“Holy shit Rhi, we did it. We’ve just completed law school.”
“Yep we did. Let’s go out and celebrate.”
“I’m not going to say no to that.”
PRESTON
Training after a big night out on the town with the boys is hard enough to handle at my age, but add to that the stress of having some chick consume my mind and I’m a complete mess. I can’t get the image of her sucking me off out of my head. A cocktail waitress at a strip joint is fucking with my mind and she doesn’t even know it. I feel so rattled, but fuck me she gave a good blowjob.
My head is all over the place. I can’t grab the ball, let alone throw it where it needs to go. I’m tripping every time I go to run and I’m crashing into the guys who are on my side, not the guys who are pretending to be the opposition. FUCK!
“Heat! Get over here,” yells coach Joe from the boundary line.
Joe Jackson has been the best coach I’ve ever had. He pushes me to my limits and has made me the best damn player I can be. I have nothing but respect for the man.
“Yeah Coach.”
“Preston, what the fuck has gotten into you today? Are you sick? Did you hit your head last night?”
“I’m fine. Sorry Coach. I can do better.”
“I know you can god damn it. Now get your shit together and play like you’re playing for your life because in a little over one week that is exactly what you will be doing.”
“Yes Coach.”
Jesus. I need to clear my head and concentrate on practice.
A loud laughing noise echoes from the stands of our home ground. Some loser, sitting half way up, seems to be videotaping our practice.
Coach follows the direction of my eyes and begins to shout. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, where is security? How the fuck did the media get in here? Somebody get up there and get him out of here.”
Two security guards emerge out of nowhere, but it’s too late. The little bastard has already sent the footage to someone else or has been running a live feed. Perfect now the world will see that I’m off my game. A fuck up like this could cost me and the Jets millions in endorsement dollars and affect the amount of money bet on us to win the Super Bowl. FUCK! And all because some woman, I’m secretly obsessed with, gave me a half decent blowjob. Hell, who am I kidding, it was the best blowjob I’ve ever had in my life.
“HEAT!”
“Yes Coach.”
“You’re killing me! Get back out there and get your shit together.”
“Yes Coach.”
***
I’m the first to hit the showers and the last to leave. Standing under the water I allow my body to relax and unwind.
“Heat!”
Coaches voice echoes from inside the change room.
Wearily I answer him. “Yes Coach.”
“My office in ten minutes.”
I know what that means. I can’t help but sigh, but I make sure I answer him with assertiveness. “Yes Coach.”
While changing I hear approaching footsteps. It’s my pal Ricky. He’s the only guy on the team who I’ve let into my personal life. Being team captain, it’s hard to maintain a “man’s man” exterior if you let people see your weaker side. But Rick is okay. I can trust him. God knows I’ve got plenty of dirt on him if he were to ever let me down, and he knows it.
“Preston. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“You seemed a bit off today.”
“I had a bad day.”
I concentrate a little too hard on tying my shoes in an effort to avoid looking into Ricky’s worried eyes.
I know the guys will be talking about my lack of skill during practice today and I hate to think what the media are saying now.
Ricky leaves. He knows better than to push me.
I knock lightly on the open door to the coach’s office.
It’s a cramped space with barely any room to sit. All four walls are covered in sketches of different plays both defensive and offensive. One in play particular captures my attention.
“Preston. Take a seat.”
I sit and train my eyes on my coach. To make this as painless as possible I need him to know that I am giving him my full attention.
“Coach.”
He slumps down into his chair. Even though he’s a fit man for a guy who’s in his mid fifties the sound of air rushing out of the cushion base is enough to tell me that he’s frustrated. It’s no wonder. I mean we’re playing in the Super Bowl in less than twelve days time and his number one quarterback is playing shithouse.
“Preston, how long have you been playing football for now?”
My mind goes blank and I um and ah because I’m not sure whether he’s referring to my years playing professionally or ever since I took the field back in grade school.
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” he asks.
“Yes Coach.”
“And out of all of those years have you ever found yourself wondering ‘what the hell am I doing here?’”
“No coach.”
“No?”
“No coach.”
Not breaking our connection, he leans back in his squeaky chair and folds his arms across his chest.
“Then could you please explain to me why all of a sudden you’ve lost your love for the game?”
“I haven’t Coach. I promise.”
“Then what was with the bullshit stuffing around today? I mean I’m sure you know how much this team is relying on you to ‘bring the heat’ next Sunday Preston.”
Coach stands and beings to pace his tiny office space. I remain quiet. There are not too many people in my life that can render me silent in this way, in fact there’s only three. My mom, my dad and my coach. They are the three people I respect the most. The rest, my teammates, my fans and my women can all bow down to me because I am the best at what I do.
“Preston, from what I can see you have two choices. You can either sort whatever has rattled your head out yourself or you can talk to me and give me the chance to help you. You know my word is my oath. Whatever you have to say will stay between us.”
“I know coach. Thanks, but I’ve got this.”
“Oh, for the love of all things sacred Preston I hope you do son, I hope you do.”
With a flick of his hand he dismisses me. The sound of rushing air escaping from the cushion of his chair is the last thing I hear as I pull the door closed behind me.
FUCK! There is only one person who can help me clear my mind and I know exactly where to find her.
SIANNA
“Sianna!”
The deep voice of a man approaching startles me. Even though the small parking lot behind work is reasonably well lit it’s always been my fear that some guy will follow me to my car and attack me before help can arrive. Tonight, being my last shift, cannot be that night. Surely I’m not that unlucky.
With my hand clenched firmly on a can of pepper spray in my handbag I turn to see who he is just as he reaches my side. I can’t help but jump and punch him in his rock-hard chest.
“Preston. What the fuck?”
A smile spreads across his face.
“Ahh, you remember me.”
“Yes, I do. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Well I wanted to see you. Maybe take you out for a drink.”
Standing beside me Preston Heat, the NFL’s best quarterback, towers over me. I’m not short by any means, but this guy can only be described as huge by anyone’s standards.
His shoulder span is the width of Russia yet his waist is as tight as any male models, which sparks a memory in my mind. I couldn’t help but noticed how taut his abdomen was as I bobbed my mouth up and down on his penis the other night. I’ve never done anything like that before for money, but considering how I get butterflies in my stomach whenever I think of him, I would have gladly done it for free.
My nerves begin to settle as my heart rate returns to normal. I lean back on my car and begin to twist a lo
ck of my hair around my finger as I run my eyes over the length of his gorgeous body.
“Why?” I ask.
“Why? What do you mean why?”
“Why do you want to take me out for a drink when you could have any girl you want?”
“I figure I owe you a drink for what you did for me the other night.”
“Oh that. Well how could I not do what I did?”
His stance changes immediately. His back straightens and his chest seems to puff out. A weird look spreads across his face as he says “My thoughts exactly. Now how about that drink.”
I honestly don’t know whether he’s proud, in an arrogant kind of way because of what I did to him, or whether he’s having a laugh at himself.
“Where do you want to go?”
“There’s a nice little club around the corner we could walk to.”
It’s not a hard decision to make, in fact my mind was made up the first time he asked, I just wanted to toy with him a little first.
“Fine. If I have to,” I say jokingly.
A joke possibly in poor taste considering that gorgeous smile of his is wiped from his face. Nevertheless, he holds his hand out to me and I take it.
***
Sitting in a secluded booth in the far corner of a quaint little bar with Preston Heat opposite me is quite nice actually. I made it a rule to never date guys from work, but I guess this is kind of different. Not because he’s a famous footballer, but because I already know him in an intimate kind of way.
“So, it’s nice to see you wearing something that covers your ass,” he blurts out.
His statement makes it hard for me to swallow my drink and I begin to cough accordingly.
“Sorry. Are you alright? I didn’t mean that to come out quite so abrupt, it’s just nice to see that you don’t bare your skin the way you do inside the club after you’ve knocked off.”
“Right. Yeah well you may not believe it, but I do actually have some self respect.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“So, let me ask you a personal question.”
“Shoot.”
“How often to you frequent strip joints and let your waitress suck you off?”
It’s his turn to nearly choke on his drink this time.
“Are you always so direct?” he asks.
“Only behind closed doors,” I reply.
Christ, why did I say that? Not that it’s a lie, I just didn’t expect those words to fly out of my mouth just yet.
“I see.” He cocks his head to the side and watches my mouth as I speak.
“Do you?” I ask flirtatiously.
“Yes.”
He stares at me with a look of satisfaction, which fires me up even more.
“Do you honestly think you know who I am after having known each other for not even one hour?”
“Maybe I do maybe I don’t.”
He leans back and folds his massive biceps across his chest, flexing slightly as he’s noticed the direction my eyes have taken.
“Let me ask you this, why does the outfit I choose to wear outside of work concern you?”
“Because if you are to be mine then you will need to dress appropriately when in the public eye.”
Oh my god, what?!
“If I am to be yours?”
“Yes,” he says relaxing his arms. Flicking his fingers, he demands the waiter’s attention, and gets it.
After ordering two more drinks he downs the rest of his first drink and pushes the glass aside.
“What the hell makes you think that I want to be yours?”
“Why wouldn’t you? I’m the league’s best quarterback.”
“Okay, well there is one thing you need to know about me, Mr. Preston Heat, and that is, I couldn’t give a flying fuck about football, or any sport as a matter of fact.”
He fakes having a knife pierce his chest as he falls to one side.
Sitting up again, laughing he says, “I guess that’s okay, I mean you still know who I am.”
“Yeah only because my boss told me who you were.”
“That doesn’t matter. You know who I am and therefore I’m sure you’re smart enough to know that I can’t be seen with a girl who struts around with her ass hanging out. The skin that can’t be seen now on your beautiful body will only ever be seen by me behind closed doors.”
Who the hell does this guy think he is? He’s cocky, arrogant, overly confident and just plain rude. Which makes me wonder if he’ll be willing to give all of that power up while in my bedroom.
I decide to play along.
“So, let me get this straight Mr. Heat, if I am to be ‘your girl’ as you ever so elegantly put it.”
“Yes.” He leans forward and takes my free hand.
“You expect me to act a certain way, dress a certain way and no doubt talk a certain way.”
“Yes.”
“Hmm so what would you do if I offered to slip underneath the table and give you a blowjob again right here, right now?”
The whites of his eyes as evident even is this dark and shady corner of the club.
“I wouldn’t allow it.”
“Wouldn’t you.”
“No.”
He lets go of my hand and sits with his back straight against the dark brown dimpled leather seat.
“But you wouldn’t say no if we were behind closed doors.”
“No” he answers. His body clearly relaxing.
Ahh, so this is how I take control of Mr. Preston Heat. Sexually.
“Well then maybe I’ll take some time to consider your deal and get back to you in a week or two.”
“NO!”
“Excuse me!” Looking around the room I see several sets of eyes dart in our direction. Preston immediately uses his hands to assure people everything at our table is fine. I guess he doesn’t need the extra attention at the moment considering video footage of him apparently having a bad training session has gone viral.
“You can’t take weeks to make this decision and besides there is no decision to make. I’ve made up your mind for you. You’re mine now and you will dress properly, speak properly but never to the media and you will obey my every word.”
“I will do no such thing.”
As tempted as I am to throw my drink in his smug face I’m enjoying it way too much to waste it on this power junkie.
“You will if you’re going to be my girl.”
I take a moment to sit back and mimic his body language from earlier. Crossing my arms I am sure to use them to push my breasts up. Although covered by a high neckline I get the feeling I’ve successfully gained his attention.
“Tell me Preston, why me?”
“Why not?”
“No. There is something you’re not telling me. Why me. Why are you demanding that I be your girl?”
With drooping eyes and his hands clenched together on the table as if praying he says, “Because I need you.”
PRESTON
Don’t make me admit to anything more than that Sianna. I can’t take it.
She doesn’t. Instead she remains holding her stance, which I must give her credit for. The damn woman has me rendered useless and until I can confirm that she’s my girl I don’t think my head will ever be the same again. I need her. I want her. She has to agree to my proposition or else I may as well kiss my football career goodbye.
“Okay,” she says. “But I have a few rules of my own, Mr. Heat.”
“What are they?” I answer suspiciously.
“How about we start with your issues with women’s clothing.”
I’m not sure I like where this is going.
“Go on.”
“Do you have a problem with me showing any skin? I mean I’m not keen on the idea of dressing like a nun when I’m with you.”
“I don’t expect you to dress like a nun. I expect you to keep your ass and your tits covered at all times. That’s all.”
“That’s all. So, no cleavage while in public.�
��
“Or ass hanging out, especially when you bend over.”
Christ how clear do I have to be on this topic.
“Okay. And what exactly do you expect me to say and not say while with you?”
I get the feeling she’s toying with me, but at least she’s not running out of here telling me she never wants to see me again. There are plenty of women who would love to be seen hanging off my arm, but it’s Sianna who I want. There’s something about her that gets under my skin and I kind of like it.
“Look you seem like you’re an intelligent girl.”
The huff that comes out of her mouth and her now pressed lips make me smile. Finally, the tables have turned and I now have control over this situation.
“Don’t get me wrong, I know you’re a smart girl, I mean you agreed to come and have a drink with me tonight, it’s just the media will rip apart anything you say so you need to be mindful that’s all.”
“I can do that.”
She leans across the table, her dark green eyes demand my attention, her long sexy blonde hair which I’d like to grab a hold of while fucking her from behind, cascades over her shoulders. Licking her lips, she asks, “And what about behind closed doors, Mr. Heat? What do you expect me to wear and what do you expect me to say while in the privacy of my bedroom?”
“I expect you to wear nothing at all and talk as dirty as fuck to me.”
Yeah that’s right sugar. I expect you to be a lady during the day and my willing whore at night. That’s what I want.
She suddenly sits upright in her seat, crosses her legs and flicks her hair back behind her shoulders. I swear if she were wearing glasses she’d look like a sexy, uptight librarian.
“Well there is one thing you need to know about me Mr. Heat and that is that I am nothing but an all round good girl therefore I wouldn’t be able to fulfill your needs so I feel it’s best that you hit the streets and start interviewing other poor unsuspecting souls for the role of becoming ‘your girl.’”
Fuck! Man this woman certainly knows how to get a rise out of me.
I need a timeout. I need to get my head around what I have to say or do to seal this deal.
Overzealous Alphas Page 18
