Player's Ultimatum

by Koko Brown

  Before he croaked, he aimed to fuck her into oblivion.

  *****

  Yvonne had no idea how she ended up lying on her back rolled over into a tight ball. In this position, she could barely breathe! On the other hand, it allowed her to take every single inch of her wolf’s thick cock.

  Yvonne mentally shrugged. Oxygen was so overrated.

  “I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he rasped in a deeply accented voice that made Yvonne’s head spin. “And so deep. This time next week, you’ll think I am still inside you.”

  She’d believe it when she felt it, Yvonne mused. Only a minute ago, he was humping her leg. Remembering the pubescent moment, she couldn’t help but giggle.

  “What’s so funny?” He bent over her and nipped the side of her neck.

  Yvonne’s laughter fizzled into a soft moan. She’d always liked her foreplay rough. It kept her in the here and now, not in her closet wondering what she was going to wear tomorrow.

  “Why are you laughing?” he asked again.

  “I just think its funny how you try to act all big and bad when just a moment ago you were humping my leg.”

  “You doubt my stamina?”

  Yvonne wiggled her legs and rotated her feet. This position wasn’t half bad after all. “I’m keeping my expectations low. That way I won’t be completely disappointed.”

  Under any other circumstances, Yvonne would have never talked to any of her lovers like this. Normally sugar and spice and everything nice in bed, something about her wolf riled the badass she usually reserved only for friends and family.

  Instead of presenting a counterclaim, he pulled back until his cock was almost completely withdrawn except for the head. Sensing he was seeking damages, Yvonne reached for his hips to soften the blow. Before she could get a handle of him, he yanked both of her wrists above her head.

  “Remember, low expectations.”

  Like a charging bull, he slammed into her, stuffing himself to the hilt. Not expecting such force, Yvonne screamed and her back arched off the bed.

  “Low expectations?” he asked.

  Yvonne moved her lips, but nothing came out. One thrust and she was already coming! “Eating my words,” she wheezed.

  He kissed her on the chin. “I’m not done.”

  “Don’t mind me. I’m fine.”

  From then on out, everything was wet and wild and all over the place. Her wolf continued to push into her with such tight, efficient strokes that her orgasm just seemed to tumble into one after the other.

  Wow! She’d had one or two lovers who’d rocked her world, yet none of them completely demolished and rebuilt it like he did.

  Never in her life had she been taken in this manner with such wild abandon and amazing stamina. Like he’d waited his whole life to have her underneath him and wasn’t going to waste a second of it.

  Still he wasn’t quite unaffected. His muscular thighs, like the rest of him, were slick with sweat and his labored breathing matched the pace of his strokes. Somehow he pushed through, slamming into her over and over again. And so impossibly deep, Yvonne thought he might be trying to crawl up inside her.

  “I can’t get deep enough,” he whispered. “Want to get deeper.”

  “Let me go.” She pushed against his hands. He couldn’t be budged. “If you let me go, I can help.”

  With his hips still moving, he released her wrists. Yvonne wiggled around until her weight rested on her shoulders. “Hold my ankles and push my legs up an…ahh!”

  Reading her mind, he grabbed her ankles and pushed them so far back, her knees rested on either side of her head, opening her like a flower. He sunk so impossibly deep another wave crested on the horizon.

  Yvonne marveled at how quickly he mastered such an awkward position and her pussy. He managed not to suffocate her, but pound her into the mattress and turn every single one of her orgasms into small explosions.

  That took skills! And her wolf seemed to have them by the freight load because he filled and hit all the right spots, abating her hunger. Still, he couldn’t keep her thoughts from wondering to one thing she hungered for the most.

  Paulo Saito.

  Of course, it was bad for one’s overall health to think about someone else while having sex with someone else, but she couldn’t help it. Ever since their X-rated rendezvous in the Roman Bathhouse, she’d conjured up wet dream after wet dream with Paolo starring in all of them.

  Even now with her wolf slamming into her again and again, pushing her toward another orgasm, Paolo and his beautiful bronze body was there in the forefront of her thoughts. And in a matter of seconds, she fell over the edge crying his name.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Yvonne shifted her head on the mattress. Who stole her pillow while she was asleep? Eyes still closed, she patted the space around her.

  Nothing. Just a bunch of drapes and the rumpled mattress.

  Drapes?

  The bed in the room she and Robbie shared didn’t have drapes! Suddenly remembering last’s night’s events, and how Prince could have made an entire album based on their antics, Yvonne sat up.

  Thinking of her partner, she glanced at the other side of the bed. Stretched out on his stomach and gloriously nude, her mystery lover was still three sheets to the wind. His black hair suffered from bed head and his tanned skin, stretched over yards of muscle, looked smooth to the touch. A light spattering of hair dusted his athletic legs and his ass was firm and deserved a squeeze.

  Lordy, the man was fine!

  Yvonne smiled.

  Even with her current state of shitty affairs, she felt strangely happy. He hadn’t crept out in the night like most guys would after a one-night stand. She’d never had before last night, but she’d heard enough horror stories from Robbie’s single days to form her own opinion.

  Yvonne’s hands flew to her face. In the span of a few short hours, she placed Robbie’s career in jeopardy.

  Ignoring the room’s beautiful décor, Yvonne rolled out of bed and proceeded to collect her belongings. She left off the boots since it seemed silly to be strutting around in four-inch stilettos so early in the morning.

  Or was it afternoon?

  “Are you going down for breakfast, babe? Be a sweetheart and bring back a cappuccino and a bomboloni. After last night I have a taste for something sweet.

  Cold dread seeped down Yvonne’s spine and settled in the pit of stomach. She was so thoroughly screwed even a mental break down looked attractive. Unfortunately, she didn’t have it in her.

  Without turning around, Yvonne laced up her corset. “I’m not going to breakfast. I’m going back to my room. I need to pack my things. My fiancé and I are leaving today.”

  Yvonne hoped the mention of a fiancé would squash any doubts this could blossom into more than one night of unbelievably hot sex. No matter how much she wished it was possible.

  “What are you going to tell Roberto?”

  WTF! How did he know about Robbie? Yvonne turned around on unsteady legs. Thank goodness she’d abandoned the boots. She’d be on her ass right now as she came face to face with Paulo Saito.

  Sometime during her mad dash, he’d pushed back the draperies and moved to sit at the foot of the bed. His hair was still charmingly disheveled and unlike her he hadn’t done anything about his current state of undress.

  If Yvonne had been born a bull, Paolo would have been a red cape as anger, unlike any she’d ever experienced before, slammed into her. Throwing caution to the wind, she stomped over to the bed ready to slap the satisfied smirk from his face, but he grabbed her hand midair and brought it to his lips.

  “Do you know how incredibly sexy you look when you’re furious?” He asked as if she just didn’t attempt to knock the taste out of his mouth.

  To add fuel to the fire, he used his free hand to lift the hem of her crinoline skirt. Yvonne slapped his hand away. “Get back in bed, Yvonne. I want to pick up where we left off.”

  Despite the heat his words evoked, Yvonne
shoved away from him. “I have better things to do than sit around here playing with you.”

  His beautiful, almond-shaped eyes narrowed. So words could get a reaction out of him and not the palm of her hand? Weird. He let her hand go and sat back on his elbows.

  “Don’t you want to hear my terms?”

  Yvonne felt the noose tightening around her neck. “Terms?”

  He reached up and scrubbed his hand through his hair. “You’ve been a naughty girl, Yvonne Floyd. I liked it. I want to keep seeing you.”

  Yvonne couldn’t believe her ears. “Are you c-crazy?” she sputtered, “I’m engaged!”

  “You were engaged when you caused these.” He dropped his hand and ran his fingers over his ribs, drawing Yvonne’s gaze to a set of fresh claw marks. Embarrassed by her fervor, she looked away. “We both liked our time together, so why not continue seeing each other.”

  Yvonne kept her head averted. Seeing the proof of their union had made the inside of her legs all hot and sticky. “And if I don’t want to continue seeing you?”

  “I’ll tell Robbie,” he replied rather casually as if giving her the time of day.

  Yvonne stiffened. Robbie knew she had a crush on his teammate, but he’d also warned her away from any distractions that would wreck his chances of signing a new contract with the club. Still, she decided to call his bluff. “Robbie will never believe you.”

  “How about the press? There were several photographers at last night’s party, including Joaquin Malfi, who works for Arriverderci! magazine. I’m sure someone had to see us leave together.”

  What rabbit hole had she fallen down? With his fame and fortune, and preternatural good looks, Paolo Saito could have any woman in the world.

  Why her? Essentially a tomboy all her life, she had a curvy athletic figure, other than that she’d never be considered a beauty queen. She was so out of his league. She might be his intellectual equivalent, but in looks she knew she was lackluster compared to the supermodels and socialites he’d been with.

  “So what do you say?”

  “Do I get to say when and where?” Yvonne couldn’t believe she was entertaining the possibility!

  “No, but I will give you a little leeway, since you live with your fiancé.”

  Yvonne looked out one of the bedroom windows. In the distance, the Adriatic Sea shimmered like liquid gold. Instead of enjoying the dawn of a new day, she wished it was already over. Life had taken an unprecedented turn and she wanted to forget this day as soon as possible.

  * * * * *

  For the rest of the week, with no word from Paolo, Yvonne walked on egg shells. Robbie bought her story of falling asleep in Villa Reale’s library and didn’t press her further about her not returning to their room. And upon their return to Rome, they’d fallen into their usual roles. Robbie attended soccer practice and competed in two matches, while she cheered him on safely from the stands.

  Of course, Paulo had simply lulled her into a false sense of security. One afternoon while she and Robbie lounged on the couch reading the Sunday papers, her cell phone rang.

  “I want to see you. Can you be ready within the hour?” No hello or how was your week. Still, Yvonne’s heartbeat quickened. His voice was purely masculine and oozed sex. She got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen.

  “Robbie and I were about to eat lunch,” she lied. Robbie got up late on non-game days so he’d just eaten breakfast and she hadn’t made her mind up on which leftover she was going to reheat yet.

  “Fix him a sandwich. I’ll have a car meet you at the bottom of the steps leading to Santa Maria in Aracoeli in an hour. Don’t be late.”

  After he hung up, Yvonne stared at her cell phone for several seconds. Her fingers itched to redial his number so she could give him a piece of her mind. But she didn’t. Instead, she went back into the living room.

  Yvonne rubbed her suddenly sweaty palms against her jeans. She was so nervous she just knew she was going to blow her cover.

  “Hey…um…Robbie, you know that great little boutique I’ve been meaning to check out down in the business district? They’re having a huge sale today.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Robbie asked not looking up from the sports section.

  “No!” She exclaimed, pulling Robbie’s attention from the newspaper. “You rest up. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Yvonne knew he was probably exhausted from yesterday’s match as should be Paulo Saito. But no, he wanted to spend the day fucking her.

  “Who was on the phone?”

  Yvonne’s heart sped up. “Phone?”

  “Yeah it allows two people to talk to one another over long distances. When it rang, you got up from the couch and went into the kitchen. You’re not cheating on me are you?”

  “No! no…no…that was just Keitha.” Proud of her quick thinking, Yvonne patted herself on the back. “You know how much she loves to gossip, I didn’t want to disturb you while you were reading.”

  Robbie stared at her for a moment, and then went back to reading the paper. “Gossip hungh?”

  “Yeah, she mentioned something about Nicky Merchant losing her recording contract.

  “Old news.” Robbie snorted. “Well don’t let me hold you up.”

  Guilt ridden, Yvonne hesitated. “Do you want me to bring you back anything?”

  Robbie looked up at the ceiling. “Can you bring me back a hot guy, six foot two or so, with dark hair and full kissable lips? The more exotic the better.”

  Yvonne gulped. He’d described Paolo to the letter. “I’ll do my best. Ciao.”

  “Have fun.”

  As she climbed the stairs to the second landing, Yvonne knew her afternoon would be anything but fun.

  *****

  An hour later, showered, plucked and shaved Yvonne leaned against one of the concrete balusters at the bottom of the one hundred and thirty-four marble steps leading to Santa Maria in Aracoeli.

  Located on a main thoroughfare, she had to park her car one block over and walk over to the medieval church.

  Every step of the way, Yvonne berated herself for being such a sucker. She’d practically handed Paolo Saito the ammunition he needed to hold her hostage until the end of the season.

  Too busy cursing the day he’d been born, she didn’t notice the black Bentley pulling up to the curb or the swarthy dark-skinned man dressed in a smart black suit that jumped out from behind the wheel.

  “Scusi, Signorina Floyd. I’m Big Sal, Paolo Saito’s personal assistant. He sent me to pick you up and drive you to his estate located just outside the city. Are you ready?”

  Yvonne straightened to her full height, a diminutive five-foot three on a good day. And the guy dwarfed her by almost two feet. His unusual height wasn’t the catalyst for the questions swirling around in her head. Not only did Big Sal have the body of a former professional NFL football player, he also had an accent which placed him in one of New York City’s five boroughs.

  “Go ahead and ask?”

  Yvonne blinked. “Ask what?”

  Grinning broadly, Big Sal hustled her over to the curb. “You were wondering how a big black dude like me from the Bronx ended up in Rome as the personal assistant to one of soccer’s biggest stars.”

  “Um sort of.” Yvonne waited for him to open the back passenger door and then climbed in. Big Sal placed his beefy arms on the door frame and smiled down at her.

  “Paolo and I had the same trainer while I played for the Italian Football League. A few years back, I busted my knee and bye-bye professional sports career, which between us wasn’t that stellar to begin with. Instead of going home to no prospects in the States, I accepted Paolo’s job. Here I am.”

  Yeah, here he was chauffeuring Paolo’s FWB. How hard the mighty fall!

  Abandoning their conversation, Sal wound them through endless narrow streets and congested piazzas filled with tourists. If Yvonne wasn’t so nervous, she would have enjoyed the sights. From Santa Maria in Aracoeli in the Capitol
ine Hills, they drove past Piazza del Campidoglio designed by Michelangelo, over the river Tiber, around The Vatican City and its twenty-foot stone walls.

  They merged onto Via Aurelia and passed over Il Raccordo, one of Rome’s busiest highways. After driving for several miles, Big Sal took a sharp right turn, entering a side street flanked by tall, mixed-use buildings on either side.

  The further he drove, the road widened and buildings gave way to tall pine trees and open fields.

  About twenty kilometers outside the city center, they turned into a private road guarded by a large security gate. Due to a thick cropping of cypress trees, Yvonne couldn’t see much beyond the entrance. And after so much build up, she eagerly looked forward to seeing Paolo’s estate. So much so, she mentally hurried Big Sal along while he punched in the gate’s security code.

  “How long has Paolo lived here?” Yvonne asked.

  “About four years. Paolo’s a very private person. He hardly, if ever, has guests over, just his very good friends and a few business associates. You’re the first female friend he’s ever invited.”

  Yvonne remained silent. He didn’t need to know her visit wasn’t a social call, but a business arrangement.

  Considering the size of the grounds and what she knew of Paulo’s ego, Yvonne fully expected some monstrous atrocity or cold mausoleum.

  Instead, the two story villa set on a sunny hillside reminded her of a quaint farm house with its warm terra cotta tinted walls and sun baked clay tiles. It felt like a home for an extended Italian family rather than an estate for one of Italy’s top football players.

  Sal pulled the car into a circular driveway and jumped out. Before she pulled the latch, he hurried around and opened the door for her.

  “Paolo has prepared an early supper for both of you on the veranda,” he said, walking her up a short flight of stairs to a pair of double doors. They barely cleared the first step when one of the heavy oak doors swung open.

  “Hey Gabe, my man,” Big Sal smiled at an older gentleman standing just inside the front door. Attired in a pair of creased khakis and a navy blue sweater, he reminded Yvonne of Mr. Rogers.