by Mia Ford
“You don’t have to feel bad about that Ivy, I know you get nothing from me and your hope is that you’ll get something from him.” He said, and she felt her muscles stiffen. So, he wasn’t giving up without a fight. Leon was planning on ridiculing her decision, making her feel like she was silly and a young foolish girl.
She raised her chin up in the air and stuck out her jaw at him.
“I know he can give me more than you ever gave me.” She said, her breasts were now rising and falling with her heavy breathing. Leon’s half smile turned into a full one and he shook his head, like he was disappointed with a naughty child.
“What makes you think that? You’ve only known him for a few days.” He said, as calm as a cucumber, while Ivy felt like she was tearing up on the inside. Leon was self-confident, he didn’t seem to be concerned by her decision.
“He’s been kinder, more attentive. He is willing to talk. He wants to talk to me.” She said angrily, angrier now that he was smiling.
Leon shook his head again, making her wince.
“I love my brother. I would do anything for him, so I’ll just keep my mouth shut now.” He said.
Ivy’s brows were crossed; she couldn’t quite understand what he had meant by that. If he was simply trying to provoke her.
“Leon, you should just be honest with me. I know you love him, but…” She said and he interrupted her.
“Sharing you was his idea, not mine.” He growled.
Ivy’s lips closed shut tightly when she heard the words. What was that supposed to mean? What was Leon trying to tell her?
“He was the one who wanted to share you with me. And I agreed because we had done it before. So, you’re right. He is more attentive; he is willing to go the extra mile to have you. You should be with him; he definitely wants you more.” Leon stood up now, looming over her, and she looked up at him, confusion darkening her face.
“So, you didn’t want to do it? Share?” She asked, trying to catch his gaze again. She could see that she was quickly losing him again. Leon was losing his interest in having this conversation. He wanted to return to his silent solitude again, but Ivy wanted answers.
“No, I didn’t. Not really. Not you. But Archer was insistent, he said you wanted it too. He said you slept with him because you wanted to be shared. And I couldn’t just deny you what you wanted. And I couldn’t give you up either. I was foolish.” Leon had covered his large hands over his face, and then he swooped them down, widening his eyes and running his fingers through his hair. She could see that this was an ordeal for him, that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
“But Archer said that you shared all your girls, except Vivienne.” Ivy mumbled and Leon shot her a look.
“That’s right. We did. We do. But I didn’t want to share you. I was selfish, and greedy, and so you deserve to go with him. He is more open, loving and can give you what you want.” Leon said, and stepped to the side, he was making to go for the screen door but Ivy was quick to move, to intercept his path.
In the darkness, she leaned in towards Leon. She could smell his scent, his musky masculine smell that filled her lungs, reminding her how happy they were together in those weeks before Archer. How she hadn’t care how often Leon spoke to her, because she was the only person who existed in his world.
To her surprise, he leaned in too. Their lips met, she could taste him on her tongue, she extended an arm, wrapping it around his bent neck. She was pressing herself to him, running her hand down his muscular shirted arm. But then Leon pushed her away.
“Not any more, Ivy. We’re not sharing. You belong to my brother now and I don’t want to do this any longer.” He said, and this time she couldn’t stop him. He had flung open the screen door and disappeared into the house. Ivy contemplated following him in, chasing him to his room, confronting him and demanding further explanations. But she knew him well, even though Leon revealed so little about himself, she knew a lot about him. He was done now. He had made his decision, just like she had. He wasn’t going to talk about it anymore. There was nothing to discuss.
Ivy gulped and licked her lips. She could still taste him in her mouth. That was to be her last kiss with Leon. It was only going to be Archer and herself now, and she tried to smile. He made her happy. He made her laugh. He took out time to be with her. He had pursued her, and he deserved his prize.
Leon had done nothing. She was the one who had coveted him from the start. She seduced him to sleep with her. She made him agree to allow her to stay in the house after their first quarrel. Besides his name, and some bits about his past, Leon revealed very little. The fact that he didn’t want to share her with Archer, could mean anything. That nagging feeling, that maybe Leon had actual feelings for her, were being shoved into the back of her mind. Even if he did, he wasn’t ever going to say the actual words.
Ivy had her whole life ahead of her, she wasn’t so sure if she would be able to spend it with a man who spoke so little. With someone who denied her the privilege of actually expressing his feelings. She wondered if she might feel trapped, just like her mother had. She remembered her mother’s words of caution. To run away from living in isolation if she could. She was certain that Archer would give her a better, more fulfilling life. The kind of life that her mother had never been able to lead. What sort of life would Leon give her?
Ivy shuddered as she thought about it. She had never been to Minnesota. Archer had promised to leave the next day, so that they wouldn’t have to remain in the hostile environment of Leon’s ranch for much longer. She felt lucky and privileged that Archer was willing to do so much for her, sacrifice his own relationship with his brother for her sake.
There was nothing left for her here, she thought as she looked around the estate in its darkness. Leon had his chance, nearly seven weeks to express his feelings. To make her believe that he had more to offer her than employment and satisfying sex.
And now it as time for her to move on, with a man who really wanted to be with her.
That familiar feeling of packing her bags and readying them next to her bedroom door, returned to her in a flood. This was the third time she had done this, preparing herself to leave Old Marigold Ranch. And this time, it appeared as though it was time to leave for good. A feeling of calmness had descended upon her. She was resolved to not cry, or make a scene.
Archer knocked on her door at eight and she opened it, his smiling dimpled cheeks greeted her. And Ivy was filled with a conviction that she had made the right decision.
“Where is he?” She asked him, her heart thumping.
“Who? Leon? I’m not sure, but I told him last night that we’re leaving today. So, he knows.” Archer said, smirking at her before picking up her bags off the floor.
“How are we going to get into town? Are we taking a train?” She asked him, mighty anxious now. She had never been to Minnesota and she was beginning to grow excited. Archer smiled at her, as he turned to carry her bags over to the front entrance.
“Don’t worry, I’ve taken care of everything. You just get ready.” He said, and she nodded her head.
Ivy had been ready since six, but now she gave herself the once over in the full-length mirror. She would miss this room, she thought, as she pinned in a few more black bobby pins into her hair, holding her beautiful golden ringlets in place, neatly away from her face.
But Archer was rich too. They were both wealthy, and she bit down on her lip wondering what kind of house he lived in.
She was in a yellow summer dress, that matched her hair perfectly. One she knew Leon loved her in, because it accentuated her curved. Not that she wanted to stir anything in Leon any more, that would be wrong of her to do, she knew that. She was the one leaving him.
Ivy smoothened the pleats on the front of her dress, and a noise at her door made her turn. She hadn’t shut the bedroom door and now Leon was leaning against the frame. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was looking at her with his usual expressionless face.
“So, you’re ready to go?” He asked her, and she smiled at him. Nothing could change the fact that she was leaving, so it would be better if she left on good terms, she thought.
“I am. Archer has everything arranged.” She said, walking up to him.
“I’m sure he does.” Leon said, straightening up. She studied his sharp chiseled jaw, that sparkle in his eyes that was lost somehow. His broad chest that made his plaid shirt taut with tightness, how narrow his waist was, how strong his legs were. Ivy gulped, this was going to be more painful than she thought. Leon was like a drug to her. She had fallen for him when she least expected to and he had taught her everything. He helped her explore her own sexuality and she hadn’t thanked him for it.
Ivy fell on him, wrapping her arms around his waist. For a few moments, it seemed that Leon wasn’t sure how to react. His arms were spread open in surprise, till slowly he started to relax. She felt a hand on the small of her back. He was holding her.
“Thank you for everything Leon. I promise I won’t disappoint you. I’ll keep studying.” She said, drawing her face away from his chest, where she had buried it earlier. Leon was looking down at her, and something had changed. His expression had grown softer, and his eyes were shining bright.
“Ivy…” He began to say, and she bit down on her lip. She had no idea what he was about to say, but this was the first time she had seen that look on his face. This was the first time there was an actual imminent danger to their relationship. Was he finally going to say something?
“Stay with me.” He said it in the most neutral, but heavy voice. There was a hint of a strain there, but she had heard it. And Ivy was suddenly struck with a feeling of utter happiness, like she had never felt before.
She flung herself on him again, pressing her face to his chest, tightening the grip of her arms around his waist.
“That’s all I wanted to hear from you, Leon.” She cried into his chest, as she felt his hand on her head. He was stroking her hair.
“That’s all I wanted to say to you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” She heard him say, and she couldn’t control herself any more. Ivy felt like she was going to burst.
She pulled herself away from him, and Leon dropped his hands to her face, caressing her gently. Holding her in place.
“I love you Ivy. I always have. That was why I didn’t want to share you with Archer, with anyone.” He was saying, but Ivy could barely hear him. She was laughing from her burgeoning happiness. Nothing that Leon could say could make her feel better. This was what she was waiting for. There was no choice now. She would never leave him; she couldn’t live without him. Everything she did, had done…she had done to please him.
“I love you Leon. I don’t want you to share me with anyone. I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to stay here with you.” She was crying by now, but they were tears of joy.
“As my wife. By my side.” He said, looking deep into her eyes. He wasn’t the kind of man who was going to get down on his knees, and Ivy didn’t care.
“As your wife.” She said and they were kissing, blissfully unaware of the fact that Archer had appeared at the bedroom door. He had turned away, leaving Ivy’s bags at the front door. He knew when he had lost, and this time, he had lost to his brother Leon. And he was man enough to admit defeat.
Mia’s Hot Seller - Fair Play (Complete Story)
BLURB
Sean Donovan runs like the wind and parties like a hurricane. How do I get a hot stud like him to notice a simple girl like me? Easy, by pretending to be the kind of girl I know he can’t resist...
Kate Asher: Don’t tell me to play fair. I’m going to do whatever I have to do to get an interview with hard-partying football star Sean Donovan, even if it means dressing up like a hooker and playing bump-and-grind with him on the dancefloor.
Sean Donovan: On the field, I play fair, but in life, it’s anybody’s game. The second I saw her red hair and red lips I knew that I’d be making a forward pass. And when she flashed that cleavage, whew man, it was game over!
She wants to get inside my head and I want to get inside her pants. I think it’s time we talk about a trade…
Kate Asher
“Forget it, Kate, he’ll never talk to you,” Walter said, shaking his bald head slowly and making the squinty face that reminded me of that old cartoon character, Mr. Magoo.
I was doing my best to keep the whine out of my voice. Walter hated whiny women. I said, “But I don’t understand why I couldn’t at least try to contact Sean Donovan and—“
He gave me a dismissive wave, like he was shooing away a bad smell. Walter was in his late fifties and had drank like a fish and smoked like a chimney for decades. His voice was gruff and irritating, especially when he was dealing with what he considered to be overeager young journalists who were pitching him silly story ideas.
He said, “It would be a total waste of time and resources, so just forget it. Sean Donovan is still pissed at us for posting that video of him having a three-way with those two groupies in Chicago. Our people can’t even get past the guards at Kings Stadium anymore. We have to cover their home games by watching them on TV or listening to them on the radio.”
I blew out a long breath and bit my lip. Arguing with Walter Thompson was like having a battle of wits with a brick wall. No matter how sound your argument, there was no way to convince him that your idea had merit once he decided that it did not. And Walter rarely gave merit to any idea I came up with.
I was a girl.
A chick.
A broad.
Hired to keep the EEOC off his back.
I should have been off writing for Glamour or Modern Bride. Professional sports reporting was no place for girl, at least in Walter’s mind. He’d never say it out loud, of course, because it would get his ass sued off. But I had worked for Walter since getting out of journalism school two years ago. I knew exactly how he felt about women journalists in sports, even good ones like me.
Walter was my editor at Sports Insider Online. He was the guy who assigned stories to writers and decided what went in the magazine, what went online, and what went in the trash.
Walter was an old-school sports guy, always reminiscing about the “good old days” and how things used to be, i.e. when all sports reporters were male. Walter was also a sexist pig who thought that “little girls” like me should be on the sidelines in slutty cheerleader outfits rather than on the field covering the game with the boys.
I sat in the chair across the desk from him and silently fumed for a minute. I’m not sure what I expected when I came in to pitch Walter the idea of me doing an exposé on Sean Donovan, the New York Kings star running back.
Hell, I didn’t even know if there was anything left to expose at this point. Sean Donovan had more dirt floating around the internet than Charlie Sheen, yet the good old boy sports reporters and TV analysts painted him to be a god.
The fans loved him, and who could blame them?
He averaged two touchdowns per game. And in football, that was all anyone cared about. As long as he wasn’t abusing women or kicking puppies, his off-the-field antics were more or less ignored.
Just boys being boys.
Blowing off a little steam.
It helped that he looked like the proverbial All American Hero.
Sean Donovan was six-three, packed with muscles, and could run the 40-yard dash in 4.5 seconds. He had caught more touchdown passes than any other Kings receiver in the past five years and was considered a shoe-in for this year’s Pro Bowl.
Why should anyone care about the testosterone-driven fights with other players on the field, or the drunken bar brawls with fans of other teams? Or the numerous sex videos floating around the internet? Jesus, this guy’s junk was on display more than Michelangelo’s statue of David. And Donovan’s junk was much bigger, if you know what I mean. I’d seen all the videos… for research purposes, of course.
But then there was the other side of Sean Donovan.<
br />
The side that donated millions of dollars to charity every year.
And the side that visited children’s hospitals in every city where the team played.
And the side that worked with inner city kids in New York City.
And the side that seems like a genuinely nice guy in TV interviews.
And that was the point of my pitch to Walter.
I wanted to find out which side was the real Sean Donovan.
I wanted to follow him around for a week or two and observe him as he went through his daily and nightly routines. I’d be a fly on the wall. I wanted to shadow him on and off the field, regardless of where that took me.
What made me think Sean Donovan would even agree to such an outrageous idea?
My own desperation, plain and simple.
I was tired of writing puff pieces about women’s tennis and girls’ volleyball.
I was tired of putting in hours of work only to see my stories relegated to the back of the magazine or buried deep in the website.
I was a serious journalist, goddammit.
And I could be great at my job, if only Walter would give me the chance.
I took a deep breath and forced the emotion out of my voice. If you were one of the two female journalists working for Walter, the worst thing you could do was show emotion. And God forbid you cry in front of him. That would be like showing fear to a mad dog. Walter would rip out your heart and tell you to grow the fuck up. Then he’d assign you to cover a women’s ping pong match at a local rec center.
Breathing easy, I said, “So, I can’t even call the Kings office and request an interview with Sean Donovan?”
Walter sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. I could smell the whiskey that he put in his coffee each morning, and the cigarettes he’d smoked on his breath all the way across the desk.
