeous than I’d remembered. Usually, it was the other way around. I imagined a hot, steamy night, only to find myself not quite as enchanted the next day. But with Lacey, I was still very much interested.
Now, I just had to find a way to get her back in my bed again.
As I watched her, I caught her eyes tracing the lines of my shoulders and then take a brief tour of my chest. A grin spread across my face. Piece of cake. Despite the words and arguments coming out of her sweet little rosebud lips, she wanted to fuck me again just as much as I wanted to fuck her.
And we had five weeks.
Not that I planned on waiting that long. I glanced around, wondering if anyone would notice if we slipped off to an office. Hell, I’d even go for a supply closet at this point.
“Chance?” she snapped.
I forced a smile and a casual shrug. “Secret’s safe with me, pretty girl.”
She rolled her eyes. “You can’t call me that. Not anymore. Not here.”
“Then I guess I’ll just have to find a way to get you alone,” I whispered, leaning in a few inches so that she was the only one who could hear me.
For a moment, time was suspended as her eyes locked with mine. Her brown eyes were deep and endless. She wasn’t wearing as much makeup as she had been at the club, and I instantly decided I liked her better this way, with just a hint of color and her long dark lashes stealing the show. I wanted to reach around her head, undo her hair, and watch her shake it loose around her pretty face. I wanted her wild and free like she was when she’d straddled my cock. No fear, no hang-ups.
Damn, she was sexy.
How was I supposed to get through the day without touching her? Kissing those lips? Slipping my fingers against her warm, supple tits under her stiff shirt?
“Chance,” she groaned—irritated—not aroused.
“What?”
She broke away from me
and led the way back toward the cluster of girls on the other side of the large activity room. She waved for me to follow. “Come on, let me introduce you to the girls you’ll be working with for the next five weeks.”
“Baby, I’d follow that ass to the ends of the earth.”
6
Lacey
Two hours after Chance Beauman’s arrival, I was still in a semi-state of panic. How had I missed the fact that he was not only a famous football player for the Bitsberg Knights but that he was the city’s resident bad boy, plastered on the front of tabloids and the sports highlights section of most web browsers?
And now, not only was he at Harvest House, but he was directly under my supervision for five weeks.
Five fucking weeks.
Ugh. I could scream.
Instead, I kept my best smile firmly in place, speaking to my girls as though I didn’t have a care in the world. I introduced them to Chance which quickly turned into a Q&A session. I was surprised by how many of the girls knew who he was, having recognized him from football games on TV.
“All right, ladies. I’m going to show Mr. Beauman around the center. I want to come back and find you all busy with crafts or reading and then we’ll go shoot some hoops.”
A chorus of groans and complaints followed my proclamation. “Come on, let’s have a chat in my office.”
Chance gave me a dark smile.
“Not that kind,” I replied tersely under my breath.
He sobered but there was still a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, which, in the fluorescent lights of the youth center, I could see were a stunning hazel, leaning more toward green than brown. They were no less captivating in the light of day as they’d been at the club or in the seductive darkness of his bedroom. I tore my gaze away from them before I started squirming and led the way to my office.
My office was a small room, not much larger than a closet, but I had a small window and enough space to put a medium-sized desk and a couple of visitor chairs. I didn’t usually use the office for meetings unless the nature of the conversation demanded privacy, such as speaking with one of the girls’ social workers.
“Nice place,” Chance commented as I awkwardly shuffled around him to shut the door. He appeared even larger than before inside the small room.
I followed his gaze around the room. He noted the secondhand furniture first, and then his eyes rested on the wall of photographs I’d collected over the three years I’d been working at Harvest House. Most of the pictures were from large group outings with a sprinkling of individual shots of me with some of my extra special kiddos.
“So, what exactly is your role here?” he asked, still looking at the photographs.
I smoothed my hands over the back of my slacks and then settled into my office chair. “I am the girls’ activities director.”
Chance cut his gaze to me before lowering into the small, neon orange chair opposite me. The chair groaned under his weight but he didn’t even notice. My mind got stuck for a moment, remembering the way the weight of his body felt as he’d moved over mine. A bolt of heat surged through me, and I rapidly shushed away the memories of his carved arms, thick, muscular thighs, and the dark look in his eyes as he’d stripped me naked.
“What exactly does that mean?” he asked.
I folded my arms and set them on top of my desk, leaning forward slightly as I fixed him with a sharp glare. “Do you even know what Harvest House is? What we do here? Or was this just a dart thrown at a list of charities?”
Chance smiled. “I didn’t pick. The judge did.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Hey, listen, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here,” he said, holding up his large hands, palms toward me. “I wanted to write a fat check and walk away from this whole mess. But the judge thought that wasn’t enough.”
I snorted. “Gee, I wonder why. Poor little football star can’t upgrade his Benz this month.”
Chance’s smile only deepened at my diatribe. “Damn. You’re tough. Why can’t we be friends, Lace?”
“I think we already crossed a few lines that would make being friends a little difficult. But, typically speaking, I don’t get drunk and go home and screw my friends.”
He chuckled. “I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that?”
“Ugh.” I squeezed my eyes closed, only to find more images of his sexy bare chest waiting for me. “Harvest House is a youth center for kids that live below the poverty line, many of which are in the foster care system. We provide a safe place for them to gather before and after school. On the weekends, during the summer, and even on the majority of bank holidays. In addition, we have free tutoring, dance classes, and sports leagues. Most importantly, we provide counseling and social services by working with other non-profits.”
“So you map out ballet classes and finger painting and zoo trips?”
“I organize events and coordinate with other groups that come into work with our kids, yes. But more specifically, I work with that beautiful group of little ladies out there to make sure they are all being cared for. This place isn’t some daycare. We deal with shit you probably can’t even imagine on a daily basis.”
Chance sobered slightly. “Despite what you may think, I don’t live in some kind of gold-plated bubble, all right? I get that there are problems and tragedies in the world. Being rich doesn’t make you immune.”
There was a dark shadow in his eyes that stirred me into wondering what he was referring to. It wasn’t a blanket statement of someone who occasionally tuned into the nightly news. Instead, he had the look of someone personally touched by tragedy.
“In any case, like it or not, I’m here for the next five weeks and you’ve apparently been granted the permission to make me your bitch, so if we can just get into how that’s gonna break down, that’d be great.”
Chance’s sharp tone confused me. Suddenly, he was the one angry and ready to run? What just happened?
“Fine,” I said, pushing away from the desk. I spun in my chair to retrieve a sheet of paper from the printer that sat on a utility cart below the window. “This is the rough schedule I’ve made up. You’ll be working with my girls for the next five weeks. Each week, I sign off on your attendance and participation and send it to the court system. So, please, don’t make this worse by showing up late and slacking off. You can do something really good here during your time with us.”
Chance’s darkness vanished, and he fixed his charming smile back in place as he reached over the desk for the schedule. “Maybe have a little fun too. I wonder how soundproof these walls are.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t deny my traitorous body that shuddered at the thought of him taking me there on the edge of my desk.
No, Lace. He’s not for you.
“Let’s just stick to papier-mâché and basketball, all right?”
Chance stood. “We’ll see.”
I stared at his ass as he left the office and nibbled on my lower lip. Damn, it was going to be a long five weeks.
Predictably, Tien thought the entire situation was hilarious.
“You’re gonna bone him in your office. Mark my words!” She cackled and raised her glass of wine in a pre-banging celebration.
I scoffed and peeked into the oven at the frozen pizza I was cooking. “I am not gonna bone him. That expression doesn’t even make any sense. I don’t have a bone!”
Tien roared with laughter again. “Doesn’t matter. You and Chance Beauman are gonna get dowwwwn!”
I rolled my eyes and popped a handful of cherry tomatoes into my mouth. I’d washed them off to toss into the salad I’d made. Still, the tomatoes were my favorite part and they were rapidly disappearing. But, hey, there were worse things I could stress eat.
I rounded on Tien as she sat at the small kitchen table. “Did you know that’s who he was? That night at the club?”
She shook her head and swallowed another gulp of merlot. “I swear, Lace. I had no idea. I just thoug
ht he was hot. I didn’t know he was a baller.”
I sighed and stuffed another tomato into my mouth. “This is seriously unbelievable. Why Harvest House?”
Tien shrugged. “Kismet? Serendipity?”
“Most definitely not.”
She giggled.
The timer on the oven rang out and I hurried to retrieve the pizza before it burned. Tien lived five minutes away from my downtown apartment, granted in a much nicer building. We ate dinner together most nights. Usually at my place because Tien wasn’t much of a cook. Then again, I ended up copping out for frozen pizza more often than I’d like to admit.
“Okay, okay, in all seriousness, why not just fuck him again? You said it was hot as hell. Why not have a little more fun?”
I grabbed the pizza cutter from a meticulously organized drawer and started slicing into the steaming pie. “Because it’s unprofessional. We work together now. Besides, he’s not my type.”
Tien cackled again. “Yeah, you’re right. Those tall, rich motherfuckers are really hard to wake up next to every day.”
“You know what I mean, Tien.”
“Actually, I don’t. I didn’t ask why you aren’t marrying him. I’m asking why you refuse to sleep with him again. Two different scenarios here.”
She had a point. Why was I so resistant to the idea of using Chance for that fine ass body of his?
“No.” I shook my head and made another slice. “It’s not right. I shouldn’t have slept with him the first time. I don’t know what came over me. Well, that’s not quite true. I’m sure it was mostly thanks to the six plus drinks I had that night.” I winced, hating the way it sounded. I was so not the party girl. The wild child. Or risk taker. That had never been me. I’d lost myself for one night and look where it had landed me. In the awkward situation to end all awkward situations.
