Dirty Player: A Rough Riders Novel

by Stacey Lynn

  Now, he was driving me mad.

  He slid out and in again, my knees pulled up high to the sides of him so he slid in deeper.

  I was close, so close, but his frustrating pace was keeping my orgasm just out of reach.

  “Oliver.” I gasped, as he hit a new spot deep inside of me. My fingers pressed against his shoulders as I arched into him.

  “Tell me you love me.”

  “I love you,” I said without hesitancy.

  His eyes seared into me as he gritted his teeth together.

  “Please.” I pressed one of my hands to his cheek. “I’m so close.”

  He grunted as he thrust into me hard. “Like this?” In. Out. Harder. Not faster.

  God. He was killing me.

  My hips arched up and into him, trying to get the friction I needed that he was keeping from me.

  “I need you.”

  “You have me,” he responded, so forcefully that I knew he was losing control.

  He pulled back, and I took the small break in our skin pressing against skin to slide my hand between us.

  “Fuck, yes. Do it. Get yourself off.”

  It didn’t take long. His long, hard dick inside me, moving slow, grinding against me when he was fully inside, my fingers helped take me over the edge and I tightened around him, my heels digging into his lower back as I came.

  “So damn beautiful when you come,” he growled and dropped his forehead to mine. “Hold on to me tight.”

  I did what he asked, wrapping my limbs around him while he pounded into me, his speed finally increasing like I’d asked for, drawing out my orgasm.

  “Oliver.”

  “Fuck, Shannon.” He seated himself to the root and came on a growl, my name reverberating through the walls of the bedroom in his hotel room.

  We’d stayed there the night before when he’d dragged me out of Stamped, my fingers cramping from working so hard.

  Melissa had been with me even though she was staying at Beaux’s since I had yet to buy any guest room furniture. When Oliver had shown up, his interest and desire clear in his eyes, she’d practically shoved me out the door, promising she’d find something to do to keep her busy for the night before I picked her up for the game. His parents were in town, staying at his house for the weekend, and he said he wanted the night alone with me. I’d meet them for breakfast before a driver took them to the game early, but I was still trying not to think about that part yet.

  It had taken only a few hours before photos of us at Stamped on Thursday had surfaced on local gossip sites. Then they’d gone viral on social media platforms. My notifications had been dinging through the roof so much that I’d finally shut down my phone earlier in the day.

  I was terrified as to what Oliver’s parents would think about me. When I had met Patrick’s parents, they’d made it clear they didn’t think someone from a run-down home with a single mom was anyone close to being good enough for their son.

  Based on the things the media had been saying about me when they saw Oliver’s arms wrapped around me, or the kiss we’d shared when he’d first shown up, it was also clear that half of America thought the same thing about Oliver and me.

  I’d tried not to let it bother me. I knew the truth. In some crazy way, Oliver and I fit.

  But his parents might not think so, and I was terrified to spend three hours that afternoon watching a game with people who might hate me.

  I blew out a breath at the thought as Oliver slid off me, draping a sheet over my hips as he moved. “Stay here. I have something for you.”

  “Another present?” I asked, my face paling.

  He laughed and sauntered to the bathroom to clean up. “You’ll like this one, I promise.”

  I’d liked the last one, eventually. I’d liked it so much I’d wanted him to take my ass over and over again—and while there’d been play in the last couple of weeks, it hadn’t happened.

  I thought about asking him for it then, but remembered his game later.

  When he came out of the bathroom, still naked and completely confident in his body he walked directly to the closet and came out holding a white box—the kind of box dress shirts came in.

  “What’s this?” I sat up and brought the sheet with me to cover my breasts.

  Oliver sat down next to me, his hips to the side of mine on the bed. He reached out and tugged the sheet until it fell down. Before I could reach for it, he leaned closer and pressed his lips right between my breasts, softly and slowly, making my nipples harden at the sensation.

  “Hey,” I whispered, running my hands lightly through his shaggy blond hair. He dragged his eyes up to mine. “Careful or you’ll start something you won’t be able to finish.”

  “I’ll finish,” he promised. “Later. But I want you to have this.”

  He sat back up and held the box out to me. His bottom lip disappeared between his teeth.

  He was nervous.

  It wasn’t a look I saw on him frequently, if ever, and my hands trembled slightly as I took the box from him.

  “You always wear Beaux’s jersey at the games,” he said as I set the box in my lap.

  I knew instantly what it was and my pulse kicked up a notch.

  “The last few days have been crazy with media and everything, and I know it all took you by surprise, but I want you to wear this today.” He cleared his throat and that vulnerable side of him peeked out before he vanquished it with a blink. “I want you to wear my jersey when you cheer for me.”

  “Oliver,” I breathed out. I opened the box, and inside it was as he said: his jersey, the blue and teal colors of the Rough Riders, and the number eighty-seven stamped in bright blue right on the front. I held it up and smiled, looking at him. “I feel like you just asked me to go steady.”

  He laughed softly, his eyes narrowing with that look I knew so well. “Later, I want to fuck you in only this, my number and my body all over you.”

  “Well, that’s something to think about when I’m with your folks today.” I chuckled with him then and pressed the shirt to my chest. “Thank you,” I said, trying to erase the nerves that assaulted me at the mention of his parents. “Of course I’ll wear it to the game.”

  “And later?” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.

  “You’ll have to wait and find out.”

  Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

  SHANNON

  Grace Powell pressed her soft, warm hand to my cheek and smiled. “Well, you’re even prettier than the pictures we saw this week, aren’t you?”

  Next to me, Oliver groaned. “Ma.”

  “Well, she is.” Her kind, hazel eyes, which were exactly like Oliver’s, came to mine. “It’s lovely to meet you, Shannon.”

  “You too.” I grinned and held out my hand for Sean to shake. “You too, sir.”

  “None of that,” he said and pulled me in for a hug that was tighter but faster than Grace’s when she’d hugged me. “We’re huggers in this family.”

  Oliver snorted. “Or you’re just pretty and he likes the ladies.”

  Sean pulled back and winked. “That might be it, too. But my son knows how to pick ‘em, that’s for certain.”

  I tried and failed to stifle my giggle as Oliver groaned again.

  I was obviously meeting his parents. They’d driven from his place to The Mayfield Tower for an early breakfast before Oliver had to be at the stadium. He was dressed in a suit, and that black-and-gray tie he’d tied to my wrists when he’d taken my ass. My eyes had gone hazy and half-lidded when he’d walked out of his closet earlier, him in that suit and tie, and he’d smirked.

  “Guess that tells me what we’re doing later,” he murmured, pulling me in for a long and wet and heated kiss.

  I had pushed him away, my cheeks burning with heat, and next to him I still felt ridiculous. I was dressed in frayed skinny jeans and sandals and his jersey like he’d asked. With him in his suit, we didn’t look like we fit.

  “Let’s eat some breakfast,�
� Sean said, patting his small, rounded stomach. “I’m starving after working the horses this morning.”

  “You didn’t ride Hulk, did you?” Oliver’s concern was obvious. In the past few weeks, I’d learned that nobody but Lee and him rode Hulk. He was too wild, still—too unpredictable.

  Sean flicked a hand in the air, dismissing him. “It was fine. Quit worrying about me.”

  Oliver growled at his dad and looked at his mom. “You let him do that?”

  She rested a soft hand on his forearm. “It’s fine, dear. Honest, he was okay.”

  “He looks tired.”

  “You worry too much.”

  He rolled his eyes and looked at me. I was chewing my bottom lip. In truth, Sean looked exhausted and his skin was a bit pale. I had never met him, but he did seem like a man Oliver had the right to be concerned about. He’d told me frequently over the past few weeks that he thought his dad was constantly overdoing it, not taking into consideration that at nearing seventy, he wasn’t as capable as he used to be.

  “Somebody needs to worry,” Oliver muttered, but followed his mom into the restaurant.

  When we were seated, his frustration seemed to evaporate while we sat around and ate. His parents were kind and quick to laugh. Sean was boisterous and had no problems criticizing Oliver’s playing to which, shockingly, Oliver took with a quick nod and “yes, sir” even while I knew he was trying not to roll his eyes. In front of me, he seemed to change from superstar, cocky football player to respectful Southern son in the blink of an eye.

  Both sides of him had me squirming in my seat. Was there anything he did that didn’t make him sexier to me?

  I doubted it.

  Grace, on the other hand, was quiet with a serene presence. She added in her two cents in a way where you wanted to lean in and listen more closely. Soft-spoken and mild-mannered, she held a wisdom in her eyes that made you respect her instantly, and at the same time want to sit next to her with a cool glass of lemonade and just be.

  I was in love with the entire family by the time breakfast was done.

  “I need to get to the stadium,” Oliver said, kissing me on the cheek after he’d had our bill charged to his room. His parents had excused themselves for the restroom and we were alone at our table. “You sure you and Melissa are okay getting there on your own? I can have a driver pick you up.”

  I shook my head. He’d already asked and offered, but Melissa and I wanted to enter the stadium like regular fans. There was always something about the excitement in the air, the hope of victory, and the spark of a new season that made the first home game different from any others.

  It’d be a pain in the ass, but worth the experience.

  The driver he’d ordered for his parents was going to be there any moment. They would go to the game and enter the stadium through the family and players’ entrance so they didn’t have to deal with the crowds.

  “We’ll be fine,” I said, stressing each syllable. “Don’t worry about us, I swear. We’ll be in the box before kickoff and I’ll cheer for you and Beaux every play.”

  His lips pulled tight and he frowned. His gaze flickered to his dad’s empty chair before returning to mine and he dropped his voice. “Do me a favor? Make sure Dad doesn’t get too excited. He looks worse today than he did last time I saw him.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m probably being stupid,” he said, still whispering. “I just don’t have a good feeling about today. Or the game. Or something.”

  I pressed my hands to his cheeks. “It’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. You’ll win, and it’s probably just nerves.”

  A line deepened between his brows before he nodded. “You’re probably right.”

  “I love you,” I whispered, leaning in and brushing his lips against mine. “Go kick some ass. Score some touchdowns. All that good stuff.”

  He laughed softly before he deepened the closed-mouth kiss. “Be good.”

  “I will,” I promised and pulled back. “I love you. And tell Beaux I said good luck, too.”

  I’d already texted my brother, and he’d responded, but it wasn’t often I didn’t see him before a game I attended. Usually, he was the one driving me.

  “Will do. Love you, too.” He pushed back from his chair before leaning over me, kissing me again like he couldn’t leave without the taste of me on his lips.

  “Go Rough Riders!” I cheered, pumping my fist in the air.

  A few people turned and looked our way but most didn’t hear me. So when Oliver leaned back down and playfully growled, “I’ll show you a rough ride later,” I was thankful no one saw the blush that stained my cheeks when he tugged a lock of my hair before he walked away from me.

  ***

  “I can’t believe this game is so close,” Melissa said, sitting next to me on the chairs just outside the box. Sean and Grace were inside getting more food, because I’d learned that while Grace was soft-spoken and kind earlier, she also really liked to take care of her husband. Making sure he kept his plate and drink filled during the game seemed like her duty.

  “I know.” My fingernails had been in between my teeth all game. Two of them were completely gone already. The crowd was insanely loud, and more than once I’d wished we were down at the fifty-yard line, cheering from my usual seats. There was something different about being up so high, in your own little box. It made me feel removed from the excitement and wonder of the game and the anticipation in the crowd.

  I’d seen my face on the Jumbotron while sitting next to Sean and Grace after Oliver had made a great play, and twice when he’d dropped a pass.

  It was halftime and we were only up by one field goal against the Denver Cavalry, a team we’d been projected to beat by double digits.

  The Cavalry was doing an excellent job at shutting down the passing game, effectively leaving Kolby scoreless for the entire first half, which was keeping our scoring down.

  “They’ll come back in the second half,” I said and stood up. I wanted another drink and some snacks. I needed something to help settle my stomach. I gestured toward Melissa. “Want another glass of wine?”

  “You betcha,” she replied and raised her glass without taking her eyes off the field.

  One of the things I loved most about Melissa was her love of sports like mine. I didn’t know if she’d learned it from me or had always been a football fan, but when we’d met in college, she started watching every game with me, often coming back to my high school to watch Beaux play. She’d been just as much of a big sister to him as I had since we’d met ten years before.

  I walked into the box suite and headed straight for the bottles of wine that had been staffed for us. Oliver had gone all out for our spread for the day. There were selections of all types of alcohol and a buffet that could feed thirty. There’d be way too many leftovers thrown away, but I appreciated he thought of everything we could possibly desire.

  “You guys doing okay?” I asked Sean and Grace as I refilled our glasses.

  “Fine, darlin’,” Sean said, scooping a corn chip filled with chili dip into his mouth.

  We’d spent most of the first half of the game talking and cheering. I could tell he appreciated my knowledge of the game, and they’d both made it easy to talk to them. They were just as sweet and simple as Oliver had promised they’d be, and just like over breakfast, our conversations were easy.

  I took a sip of wine.

  Sean pressed his hand to his chest, grimacing. “You okay, Sean?”

  “Fine, fine.” He cringed again but waved me off. “Chili’s spicy a bit, that’s all.”

  Grace dug into her purse and muttered, “How many times do I need to remind you to take your medicine, Sean?” She looked at me and grinned before pulling heartburn medication out of her purse. “I tell ya, this man is as stubborn as his son. Every day he gets the burn, and every day he refuses to take the pill until he’s unbearable. Train my boy better than I trained my man to follow common sense, would you?”

 
; I grinned into my glass of wine. “I’ll do my best.”

  A cheer erupted on the field and I looked out to see the teams running back onto the field.

  “I should get these drinks to Melissa. You two coming out?”

  “Soon, darlin’.” Sean coughed into his hand and flinched. “We’ll be there soon. As soon as this pill kicks in you won’t be able to stop me.”

  “All right.” I patted him on the shoulder and went back to the game.

  Soon, Sean and Grace joined us and the four of us nearly lost our voices while the game continued to be close.

  It was the third quarter, five minutes to go, and we were finally up by ten points, having scored another touchdown. Cavalry could pull off a win—or at least a tie—and they had the ball, moving it slowly but steadily down the field.

  It was the third down, eight yards to go for them, and they were nearing field goal range when they threw the long pass they had to get.

  The play unfolded perfectly. Cavalry’s quarterback dropped back to pass the ball, and as it flung into the air I was on my feet, holding my breath while it sailed through the air, thirty yards down the field.

  Right as their wide receiver jumped to catch the ball, too far behind him even though he tried to double back, our safety appeared out of nowhere and snagged the ball into his hands.

  “Hell yes!” Melissa shouted next to me.

  Smith, the safety, bobbled the ball once then twice before he got a firm grip on it and started running down the field.

  We all jumped to our feet and shouted, cheering as Smith ran for fifteen yards, almost ending up at half field before he was tackled by Cavalry’s offense.

  “Yes! We did it!” I shouted, turning to give Sean a high-five as I did. But he wasn’t there.

  He was in his chair, his hand fisting his shirt, his lips twisted in pain.

  “Sean?” I asked, dropping to my knees in the small space.