by Lane Hart
"Then she's obviously not as smart as I thought she was," he replies, before walking off to take another customer's drink order.
Thankfully the host comes over and tells me our table is ready. After he points out which one, I finish my drink and walk over to wait for Addison to come out of the bathroom. My chest is still heaving from dealing with the fucker at the bar, my adrenaline pumping through my veins at being challenged. So when Addison steps out the door, I attack her, my hips flattening hers against the wall while my hands cage her in on either side of her head.
"I think you're forgetting your job," I lean down and whisper against her ear. "It sure as fuck isn't flirting with waiters where everyone can see. So for damage control you're gonna kiss me like you can't fucking wait to ride my cock." I grind that particular anatomy that's hard as a rock into her stomach and hear her sharp inhale. Then, because I can, I drag my tongue over her ear and down her neck before covering her mouth with mine. Oh, and she is pissed! I almost choke on the forcefulness of her tongue in my mouth before I swirl my own around hers and force it backwards, taking control, dominating the kiss.
Addison's palms that were pushing against my chest relax before her arms wrap around my neck, her fingernails digging into my flesh. Now that I know she isn't going anywhere, I lower one of my hands all the way down the side of her curves to the outside of her thigh. When my hand ventures underneath the hem of her dress, she moans into my mouth and we both freeze. Whoa. Either she's a hell of an actress or...she's turned on. Based on the fact that she's completely stopped breathing, I'm pretty sure she's embarrassed because it's the latter.
A throat clears behind us before I can figure out what the hell just happened. "Mr. Young?"
I slowly pull my lips from Addison's and remove my hand from her skirt before glancing over my shoulder. It's an old man in a fancy suit looking put out based on his frown and creased forehead, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you and your...date to leave."
I bark out a laugh when I look back at Addison who's still only inches from my face. She's actually smiling, even though her cheeks are so red I can practically feel the heat coming off of them.
"You heard the man, sweet cheeks. This is neither the time nor the place for you to try and fuck me."
Now her palms push against my chest so I move off of her, grabbing her hand before taking off toward the exit. All the eyes in the entire crowded restaurant watch our every move. Well, that's one way to get some publicity. Satan's head will probably explode if one of these patrons was kind enough to take a photo of us and put it on the internet.
"Thanks for the drinks," I call out to the bartender. "She decided she wants to have dessert before dinner."
Addison huffs out something under her breath, but I just squeeze her hand tighter and walk out the door to the side street where I’d parked. When we're a block away she yanks her hand from mine and swats me on the shoulder. "You are the most immature jerk I've ever met," she grumbles before angrily stomping down the sidewalk ahead of me.
"Oh, sweet tits, bitch all you want, but you were thirty seconds away from letting me fuck you on their fancy bathroom sink."
"I was not!" She stops and whirls around to shout at me, hands on her hips. "I was just playing along, doing what you're paying me for!"
"Yeah, and so what if I'm paying you a shitload of money? If you want my cock then don't be ashamed, baby, it's one of the world's oldest professions. I won't tell anyone if you won't," I tease. My comment is rewarded with the smack of her palm across my face. When my cheek is left stinging I'm...stunned that miss uppity psychiatrist would do such a thing. I quickly glance around to see if anyone else caught it. Thankfully the side street where my Challenger sits looks empty and it's starting to get dark.
Looking at Addison's face, I'm not sure who's more shocked at what she just did, me or her. Her eyes are as round as saucers and her mouth is opened in a silent O. Without thinking, I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder, carrying her the rest of the short distance. Instead of bitching and telling me to let her down, I hear her stammering, saying she's sorry. Oh, she's going to be sorry all right!
I sit her on the hood of my car then flip her over so that she's face down. Slowly so I can memorize every inch, I peel the back of her short dress up, exposing her perfect ass cheeks, divided only by the string of a lacy, black thong. I give her a few seconds, waiting for her to tell me "No" or "Stop" because I would if she asked. When she doesn't, I splay my left hand on her upper back to hold her down and then smack the shit out of her ass with my right one. She cries out and I have to close my eyes and grind my teeth together. The mere sound is going to make me come in my pants like an adolescent boy. I give her two more quick smacks on her right cheek then reluctantly cover her ass back up with her dress.
Addison doesn't move. Her face is still turned to the side, black hair fanning out all over the hood of my car. I can't resist pressing my hard cock right into the crease of her incredible ass. She actually squirms and presses back against me like she wants me to fuck her right here, right now. Oh, and I would, too. But my contract. No more football.
Those few weeks before they were killed, my mom and dad were so damn proud of me for making it all the way to the NFL...I can't lose something so important for this bullshit. So instead of fucking her, I lean down to her ear and warn her. "The next time you raise your hand to hit me, just remember that for every one of your smacks, I get three." It takes all of my scraped together self-control to peel myself off of her, but I somehow manage to do so. I walk around and climb in the car, chest still heaving, while I wait for her. She eases her upper body off the hood, looking somewhat dazed as she looks around the street blinking wide eyes, before she opens the door to sit down gingerly in the seat beside me without a word. Once her seatbelt is on, I push the button to start the car and then drive us home.
The air between us sizzles with anger or lust, I'm not sure which, not that either matter. And I'm still fucking hungry. But I have to say, getting to make out with Addison and get my hands on her ass was worth missing a meal.
Chapter Seven
Addison
"You gonna miss my cock?" Jake asks from behind me as he pounds the aforementioned body part into my pussy.
"Yes, God yes!" I exclaim, holding on to the edge of the copy machine as the warmth and pressure grows in my lower belly.
"I won't tell anyone if you won't," he says while squeezing my ass cheek. His fingers skim over my hip and down between my legs where they tease my flesh. I need him to push me over the edge I'm teetering on. I'm desperate for the pleasure only he can give me.
"Please," I beg. "Please, Jake." Reaching down, I press his hand harder against my clit and when my inner walls start pulsing wonderfully around his thick cock. I cry out in relief.
But then as I come down from my orgasm I realize I'm...alone. I push myself up from the office equipment and glance around the vacant copy room. Pulling my skirt down, I step out into the dark hallway.
"Jake?" I call out. Where the hell did he go? "Jake! Is there anyone here?" There's no response, and the aching emptiness between my legs is nothing compared to the emptiness in my chest.
Suddenly the ceiling collapses on top of me and water pours down, soaking me and everything in the office. I race to the elevator to escape; only it doesn’t work when I push the button so I race over to the stairs but the door won't open. The heavy downpour of water is starting to accumulate, already up to my knees. "Let me out! Jake! Somebody! Please!" I yell and bang on the door, but it doesn't do any good. When the water quickly rises to chest level I really start to panic. Knowing I'm trapped I start to cry while treading water, looking for something to hold on to, struggling to keep my head above the rising water level. It becomes absolutely clear that no matter what I do, I'll never be able to leave. There's no way out. I'm going to drown.
"Addy."
My name penetrates through the gushing water. Someone's
here, thank God!
"Addy, wake up."
With a startle I come awake, my heart racing, body shaking. I scream when I notice movement next to me in the dark room.
"Shh, Addy. It's just me. Are you awake?"
Jake? What the hell is he doing in my room? Oh no. Did we...I pat my hands down my body and feel clothing. I wouldn't be wearing clothes if we'd fucked, right?
"Why are you in here?" I ask, and hear his heavy sigh in the darkness.
"Yep, you're definitely awake now, and I'm in here because you were yelling for me."
Oh God. The details of the dream start coming back, the one where he was fucking me and then I was trapped and drowning. It doesn't take a Ph.D. in psychiatry to interpret that shit.
"I'm fine, and you must’ve misheard," I respond defensively.
"Must have," he says coolly. Then he stands up from the bed and walks out of the room.
…
The next evening after work I start thinking about which outfit I'll wear out before Jake gets home. Not that he'll want to go out, but if he does...
Oh God. Last night was a freaking disaster. From me stupidly flirting with the bartender to the kiss, then the...spanking, and last but certainly not least, my naughty turned scary dream. I still can't believe the man spanked me! In public! And the worst part is, I was actually turned on by him slapping my ass. But he left me needy and aching on the hood of his car, walking away unaffected. Well, not completely unaffected. He'd been pissed, that's for sure. I'd been mad at myself, getting all swooning damsel-like just from his stupid kiss, so I was defensive, not wanting to admit that I'd thought of sleeping with him, especially after the way he kisses. A kiss my dad has seen the evidence of and wasn't real thrilled about based on his short, to the point text that said, "Too much."
So now I'm in my room, watching TV, hair and makeup redone but still in pajamas as to not look so damn obvious, waiting.
The door opens and closes a little after six, which I'm starting to realize is his normal arrival time. Except for Sunday night when he was at a bar and Monday when...who the hell knows where he was.
"Yo, sweet tits? Can you keep your hands off me long enough for us to actually get some food tonight?" he yells down the hall.
Since he can't see me, I smile at the memory of the hoity-toity man kicking us out of the restaurant.
"I don't know, can you?" I yell back.
"No promises. Get your ass ready in ten."
I'm still grinning when I pull my top off and slide the tight, red dress on and reach around to zip up as much as I can. Slipping on red heels, I grab my phone and tiny red purse, then I'm ready to go. I’m waiting for Jake in the living room when he appears. I try not to ogle him when he walks out looking sexy in jeans and a blue button up with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his tan forearms.
"Let's go," he says, without a glance in my direction.
"Can you zip me the rest of the way?" I ask sweetly in the foyer.
"Turn around," he huffs like I've asked him to eat dog shit. I give him my back and feel him yank the zipper up.
"Thanks," I say when I turn to face him again.
He blinks dark eyes at me like I've grown another pair of breasts. "Don't be all nice and shit. It freaks me out because then I don't know when you're gonna be a hateful bitch and bite my head off again."
"I like to keep you on your toes," I tell him with a grin. When I walk past him on the way out the door I run my fingernail down the center of his chest, following the line of buttons. I'm pretty sure he groans but I just keep walking to the car.
Jake has Linkin Park blaring on the radio like he's trying to bother me. I don't mind the band, except when he plays them over the house speakers at two freaking a.m. At least we don't have far to go, because I'm starving. Without asking me what I want, Jake pulls up at Hawthorne's, a quaint little pizza place. I don't even bitch, even though I want to say that I'm overdressed. Here, unlike last night, are typical middle class patrons who recognize Jake and are definitely fans. He spends the first ten minutes we sit down at a table signing autographs.
Watching him with fans he's...different. Not rude or spewing profanity. He's actually really good with the kids, talking to them about their football teams at their schools and what positions they play. When a couple of them ask if I'm his girlfriend, he gives a short yes in response and changes the subject.
"What?" he asks me when we're no longer surrounded.
"Nothing."
"Why are you smiling? You're making me nervous. Are you plotting to kill me in my sleep or some shit?"
I roll my eyes in response and glance around the crowded dining room to make sure no one heard. When Jake suddenly grabs my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine on top of the table, I barely resist yanking it away.
"My girlfriend wouldn't flinch every time I touched her," he remarks quietly.
"Yes, well, since my boyfriend is psycho, I never know what he may do. It makes me jumpy," I reply, unable to meet his eyes. My face flushes in embarrassment. I'm not sure how to respond to him holding my hand so sweetly. It's just for PDA purposes, but the gentleness from a man usually calling me foul names is...strange.
"You think I might hurt you?" he asks softly, and my eyes flash up to meet his sincere ones.
"No," I respond honestly. Yes, he threw a frying pan across the room Sunday night, or early Monday morning, but not at me, and that was after I brought up his deceased parents. And yeah he spanked my ass, but only after I’d slapped his face. We are quite a lovely pair. "Although my right cheek might disagree," I tease to lighten the mood. I don't care for this serious, sensitive side. He's supposed to be a jackass!
"My own cheek commiserates," he jokes, and I can't help my smile. He strokes his thumb over my knuckles, causing a tingle to spread all the way up my arm. What was that for? No one can see our hands that closely. When he keeps it up I free my thumb and slap it over top of his to still it. Which of course commences a full out thumb war.
"Stop it," Jake whispers under his breath, pinning my thumb down again.
"You stop," I reply, trying my best to get the upper hand.
"You are the shittiest fake girlfriend ever," he says with a smile when he finally gives up and pulls his hand back across the table.
"So why exactly did you have to have one in the first place?" I ask.
"Blackmailing gold-digger," he mutters, throwing back his bottle of beer while we wait for our pizza. "How ironic is it that I have to pay a woman to solve a problem caused by a fucking gold-digger?"
"Maybe you should stay away from gold-diggers," I respond.
"Then I wouldn't ever get laid," he says.
"You mean you can't get women on your looks and charm alone?" I tease.
"Not when they know I play for the NFL."
"I'm sure there are plenty of men who’d gladly take your place."
"Hell I know that," he mutters with his eyes lowered, absently peeling away the label on his beer bottle. "But once in a while it'd be nice to have someone want to just fuck Jake Young instead of the Wildcat's starting wide receiver."
"Well...you are the third best wide receiver in the entire league," I brag on him.
"Only because Zack played like shit our first few games. Watch and see, sweet cheeks. I'll be first in the rankings before Thanksgiving," he replies with a smirk when he looks up and gives me a wink.
"After a woman gets past your stellar NFL record, devastating good looks, and incredible charm, I'm sure it's your modesty that seals the deal."
That makes him chuckle. "I was being modest. I didn't claim that I'd be named MVP of the Super Bowl."
"No?" I ask with a raised eyebrow in question.
"Someday," he says with a boyish grin so charming that I know for a fact it has made many, many panties disappear.
Finally our pizza is delivered to interrupt our conversation. It was getting way too...normal and nice for my liking. It's weird to be on uncharted ground with Jake.
Chapter Eight
Jake
Practice is just wrapping up Friday afternoon. I'm walking back to the locker room when I look over at the sidelines of the practice field. There, sitting in the otherwise empty bleachers, is no other than Satan. Fucking great.
He's either here for me or Zack, and since Zack walks right by him without a word he must be here to talk to me. Can't wait.
I take my helmet off when he stands up and approaches. I'm hot, tired, thirsty, and hungry so I'm really not in the mood for this shit.
"Young," the smarmy lawyer calls out, like I don't know he's there for me.
"What's up?" I ask.
"I don't like what I've been seeing in the lifestyle section of the newspaper," he tells me. So far the Charlotte News & Observer has published a picture of me and Addy sucking face before getting kicked out of the Capital Grille, one of us holding hands at the pizza place, and one last night of me kissing her cheek while holding the car door for her when we left the Japanese restaurant.
"Then you should take that up with Jerry," I snap. "He wants me to look pussy whipped. No one's gonna buy that shit if she doesn't ever touch me out in public."
"You listen to me, asshole,” he says, getting into my face trying to be all threatening, even though I’m at least half a head taller and definitely a lot bigger. “Keep your fucking hands off of Addison or I'll have your contract shredded."
"All I'm doing is what Jerry told me to fucking do," I respond through clenched teeth. "He's the one that makes the call on my contract, not you."
"Yeah he does. Maybe I need to tell him about you fucking my assistant after he told you to keep your dick in your pants."
"That's bullshit! You know Holly and I were-"
"I’ll let you in on a little secret Holly doesn't know because she's new. We have cameras all over the office, including the copy room and the conference room. From what I saw, you fucked her at least three times, on Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday, all after your and Bradford's meeting with Jerry on Monday."
