“Of course,” I said and slipped my phone from my purse. “But I can’t be late for work tomorrow. I have several meetings.”
“In the morning?”
“Yes. My calendar is full,” I lied.
Then he reached over and placed his hand on my phone. “No working while we’re out, please,” he said. “This is supposed to be about us.”
I put the phone away and glanced at my watch. Julie would be on her way to Sicilione. I was on my own. “It’s not about us. It’s about the Hurricanes, remember?”
“True,” he said.
We drove in silence until we arrived at Le'Mone in Cocoa Beach. In the parking lot, Bryce tried to hurry around the car and open my door, but I opened the door before he had the chance. He did, however, offer his hand as I got out. He would not quit, trying to impress me and swoon me with his charm at every turn. But I knew it was unfair to ask him to change himself. Bryce was an alpha male who took pride in protecting the woman he loved and cared for.
We caught each other's gaze, and something happened between us. A reconnection. Mutual desire to do more than talk contracts. I put my hand in his and kept it there until we stepped to the Le’Mone entrance. Bryce opened the door, and we entered. His plan B was better than his plan A.
The waitress led us to a table in the darkest part of the room, Bryce’s hand on the small of my back as we walked. His fingers slipped down to my ass but then quickly returned to my back, giving me a sign of things to come. It was no longer a question of if but when. I think the decision had been made for me when he commented about us having a son William’s age. The brain could only fight so long before the heart won the battle.
Bryce ordered drinks and entrées, not giving me an opportunity to look at the menu. His order was perfect, however.
“Remember when we came here our junior year?” he asked. Of course I did. “We walked the beach afterward and then shacked up in the hotel?”
“I remember everything we ever did, Bryce. I remember every time we made love. Every getaway. You act like I tried to delete you from my mind.”
“Why do you turn everything I say into something negative?” he asked.
I leaned toward him. “Because I don’t know how to deal with this. Do you?”
Bryce shot me a surprised look. “Calm down, Mads. Damn.”
“I promise I will look at your contract tomorrow,” I said. “You’re right. You earned the trophy for the organization. You deserve reconsideration. I’ll see what I can do.”
Bryce chuckled. “I don’t give a damn about the contract, Mads. Can’t you see that? I know what the hell I’m worth. I also know what your father should have been paying me. But you know what? Because the Hurricanes belonged to your father, I didn’t ask for a max contract. I was giving him a break.”
“Then why all this?” I noticed several people looking at us and pointing. Owner and star player out for a romantic dinner. A woman at a table from across the room pulled out her phone and took a picture. As long as we didn’t touch each other, things should be fine. Then Bryce reached across the table and slipped his hand in mine.
“Why did you really leave me, Mads? We could have worked something out. You didn't have to turn your back on me and walk away.” He released my hand when the waitress returned with our drinks. She was a cute blonde, probably a size two with big boobs and plump ass. Bryce didn’t so much as glance her way. “We can figure this out.”
I waited for disproportionate Barbie to leave, and then I took a deep breath. “Maybe how I went about it was a mistake,” I said. “Maybe I should have told you sooner, and we could have eased out of our relationship.”
“Eased out of our relationship?” Bryce said. “What the hell does that mean? I think we could have made it work.”
“You sound like a teenage girl who didn’t get her way.” No matter what I said or did, he was going to be a dick about the whole situation. “You know, Bryce, even before you came along, owning and running the Hurricanes had been my dream. You say you’ve dreamed of being a professional quarterback since you were five. Well, I’ve dreamed of running the Hurricanes since I was five. It’s the same damn thing. Why should you be able to follow your dreams and me not follow mine?”
Bryce took several drinks and then placed his glass on the table, buying time for his response. He appeared to think about the words that were about to be spoken. “I just thought you’d let your father do it. You never really talked about it much while we were in college.”
“That’s because it seemed like it was somewhere in the distant future. But I still had to work my way toward that goal. You know Dad wanted me to earn specific degrees before entrusting I could run the team. Then he got sick, and it was like damn, I better get my shit together. So that’s what I did. But he wasn’t going to turn the reigns over with me being so green.” I stopped talking when the waitress returned with our meal. “Do you really think I could have made it through law school and then get an MBA while you and I were together? We could never keep our hands off each other.”
Bryce cut into his steak and took a bite. “Go on,” he said, but I wasn’t so sure he was actually listening.
“The Hurricanes are synonymous with my family’s name, Bryce. It’s our legacy, and the organization has been run like no other. Professional and ethical. It’s up to me to continue that legacy and secure it for William and whatever family comes after us.” I pushed my plate away. Anger worked its way through my soul. Why was I being asked to end my dreams? My father once told me that a dreamer’s dreams are only safe in the dreamer’s hands. The statement was obviously true.
“Okay,” he said. “You’ve made your point. I just thought the direction we were heading was for me to play football and for you to be the mother of our kids.”
“And that’s still possible,” I blurted and then shut my mouth.
We stared at each other for a long moment, and the emotions that swirled in Bryce's gaze only tugged at my heartstrings. Fuck!
“Still possible if I’m not part of the Hurricanes?”
He was right, of course. As long as he remained with the team, things would never change.
“I’m not leaving, and you’re not leaving. So at least we know where our relationship stands.” He looked out the window we sat next to. The Atlantic Ocean pushed at the sandy shore about a hundred yards away. The moon hung silver and perfect in the distance, casting a shiny glow across the water.
“I know that look,” I said. “I haven’t forgotten anything.”
He called the waitress over and removed two-hundred dollars from his wallet. “We’re going for a walk. Keep the change.”
The waitress’ eyes grew wide. Bryce still didn’t bother to look at her boobs or ass. “Thank you, Bryce.” She pulled her phone from her back pocket and asked, “Would you—”
But Bryce cut her off before she could complete her thought. “Absolutely.” And although he sounded cocksure, Bryce truly loved interacting with his fans. The waitress leaned toward him, and they both wore blinding smiles as she snapped a picture.
“Thank you, Bryce,” she gushed as she turned on her heel, appearing giddy.
“Shall we,” Bryce said as he stood and extended his hand.
I stood as well but didn’t offer my hand or arm. He led me through the back exit onto a pier. We took the steps down to the beach, and I suddenly found myself strolling a moonlit beach with the man of my dreams.
“I get you now,” he said. “Everything makes sense. You’re right, I should have been more understanding of your dreams.” He put his arm around mine, and I let him, taking his hand in mine. “Your father would be proud of what you have accomplished. I’m proud of you, and William is lucky to have you as a big sister.”
“Thank you,” I said. I’d finally gotten him to understand. Nothing I had done was to hurt him. I squeezed his hand and looked up. Our eyes met, and I felt the perfect moment had presented itself. All the hurt feelings had been washed away. I
leaned my head against his shoulder, and we stopped.
“You know, I’ve always dreamed that we would meet again and that maybe we could be together one last time. To make love one last time like we had in college.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “I get it now. I understand your struggle, and I’m willing to let go. But I don’t want us to part ways like this.”
He leaned toward me, and our lips met, warm and sensual. I pulled away, but he held me in place. “I…”
“It’s okay, Mads. I understand if you don’t want to.” His eyes pleaded for my submission. And for whatever reason, I did.
“One last time together,” I said. “Then we become owner and quarterback. Nothing more, nothing less. All business.”
“Agreed,” Bryce said. His smile grew, and he seemed to be okay with the arrangement. One more time, and then we were done.
We returned to the twenty-story hotel where Le’Mone was located and headed to the penthouse suite. As soon as we entered the room, I conveniently forgot all the rules that had been laid out before me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Madison
He pressed me against the wall and slammed his mouth against mine, our hands scrambling to remove clothes, me not caring that the dress had cost well over $1,000. It didn’t matter.
Bryce kissed with double the skill with which he played football, his mouth warm and smothering.
I shoved his jacket down his arms and then knocked his hands away from my hips, the jacket falling off behind him. His hands quickly found their grip again, his fingers kneading my dress, the hem urgently rising up my thighs before resting around my waist. Just like his play on the field, Bryce’s play off the field was intense, something that drew me to him like a bug to a light. A thousand memories rushed through my head, all the times we’d made love or fucked like wild animals. We fit perfectly together, our bodies meant for none other.
He went to his knees and smiled up at me when he tried to remove the panties that were not there. Julie would have argued against the idea of no panties, but she didn’t know the excitement that would appear on Bryce’s face. It was an old trick I used on him in college, knowing that it sparked every carnal cell in his body. Knowing how he’d ravage me when it happened. That was the thing with Bryce. I never knew what he had in store for us, but I knew I could trust his judgment, that it would always be okay.
I spread my legs, and Bryce instantly buried his face against my pussy, his tongue whipping out like a snake on the hunt. I bucked my hips forward, and he fell back, an evil grin and deviant eyes burrowing into me. Neither of us said a word as I moved away. I let my hair down and ran my fingers through the blonde strands, my smile not as wide as Bryce’s but just as deviant. “I know what you like, Bryce,” I said sheepishly with the tone of a schoolgirl.
It was obvious not much had changed in the bedroom with Bryce. He enjoyed the game of predator and prey. On a few occasions, he’d taken the game a bit too far, but I had quickly learned to turn sexual pain into sexual pleasure. From the first time we made love to every time after, I freely gave myself over to him, knowing I was completely safe in his hands.
When Bryce stood, he appeared as a god-like creature rising from the ashes. He removed his shirt slowly, teasing me, flexing, smiling, daring me to run.
I moved deeper into the penthouse, knowing not to turn my back on Bryce. He unbuckled his belt and then his pants. His pants dropped to the floor, revealing the rest of his six-foot-three body. His tan was light but helped define the striations between muscles. My eyes dropped to his black boxer-briefs, the head of his cock poking out the top. Ten years and all his training had paid off.
Bryce started toward me, and I backed away, feeling around furniture as I moved. It reminded me of the time we stayed at his parents' cabin that sat on 100 acres of forest. It was when Bryce first taught me this game of cat and mouse. It started inside the cabin but quickly poured outside, him chasing me through the forest, both of us naked, both horny as hell. When he finally caught me, it was down by the stream. He bent me over a rock and fucked me hard, harder than he ever had. From then on, we’d played games together. Sometimes bondage, sometimes drops of wax on the nipples. It never mattered because it was always erotic with Bryce.
“The dress, Mads,” he said, and I stopped to remove my dress and bra.
“Like what you see, big boy,” I said playfully. I moved behind the couch as he moved in front. The man was fucking delicious. I mentally kicked myself for missing out on having his body next to me, on me, beside me, and most importantly, inside me for the past ten years.
“You know what happens when you play hard to get,” he said. He pushed his boxer-briefs to the floor and stepped to the side. His cock stood at attention like a good soldier.
“What happens?” I asked playfully. “Maybe you should show me.”
Bryce laughed softly and then darted around the couch. I moved but a second too late. He had his arm around my back and had me pressed against him before I took two steps. His cock pressed relentlessly against my stomach, hard and ragingly hot.
He twirled my hair around his fingers and pulled my head back, exposing my neck. To say Bryce knew how to use his mouth on a woman would be a complete understatement. He kissed my neck, his warm tongue, wide yet deliciously pointed, moved along my skin with skillful admiration.
When his movements became methodical, his concentration unwavering, I tried to break free, knowing he loved the fight, knowing just how well he would give it to me because he had to work for it.
Bryce caught me again, this time moving me to the end of the couch and laying me over the arm, my face down against the cushion, my ass high in the air. And although I knew what would happen next, nothing could prepare me for the euphoric sensation of the magic his tongue created.
He started at my entrance, the tip of his tongue working beneath the folds hiding my clit. I tried to move again, but he held me down, his tongue lightning-quick back and forth across the spot he cherished. I pushed back against him, his nose against my rear entrance.
I closed my eyes and entered the darkness of desire, delirious, and succumbing to the man of my dreams. He fed between my legs, his single intent to bring me screaming from the place I had told him I often went just before orgasm. That was his enjoyment, sending me there gasping, bringing me back screaming.
I reached between my legs and spread my lips, not that he needed help, but me needing to feel the tremors before the cascade began. His tongue explored masterfully under my hood, my clit being sucked between his lips, the dam inside me bursting. I inhaled, and my body convulsed, the rapturous assault of his mouth overwhelming.
Bryce moved back, but I knew we were far from finished. The man was demanding in bed, making me his puppet. I turned over, and he scooped me into his arms, me still dripping wet, his eyes more deviant than before. He carried me into the bedroom and pulled the curtains on the windows, throwing the room into darkness, though I could still see his Spartan-like form.
He crawled into bed and despite the darkness, the hunger in his eyes told of things to come. I did briefly think about all I could lose because of this one moment in time because I’d let my Kryptonite, Bryce Willheight, coax me back into bed. I let the thought evaporate, the train of desire having already left the station, speeding out of control.
While on my back, Bryce moved between my legs, his fingers ticklish behind my knees as he pushed my legs toward my chest. He enjoyed the tease, moving the head of his cock to my opening, the head wide and thick. I thrashed against him, my body begging.
He moved in, then pulled out, smirking, daring me once again to try to escape. I placed a finger against his chest and ran the tip between muscles. I studied his divine body, yearning to be his goddess.
“I missed this,” he said and slid into me, my breath catching, my need decadent. I’d had sex since Bryce, but no man knew how to fuck like him, with skill and passion, an unwavering desire to always be bett
er than the last time.
He lowered toward me, our mouths connecting, the heat between us intense and ravenous. I wanted more. Needed more. I grabbed his hard ass and pulled him harder against me, the torment of my need spiraling endlessly into desolation.
His hands went to my breasts, his lush lips leaving my mouth to suck and nip at each nipple, his hips still arduously driving against me. He wouldn’t come just yet. There was more to be done, at least in his eyes. He’d once told me that making love to me was like being lost in an exotic land where every inch needed to be explored to see what new discoveries might be made.
I felt the familiar tremors escalating through his body, knowing any second he would withdraw. And though I held onto him with every ounce of strength I had, he managed to move away. His mouth went at me again, lapping at my wetness, filling the hole he’d just left. I came again, my mind sprinting back to that place he so enjoyed sending me.
He left me alone for a moment and then returned with a bottle of water, his offering for sacrificing me to the seduction gods. I took two sips and then handed him the bottle. He turned the bottle and kept his eyes on mine while small droplets bounced against my skin. Using his thumb, he pushed the water to my nipples, his thumbs caressing in small circles. I watched as his thumbs and index fingers squeezed the pink tips, the pain momentary, the pleasure long-lasting.
I lifted my ass off the bed, trying desperately to get him to fuck me again. He moved his leg between mine, forcing me away from his cock, me humping his leg. He had not forgotten. Build the tension and I would come.
We’d done some kinky stuff in our younger days. Toys, bondage, and domination over me. But it was also his touch, gentle when I needed, demanding when it needed to be, that drove me salaciously crazy.
“Turn over,” he said sternly. Not a question. Not a request. Do as he demanded.
I flipped over to my stomach and grasped the sheets, raising my ass, spreading my legs, awaiting his penetrating cock. He entered my pussy hard, driving to the hilt and causing me to cry out. He paused, and then began his assault, his cock barreling into me, his mouth on my neck.
Inheritance Goals: A Sports Romance Page 7
