Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
GINA
RYDER
GINA
RYDER
GINA
RYDER
GINA
RYDER
GINA
RYDER
GINA
RYDER
GINA
RYDER
GINA
RYDER
GINA
RYDER
GINA
RYDER
GINA
Epilogue
Sneak Peeks from Shanked, For The Love of English, Catching Fireflies, and Sidelined
About The Authors
Stalk Terri
Stalk Annie
Published By Wicked Truth Publishing, LLC
Copyright © 2016 A.M. Hargrove and Terri E. Laine
All rights reserved.
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental.
Names, places, and characters are figments of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously.
Cover by Michele Catalano - Creative
Cover photo by Sara Eirew
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To every athlete out there, who dedicates hours and hours to their sport, we thank you and appreciate you. Not only do you entertain us, but you also give us something to write (fantasize) about!
To our readers: you guys are THE BEST! And we say that from the bottoms of our hearts. We love and appreciate each and every one of you and we hope our little dirty, flirty romance is something that you love. We decided to play a little with this and veer away from the serious so we could have some fun. So please tell us what you think. Hit us up on Facebook or wherever, but there will be more Wilde Players on the way.
Here are the lovely people we'd like to say THANK YOU to. Our beta readers: Kristie, Andrea, Nina, and Jill. You ladies are our shining stars and always make our books brighter and prettier than they can ever have been without you. We Love you to the end zone and then some!
Thank you Nina Grinstead, and Social Butterfly PR for running your butt off in getting our stuff out there when we were so late. We love you!
And thank you Rick Miles at Redcoat PR For everything, but especially for putting up with Annie’s complaints about Walter eating her couch.
To keep up with the lastest news on Annie and Terri, subscribe to our newsletters where you’ll get the best scoop of all!
Annie’s and Terri’s
GINA
Air clings to my lungs like sludge, and the need to get out of here if I want to breathe becomes urgent. Without thinking, I make my way to the elevator in the skybox and am grateful when the doors whoosh open immediately after I press the button. I step inside, face forward, and press a lower floor button at random. That is when my eyes connect with his just as the doors silently shut between us. Exhaling a long breath, I’m grateful for the solitude. There is no reason on earth I should want the man. He’s dangerous to my free-spirited lifestyle. Not to mention, he’s too vanilla for my liking.
After the doors reopen, I don’t recognize my location. When they start to shut, I leap out into the wide corridor, which is big enough for large vehicles to maneuver through. An underground tunnel of drab gray greets me. As I begin to walk, I realize I’m probably in a restricted area of the football stadium.
Fletcher Wilde, the star quarterback of the Oklahoma Rockets and my best friend, Cassidy’s husband, is going to murder me if I get caught and they learn I’m a guest of his in the owner’s box.
Feeling mischievous, my hesitant steps turn confident, figuring my bestie will talk her man off a rampage if he gets in trouble because of me. I pass several people but hold my head high and steady, acting as though I belong, and the people pass without a second glance. I cover my belly as if my stomach hurts, hiding the area where a badge might hang, which I suspect I need in order to be here.
The roar of the crowd funnels through a wide opening in the tunnel, and I can see the green of the field. I quickly dart past and stand near an open door. Just as I’m about to continue my exploration, a giant of a man steps in my path. He wears a sports coat that looks like the size of a tablecloth. But it’s a walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder with an attached coiled wire leading to his ear that explains his profession.
“Miss, do you have an ID?”
Busted. Fletcher’s so going to kill me.
“Um—”
“There you are.” I turn to see Ryder striding in my direction.
“Hey, my cousin—”
“I know you,” the guard says, with his index finger raised and pointing. His eyes are large. “You’re Ryder Wilde. You play for the Charlotte Cougars. I watched you the other night. That triple saved the fucking game.”
The security guy sees NFL players all the time, and yet he seems genuinely excited to meet Ryder. Just goes to show me what a big deal he is. Still, I’m surprised the guard is talking about Ryder’s hitting skills, when normally it’s all about his pitching capabilities.
Ryder grins, and they trade a secret male handshake all men seemed to know.
“Do you mind if I show her my cousin’s locker?”
Ryder’s and Fletcher’s dads are brothers.
A wink and a nod, not to mention a trade of greenbacks, and the guard lets us by.
“We don’t normally allow people into the locker room, especially during games. But for you, I’ll give you ten minutes. Any more and someone is sure to come around and catch you,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Thanks,” Ryder says.
Then he’s half-dragging me into what appears to be a fancy locker room. Two foot wide open lockers line the walls with benches in front of them. A wide-open space is in the middle, and several TVs grace the walls. The game is on in stereo. Two large empty dumpsters are nearby. I can only imagine them filled with sweaty uniforms to be laundered by unfortunate employees of their laundry service.
“So, are you going to tell me why I had to chase you?” Ryder begins.
The puff of air I release isn’t filled with the heat of the dragon I’d felt minutes before. The man is too beautiful to be angry at. Damn Wilde men.
“I didn’t ask you to follow,” I say.
“No, but your jealousy is obvious.”
I roll my eyes in self-defense of his smirk. “Jealousy requires that I care and I don’t.” Which is such a lie. I’m surprised my nose doesn’t grow two inches.
“Of course, you don’t. I’ve called you for the past two months and nothing. I see you and you do everything possible to avoid me.”
Wrapping an armor of nonchalance around me, I try to sound convincing when I speak again. “We had sex. It was good. I’m not interested in more. Isn’t that a guy’s wet dream to fuck and not worry about commitment?”
“I’m not most guys,” he snaps, sounding offended I’ve lumped him in a category of cavemen. And maybe I have, because that I can handle.
“No, you are a guy on a date. One who sh
ould be upstairs with her and not with me.”
He licks lips made for kissing as I watch him… them. Damn me.
“You know what I think?”
“Not really,” I say, feigning boredom. “But you’re going to tell me, right?”
“I think you want me to fuck you again because you can’t get enough. I think you’re afraid you might get addicted to my dick.”
“A-DICK-ted… I don’t think so.”
“Maybe you already are.” His smug laugh is sexy as hell. Double damn.
“Try me. Fuck me right now and see if you can get me off and have me begging for more.”
Challenge issued. Will he take me up on it? Truth be told, the idea of fucking right out here in the open and potentially getting caught already has me wet.
“But what if we—” He glances around as if he hopes someone will appear.
“What are you, twelve and afraid we’ll get caught by Mommy and Daddy?”
His head whips back in my direction, and his eyes grow stormy. Hot damn, he looks like a predator about to eat his prey, and I want him to do just that.
“Take your fucking jeans off, Gina,” he commands.
The bass in his voice vibrates from his chest, sending shivers through me. I so want him that bad I easily comply. Although the denim peels off, they hook at my ankles, and I manage to only kick one leg off. He doesn’t wait. I’m instantly lifted and set on the edge of the counter that’s the perfect height for me to wrap my legs around him. He doesn’t bother with my thong.
A dip of his hand into his front pocket, and he pulls out a condom.
“Expecting to get laid,” I chide.
“Knowing,” he says. Confidence exudes from him like cologne. “I put it in there on the ride down.”
Fucking cocky bastard.
I watch as he sheathes the thick length of himself in the rubber wrapper. He’s rough when he pokes a finger through my slit to test my readiness.
“What happened to Mr. Nice Guy?” I egg him on, liking him crossing over to the dark side.
“You don’t want nice. You want hard, fast, and meaningless. And I’m going to give it to you.”
There’s no time to gasp. He quickly removes his finger, shoves my thong to the side, and positions his tip at my entrance. He’s inside me before I can blink. Damn, if I don’t remember every inch of him. No man has fit me like a glove the way he does and ain’t that a bitch. I’ve been waiting for him to strike out, and he’s hit a goddamn home run.
“Fuck,” I cry out, not caring about the security guy at the door.
In fact, the idea that he may come in and watch has me tipping toward an edge sooner than I thought possible.
Ryder is relentless. He rides me so hard the back of my legs sting from the impact against the sharp edge they hang over. My eyes remain open and focused between us. I watch his cock slide in and out of me as the evidence of my pleasure coats each of his strokes. It’s another shove closer to the cliff I desperately want to tumble over.
“I want you to swallow my dick and let my cum mark your throat.”
Damn, if I don’t scream from the impact of his hips as his rolls them so his dick hits that secret spot. Somehow knowing what I’m about to do, Ryder is there covering my mouth with his as he shoves his tongue to stop my sharp cries. Damn, if the fucker doesn’t have to even touch my clit to set me off like a rocket launcher. I’m so confused as to how he managed it. Then again, I’m lost to the feeling of ecstasy as he grunts. His thrusts becoming bruising as he follows me into oblivion.
“So much for me deep-throating you,” I tease once I’m able to catch my breath.
“There’ll be a next time.”
“That’s what you think.”
“Hey, you?” another voice declares.
I look over Ryder’s shoulder and see a different guy, one not wearing a sports coat. So not security, but he’s got on a polo shirt with Fletcher’s team logo emblazoned on the breast pocket.
“Oh, are we in the wrong place?” Ryder says assuredly, not looking back.
He probably doesn’t want the guy to recognize him.
“Yes, you are.”
“Give me a minute for my girl to get decent.”
Hearing him label me as his sends a thrill I don’t want to run through me. I push down the feeling, knowing disappointment when he moves on will only leave me lonely. And everyone leaves me, even Cassidy. She’s Fletcher’s now, and I have no one left.
The man turns, giving us his back. “You have twenty seconds.”
The threat is clear, and Ryder doesn’t waste time. He helps me down, and he pulls up his jeans as I race to get mine on. And then we are running. We leave out a door closer to us and furthest from the guy who caught us. Ryder reaches into his pocket and hands the security guy out front more money.
“Thanks,” Ryder says. “Can you buy us some more time?”
He’s got a fucking innocent face that makes everyone a believer. Then he adds a wink. Security guy smiles and nods, and then we are running.
Breathless from laughing so hard, we are in the elevator headed back up to the owner’s box. When our laughter dies, Ryder crowds me in a corner. I don’t fight when he kisses me. In fact, I rake my nails through his hair trying to pull him closer.
The elevator dings to signal we’ve made it to our floor. We break apart before the doors totally open, and a blond—not just anyone—is standing there looking at us.
“I was just looking for you,” she says. And her saccharin sweet voice grates on my nerves. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” Her pout belongs on the face of a five-year-old not a woman.
“Lynsey,” he begins.
Meeting her eyes, I say, “Don’t worry, honey. We aren’t anything. In fact, he’s all yours.”
I stride away with my head held high. The prickle of guilt I feel is a useless emotion. I don’t owe her anything. It was his choice to screw me. They aren’t married, so what? But I know what it’s like to be her, so that guilt still holds. But I’ve gotten my dose of Ryder. I hope that’s enough for me to move on this time.
RYDER
Why the fuck did I have to bring Lynsey? If I could punch myself in the face for doing so, I probably would have right then. But instead, I paste on a paper-thin smile and drag my leaden feet out of the elevator.
“Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Her voice, which at one point I thought sounded cute and sexy, now reminds me of fingernails on a blackboard. And that bleached out hair. What the fuck was I ever thinking? All I want right now is that hot black-haired wild thing wrapped around me again.
“Ryder? I asked you a question.” Her bony arms wind around my neck as she shimmies her body close to mine. This used to be something that was a turn-on, but all I want to do is push her away from me.
Then she sounds like a damn Beagle as she starts to sniff. Rising to her tippy toes, she puts her nose on my neck and sniffs some more. All of a sudden that cute little pout turns into a nasty sneer. “You were with her, and I’m talking with her with her, weren’t you? That’s why you were gone so long.” Her voice has a high-pitched squeaky quality to it that is totally grating on my nerves. I need to calm her down before we walk back inside and she makes a scene, completely embarrassing Gina.
“Come on, Lynsey. Do you really think I’d do such a thing?”
She taps the toe of one of her stiletto boots as she assesses me. Who the hell wears these kinds of boots to a football game anyway? They look like they belong more on a stripper’s pole. Then she crosses her arms, one of the little moves she loves because it squishes her manmade boobs together, giving her cleavage an extra oomph. The tight V-neck sweater she wears emphasizes them even more. The first time she did this I wanted to grab her tits and squeeze them, but this time I only want to tell her to stop it. It’s not a very attractive move. It makes me think of Gina in her Oklahoma Rockets jersey and tight jeans. Now that’s what I call sexy.
“I have been hugging a lot of women since I got here.” I feel like a shit, even though there is no emotional attachment to this woman. The fact is, I should never have brought her. We’ve never been anything to each other but a date, even though she’s wanted more. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, but I didn’t know Gina was going to be here. What is it with me? Can I not go anywhere alone?
She glares at me.
“Look, I want to catch the game, and I can’t do it standing out here. You coming inside or not?”
“Maybe I should just go.”
“Suit yourself.”
A huff rushes out of her. “You mean you’re gonna let me leave by myself?”
“Of course not. I’ll order an Uber for you.”
Her mouth flaps open and closed a couple of times, and then she says, “Fine. Why don’t you do that?”
I yank out my phone and tap on the Uber app, praying they come to the correct entrance of the stadium. It says they’ll be here in five minutes. I imagine they are circling the place like buzzards. They probably make a killing on game day.
“Let’s go. Your ride will be here in five.”
The walk down is in complete silence. I believe Lynsey is as done with me as I am with her. By the time we get to the doors, her ride is waiting. Now for the awkward part.
“Take care, Lynsey.”
“Like you care, Ryder.”
“What? It’s not like that.”
But isn’t it?
“I may look it, but I’m not stupid. See ya.” She holds up her hand over her shoulder as she sashays to the car, flicking her fingers, telling me goodbye.
I jog back to the box, hoping to see Fletcher in at least one play before halftime. But as I burst into the room, I see all the players moving off the field. Dammit!
Everyone ambles toward the buffet or bar to refresh their food and drink. Cassidy and my twin sister, Riley, approach, so I know I’ll be on trial.
Fastball (Wilde Players Dirty Romance) Page 1
