“No.” I bite my lower lip as his eyes narrow and mouth purses.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I don’t love you, Derrick. I’m sorry.”
“You think your quarterback will marry you? You think a first draft would fall for a woman like you?”
“Like me?” My voice goes up two octaves as my face heats to the top of my head.
“Face it, Kira, you’re not exactly a catch.”
I want my mom to stand up and defend me, my dad to punch him, or my grandmother to beat him to death with her cane. When no one says boo, something inside my brain snaps and I grow a spine.
“Because I won’t have anal sex? Is that it?” Oh fuck. I did not just say anal out loud.
My great-aunt’s forehead clunks on the table, my mother screams, and my father shouts. Stemware crashes to the floor and Alice giggling, grabs the Panda cookie jar.
“What is anal six?” Piper pulls on my sister’s shirt.
Eyes on mine, Alice tries not to laugh. “She said sax. It’s short for saxophone. An instrument in the band. Let’s go downstairs and have some Christmas cookies.”
Like the pied piper, the kids follow her to the basement.
My dad, now red in the face, grabs Derrick by the arm and pulls him to standing. “I think it’s time to go.”
“Way to ruin Thanksgiving, sis.” Cher glares at me from where she’s on her knees picking up shards of crystal.
Meanwhile, my mother helps Great Aunt Katherine into the living room and gives her a shot of whiskey. Gram, my great aunt Emily and Uncle Robbie are the only ones not affected by the chaos. They’ve helped themselves to pie and more wine.
“That went well, don’t you think?” I sit with them, the only four left at the table.
“They’ll get over it. Robbie grins and pours more wine into my glass.
“Good job, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
Cher grumbles from the sink which pisses me off so I shout, “Hey, I did not invite him. You didn’t even ask me. I told you we broke up.”
Why am I the bad guy?
My mother sighs heavily and clears away the table. “Why don’t you all go watch TV with your father. I’ll clean up.”
With Aunt Emily’s help, it takes Gram about five minutes to stand. Once she does, she taps her cane on the floor. “Your daughter has balls. Damn good thing, too.”
I don’t hear the rest as she follows my mom into the kitchen.
My uncle laughs, shaking his head back and forth and settles on the couch in the living room where Great Aunt Katherine snores in the rocking chair.
Out the front window, my dad’s nose is inches away from Derrick. I catch an occasional word and from the way he shouts, I’m guessing my ex will not be invited for Christmas.
No doubt, neither will I.
Uncle Robbie clears his throat and clicks the TV remote. “You really dating a first draft?”
I nod. “Ryan Finnegan.”
“He’s good. Surprised he has time for a girl in his life.”
“He doesn’t.” I shrug. “I told him I’d wait for him until after the playoffs.”
“Then there’s the Combine.”
I give him a confused look and he explains. “Think of it as the Olympics for NFL bound athletes. They’re asked to perform all sorts of drills in front of recruiters and coaches. It’s ended some careers.”
“Wow.” I look it up online and sigh. My uncle is right. I won’t be seeing much of Ryan until late spring.
“You up for this? For him?”
“Not sure.” But I am. I think of how sweetly he made love with me and the comparison to Derrick made it crystal clear.
I’ve fallen in love with Ryan Finnegan.
Chapter 13
Ryan
After a quick Thanksgiving meal with my family, I get an Uber to the airport. Then, it’s fly, land, hotel, and lights out. When Skype rings, I check the time, lay back on my bed, and moan. As much as I want to talk, I need to make it quick. I got an early morning practice followed by a game in the afternoon.
“Hello darlin’, what’s up?”
“I miss you.” Her voice, normally perky, sounds down.
“I miss you, too.” I wait for a while, she sighs, and turns on her camera.
Her pretty face glows yellow in the dim light given off by her cell’s screen. “Guess who my parents invited to dinner?”
I almost guess Knight Walker but the right answer quickly comes to mind. “Your ex? Der-prick?”
“Yeah.” She goes on to explain her whole crazy holiday meal and by the time she’s done, I’m laughing so hard, tears roll down my cheeks.
“Fuck it all, stop, Kira. I can’t believe you told him off in front of everyone. Poor dude, if he wasn’t such an ass, I’d feel sorry for him.”
She chuckles. “I swear it was the silver polish. Those fumes are toxic.”
“You sure it wasn’t the five glasses of wine?” I close my eyes, picturing the ridiculous scene, and click on my Skype’s camera so she can view my amusement.
I press my nose to the screen. “If I was there, I would’ve sent him straight to-”
“Thank you.” She giggles.
“For what?” I shift under the covers, and adjust my cock, now hard at the thought of her.
“Making me laugh. My God, when Aunt Kathy fainted, I thought she was going to die of a heart attack.” She makes her eyes go wide.
“I assume she’s fully recovered?”
“Not sure. I’m getting the silent treatment from almost everyone. Apparently, I’m the Grinch who stole Thanksgiving.” She wrinkles her nose and sticks out her tongue.
I can’t help but chuckle. “This was not on you.”
“Hmm. I guess I could’ve left out the part about anal sex.” At her cute snicker, my cock takes more notice.
Why anyone would want her from behind is beyond reason. Her sweet vagina is so responsive, so sweet, and so damn tight. I fist my hardening member. This is what she does to me. I place my camera on my pillow and slide my hands up and down my thickening length.
“Kira… Tell me what you’re wearing.”
“Nothing sexy. Flannel PJ’s.” She tips the phone so I can see.
“Kick off the bottoms. Touch yourself for me.”
Her volume drops. “Are you naked?”
“Yeah, darlin’, and hard. You do that to me. Hearin’ your voice, seein’ you smile… You do me in.”
“I’m wet and slick.” Her breath hitches. “I’m making little circles on my nub.”
“Fuck me.” I grab my thick length and pump faster.
She moans. ““I wish I could. Tell me what it feels like… when you…”
She’s killing me. “When I get off?”
“Yeah.”
“Pinch your nipples. Do it.”
“Mmm… Okay.”
“Cumming inside you, it’s like nothin’ I’ve ever felt before. You squeeze the fuck out of me, you shudder, and everything in me grows tight, you know?”
As she pants, I imagine myself entering her warm, wet, core and fist faster.
“You, ah. Ah, hell, Kira. I’m about to cum.”
“Ah, ah… I’m catching up. Just a sec… Talk dirty to me, Ryan.”
I can barely inhale, let alone speak. “If I was there, I’d slide my cock between your folds until my bones press on your clit. I’d grind, circle, and push against your throbbing nub.”
“Ry, oh shit. Oh shit. Yes. Cum with me.”
Rock hard, I pump, and grow stiff. “Kira… I, I, Fuck yes.” Ropes of my seed spurt into the air and cover my lower half while she moans on the other side of the line.
“You still there?” With her voice all sleepy-like, my chest grows tight, and it’s as if a piece of me is missing where she should be spooned into my body.
“Yeah. Fuck, I miss you.”
“Me too.” Her voice holds a smile and I do, too.
“Sleepy?”
“Yeah. You?�
��
“Mmm… Stay on the line, okay? I want to imagine your arms wrapped around me.”
“Shush.” If I try hard enough, I can recall her scent, all spice and honey.
In the middle of the night, her soft snoring comforts me, and thinking of the minutes used, I hang up the phone.
Morning comes too soon. I curse at the alarm, hop in the shower, and head down to the restaurant. Quest and Jackson, stand, then pull two tables into one. Russell and Matt join us.
“Hey.” I bump fists with them and find some much needed coffee.
Jackson adds cream to his mug while I put mine under the spigot of a large carafe. “I, ah, just wanted to tell you. That thing I was having trouble with? Thanks.”
My brows raise. "You’re not pissed?”
He crushes six tiny empty cups of half and half in a fist. “At first I was. Yeah, at both you and Star. But, after talking with this guy, I get it now. So, um. Thanks.”
“Nada, bro. Nada.” I take my coffee back to my seat and head back with my plate to the metal warmers where Quest piles scrambled eggs into a mountain.
He hands over the spoon. “Help yourself.”
“You okay? I haven’t seen much of you.”
“Better now. You remember Trish?”
“High school?”
“She transferred here. Been out for revenge.”
“Shit. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugs. “I figured you had your hands full with Red. You sort that out?”
I sigh. “I guess. I think I fucking love her. Which sucks. You know? I mean, I can’t spend more than a few minutes with her.”
“I understand more than you know.” He slaps me on the back, guy talk over.
Back at the table, Russ, sitting across from me, catches my eye. “I heard some bad shit about your pal, Knight. I thought you should know.”
I frown. “We’re not actually pals.” Especially after what Kira told me.
“Good. I got a friend, a townie. She hears stuff. Says Knight drugged one of her friends, took her to bed.”
“Jesus. Did the cops arrest him?”
“No. No evidence of anything. When she woke, he said it was consensual. She works at Dunkin’ Donuts and he’s the son of Hollywood big shots. She shut her mouth.”
“Fuck. Don’t tell Kira.”
“Too late. All the girls on campus know. CJ’s wife, Mel? She’s like… some kind of campus advocate for sexual assault; got a hit list and he’s on it.”
I think how Kira was almost raped and my fists clench. I will deal with that motherfucker as soon as we get back. On second thought, I text my go-to man.
Me: Need help
Jeff: ?
While I text, Chris, our assistant coach slams a fist on the table. “Out. Busses are waiting.”
Fuck. The five of us are holding up practice. We all jump as one and head out the door. In the bus, I turn off my cell phone and stash it in my bag. Those caught with one after breakfast have it confiscated. Besides, Kira is safe at home. By the time she’s back, hopefully, I can keep him away from her.
Then, there’s only football. Despite being on our best form, Penn State wins, putting extreme pressure on us. We can’t afford to lose another game. Exhausted and discouraged, I ice my bruises, and fall asleep. It isn’t until Sunday I turn my cell phone back on.
Jeff: What you need?
Kira: Good game, sorry you lost :-{ Call me when you can Dad: Call me
Brad: Sorry, dude
Kira: Call me?
I scroll through the long list of texts, either giving condolences or advice. Shit. I need to shorten my contact list. Suddenly, I remember where I was before the game and call Jeff.
“Hey.”
“Your head wasn’t in the game.”
Not true. They just played better. “If that’s your pep talk, you suck.”
He chuckles. “Okay. How’s this. Don’t lose again and watch your left flank.”
“Better. I need to ask you a favor.”
“Will it make you win?”
“It will ease my mind. Can you find someone to look into Knight Walker?”
“Look into as in how?”
“Private eye?”
“This isn’t like the movies, kid. I need a little more.”
I explain what Russell told me and what happened to Kira and as I do, a kind of knot tightens in my chest. “Kira found out Knight’s parents had someone take his SAT’s for him. She’s following up on it as a final for her journalism class.”
“Shit. Tell her to stay clear.”
Mouth grim, I shake my head. If only it was that easy.
Chapter 14
Kira
Pushing aside a pile of books, I set my six-inch plastic Christmas tree on the coffee table, plug it into an empty socket, and hang a string of lights in our living room window. Feeling festive, I open a carton of eggnog and add a splash of Kahlua but not too much, I still got studying to do.
I check my texts.
Ryan: I miss you
Ryan: Call me
Ryan: Stay clear of Walker.
There’s a few more so I try to call him back. When it goes straight to voice mail, I can’t help but wonder why he got jealous. I thought we were past that.
Besides, I can’t stay clear of Knight. My notes are due at the end of the semester and if I don’t get more intel, I’ll never pass.
Shit. My parents will be so disappointed if I don’t graduate. And Ryan? He’ll head off to the NFL while I stay in Freedham to retake this class. Everyone will move on and I’ll be stuck in Nowheresville, South Carolina.
I can’t let it happen. I won’t. I’m going to be a journalist and a damned fine one.
I think back on August and how I brought media attention to the Pitbull’s ex-coach Bradley. Because of my podcast, he had to publicly apologize to the female students he fondled. It just goes to prove I can make a difference. To me, journalism is more than passing this class, it’s my destiny and I’m not going to ignore it because my boyfriend sent me a text.
Now, Ryan can’t possibly get mad. Didn’t I try hard to call him back?
There’re a couple other calls on my phone from an unknown number but when I try to play the messages, my voicemail is full. Shit. I empty them and message Knight:
Me: Hi. Do you still have papers to write? I could use the money.
Knight: My place. 9PM. Ciao. Dress nice.
Knight must think he has an opportunity to score. Hopefully, with his guard down, I can pump him for more information, finish my notes, and get a passing grade.
A bit guilty, I again borrow Star’s little black spandex dress. The last time I wore it was with Ryan. Tonight, if I had one, I’d don a chastity belt. Instead, I wear granny-panties.
Then, I take off my high heels and drive barefooted to the address Knight sent me. The estate is so huge, I double check the address. My God, his parents rented him a friggin’ mansion, more appropriate for the president of FSCU. The driveway winds through a perfectly manicured lawn with bushes cut into precise spheres. Two columns hold up a small roof over the front door where two cement lions rest on either side of the steps.
I park and slide into my heels while danger music plays inside my head. In the doorway, dressed in designer-torn jeans and a rock band t-shirt, Knight looms.
My face heats as I walk up the steps. “I thought you said dress nice.”
“I did. I wanted you looking good and you do.” He leans over and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Come in.”
Shit. I had no intention of spending an evening alone with him. I thought we were going out. Shaking, I check all the exits as I follow him into a chrome and granite kitchen. On an island, two glasses of champagne, sparkle in stemware.
“Cheers.” He hands me one flute and takes a sip from the other.
I clink, bring it to my lips, and stop.
“What’s wrong? Drink up.” His brows crease and warning bells clang in my brain.
; Bubbles tickle the inside of my nose as I glance over the top of my glass. Forcing a smile, I set it down next to a pasta sink. What if he spiked the champagne? My brain hurts as I try to come up with a valid reason, other than the obvious, of why I shouldn’t drink.
The day I peed on a stick comes to mind. “I, ah… I may be pregnant.”
“Ryan?” His eyes fume but he quickly recovers.
I reach out and touch his hand. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
His toothy smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “My lips are sealed.”
The danger music in my head grows louder. My eyes dart to the door, then to my high heels which I can hardly wobble in. Far away, on the countertop, sits my purse. The outside pocket contains my cell phone and my mace.
“I heard you’ve been researching me.” He grabs both my wrists and cymbals crash in my brain like a Beethoven symphony.
Ah fuck, I’ve made a huge a mistake.
An evil snarl turns his handsome face unrecognizable. “You say anything about me, my parents, or my pet cat, I’ll slap a lawsuit on you so fast, you’ll have whiplash.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I tug at my hands but he doesn’t let go.
“My father says a private detective has been snooping around my high school, asking questions.”
“That’s not me. I swear.” Holy fuck. Someone stole my story?
“I don’t believe you but no matter. You’re not using me as your fucking project.” He releases my wrists and laughing grabs my purse when my phone pings.
Please be Ryan. Please be Ryan.
“Looky here. Should I tell him he’s a proud papa?”
I pull off my heels and race toward the door but the tight spandex around my thighs slows me down. He tackles me to the marble floor in the foyer, heavy on my back.
Shaken and running on pure adrenaline, I twist, and knee him in the groin so hard it bruises my thigh. Grasping his balls, he falls onto his side, and I take a heel to his nose with an awful crunch.
I grab my purse in the kitchen and as I dash out the door he shouts, “You’re done, Kira. I am fucking coming for you.”
Chapter 15
Misconduct (FSCU Pitbulls Book 1) Page 8
