Perfect Spiral (A Playing Dirty Sports Romance Book 2)

by Lane Hart

  “Why? Yours too messy now?” he whispers, following behind me.

  “Yes.”

  “I like the mess,” he says as we climb in each side of the bed. “Fuck condoms.”

  Once we’re both settled in, Quinton now in just a pair of boxers and me in my pajamas, he throws an arm over my waist and says, “I have to leave tomorrow afternoon to fly up to Baltimore for Sunday’s game. Are you coming too?”

  “If you don’t mind,” I reply since I’ll likely be ovulating over the weekend and don’t want to miss three days without sex.

  “You should. My parents can’t make it, so I would really like for you to come. I can’t get you on the team’s plane, but I’ll buy you a ticket tomorrow,” he says.

  “I can pay for it…” I start to say, but Quinton silences me with his lips.

  “Did you forget how much they pay me?” he asks.

  “Right,” I reply on a sigh. “Millions.”

  “You can stay in my room with me Sunday night but not Saturday. Coach’s rules.”

  “Yeah,” I say with less enthusiasm since I can’t help but wonder if that’s the truth or if he wants to leave his options open. I tell myself that it’s just my chances of getting pregnant I’m worried about, not Quinton having sex with other women that bothers me.

  “Believe me, Callie. I want you in my room; and if I wouldn't be risking getting benched, I would sneak you in.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Callie

  Sunday morning in Baltimore I wake up around nine after a fitful sleep without Quinton and go down to eat breakfast in the hotel restaurant.

  After just two days, I didn’t realize how much I missed having Quinton in the bed next to me all night. John moved out months ago, and I was perfectly fine sleeping alone. Guess I missed the cuddling more than I thought.

  Last night my flight was delayed, so I texted Quinton that I was here and would see him in the morning since I knew he needed sleep and we couldn’t cohabitate per the coach’s rules the night before a game.

  While I’m sitting at a table that faces the lobby, sipping orange juice and checking emails on my phone, I see Quinton get off the elevator with a few guys who must be teammates based on their sheer size. I consider going over to say hi, but I know they’re in a hurry to get on the bus waiting out front and get to the stadium for warmups. Tonight, when we get back to the hotel, he can warm me up.

  A few fans recognize the men and come up to them; several of them female. Watching as they practically try to molest Quinton, my stomach hollows out, and I realize…I’m jealous. Which is ridiculous. He’s not mine; I’m just…borrowing him and his powerful, virile body for a few weeks while I try to get pregnant.

  After that, I’ll either get pregnant or I won’t. And he’ll only be the father of my nephew, who I see occasionally. I tell myself that the sadness I feel at that thought is just for Brady, who I’ll miss being around. But I can’t help but wonder what happens afterward?

  If I get pregnant, do I just move back into my house and raise our daughter or son there, away from their father? It’s not like I can live at Quinton’s permanently. He’s a handsome, famous football star who is young and enjoys the life of a playboy millionaire. If not for his hard cock, I wouldn’t believe he’s physically attracted to someone as plain, old and ordinary as me. Quinton may have flirted with me and tried to sleep with me initially, but I get the feeling it’s more of a compulsion of his, sleeping with every single woman he comes into contact with, just because he can.

  The fact is, Quinton and I have an expiration date. Even if we have a child together, that won’t change anything. He’s only doing this as a favor and because, once I presented him with the challenge, the competitor in him refused to back down. So while Quinton might stay away from other women temporarily, I’m not foolish enough to think that he’s capable of settling down with just one woman, especially not me.

  If John, a man of average intelligence and average looks can’t stay faithful to me, there’s no way Quinton or any other man, for that matter, ever could either. And I don’t need a man to be happy. I’m a smart, strong woman with a great life other than mourning my drug addicted sister and the giant gaping hole in my heart that can only be filled by becoming a mother.

  I have no doubt that even as a single mother I could raise a child with so much love they’ll never miss having a permanent father figure. Sure, I think Quinton is a great dad to Brady and would be the same with a child we conceived. I’m just not crazy enough to think he could ever love one woman for the rest of his life.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Quinton

  Since I started the game against the Baltimore Badgers, our team surged ahead with two touchdowns, fourteen points in the first quarter. From there, the momentum helped our defense roll over the other team.

  Our offensive line held strong, and I didn’t get sacked a single time, so my noggin remained fully intact.

  Now I’m showered and sitting on the bus, anxious for the rest of the guys to get their asses on here so we can head back to the hotel where Callie is waiting for me. I left her a key to my suite at the front desk last night, sort of hoping she would ignore my warning that women aren’t allowed in players' rooms the night before an away game. She didn’t, though, and I missed having her curled up next to me. It was also strange to only hear the sound of chatter in the hallways and a few slamming doors during the night rather than Brady’s cries. Not being under the same roof as him for the first time has me worrying incessantly.

  This morning before we left for the stadium and then as soon as I got back to the locker room after we won, I texted Kelsey to ask how my little guy’s doing. She assured me he’s great and even sent a few pics of him sleeping soundly in the swing I had her pick out for him Friday before I left.

  Now that I know my son’s okay, I can concentrate on other things, like fucking Callie as soon as I get to the room. The woman better be there and ready for me, because I can’t wait much longer. I haven’t been inside of her since the middle of the night Friday, nearly two days ago.

  Back at the hotel, I take the elevator up and slip the key card into the slot, jerking down on the door handle as soon as I get the green light. The entry way and living room are both dark, causing my shoulders to sag in disappointment that Callie’s not here yet.

  Just as I start to reach for the light switch to flip it on, I hear her say, “In here” and a relieved smile spreads across my face.

  “Hey,” I call out as I quickly cross the room, searching for her. The whole place is dark except for the suite’s bedroom where there’s a flicker of soft candlelight. Callie stands up from the edge of the bed, revealing the sexiest lingerie I’ve ever seen --- a navy blue lace teddy with a small yellow bow in the center and bright yellow thong panties underneath, the Wildcats team colors.

  “Damn, woman,” I say when she’s in front of me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I grab her ass and jerk her up my body so that she can wrap her legs around my waist.

  “Congrats on the win,” she says against my lips. I didn’t see her before the game or during, but I liked knowing she was there, in the stands watching.

  “You’re quite the prize,” I tell her, walking us toward the bed and then falling backward on it so that she stays on top of me. “How are we gonna celebrate?” I ask, barely refraining from jerking the thin straps down her shoulders to get her naked.

  “Well,” she says, holding herself above me with her blonde hair falling forward. “First I thought I would suck your dick until it’s nice and hard…”

  “I have no objections to that,” I quickly assure her.

  “Afterwards I’m gonna ride you until I come,” she tells me, grinding her pussy over the growing bulge behind my jean zipper. “And then, I want you to roll us over and pound your cock in me until you come deep inside, giving me everything you’ve got.”

  I groan and grab her hips to push her down on my dick that’s already leaking
because I’m so turned on. When she unzips my pants, I gladly let her do everything she offered.

  It’s even better than I imagined.

  Callie

  Sunday night was…hot.

  I went back and forth on whether or not to wear the revealing outfit for Quinton since I knew there was no way I could compete with the gorgeous, young models and celebrities he’s used to fucking. But he agreed to only sleep with me for now, and he must be attracted to me to make that sort of offer, so I put on the blue and yellow lingerie and waited for him.

  He liked it more than I expected.

  Monday morning came too soon, and we both had to get up and get ready to catch our flights. We did have enough time for a quick buffet breakfast in the lobby, though.

  That’s where the guys with cameras found us. First, there were just two, and then they began multiplying and asking Quinton questions. Was I his latest one-night stand? Am I his girlfriend? His baby’s mama? And my favorite, What’s our age difference?

  By the time my flight touched down, my face was all over the sleazy, tabloid internet sites. And I wish I had never read the comments people made. They were so harsh and…cruel, saying Quinton can do better, that I’m too old for him and I’m just a gold digger. Although, I have to admit that most of them were right, which could be why it hurt to read them. It was a brutal reminder that Quinton and I are not really together. Bets were even being taken saying that I wouldn’t last with the famous quarterback through the Wildcats' game next week.

  Between the criticism and facing the fact that my fertile window is over, I was in a shit mood Tuesday. I was asleep when Quinton got home Monday night, and he left with barely a word Tuesday morning since he said he was running late.

  The separation gave me plenty of time to remind myself that Quinton’s part of our deal is finished for now, which means he likely will be fucking some other woman before the next football game. That stupid thought shouldn’t make me as angry or sad as it does, and I hate myself for caring who he screws. I guess I hate him a little for making me care about him.

  “So, I guess I’m gonna head home,” I tell Quinton Tuesday night after we put Brady down. Last night I stayed over, but we didn’t fuck, even if I was sort of hoping he would try and wake me up with his cock when he got home and take me fast and furiously before falling asleep.

  But he didn’t. He barely touched me, reminding me that the past week was only about him fulfilling his role. Now it’s time for the two-week wait to see if he managed to do the impossible.

  “What? You’re not staying tonight?” Quinton asks, following me to the living room where I pick up my crochet mess and pack it all up into my canvas tote.

  “I’m no longer fertile, so…” I answer with a shrug before turning around to face him. “I’ll be back in the morning to watch Brady before you have to leave for practice.”

  “I want you to stay,” he says, effectively opening the butterfly cages in my stomach.

  “Why?” I ask, certain I must have misinterpreted his reasoning. “To get up with Brady during the night?”

  “No, of course not,” he responds with a frown.

  “Then if I’m not ovulating and you don’t need help with him, there’s no reason for me to stay here. I have a perfectly nice house just down the road. And my cat misses me.”

  “You could bring Felix over here, and you know, some people have sex just because it’s fun and feels good,” he remarks.

  “I guess I’m not one of those people,” I say, not because I don’t want to sleep with him but because I need to start putting distance between us. As a woman, I stupidly confused sex with having feelings.

  “So what now? I’m supposed to just wait around and be celibate for however many weeks until you decide you want to fuck me again?” Quinton asks, raising his voice at me for the first time since, well, since the day we met and argued over who was gonna keep Brady.

  “That was our deal,” I remind him. “But if you want to…be with other women until I know if I’m pregnant or not, I can’t stop you.”

  “I’m not gonna cheat on you, Callie!” Quinton exclaims. “You can act like you wouldn’t care if I went out and fucked a different woman every night, but you would, and I know that.”

  “It wouldn’t be cheating on me. We’re not together,” I remind him and myself.

  “No, I guess we’re not. I’m just the guy with the cock you need to get knocked up. Do you think I would do this for anyone else?”

  I shake my head since I know he wouldn’t. “No. And you’re sort of insane for doing it with me,” I tell him honestly.

  “I like you. I like knowing you’re gonna be here when I get home every day. And yeah, I like the sex too. It’s no chore for me to tongue fuck you to get you ready for my cock or to come inside you. I almost get off on going down on you, that shit’s so good, hearing you scream –”

  “Quinton,” I warn him, lowering my eyes in embarrassment as my face starts to burn.

  “Stay,” he says. “If you don’t want to fuck me, fine. Sleep in the guest bedroom and have breakfast with me in the morning before I leave. Or,” he starts and reaches for my hips to bring me flush against his hard body, causing a gasp to slip from my parted lips at how good it feels to have him be aggressive with me. “Stay and sleep in my bed for no other reason than because you just want me to make you feel good.”

  My mouth dried up like a desert during Quinton’s short speech, all the moisture in my body apparently being relocated for what it decided was a far more important function. The needy place between my legs hasn’t forgotten how long or thick Quinton is since the last time we were together, and it wants to be well prepared to take him.

  “So, what’s it gonna be, Callie?” Quinton asks, rubbing his thumb against my hip.

  “I’ll stay,” I concede, my heart already racing with anticipation.

  “Where?” he inquires while easing his knuckles underneath the hem of my shirt and brushing them over the skin of my lower stomach. The shiver of desire that runs through me is my response, so I reach for Quinton’s zipper and pull it down. A moment later his pants and boxers are lowered, freeing his proud, battering ram of a cock. If I weren’t so desperate to feel him inside me, I would sink to my knees and suck him off until he comes.

  Our mouths crash together, and then my jeans and tee are quickly discarded by Quinton before he lifts me in his arms, impaling me on his shaft while his massive palms on my ass bounce me up and down his dick. He’s so strong that he fucks me right there standing up in the middle of the room. And it’s just as good as all the other times when I was hoping he would get me pregnant, intense and almost painful because of his size. But he hits that spot deep inside me so good the pain turns to pleasure.

  “Oh God, I’m coming!” I say, squeezing two handfuls of his hair to try to warn him before the ecstasy spikes through my core and my entire body trembles in his arms.

  “Fuck yes,” Quinton groans, and his cock pulses inside me with his release. “I need you again,” he says before he even starts to soften.

  The next few hours, Quinton takes me again and again, showing me what I’ve been missing with only allowing him to orgasm once a day. His stamina and endurance are incredible; and before he finally lets me fall asleep, I remember thinking to myself that he may be worth all those millions the team pays him after all.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Quinton

  Over the next two weeks, after I convinced Callie to bring Felix over and stay with me even though the time to knock her up had come and gone, the two of us got into a comfortable routine with Brady. In fact, where football used to be the one thing I woke up and looked forward to more than anything, I was starting to really love just being home at nights with the two of them.

  Callie and I give Brady a bath together a few nights a week, and I know she could do it during the day but waits until I’m home to spend time with him. She fixes dinner for us during the day and heats it up at nigh
t whenever I get home without complaint, even if it’s sometimes late. We text each other during the day whenever I got the chance, and I can’t deny that the nights alone with Callie are pretty fun too.

  We don’t have sex every night, but we never go two in a row without. Some would even say I’m pussy whipped because I’m willing to do anything to make Callie happy so that she’ll keep sleeping in my bed. The problem is, there’s only one thing she really wants; and for the time being, it’s out of my control. Both of us are trying to function with the growing anxiety. For Callie, it's while she waits to see if she's pregnant; and for me, it's because I'm having a shitty season on the field.

  The Wildcats lost their Monday night game, which means we’re 2-2. If we lose two more games, then our chance of making it to the playoffs in January will be doomed. I blame myself for the two losses, the first one where I got a concussion, and the second I was just…off.

  So for our next game, I’m determined to do whatever it takes to win. My mind will be clear, and I will live and breathe football. Or so I told myself.

  But then, when I’m getting ready to leave for the stadium Sunday, I come out of the shower to find Callie still in bed, highly unusual for her since she’s a morning person. At first I think she’s just sleeping in since Kelsey is over today helping with Brady, but then I hear her sniffles.

  “Callie?” I ask, crawling up on the bed behind her. “Hey, you okay?” I ask when I find her face buried in a pillow. She doesn’t respond, and I’m not sure what the hell to do, so I rub her back through her pajama top. “What’s wrong, baby?” I try asking again.

  “I’m not…I’m not pregnant,” she says through the sobs.

  Fuck.

  I don’t know what to say to that news. I’m sorry for disappointing you?

  A crater opens up in my chest, hating that I let her down, that I couldn’t give her a baby. There are millions of dollars in my bank account, and this is the one thing money can’t buy.