by Brynley Bush
“It sounds like he deserved it,” she says, twining her fingers with mine.
“Well, he did, but I probably shouldn’t have done it. Not that I’ve regretted it for a second. We have bad blood between us, and I owed him for more than just the dirty hit on the field.”
She looks at me curiously. “What did you owe him for?”
I take a deep breath, and tell her the whole story.
“Mack and I were best friends at one time. We were drafted to the Knights the same year and kind of grew up together on the team. We were both too young, too dumb and way too cocky for our good, and together we were worse. We partied too hard and made bad decisions. Tons of money, fame and adoration when you’re twenty-two years old isn’t a good thing. We both spent far too lavishly on everything, but Mack took it to the next level. He liked to gamble, but he wasn’t very good at it, and he eventually got in the hole financially with some bad people.
“About a year ago, he came to me with an idea to invest in a business venture with another teammate of ours, LaKendrick Smith, and LaKendrick and Mack’s agent. The idea was that Mack would give me the money to buy the shares in my name so the guys he owed money to wouldn’t know he was involved, I’d invest the money in the company, and as soon as the business started making money, I’d cash out the shares to him for a dollar and he’d be able to pay off his debts.
“But that ended badly. Turns out LaKendrick’s business partner and agent was using it as a front for an international prostitution ring and laundering money. A disgruntled employee leaked the cooked books to a reporter and the Feds got involved. Luckily, I hadn’t signed the contract yet, although my name was on some of the business papers. I put LaKendrick in touch with my cousin Adam, who’s a renowned white collar crimes attorney, and he was able to get the charges against LaKendrick dropped and clear me of any involvement. I later found out Mack had known exactly what was going on. He was in cahoots with LaKendrick’s agent, which is why he was so confident he’d make enough money to pay off his debts.” I sigh. “And why he’d wanted me to sign the papers instead of him. If things went down the way they ultimately did, I’d be the one implicated, not him. He used me, and our friendship. If you could call it that,” I add bitterly.
I shake my head at the memory. It’s water under the bridge now. Leila squeezes my hand, and I’m surprised at how much her quiet support means to me.
“Anyway, while all that was going on, Mack just kept getting more and more in debt. Then, when everything blew up with the business, he got desperate. He came up with a typical Mack hair-brained idea to make a sex tape. He assumed, in his typical egocentric way, that the girl he chose to star in it would be thrilled to be in a sex tape with a famous NFL player and they’d sell it to the highest bidder and split the money. If she didn’t agree, he’d blackmail her. And because, as he later told me, sex tapes were becoming common and he needed to up the stakes, he roped me into it. Apparently a threesome is more scandalous than your run-of-the-mill two partner celebrity sex tape.
“Of course, he neglected to tell me ahead of time what he was doing. I thought I was just a convenient third.” Leila stiffens slightly next to me, and I rub my thumb across her knuckles, wondering if she’s shocked, repulsed, or maybe jealous. I’m pretty sure it’s not the latter, but I’m too far in to stop now. I continue. “I’ve never done that before or since. But we’d been out at a club all night. Not your normal club, a BDSM club.” I cast a sidelong glance at Leila to gauge her reaction. I’ll be damned if she doesn’t look intrigued. I mentally shake my head, forcing my mind back to my story.
“This beautiful, exotic-looking girl had been hanging all over Mack the entire night, and she was clearly into some kinky shit. He pulled me aside and told me her fantasy had always been a threesome with another guy, and he invited me to go back to his place with them.” I clear my throat, suddenly ready to get to the end of the story. Leila doesn’t need to the know the details.
“When I found out about the tape after the fact, I told Mack it was a shit-for-brains idea and he should destroy it. He refused, so I broke into his house and took it.”
“Did you destroy it?”
“Yep. All things considered, I think I let him off easy.”
“So what about the girl in the tape? She didn’t want to profit from it?”
I shake my head, reluctant to say anymore. It’s not my story to tell.
“Who was she?” She poses the question casually, but I can tell by the way she’s playing with the napkin it’s more than an offhand question. I feel a stab of male satisfaction. She is jealous.
“Shaylee Martin.”
She looks up at me in shock. “The sportscaster?”
I nod. “And, incidentally, the daughter of the owner of the Torpedoes.”
“Oh shit,” she breathes.
I sigh. “Exactly.”
When we get back to Rosie’s, the porch light’s on but the rest of the house is dark.
“I should go,” Leila says in a whisper.
I slip my arms around her, pulling her against me so she can feel the hard bulge of my crotch. “We have a little unfinished business, sweetheart. I believe you owe me something.”
She looks up at me coyly. “Oh, sorry. How much was my coffee?”
With a growl, I crush my mouth to hers. When we finally pull apart, we’re both breathing harder. “I’d meant to keep you on edge all evening, making you needy so that when I finally let you come tonight you’d have the biggest orgasm of your life.” I grimace. “But instead I got caught up telling you about the shitstorm that has become my personal life.”
A flicker of something I can’t quite decipher flits across her face. “How exactly did you intend to keep me on edge? Fingering me under the table at your grandmother’s house during dinner?” I love the way her eyes dance when she’s teasing me. Then she frowns. “Wait. What do you mean when you let me come? That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”
“Not at all. I own your next orgasm. You agreed. So actually it is when I let you come. You should be grateful I didn’t say if.” She blanches and I chuckle. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I think I like making you come as much as you like coming.”
Fuck. I love the little hitch I hear in her breath. I slip my hand under the skirt of her dress to cup her ass, gratified when my hand comes in contact with warm, bare flesh. In addition to having a thing for dresses, Leila also seems to have penchant for wearing thongs. Which makes her even more perfect.
I lean forward so my lips are near her ear. “And as far as keeping you on edge, I have my ways. If I’d had a little time to plan, I’d have found a remote control vibrator for you to wear all evening so I could control your pleasure. Or maybe some rings to go around your nipples and keep them nice and erect.” I bypass the silk of her panties and slide my middle finger inside of her. She’s soaking wet. “But since I don’t have any of those things for you…yet…I’d just planned to use the power of my words, along with instructing you to make a few well-timed visits to the bathroom to play with yourself until you’re at the point of almost coming, and then telling you to stop.”
This time her gasp is audible.
“But since I did none of those things, we’ll just have to play catch up until you’re sufficiently turned on.”
I place my finger on her clit and press lightly.
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” she says, her voice strangled.
“Follow me.”
“What? Where?” She protests, but she lets me take her hand and pull her around to the side of Rosie’s house. I could take her to the in-law house, but she’d mentioned wanting sex outside, and I love giving Leila everything she wants. In fact, I think I can knock a couple more things off her list while I’m at it.
Her car, a black Honda Accord, is parked in the driveway, shielded from the road by a dense, towering fir tree.
“Is this your car?”
She looks at me warily. “Yeah.
Why?”
“Your plates are from New York.”
“That’s where I lived before.”
Well I’ll be damned. If she goes back to New York, maybe this could become more than just a flirtation. I’m shocked to realize the thought of continuing to see Leila makes me absurdly happy. I force a stern look onto my face, getting back into character. “Did you know your plates are expired?”
“Well, I’ve been in Colorado for a while, so…” She shrugs.
I take a step closer, invading her personal space. Predictably, she takes a step back, stopping as her calves touch the front bumper of her car. Her gaze flies to mine.
“Are you aware that’s a criminal offense, Miss Patton?”
“A criminal offense!” she says indignantly. “I…Oh.” Comprehension dawns and a sultry smile crosses her beautiful face as she looks up at me from beneath those long lashes. “What are you going to do about it, officer?”
In one swift motion, I spin her around and have her bent face-down over the hood of the car, her wrists pinned at the small of her back.
“For starters, I’m going to do a thorough search to make sure you aren’t smuggling anything over state lines.” I flip up the skirt of her dress and caress her bottom. She wiggles it provocatively, and I can’t help but smile. “It’s a proven fact that once someone commits one crime, it’s easier to commit the next one.”
I nudge her legs apart with my foot, forcing her to assume the spread-legged position commonly used by police before frisking a suspect. “Tell me, Miss Patton, what are you hiding?”
“What an ass…umption.” She can’t suppress a little giggle at her cleverness.
I stifle my laughter and give her a warning smack on her bare behind. She jolts, but she doesn’t say anything.
I sigh heavily. “I guess I’ll just have to see for myself.”
I unbuckle my belt and slide it off, using it to secure her wrists so both of my hands are free. I bend down and, starting with her delicate ankles, I slowly slide my hands up the length of her long, smooth legs, over her toned calves, behind her knees and along the backs of her thighs. When I get to her ass, I grip it tightly, kneading the firm mounds. She quivers slightly as I slide my hand between her legs and slip two fingers into her sex, which is even wetter than it was before.
“Hiding anything here?” Her answer is muffled. “I believe a more thorough search is in order.” I explore her intimately, my fingers touching every inch of her sweet hot channel, concentrating on the slightly rough, swollen bundle of nerves on the front wall of her vagina. I slide my other hand around her hip and toy with her clit for a few moments before massaging the area just above her pubic bone to intensify the sensation of the pressure against her g-spot. She moans loudly.
“Shh. There are people walking by. Be quiet, cooperate, and things will go easier for you.”
I slowly ease her panties off and stuff them into my pocket. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to confiscate these and keep them for evidence.”
I run my hands up under her dress to cup her breasts. Damn. She’s not wearing a bra. I rub my thumbs over the tightly puckered buds, my cock throbbing at her sharp intake of breath.
I sigh. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you in and book you, Miss Patton.”
“What for?” Her voice is breathy.
I take each nipple between a thumb and forefinger and squeeze hard. Her gasp is audible. “That’s sir to you, miss. Unless you want your punishment to be more severe. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. Please sir, what have I done?”
“You, Miss Patton, are a menace to society.” I squeeze her breast with one hand and her ass with the other. “Do you know what tits and an ass like this make people do?”
There’s a faint snort of muffled laughter from her, and I spank her bare ass again, more sharply this time. “An ass like this gives men indecent thoughts. Makes them not think straight. Makes them do things they wouldn’t normally do. I’m going to arrest you, Miss Patton. And you’re going to get exactly what you deserve.”
With a hand fisted in her hair, I pull her up off the hood and force her head back so she’s looking at me. Her eyes are dark and her lips are parted, her breath coming in short little pants. “Please, sir. Can you show me some leniency? Is there anything I can do? Maybe I could persuade you to look the other way this one time.”
“Are you trying to bribe a police officer?” I give her my fiercest stare. She smiles back at me impishly.
“Maybe. Is it working?”
With one hand still in her hair, I unbutton my jeans. “My nightstick could use a little polishing.”
She fights back a smile, but in the end, she can’t do it, and the fit of giggles that erupts from her has me grinning back at her like an idiot. I’ve never laughed so much with a lover before, and it’s the biggest turn on imaginable.
“If I had a nickel for every name you had for your dick, I’d be rich,” she finally says when she stops laughing. Without saying a word, I look at her, and then down at my crotch. Her smile fades and she licks her lips provocatively.
“Um, right. Can you uncuff me?”
“No. I may still be taking you in for disturbing the peace. It depends how convincing you are.”
She lowers herself awkwardly to her knees. I pull my cock out of my pants and feed it to her. She takes me all the way in her mouth without hesitation and proceeds to give me the best blowjob I’ve had in my life. She worships my cock—there’s no other word for it—using nothing but her tongue, lips and teeth to bring me to the edge of orgasm.
I pull out of her mouth before I shoot my load. “That was extremely persuasive,” I manage as I pull my jeans up, leaving them unbuttoned.
She smiles with satisfaction.
“But I’m afraid that’s not going to cut it. You’re going to have to do more.”
“Please. I’ll do anything.” I’m pretty sure those pleading big blue eyes of hers would get her out of murder.
“If I uncuff you, will you run?”
She shakes her head vehemently. I unbuckle the belt, releasing her arms, before pushing her back against the hood. I step between her legs and take her face between my palms, kissing her hard. She kisses me back, her hand slipping into my jeans to squeeze my cock. With a groan, I lift her onto the hood. I drop down in front of her, hooking her legs over my shoulders as I descend on her sweet pussy with my mouth. Her head lolls back as I lick and suck and tease her clit until she’s writhing. Then I pull my cock out of my jeans again, quickly sheathing it in a condom. She’s wet and willing, opening her thighs wide to me as I drive into her. With the cool breeze whispering around us and an infinite blanket of stars overhead, we come together in a clash of exhilaration and desperation and need, driving each other toward release. She comes a second before I do, screaming my name as her sweet pussy pulses around me.
I’m going to have some explaining to do to Rosie tomorrow.
Chapter Seven
LEILA
Knox and I fall into the habit of spending almost every day together. He goes to physical therapy in the morning, then comes by the café when he’s finished, sitting at the counter eating a muffin and flirting good-naturedly with my nana and any other female that happens to pass by until my shift is over or my nana tells me to take the rest of the day off. His hip is almost fully recovered, and in the afternoons we hike, bike along the Poudre River, try paddle boarding, and work our way through the local brewpubs, sampling beer and laughingly pretending we’re food critics. In the evenings we make love, usually at my place, although we spend one memorable night in the candlelit bedroom of the in-law house behind his grandmother’s house doing things I still blush to think about.
Both Monica and Knox were right. The paparazzi descend on Fort Collins as soon as they get wind of him being here, and they become our constant shadow, following us everywhere.
“You get used to it,” Knox tells me casually, when in a moment of frustration a
t someone trying to photograph me under a bathroom stall, I threaten to take a photo of the inside of their ass with their own camera. “Just ignore them.”
It seems to work for him, but the constant attention and scrutiny makes me uncomfortable.
Monica calls me daily, wanting an update on how my story on Knox is going. I stall, telling her I’m working on it. Cordelia has made it clear the job offer’s only good if she’s the first to break the story, but I’m not too worried. Although Knox is friendly enough to the press, typically flashing his trademark grin and giving them a jocular wave before pretending they cease to exist, he’s not talking to anyone. Anyone but me, that is. And I can’t wrap my head around betraying Knox, not even for the job of a lifetime. The more time I spend with him, the more I appreciate his sense of humor, his big heart, especially when it comes to his grandma and his family, and what a great guy he is. There’s definitely more to him than killer abs and that sexy grin. And I’m starting to realize that somewhere along the way, I’ve fallen in love with Knox Beckinsale.
Although by some unspoken agreement we don’t talk about it, I know our time together is coming to an end. His physical therapist has said his hip is fully healed, and he’s mentioned he’ll be back playing for the first regular season game, which is two weeks away. We have plans to go to Catwalk tonight, a grunge-industrial bar in Old Town where girls are known to dance on the concrete counters, and I resolve to talk to him afterwards. I might as well figure out now where we stand, and whether he wants anything beyond this little interlude in Fort Collins. Although we know each other intimately in so many ways, in others we are strangers. I haven’t told him the specifics of my career before moving to Fort Collins or my plans to return to New York soon. Maybe with both of us in New York, we can continue exploring this thing between us that has turned into so much more than just a one-night stand.
“Leila, would you mind running this next door to Achilles HeAl?” Bethany, who’s juggling a tray of food in one hand and a cardboard box in the other, hands me the box. “They ordered a box of muffins for their staff meeting.”
