Dirty Player (The Dirty Suburbs Book 2)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  Without missing a beat, she comes closer and wraps her arms around my middle. She presses her face to my pounding heart as she whispers comforting words into the fabric of my shirt. At first, I’m surprised by how soothing it feels to have her this close right now. Then, I’m pissed at how warm she is and how soft she is and how much her presence is distracting me from the fury I want to feel. And then, I just can’t battle the respite she’s offering me. I don’t want to. I breathe a sigh of relief.

  I just lost fifty-eight million dollars. But this woman’s arms around me make me feel…better.

  It’s impossible to feel sorry for myself when she’s close. In fact, I feel like a lucky bastard with her body pressed against mine.

  My head swirls with bewilderment. My body pulses with desire. I pull out of the embrace and look into her eyes. “What is it about you, girl?”

  Her catlike eyes display her confusion. “What?” she asks slowly, her gaze is transfixed to mine.

  I cradle her cheeks in my palms and lower my face. I press my mouth to hers and part my lips, waiting for her to accept my tongue. And when I get that invitation, I kiss her with everything I’ve got.

  My hands go to the hem of her t-shirt and I slowly pull it up, over her head. Will I ever get tired of the gorgeous lines of her body, the arch of her back, the smoothness of her skin? I don't see how.

  "Maxwell..." Her voice cracks as she whispers my name. I look down into her face and she suddenly seems so fragile like she might break right here in my arms. "I want you to go slow this time..."

  Fuck, my chest has never felt so tight with desire. I want to give this woman everything. When I look into her eyes, I want to see complete and utter satisfaction. I want to see love. "I’ll go slow."

  I lean over and claim her lips with all the tenderness she deserves. The way I feel for this woman, I've never felt like this before. I don't want her to mean so much to me, but she does. She means everything. When I touch her, everything else ceases to matter. The Boomerangs. Laureto. My contract. When I look at her, all I see is her. All I care about is her.

  This is fucking crazy!

  I wrap my arm around her lower back and scoop her up, my lips trailing across her skin as I carry her to my bed. I put her down in the center of the mattress and slowly pull her panties over the swell of her ass, down her long legs, past her ankles. Her thighs fall open for me. Her glistening pussy offers itself up to me, the scent of it fragrancing the air.

  “God, I need you, Faith,” I whisper against the inside of her thigh. My teeth and tongue trace a slow path to her mound and she hisses with anticipation.

  Her body shakes slightly when I first make contact with her clit, my tongue slowly circling the small bud. With each swipe, I become more and more hypnotized by the woman spread out before me. Her hips rock against my mouth, chasing each stroke and nibble.

  “I always knew you’d taste this good, even from the first moment I saw you,” I murmur into her flesh. “I always knew you’d taste this sweet.”

  She groans, her head falling to the side when my mouth touches her again. “Maxwell, it’s so good.” I reach up and take her nipples between my fingers. I roll them tenderly and she gasps, her hips bucking off the bed.

  That fucking beautiful pussy. I want to fuck it with my tongue and my fingers and my cock. I want her juices covering every part of me. I want to get lost so far inside of her that I don’t even recognize myself anymore, that I don’t even know where I end and she begins. I devour her, I consume her. I get high off of the sounds she’s making.

  “I’m coming, Maxwell,” she cries out fisting the sheets. “I’m coming.”

  I continue to lick her as her world spins off its axis, as she falls to pieces. She tightens, expelling my tongue from the lips of her pussy. I thumb her clit, my eyes riveted to her as she spirals into an abyss of pleasure. I’ve never seen something so beautiful, so out of control.

  “Oh, god. Oh, god,” she pants. “I’m coming! I’m coming!” She pulls in a sharp breath. “I love you, Maxwell! I love you!”

  Chapter 23

  Faith

  Both hands grip the cold porcelain and I lean forward, softly banging my stupid head against the mirror. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I chastise myself quietly.

  I’m utterly humiliated.

  I didn’t mean to say it. I don’t really mean it…Do I? I don’t even know Maxwell. I can’t possibly be in love with him.

  Yet, there I was, toes curling in pleasure, proclaiming from the top of my lungs that I love him.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  And I’ve never seen a man spring out of bed so fast. He made some excuse about having to check his email and he was out of the room before I could even retract my statement.

  I think that I’ve officially run out of ways to make a fool of myself in front of this guy. That’s good news, I guess.

  I plop myself down onto the toilet and bury my face in my hands. I don’t love him. I don’t love him.

  …But if I did, it would be totally understandable.

  Handsome. Funny. Talented. Successful. Maxwell Masters has all the pieces. From the outside he seems to have it all together, but I’m well aware of those hidden parts of him that are adorably vulnerable and insecure. I know all about his soft, compassionate side under that armor of overwhelming cockiness.

  Maybe I do love him.

  Shut up, stupid!

  I bang my head on the mirror again.

  Just then, my phone rings. And of course, it’s Dustin. And right now, my mood is foul enough that I hit the green button instead of the red and answer his call.

  “Dustin, what the hell do you want?” I growl into the phone.

  “Faith, thank god.” Just the sound of his voice pinches a hurt in me that I thought had healed a long time ago.

  “Why do you keep calling me?” I demand feeling anger ticking inside of me.

  “How have you been, Faith?” I sigh, already irritated. I know him. He’s stalling. He didn’t just call to shoot the breeze. There’s a deeper purpose behind his call and I want to know what it is.

  “Just spit it out, Dustin!”

  He hesitates then says, “So, you’re involved with Maxwell Masters? It’s all over the internet.” I can hear the jealousy in his voice and it pisses me off. He cheated on me with my roommate the entire time we were together, and now that he thinks I’ve moved on, he’s tracked me down to voice his disgruntlement? Are you serious?

  “How is that any of your business, Dustin?” I snarl into the phone.

  His growl travels over the receiver. “You don’t know anything about that guy. He’s an asshole. A player. Anybody who follows football knows it. He’ll only hurt you.”

  I laugh bitterly. “Don’t you think it’s a little bit ironic that you are giving me relationship advice?”

  Dustin begins to protest but I don’t hear a word he says because just then, the bathroom door bursts open. “Maxwell!” I yelp, dropping the phone to the tiled floor. It lands with a thud and the back cover pops off causing the battery to fall out.

  Well, that was a fitting way to end a conversation with Dustin.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry, Faith,” he says, his whole face red. “I really need to practice this whole knocking-before-entering thing.”

  I stumble to my feet. “I – I wasn’t using the toilet or anything,” I say nervously, dragging my palms along the front of my shorts. “I – I was actually just, um…”

  “Hiding out in the bathroom? To avoid me?” There’s no facetious intonation in his voice, there’s no smirk on his lips. He looks genuinely concerned that I may be uncomfortable right now.

  I open my mouth to deny it, but he cuts me off before I can speak.

  “Look, about earlier…” his voice trails off. It seems like we’re both momentarily at a loss for words about that awkward confession I just made in his bed.

  Then, we both start speaking at the same time. “It was just a slip of the tongue,” I
say quickly.

  Meanwhile, he’s laughing nervously. “People say the craziest things in bed, right?”

  I laugh, too. “Yeah, it was just the orgasm talking.”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” he says. But there’s something unreadable in his eyes. There’s more on his mind, but I’m scared to pry. I’m scared to find out what he thinks of me now that I’ve gone spewing the L-word and ruining all the fun that we’ve been having.

  We both stand there, at a loss for how to make this moment any less awkward and painful. And for once, the heavens smile down on me – the doorbell chimes loudly.

  “I’ll go answer that,” Maxwell tells me.

  I watch him go before plopping back down onto the toilet and bury my blazing cheeks in my hands.

  Chapter 24

  Maxwell

  As soon as I swing the door open, I want to punch the UPS guy in the face.

  I know that he’s only doing his job. But I also know that the small, white envelope he’s delivering is about to change things for good.

  “Delivery for Faith Monroe,” he says chewing obnoxiously on his pungent wad of bright green gum. “Sign here.” He pushes his fucking electronic signature pad at me with his fucking electronic pen and I just want to shove it all down his throat.

  I snatch it out of his hand and quickly scribble my signature just to get him out of my face. He winks and gives me gun-fingers before taking the pad and pen. “Have a great day, man.” He swaggers back to the elevator.

  Fucking asshole. He has no idea that he just made my day even worse.

  Yes – today has been shit.

  First, I got dropped by the Boomerangs. Then, Faith yelled out she loves me during sex. And I didn’t know how to feel about that, but I can tell you this – having her renege on it, hearing her say she didn’t mean it? That fucking stings.

  I should have seen this coming. I should have known it would end up here. That’s the whole reason why I keep women at a distance to begin with. You can only have sex with a woman so many times before her ovaries start whispering sweet telepathic nothings to her. Baby names. Wedding venues. School districts. Color schemes. Diamond cuts. Bouquet arrangements.

  It’s frigging terrifying.

  …Except it isn’t. Not when I think about having those things with Faith. A part of me wants to entertain the idea of having something serious with her. In the short time that I’ve known her, she’s made me rethink everything that I’ve taken for granted in my life, from my career to my involvement in the community to my relationship with my mother. She didn’t come at me, preaching from her high horse. Instead, she showed up in her Coachella getup with her little carryon suitcase, her heart full of naïve optimism and her hunger for adventure.

  I’m not ready to let her go. I don’t want her going back to Reyfield.

  But I can’t realistically force her to stay here.

  She steps out of the bathroom just then. Her head hangs as she pads mousily back to the bedroom.

  I force a smile to my lips. “Hey.” I stand with the envelope in my hand. I’d momentarily considered tossing the thing in the trash and keeping Faith here in L.A. with me forever but that wouldn’t be right.

  Her eyes move to mine and I clear my throat.

  “So, good news,” I say trying to sound cheerful. “The delivery guy just dropped this off.” I shake the envelope in the air. “Might be your temporary driver’s license.”

  She runs over, snatches it from my hand and tears it open. “Oh my god!” she yelps, relief lighting her face. “I finally get to go home!” She throws her arms around me and sways happily from side to side.

  Every inch of my body tightens with dread.

  Chapter 25

  Maxwell

  My eyes stay riveted to her face as I lift her carryon onto the scale at the airline counter.

  She catches me staring. "What?" she asks self-consciously, tucking a blonde wave behind her ear.

  "Nothing," I say and I wonder if she can see my disappointment even through my wide grin.

  I take in every detail of her face. Those catlike blue eyes, the crimson bow lips, that golden hair. I may never see her again. My chest tightens as the reality hits me over and over. It didn’t really sink in until she slipped off her fake engagement ring and left it on my nightstand before we left for the airport. She'd tried to get me to leave her in the drop-off lane when we got here. But no fucking way. The thought that this adventure of ours was really over overwhelmed me. I wanted to stretch it out as long as possible. So here I am, waiting with her as she checks in for her flight. I continue to stare as she asks the woman behind the desk about the possibility of switching her to an aisle seat.

  She turns to me and chuckles low. "So I don’t get boxed into my seat by some weirdo again."

  I slip my hand to the small of her back as the woman taps around on her computer. Faith’s body tenses and she looks up at me with wide eyes and shallow breaths.

  What the hell am I doing? I'm not her boyfriend. Ten days ago, I didn’t even know her. But now, the idea of saying goodbye to her is shredding me on the inside.

  Don’t let her leave. Ask her to stay a while longer. Grow some balls.

  I wish there was a way to turn off that annoying voice in my head. But I know that if I don’t find a way to have her for just a little while more, it’s something I’ll regret for a long time to come.

  The airline clerk titters, telling us that the late afternoon flight from LAX to O’Hare International Airport in Chicago is barely half-full. When the woman hands Faith her new boarding pass, I know that it's now or never. Once she goes through airport security, I’ll have missed my chance.

  "I'll take that window seat," I say.

  Both women turn to look at me like I just landed from a different planet. I clear my throat and pull out my wallet, slapping my driver’s license confidently onto the counter. "We're gonna need another ticket, ma’am."

  Chapter 26

  Faith

  I’m a ball of nerves and excitement when I push open the front door to my apartment just after midnight.

  “Home sweet home,” I say as I step over the threshold and flick on the light in the hallway.

  Maxwell follows behind me, curious eyes glancing around at my modest space. “I like it,” he says as he takes in the classic movie posters framed and hanging on the wall. Audrey Hepburn’s Breakfast at Tiffany’s flanks one side of the door and Grace Kelly’s High Society flanks the other. “Very retro fangirl. It feels like you.”

  “Thank you, I guess.” Soft laughter escapes my lips. Then, I add quietly with a solemn expression, “Thank you for everything, Maxwell. Really. I don’t know what would have happened to me back in L.A. if you hadn’t stepped in to help me.”

  The past few days have been one crazy event after another. At times, I thought I was losing my mind. Other moments, I’m sure I’ll never forget for the rest of my life. But I never expected that this wild ride would end here, me standing with Maxwell in the foyer of my tiny apartment.

  When he bought his impromptu plane ticket at the airport this afternoon, I could tell that he was just as surprised by his actions as I was. He spent the entire flight trying to justify his spontaneous decision, more to himself than to me. He said that he wanted to surprise Keeland by popping up unannounced, that it would be nice to spend the New Year in Reyfield, that he needed to get out of L.A. anyway since getting dropped from the Boomerangs was really depressing. I sat there, nodding and listening to his excuses but none of it mattered to me. All I cared about was the fact that he was on that plane. With me.

  By the time we landed in Chicago and rented a 2002 Nissan Maxima for the ride to Reyfield, he had run out of excuses. So, he just sat wordlessly in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other on my thigh. The tension in the car was so palpable, so emotional. Neither of us had to say a thing. We both know that we’ve officially moved into dangerous territory.

  “It’s getting late,” he says
as he finally releases his grip on the handle of my carry-on. It flops backwards, hitting the wall. Neither of us seems to register it. “I should get going. Don’t want to be ringing my brother’s doorbell at two in the morning.”

  I nod slowly.

  Our eyes linger on each other for a long, intense moment. Charged energy crackles in the air around us. I’m sure that my face betrays just how much I want him. I’m too tired to try and mask my desire for him. And the way his eyes blaze, the way his jaw ticks, the way his body pulses as he stands here with me lets me know that the feeling is mutual.