“You’ll have my answer by then.”
And as much as I want to stay and let Fletcher fuck my brains out, I leave, wondering exactly what I’ll tell him in the morning.
Fletcher
Last night Cassidy told me to meet her at the office around noon today. If she can’t get me back on the field, we’re both fucked. I won’t have a chance in hell of negotiating another contract if I can’t prove my worth to anyone, not to mention, her career could possibly be ruined if it becomes known that she’s the one who failed to rehab me properly.
But then it hits me. Not ruining her career is even more important than getting a contract signed. What does this tell me? Am I so pussy-whipped already that I’m willing to do anything just to make her look good? One thing I do know is she means the world to me, and I want to make her shine like gold.
She opens the door for me and then locks it after I enter. The place is quiet and empty, since it’s Sunday. The office isn’t open on weekends, so we have the place to ourselves.
“Ready?” she asks.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“This is going to be intense, Fletcher. I’m going to push you harder than I normally push patients. You’re going to have to let me know whether it’s good pain or bad. I trust you know the difference, being an athlete.”
“I do.”
She begins with manipulation and massage, where I grind my molars to prevent me from whining out loud and sounding like some pansy ass. I’ve barely recovered from that when she sticks her head in front of mine, and with a bright smile asks, “Ready for some strengthening exercises?”
My feeble muscles feel like mush, and she’s just taken them and torn each fiber individually, treating them as though they are rubber bands. Well, they aren’t, and I’ve a mind to tell her as much. And now she wants to know what? If I want to lift weights or something? I think she’s purposefully trying to be evil, to pay me back for those disgusting media pictures.
Only I have to put my best face forward or she’ll know I’m nothing but a whiny ass bastard. “Whatever you say, boss.” And I grin as sweetly as I can, even though sweat is gushing out of me like I’m a fucking thundercloud.
“Okay, here.” She hands me two of those wide elastic bands and tells me to step inside of them so my ankles and thighs are wrapped in them. And then I go to work doing all sorts of crazy shit. Who knew those thin little pieces of rubber could be so damn torturous? I’m going to melt every single one I can find if I ever get through this. I need a block of wood to bite down on. This shit is like getting sacked by a three hundred pound defensive end over and over. After fifteen minutes of this, I want to call my mom and cry and ask her for my blankie.
“How ya doin’ over there?” she calls out from across the room, clipboard in hand.
“Good. Great.” Motherfucker. Get me through this.
“Good job, Fletch. Keep going.”
I watch her grab a pen from behind her ear and scribble something down. I wonder if it’s bring out the rack, that old medieval torture device, and put Fletcher on it to abuse him some more.
When I don’t think it’s possible for me to lift either leg one more time, she says, “Great job. That was awesome. Now for your shoulder.”
Shoulder? I have a shoulder?
“Lie down on the table.” And she does that muscle-tearing, ripping-out thing she did to my knee. The next thing I know, I’m stretching my arm against some slanted board, cursing everything known and unknown to man. Why the hell did I ever agree to this?
When those stretching motions are over, I think my right arm is ten inches longer than my left. This could be a good thing. If my arm reaches to the ground, it’ll definitely be easier to catch that snap. And a Hail Mary will be a breeze. When I look up, she has one of those fucking bands dangling from her fingers. Scratch the Hail Mary. I’ll be praying that instead.
I’m actually pleased to discover the shoulder exercises aren’t nearly as bad as the knee. I push my way through, and then she announces it’s time for hydrotherapy.
“Hydrotherapy?” I ask.
“Yeah, you know. Water jets. You must have this in your training facility.”
“Well, sure, but we’re done with the tor— I mean therapy?”
“Was I too hard on you?” she asks, as her brows draw inward.
“No, I was sure we’d go a lot longer.”
“Fletch, it’s two o’clock.”
Two? I thought it was closer to midnight. “Already? Wow, that went by fast.”
“Yeah, I don’t want you to overdo it.”
“Oh, well, in that case, hydrotherapy it is. Lead the way, boss.”
We walk to the rear of the facility and enter a room. There’s only one giant tub in there and a smaller one, unlike at our training center, where we have tubs of various sizes for different injury locations. Cass proceeds to fill the tub.
“I imagine you know how these work, right?”
“Yeah, I’m familiar with them,” I answer.
“Get in and let the water do its trick.”
She walks toward the door.
“You’re not staying?”
Stopping, she spins around. “I have to chart your progress. I’ll be back. You afraid to be alone in here?” she teases, smirking.
“No, I just wanted some company.” I pull off my T-shirt and then slide my shorts off. I’m not thinking too much about it, but then when I see her reaction, I’m glad I did it. She should’ve known I’d be commando. Stepping into the deep tub, I ask, “Care to join me?”
“You know that’s not part of this deal,” she huffs and stomps out of the room. But I’m not giving up yet.
The water feels great on my knee. My shoulder is much better than I thought it would be. It’s the leg that’s giving me fits. But even so, I feel myself getting stronger as time goes on. Leaning back against the tub, I sink into the warm water and allow it to work its magic on me. I don’t know what it is, but these tubs are amazing.
I must’ve dozed off because all of a sudden, I hear the click, click, click of her heels across the floor, as she gets closer to the tub. I pretend I’m still in my zone, relaxing away the hour.
“Are you a prune yet?”
“Huh?” I shake my head, knocking the sleep out of it.
“Don’t you know it’s not safe to fall asleep in one of these? You could slip underwater and drown.”
I lean over the side of the tub and point my finger at her. “And whose fault would that be? I told you I wanted you to stay to talk with me.”
She acts so flustered; maybe I’ve gone too far. Her hand is close enough to grab so I snag it with my own.
“Cass, don’t be upset with me.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. I can tell. It’s me, remember? I know you better than anyone.”
“You only think you do. I’ve changed since then.”
“Maybe, but not that much. The Cassidy I remember still lives inside of you.” I release her hand and push myself to my feet. “She’s here.” I touch her temple. “Here.” I touch her cheek. “Here.” My fingers press against her lips. “But most importantly, she’s here.” I lay my hand over her heart, then bend down and my mouth meets hers. There is not a single bit of resistance in her, so I lick the line where her lips meet and she opens for me. Taking that as an invitation, my tongue pushes through, and hers is there waiting for me.
Naked Fletcher is no match for clothed Cassidy, so my hands slide under her sweater, and the satiny texture of her skin has Fletcher, Jr. turning into a greedy son of a bitch. Impatient fingers undo her jeans and tug them down her legs, while she starts to stroke my cock.
“Get in the tub with me, Cass.” I lift her sweater up and over her head.
“Fletcher, this is the last time.”
“Yeah, you said that before, but okay.” Not in a million years. I’m going to make you love me, baby, if it’s the last thing I do.
She kicks off her shoes,
and the jeans follow. I take a seat, and when I see her stepping into the tub, my day is made.
“I don’t want you to do anything that involves the use of your right arm or knee. Let me do all the work. You need to let those rest for a while.”
“So, what are you saying, Cass?”
“I’m saying I’m going to ride you hard while you watch.”
Fuck. Me.
She straddles my hips, her back to me, and situates herself over me, then places my tip at her entrance.
One of my hands grabs her hip and stops her. “Are you ready? Let me check.”
“I’m way past ready. I was ready after I worked on your knee.”
My brows arch, and I swallow the what the hell, why didn’t you say something? that almost shoots out of my mouth.
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“You to release the death grip you have on me.”
“Oh that. I forgot. Sorry.” My fingers ease off, and she lowers herself, inch by slow inch on me until she’s fully seated. Christ, she’s heaven. But then she tightens her muscles around me in a firm squeeze, and my hands almost white knuckle it on her again.
“Fuck, Cass.”
Then the fun takes off when she pumps her hips up and down, and I end up doing my best to join in and match her movements. Both hands hold the sides of the tub as she alternates between slow rocking and fast pumping. My hand moves to where we’re joined, and I find her clit to add more spice to the action. She sits flat to my lap and rocks herself until an orgasm hits, and when her inner muscles tighten on me, it doesn’t take me long to find my own. It seems like mine goes on and on, only I know it’s just my imagination. It’s the motion of Cass’s body against my own that’s creating the sensation.
My hand reaches around her neck and I pull her against me for a kiss. She’s eager for my mouth and offers up her own like dessert.
“When you climax, you make the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard.”
She pulls away, and it plows into me that my stupid words just broke the spell that was woven between us. Why did I have to say anything? Me and my dumbass mouth.
“I need to get out of here,” she says, as she disengages her body from mine.
“Don’t go yet.”
“Yeah, I need to get dressed.”
“I suppose I need to as well.”
The water sloshes around as the jets still run, though it is getting cold.
“No, not quite yet. I have one more thing for you on my list.”
“Oh yeah? What is it?” I ask.
“You need to take an ice bath for your knee.”
“Are you fucking with me?”
“No, Fletcher. I’m not. At all.”
She climbs out of the tub and dries off with a towel from the stack on the nearby shelf, then quickly dresses and marches over to the ice machine where she fills a bucket. I watch as she dumps several loads into a tub and adds water. “All ready for you,” she announces with a smirk.
My semi-hard dick instantly shrivels into no man’s land at the mere thought of getting into that ice-filled hell. Logically, I know it’s the best thing for my knee. Realistically, I want to run like hell because this is going to emasculate the shit out of me. But I can’t. Instead, I fill my lungs with air, step out of the tub, and inch my way over to the next form of torture she’s devised for me. All I can think of is this had better be worth it.
Cassidy
Fletcher is way too tempting, and my heart melts more each time I’m with him. Thankfully, his rehab is progressing in the right direction. He might be ready on time if we continue to work hard.
“You look happy. What’s going on with you, girl? Are you getting some from a certain football player?” Gina winks.
“Can you please not announce it to the whole bar?”
I glance around, and I’m grateful for the dozen or so TVs that have every person captivated.
“Besides, I thought you hated him. You look almost pleased that I might have hooked up with him.”
“Might?” One eyebrow arches up.
“Whatever. I’m going home.”
“Mmm hmm,” she murmurs. “Is he there waiting for you to ride that pony because you are walking like a cowgirl?”
I flip her the bird, which makes her laugh and me, too, as I head out for home.
“Don’t forget dinner tomorrow night,” she calls out before I leave.
Tomorrow Fletcher will come in for his regular appointment. We won’t have an after hours session. So I planned to spend time with my girl. She hardly has any nights off. And when she does, she’s off with one of the many vacationers that pass through. Gina isn’t about the long-term. Maybe it’s my two failed relationships or it could be because of her parents’ epic failed coupling.
After a quick stop to check on my dad, I pull in front of my home. One of the things I gave up on was a garage. It was a dream this house didn’t come with. I lock the car without paying attention. By the time I look up, I jolt.
“Calvin?”
“Cassie.”
His eyes appear dull, but not inebriated. I glance at the street, but don’t notice his car. It’s something I generally look for when I come home so I’m never surprised like this.
“Why are you here?”
He sighs. “Isn’t it obvious?” He steps into my personal space and alarms go off in my head. Although he isn’t normally violent, his erratic behavior of late suggests that anything is possible. “I miss you, and I realize what a mistake I’ve made.”
This isn’t the first of such confessions he’s tried to make to me. And a part of me wants to believe him, because this isn’t the guy I fell for. Maybe he had high hopes for his future when we first met, but isn’t that what drives people to be better? He’d been everything I needed after I was so lost from a broken heart. Maybe I’d been blind to the demons that would later consume him. But I want to hope that somewhere inside him a good man still exists.
Shaking my head, I step back, longing for a weapon, but grateful it’s not dark.
“What? Is it that guy? Fletcher?” He spits the name from his mouth, and I see rage curling his lip.
My self-defensive training plays in my head. I maneuver one key between my fingers as a potential weapon. Maybe he’s not drunk. Maybe he’s moved on to other means of getting a high. And that bothers me. Though I can’t keep making excuses for him. He’s made his choices, and they are bad ones.
“I think if you’re honest, you’ll admit he’s the real reason we aren’t together. You were always measuring me up to him.”
There is truth in his words, but no way will I admit that to him. He reaches out a hand and cups my cheek. I flinch back on autopilot.
“There’s nothing going on between Fletcher and me. I’m rehabbing him because of the accident. And, yes, he’s a friend. I grew up with him.”
“That’s good to know. Then you can give us another shot, and we can use his attraction to you to our benefit.”
I take another step back and find the door. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Cassie, the only real problem I had in our relationship was money, and, well, the fact that you weren’t adventurous enough in the sack. But we can solve that. You give that guy what he wants, and he’ll loan you the money we need to be financially stable.”
Now I’m sure he’s on something. “Wait? What? You want us to get back together. But you’re okay with me sleeping with Fletcher so I can get money from him?”
He actually wears a confused expression. “Well, yeah. We can have an open relationship. Love was never our problem. I still love you, Cassie, but I need more. And I can get that from Tara. She’s a great lay, but I don’t love her.”
I want to grind my teeth, but he isn’t worth it. “You need to go, Calvin.”
“Come on, Cass—”
“Where’s your car?”
Besides changing the direction of our conversation, I want to know if he’s gotten a new car. I n
eed to be on the lookout for it so I won’t be ambushed again.
“I borrowed one because I knew you wouldn’t come home if you saw mine.”
He’s right about that.
“You need to leave, or I’m calling the police.”
His arm rises, and I grip the key tighter, prepared to use it if I have to.
He points at me. “You are such a bitch. This is why you’ll always be alone.”
With that, he darts down to the street and gets into a light blue car. I memorize it. If I see it again, I’ll know I need to be cautious.
After a fitful night’s sleep, the next day I go through the day with a professional manner.
“Cass,” Fletcher says from the table. I glare at him. “Oh, we’re back to that now.”
“I don’t have time for games today.”
“Fine. If that’s the way you want it, Mrs. Miller.”
The moniker stings more than I want to admit. Probably because it reminds me of Calvin telling me in so many words I’ll be an old maid.
I work Fletcher hard, putting him through the paces. We concentrate on gaining more mobility on his knee and shoulder. We are so close at times I’m pretty sure I could name the soap he uses. Touching him is like lighting a fire, but I do my best to ignore it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow evening. You can do a few reps tonight and tomorrow morning, but don’t push it. We want you healthy, not reinjuring the muscle.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, getting dressed in front of me.
Somehow, I manage to keep my eyes on his and not his beautiful body.
“That’s all,” I say before fleeing the room.
It would be a lie to say I hadn’t wanted him to touch me, but I managed to get through it unscathed.
Later that evening, I’ve swallowed my first drink before I can warm up the seat while I wait for Gina.
“Another drink while you wait for your guest to arrive?”
I nod at the waitress and pull out my phone.
Gina – Sorry sweets. Sam is in a jam and I can’t meet you for dinner.
Great. I flag down the waitress. I’m looking for her over my shoulder when a voice stills me.
Sidelined: A Wilde Players Dirty Romance Page 6
