Satisfied 2X

by Nicole Elliot

  She extended her hand toward me. “I know who you are, but we’ve never officially met. ‘'m Vanessa McCade.”

  My cock wanted to do the talking. It was animalistic, the urges running through me. I was used to beautiful assistants running around the corporate office. McCade kept the inventory high. Girls like Candy were all over the place. But I'd never seen a woman like Vanessa. There was a softness. And innocence. I didn't know if it was her long lashes, or the fullness of her lips. I’d never wanted to tell a woman to drop to her knees so fast in my life. I had an instant flash of those perfect lips wrapped around my dick. Sucking and teasing me until I exploded in the deepest part of her throat. What was wrong with me?

  “Isaac? Or do you prefer Price?”

  “Yeah. I-I’m sorry to hear about your grandfather.” I needed to say something that didn’t make me look like a complete asshole. Because the truth was I didn't give two shits about that man. “And Isaac is fine.”

  “Thank you," she whispered. “It was a shock to everyone. My grandmother still hasn’t left the house.”

  I shifted from one leg to the other. I wasn’t interested in getting into the McCade personal family business. I had to forget the tits on this woman and the curve of her hips and get down to business. I wanted a $20 million signing business for this season. I had to forget the idea of fucking her. No matter how damn gorgeous she was, no fuck was worth that much money.

  I licked my lips.

  Or was it?

  Four

  Vanessa

  I could do this. I had to do this. There had to be a way to pretend I wasn’t completely drawn to Isaac Price. I had to cover every ounce of attraction. The instant my fingertips brushed over his palm, I felt a blaze underneath my skin. It was ridiculous to have such an instant and sudden pull to someone. It wasn’t rational. Was it?

  I took a step away from him, trying to clear the steam that had clouded my head. His broad shoulders and sculpted arms were enough to make any woman’s panties wet. But there was something intoxicating about knowing I owned him. He was on my team. I shook my head. I couldn’t believe I was even thinking something like that.

  “Why don't you have a seat, Isaac and tell me why you wanted to meet this morning.” I tried to sound professional and in control of the situation.

  I pointed to the couch that was tattered on the edges. I was embarrassed this was the furniture in my office. If I lasted past opening night, I would have to hire a decorator to take care of this.

  Isaac settled his heavy frame onto the sofa. I tried not to lick my lips when I saw him stretch his arm over the back. I could see the way his bicep flexed and tightened with every movement.

  “I wanted to have this meeting because I think it's important we began salary negotiations as quickly as possible.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He was restless.

  I crossed my legs carefully, realizing my skirt showed off more thigh then I intended. I saw his eyes flash to my skin. I felt another rush of heat in my core. There was no way Isaac thought of me as anything other than ownership, but it didn't mean the fantasy wasn't there. I tried to push it away. I needed to focus on the meeting. I was officially a businesswoman. I needed to act like it.

  “Salary? Don't all the players have contracts?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yes. I need you to consider that I’m here on behalf of a lot of the guys. Some don’t have the skills to negotiate and I don’t want them left behind. I don't know how to say this any other way.” He rubbed the back of his thick dark hair.

  “Go ahead,” I urged. There was something honorable and sweet about how he stood up for his teammates. “I’d like to hear what the players think. I need to gather as much information about the team and organization as I can.” I smiled.

  “Honestly, the Warriors are the lowest paid team in the American Football Association. There’s no justification for it. I can tell you right now, some guys out there have agents. Some have attorneys. And they all want the same thing. Money.” His dark eyes flickered.

  “Oh.” I didn't know what to say. I was embarrassed about the sofa, but mortified that if what he said was true, my grandfather had underpaid the entire team. Would Granddad do that? If so, there were things much cheaper in this building than his choice in furniture.

  “I could give you facts and figures,” Isaac continued. “Or I could just tell you, if you don’t pay them what they are worth, they are going to walk. They’re not going to win games for you. You’re not gonna make money this season. And I don’t know how you'll ever have a team. It won’t matter if you get the first-round draft pick and the second and the third. No one wants to be a Warrior when they can go somewhere else and make triple the money.”

  “What about the other wide receivers on the team?” I asked.

  Isaac shook his head. “Same. Dylan James makes less than me. No one on this team brags about the money. Everyone knows it. Everyone in the league. The Warriors used to be the Texas team.”

  I could tell he was on the verge of breaking free. Of breaking out from behind the filter. There was more he wanted to say, but Isaac was a controlled man. He had chosen these words with purpose.

  “Just tell me. It might be my first day in the office. But it’s not my first day with the Warriors. I know more than you might think.” I had to play the charade as long as I could.

  He exhaled heavy breaths. “Fine. Your grandfather was a cheap son of a bitch. This team is a disgrace because he didn’t pay any of us well. The locker room is a shit hole. Our equipment malfunctions. This is no way to be a professional team. Something has to be done, or you’re going to lose the Warriors in this ownership cycle. Someone will buy the team from you for next to nothing.”

  I felt a strange sense of resentment sink into my shoulders. Part of me knew what he was saying was true. I saw it. When we traveled for away games, I saw the facilities the other teams had. I sat in other family boxes. I knew ownership profits on other league teams were distributed into the business. But that's not how my grandfather ran things. The McCabe family fortune was massive. We had more money, land, and houses then we could ever use or need.

  I needed a minute. I didn’t want him to see my defensive stance.

  “Thank you, Isaac. I’ll look into it." I began to rise from the seat, pushing my hands into the armrests. I needed them to steady myself.

  “That's it? Are we going to talk numbers?” There was a new flicker in his eyes. It made me catch my breath. He was intoxicating without even trying.

  “I’m not ready for that yet.”

  “When, then?” he pressed.

  “What if we meet again tomorrow?” I bit my lip nervously. I did need help with the team. I needed someone on the inside who knew the players. Someone who could guide me. “You could go into more detail. Tell me the specifics?”

  I caught the quick glance of his eyes to my breasts. Then they lifted toward mine. He nodded, rubbing the dark scruff on his cheek. “I can do tomorrow.”

  “Good. I have a lot of people to meet with today. I’m sure you understand. I’m not making any promises or decisions right away.” I smiled at him.

  “That's good to hear. There are a lot of men counting on you to do the right thing.” He reached his hand toward me, and for a second I wondered if he was going to wrap it around my waist and pull me toward him. I wanted to be pressed against his rock-hard body. Feel the indentations where muscle met bone. I had lost my mind.

  Instead, I remembered I was ownership now. My hand slid into his and I felt the roughness of his palm. I closed my eyes for a second, imagining what his hands would feel like tracing my body. There was a silent whimper on my lips.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He dropped my hand and turned toward the door. As soon as it closed, I collapsed into the chair. My knees had given out. I didn't how much longer I could have stayed in a room with Isaac Price.

  I never thought about what my grandfather did on a daily basis. Until today. My shoul
ders slumped, and I crossed my ankles under the desk, kicking the heels off my feet. I’d had one meeting after another. I’d met with the coach. I’d met with advertising and marketing. I’d heard from the building manager and the equipment specialist. The one thing I’d heard repeatedly from every man I met with was that there wasn't enough money.

  The one person who wasn't lined up to meet with me was our corporate accountant. He was the man with the money answers. I tapped the button on my phone, calling Candy. Within seconds she appeared in the doorway.

  “Did you need something, Vanessa?” she asked. I could tell she was practicing using my first name.

  I nodded. “Can you set up a meeting for me with our business manager?”

  “Sure. What day?”

  I realized I would not be able to grant any of the requests I’d heard without a full understanding of the money. Everyone wanted something from me. I didn’t know the extent of the accounts.

  “This afternoon.”

  “I will make sure to get him in here before the end of the day.” She smiled. “Do you want me to order lunch for you? You've been trapped in here for hours. It looks like you could use a little food.”

  “That’s very sweet, but…” I didn't know why I was arguing. My stomach growled. I had two cups of coffee and half a bagel this morning. I needed food.

  “Let me get it for you,” she offered a second time.

  “Ok, yes. Lunch would be amazing.”

  “No problem. I will go get something for you and be back in thirty minutes.”

  “Wait, Candy before you go, can I ask you something?”

  She paused at the door. "Sure. What is it?”

  I didn’t know how to phrase it. “Do you think you make enough money in your position? Are you paid fairly?” I shook my head, realizing how personal my question was. “It’s ok whatever you tell me. I won't be upset or offended. I just need to know. It would be a huge help.”

  She pressed her lips together. I didn't know anything about Candy’s skills. She was pleasant, and pretty. That might’ve been the only qualification my grandfather cared about. But while I was here I might as well check on her perspective. She was a part of this organization too. She knew everyone who ever stepped foot in this building.

  “I don't know how to answer that,” she admitted. She shrugged her shoulders. “I don't really think about the money I make working in the office.”

  “What do you mean? You get a paycheck, don’t you?”

  “There are a lot of perks for working with the football team. I’m here because I love all the benefits.” She grinned widely. “I’m not here for the paycheck.”

  It took me a second to realize what she was saying. “Ohh. You mean...” I immediately blushed, feeling naïve.

  Candy giggled. “I’m happy to tell you more, but maybe we should just leave it at that.”

  I nodded, suddenly uncomfortable and feeling more out of my element than ever. She basically admitted that she was here to sleep with players and accept gifts and money from them. What kind of world had I landed in?

  “I think that's best.”

  “I’ll be back with lunch. Hopefully no one will bother you while I'm gone. I left my number on the desk if you need me.”

  “Thank you, Candy.”

  I slumped in my chair, knowing I was drowning. Nothing made sense and I had no idea how to swim in water this deep.

  Five

  Dylan

  There weren’t many people in this world who could relate to my life. To know what it meant to be a football god. To understand the pressure. The physical stamina it took to perform at the highest level every day my cleats crossed onto the damn field. The moment the chalky lines coated my shoes.

  But there was one. One man who got it. Who knew what I knew about the toll the game took on my body. Who knew how the sweat was more than physical exertion.

  He didn’t give a shit about the trouble I got in off the field. He didn’t care about how many women I fucked, or how many nights I didn’t go home. He didn’t give me shit about anything. The man was my best friend for a reason. He let me live my life the way I wanted—wide open.

  I knew Isaac planned on meeting with the new ownership today. That was just like him. He always had to have the first say.

  I shook my head. The locker room was full of bullshit talk. Guys had been worked up for two weeks. Some wanted to leave the team. They didn't want to give ownership a chance to screw them over again. They couldn’t see any other path other than to quit.

  I wasn’t wired like that. Quitting wasn’t in my vocabulary. Never had been. I liked winning at all costs.

  I knew what I wanted to do. Whether or not, I could pull it off was another story.

  I liked being a Warrior. I’ll rephrase that. I fucking loved being a Warrior. It was the only team I had ever played for. It was the only jersey I had ever wanted to wear. Growing up in College Station, it felt as if the Warriors were the home team. They were less than two hours away. Sure, some kids loved the Wranglers, but we weren’t one of those families. San Antonio was almost too far for a game-day drive. We were Warriors fans and that was the one place I had to play.

  On game day, my dad hung the team flag in the yard. It didn’t matter that it was tattered and the colors started to run together from being left out in the rain. He put it up, no matter the weather.

  They knew the colors. They knew the chants. They knew the leading scorers and retired jerseys, but what did my parents know about contracts? How did a ten-year-old boy know he had fallen in love with a broken program, a team that had never been on track? I didn’t know shit until the day I walked in the locker room.

  I was drafted from college. As far as anyone knew, I was living the Texas football dream. My parents couldn’t be prouder that a boy from College Station could play for the Austin Warriors. The family team. Texas’s team.

  I was a dick about a lot of things, but I wasn’t going to crush my mom’s pride with the truth. I kept them in the dark about the organization. I wasn’t going to kill the dream with honesty.

  My phone buzzed. I looked down at the text from Isaac.

  Meeting went well, fill you in later.

  That's all it said. He was usually short on words, but what the hell? He met with ownership and couldn’t tell me what happened?

  It was time I took fate by the balls. There was a small window of opportunity to get what I wanted. I threw my helmet in the locker. It landed on the floor with a thud.

  “Where are you going, James?”

  I wasn’t in the mood to explain myself. Everyone was on edge since McCade died. There was too much uncertainty circling us.

  “Headed out for a while.”

  “You’re going to see her, aren’t you?”

  I whipped around to face Jackson Steele. The tight end was barely taller than me.

  “None of your damn business.”

  He laughed. “It’s a waste of time.”

  “Why do you say that?” I questioned. “Have you gone up there?”

  He shrugged. “No, but everyone says she doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing up there in corporate. My bet is we’ll be sold before the season is out. Pointless trying to talk to her. You’re going nowhere with that one.”

  I hung my head. “Shit.” Isaac hadn’t made it so sound hopeless.

  “Face it. There’s nothing we can do. McCade screwed us twice. Once, when he signed us and again when he left us with her.”

  “Fuck that,” I growled. “I’ll catch you later, Jacks.”

  “She’s just gonna bust your balls, man. I tried to warn you,” he called after me. “We have practice in an hour.”

  I charged out of the room with a new fire lighting my way. I wasn’t going to take his word for it. I walked down the corridor of the underground stadium tunnels, growing angrier with each stride I took.

  I tapped the button, waiting for the elevator to carry me to the executive level. Within seconds, it took me to
the top floor. My fingers curled into a tight fist. I could feel the blood pump through the strained veins on my wrist. My dream wasn’t going to vanish because some spoiled rich girl inherited my team.

  The doors retracted and I stomped out. The executive suites were quiet. It looked as if it the entire place was empty. I rubbed the back of my head.

  I expected to see Candy, but she wasn't sitting at her desk. I walked past it, remembering the few times we had hooked up. She was a hot fuck. The kind of girl who loved sex just for the sake of sex. She had no attachment to me or any of the other guys. I smiled. Why weren’t more women like that? Unattached? Available for just the right thing?

  I was tired of women trying to take more than I was ready to give. I sure as hell didn’t want a girlfriend. I didn’t want commitment and all the bullshit that came with it. Candy seemed fine with a strictly fuck-for-fun arrangement.

  This might be a wasted trip, but I walked to the old man's office. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been here. I stayed away from McCade. I stayed away from Coach. All I wanted was to play the game. This kind of shitty drama was exactly what I tried to avoid. I was here now out of survival. If I didn’t try to save my ass, I didn’t know who would.

  I didn't bother to knock, assuming no one was here just like the rest of the office. But as soon as I opened the door, I realized how wrong I was.

  Fuck.

  I had never seen eyes that blue. Or lips that perfect.

  Her beautiful mouth opened, and I realized she was staring at me. I wanted to dive in—cock first.

  Her eyes were locked on my chest with a look of shock. I looked down. Shit. I had forgotten to throw on a shirt. I was wearing my warm-up shorts for practice and nothing else.

  “C-can I help you?” she stammered. I saw the blush rise on her cheeks. Damn. She was gorgeous. Nobody had mentioned how insanely hot she was.

  “I didn't think anybody was here,” I explained.