The Quarterback’s Secret Baby (Football's Bad Boys Book 3)

by Ava Walsh

  “Of course you don’t. It’s your choice. You can always come back later. My manager can set it up,” I said and shrugged. It wouldn’t kill me if she said no and walked away, but I truly wanted those clothes ripped.

  I could see that she was thinking about it. Her brows were wrinkled and she was licking her lips. I mean, who would refuse an offer like this? There would be thousands of women who would happily oblige. What was taking her so long?

  Now I saw her fully look at me, her eyes ran over my navel, then went down till they focused on what was between my legs. I could see her professional exterior crack a little. She needed that interview. She was going to get into the shower with me and feel my dick up against her ass. She was working it all out in her head, and no matter how moralistic and professional Erica Lee wanted to be, at the end of the day, she was just like any other hot-blooded young woman. She wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity.

  “How will I take my notes?” she asked. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  Chapter Five - Erica

  The showerhead came on as soon as I stepped in. I was hoping that he might have given me some notice. The hot steamy water hit my body and I gasped with the shock. I knew exactly what was happening. He was seducing me. This was completely inappropriate, but this was also Kyle Murphy. You couldn’t put something like this past him. Yet, I did wonder if this was the kind of journalist I wanted to become. Someone who would do anything to get the scoop that she wanted. I still hadn’t thought about the fact that I had stepped into the shower because I wanted his body just as much as I wanted the interview.

  I still tried to keep a straight face as the water poured over me. Kyle was smiling, watching my hair dampen and stick to the sides of my face.

  “So, your training schedule,” I reminded him and he nodded.

  “I wake up at six am, every day,” he began and I looked into his eyes. It was plain to see: he wanted me. I noticed the way the water streamed down his muscles, how his flesh glistened and shone in the water. He raised his hands and brushed them over his hair. My hair and my clothes were getting drenched.

  “Then I eat a breakfast for champions.” He said it with a laugh. He was looking at my wet clothes now, where my shirt stuck to my breasts. My nipples were pert and sticking out of my clothes. He was watching them.

  “Then I leave my house to hit the gym first,” he continued, and slowly he was taking a few steps towards me. I didn’t budge or move back, his slow voice had overtaken my senses. He was much taller than me, I had to crane my neck to look at him as he hovered over me.

  “Do you want to know how many push-ups and crunches I do at the gym?” he asked and my lips parted just as he moved both his hands towards me.

  I felt the buttons pop and my shirt rip. He had, with one swift motion, torn my shirt so that now it lay loosely hanging and wet, my breasts revealed. I was wearing a thin lace bra. Now it was wet too and Kyle was staring at it. There were goosebumps on my skin. He hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t prepared me for it and I had no will to stop him. I wanted him. I had felt his skin on mine and I wanted those large hands on my neck.

  I hadn’t replied to his question, and he wasn’t waiting for a response.

  “Do you have any more questions for me or can I just go ahead and fuck you now?” he asked with that same smile on his face. Our bodies were barely apart, my nipples grazing his chest. We stared at each other.

  Then, I did something I would never have expected myself to do. I stood up on my toes and I kissed him. I took his lips in my mouth and I forced my tongue into his own. I heard his low growl as he grabbed my waist, his hands tightly gripping my flesh as he kissed me back. Our tongues were lashing against each other as he pulled me closer to him.

  I could feel his hard dick sliding against my waist. I felt small and soft, clay in his hands. While we kissed I felt his hands ride up till he yanked my bra apart. My wet, waiting breasts were in his hands. He slid his fingers over them till he was flicking my erect, tight nipples. I winced with pleasure as he continued.

  “Get down here,” he growled when we pulled apart. That smiling charming face was replaced by a darker look. He had turned into someone else, he looked like a beast ready to mount.

  He had grabbed my waist again and flipped me around. My face met the slippery wall of the shower as he positioned himself behind me. I heard the ripping sound my trousers made as he tore into them. Then he slid my lace panty down.

  “This is how I celebrate after a game. You can put that in your article,” he said with a hiss. Then I felt him thrust his dick into me. Again, he did it without warning, but I had been ready and wet for him this time. I surprised myself by screaming. He was big and tight inside me, and I could feel the hot steamy water fall on my back as he pushed himself into me.

  He laughed gently when I screamed and pulled out. His hands were on my ass, holding the cheeks apart as he slid into me again. My palms were flat against the slippery wall. He pulled out again and then thrust in with greater force this time.

  I screamed again, oblivious to who could hear us. Then he increased his pace, rapidly pounding into me. My body shook, I lost my footing, but he was holding me in place with his grip on my ass and waist. Sometimes his hands moved up to squeeze my breasts and flick my nipples. I moaned loudly, our bodies made a loud squeaking noise with every thrust. I didn’t care who could hear. Kyle Murphy’s dick was inside me. He was fucking me with a ferociousness I had never experienced before.

  I had forgotten about my interview, about my job, about everything else. All I wanted was for him to continue thrusting into me, slowly pushing me over the edge. His big hands held me tightly. He bunched up my hair as he rammed into me, giving him just the kind of grip he needed to really drill me.

  Chapter Six - Kyle

  I had expected a quickie in the shower after the game, but what I got was far from that. Erica’s body felt more delicious than I had imagined it to be under all those clothes. I was pumping into her, and I could feel her juices flow. Her breasts were big and juicy and she felt soft and small in my hands. She was screaming, moaning, yelling my name. It was like she was a completely different person from the moment she had stepped into the shower.

  I reached over and touched her between her legs, soft pulpy sweetness between her thighs, and she moaned again. I couldn’t help but smile as I started massaging her where I could feel her sticky wetness flowing. Erica tried to straighten her body, but I held her down.

  She was writhing under me as I continued drilling her, repeatedly, with an increased pace till I felt like I might not be able to control it anymore. She was soft and moist in my hands, and she moved her hips around so that I was losing all control. But my hand was doing the trick – I could feel her body shaking, vibrating as I stroked her gently. The contrast of my gentle stroking of her pussy against the fast and forceful thrusts from the back was what was making her body shake.

  I could sense that she was going to come.

  And come she did! She screamed my name aloud and writhed in my arms. I didn’t stop stroking her as I felt her orgasm, her juices flowing right into my hands. Her breasts shook and her shoulders shivered. I wanted to bite her back but I restrained myself. It was time for me to do the same. It was time for me to claim my prize.

  My eyes rolled back in my head as I filled her up. I could feel myself emptying into her with force, shooting straight into her as she tightened her grip on me with her legs. She had straightened her back by now, our bodies squashed against each other, slipping and sliding in the water. I gasped as I came, and then I sighed. My face was against the back of her head, my hands squeezing her breasts. She sighed too.

  We remained in that position for a few seconds till she slowly pulled herself away from me. I couldn’t help but smile. This was not the kind of sex I had expected from her. I thought she needed to be tamed, but she was more excitable than I was.

  But when Erica turned to look at me, she wasn’t smiling. “I hope you
got what you wanted, Kyle,” were her first words. My eyebrows automatically raised.

  “Now, I’d like to get what I came here for,” she said, still standing under the full blast of the shower.

  I couldn’t believe that she could still think about the interview after what had just happened… After she had been screaming my name, moaning, her body shaking against mine.

  “I’ll give you your interview, Erica,” I told her. I wondered if she detected the growing anger in my voice. I wanted her to smile a little at me, to bite down on her lip and tell me how good she felt.

  “And also some clothes. You’ve torn all my clothes. I don’t know how you expect me to leave this shower room without anything on.” She looked almost angry herself as she spoke.

  I couldn’t remember ever fucking a woman who was angry with me immediately after. Usually, they couldn’t wait for more.

  “You can wear my spare shirt while you wait. I’ll get Lewis to go buy you some new clothes in the meantime,” I told her, and reached for the shampoo and shower gel.

  “Good. We can have our interview while I wait,” she said, running her fingers through her hair.

  Before I had a chance to reply, she had turned on her heel and stepped out of the shower. I watched in surprise as she reached for the towel hanging from the hook outside and started drying herself off. She didn’t bother to look at me, nor did she ask when she took my shirt from where it lay, neatly folded, on the bench nearby. She wasn’t ashamed or shy when she slipped into it and sat down on the bench.

  Her hair was damp. She had smoothed it so that it stuck to her head. Her eyes looked fresh, very large, and a glistening blue like a stormy sea. She crossed her bare long legs and folded her hands on her lap. Then she reached for her notepad and pen, which she had discarded earlier.

  I washed myself while she sat there, waiting for me to finish. When I turned off the shower and stepped out, she was still looking at me intently. “You can go tell Lewis to get me some new clothes. I’ll wait here with the questions till then,” she said.

  I stared at her in shock. This was the most confident woman I had met in my entire life. “You’re wearing half of my clothes,” I said weakly.

  “You were walking around naked before. What is stopping you now? I’m sure Lewis will be easy to find, won’t he?” She was looking at me with a smirk on her face. Somehow, she had managed to turn this around. She was going to get her way.

  I gulped and then turned, dripping wet still. There was no towel or no clothes for me. I walked completely naked back towards the locker where Lewis was waiting, talking to a few of my teammates. “I have a huge favor to ask you, Lewis,” I said as they all turned to look at me, surprised, wondering why I hadn’t dried myself off yet.

  “You need to go and do some shopping for me,” I explained when Lewis looked back at me, worriedly.

  Chapter Seven - Erica

  This was not what I had planned. I detested him – detested the way Kyle Murphy behaved, the kind of self-righteous air he had about him, but he was sexy as hell. And we both had gotten what we wanted: each other’s body. And I had gotten my interview.

  My dad had read the article too, and the same evening he had called. I let the phone ring till it reached voicemail and then I heard his voice leave a message. “You interviewed Kyle Murphy, kid? Your mother would be so proud.”

  I bit down on my lip when I heard the message. I played it again, over and over. Yes, my mother would have been proud if she were still alive. But what about him? What was stopping him from admitting it… admitting that he was a little proud too?

  Anyway, that was all over. Kyle Murphy was over. It had been two weeks since the article was published and my editor was already sending me out for games that I had never covered before. The interview was a success. My face was on the national map. My hard work had paid off. No journalist had ever gotten that close to Kyle Murphy before, nobody had asked those questions and neither had he bothered to answer any of them before. But I had caught him at the right time, when he was at his weakest, at his most satisfied. He had answered everything.

  So, the interview was a success and I was beginning to forget about him until I started feeling sick. Not the kind of sickness in your stomach you feel when you’ve had too much takeout on a Friday night. No, this was sickness in the morning, sometimes at work. I had to run to the toilets, then wash my mouth and drink water to compose myself. It had been happening for over four days. It was time to take a pregnancy test.

  I was in denial for the first few days, and then I took the test again. Kyle Murphy was a one-time thing, it was a quickie after a game, before an interview. Long gone now. And yet, I was pregnant with his child.

  The first feelings of anger gave way to sadness, then to panic, and then to a feeling of misery. What would happen to my career? I wasn’t ready to be a mother. What about my dad? This would give him something to laugh about. If he had a son, he wouldn’t have made such a mistake in the middle of a blossoming career, would he?

  I smashed a flower vase in my apartment. Then, I googled Kyle Murphy on the internet and stared at images of him attending concerts, after-parties, and award ceremonies, a different woman on his arm each time. I had seen what was under all those clothes, those tuxedos in the photographs. He had been inside me. Those green eyes had looked directly into my face. He had nibbled my ears, touched my nipples… And now I was pregnant.

  One bad decision, one moment of irresistible weakness and now I was pregnant with his child. I was carrying the child of a man I’d never meet again. Kyle Murphy was inaccessible to me. He was American royalty now. I couldn’t even get in touch with him if I wanted to. Not that I wanted to. As much as I would have liked him to take responsibility for what happened, I wouldn’t want my child to have a father like him.

  I fluctuated between anger to feeling those warm feelings that a mother feels for her unborn child. The days went on, my sickness continued, and I tried to hold down the fort at the office, all the while coming to love the child growing inside me. The child that would never know its father. Never know that it had been conceived in a shower cubicle in the locker room, after an NFL game.

  I believed I would be able to get over it, that I’d be able to get past it. I’d keep the pregnancy hidden for as long as necessary for my job to continue until I had to take a short leave of absence. I was slowly convincing myself that I’d be able to take care of the baby alone, that I’d give it a childhood better than my own. That after the father I had, my child might be better off without the presence of a father at all.

  So I attended sports events, went to games, interviewed more sportsmen – none of whom were nearly as successful as Kyle Murphy of course. But life continued. I was coming down from the shock of finding out that I was pregnant.

  One morning, three weeks after I had met Kyle Murphy, I walked into the office. I was fifteen minutes late, entering to find a newspaper waiting for me on my desk. Someone had left it there for me to pick up and read. I probably wouldn’t have noticed a newspaper (in a newspaper office of all places) if it weren’t for my face being in the center of the page.

  A blown up image of me, not the usual official mugshot that went along with all my other articles. This was a grainy, zoomed-in image of me sitting cross-legged on a bench in a men’s locker room. I was wearing a loose shirt and my legs were bare. My hair was wet and slicked back and I had a notepad in my hand. In front of me stood Kyle Murphy. I was looking up at him. He was naked, his ass pixelated to provide some semblance of modesty.

  I had a smirk on my face and he was looking down at me. I was in the middle of interviewing him. I didn’t have to read the whole news story to know exactly what it was about. I had gotten the interview with Kyle Murphy in exchange for sexual favors. Which was the truth.

  Chapter Eight - Kyle

  “Do you know what the article says?!” Lewis was yelling.

  I was sitting at my kitchen counter, sipping a glass of orange juice
. He had interrupted my breakfast at seven in the morning and now he was yelling. I didn’t have to read the article to know what it said. I had seen the photograph and it was enough. The picture was a zoomed-in capture. Someone had taken the picture of us, in hiding, with the camera on their phone.

  “Who sold the photo to the newspaper?” I asked instead of answering Lewis’ question.

  “That is not the point right now. Their claim is that you demand sexual favors in exchange for interviews. That is what this article says, and that puts you in a terrible light.” Lewis was still yelling. I was trying to remain calm.

  Superficially, what the article claimed was true. I did demand to fuck Erica Lee in exchange for an interview. But it had been more than that. The sex was different. I knew we both felt it from the moment she stepped into the shower. She hadn’t contacted me in the past three weeks, but I hadn’t stopped thinking about her, about her body. I wanted more. It was more than just a post-game celebration.

  “I just want to know who did it. It had to be someone from the team. There was nobody else in there,” I repeated myself and Lewis rolled his eyes.

  “Sex-hungry, sex-addict, abuser… those are just some of the names they’ll be calling you,” Lewis continued.

  I slammed the glass down on the granite counter. “It was a sexual encounter between two consenting adults,” I reminded him, but Lewis shook his head.

  “She interviewed you right after this happened. There is no way that anyone will buy this theory of yours that it was a genuine attraction,” Lewis stated. His voice had mellowed; he was giving up the fight.

  “They can ask her whether it was just an exchange of sexual favors or if there was more to it,” I said, trying to bring Lewis back on my side again. He was the only person I could trust, and I needed him to fight for my public image. One bad bout with the media, something like this, could cost me my career. The coach could throw me off the team.