Fast and Loaded: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Roxy Sinclaire

  “Well, I hadn’t heard from you in a while and I was beginning to—”

  “Why would you expect to hear from me?” he interrupts, irritation clipping his voice.

  I place a calming hand on his chest, and smile between the two of them. Obviously, there is a history.

  Devlin eyes me, suddenly relaxing his face.

  “Dev,” Giselle implores. “We should talk. In private.” Her pursed painted lips look ready to release scathing things. I have dealt with women like her before—dainty and dignified women who sing praises in someone’s presence and later serrate that same person as though they had never known a nice thing about them.

  Before Devlin can respond, a refined man in a tuxedo joins the conversation.

  “There you are, darling,” the suited intruder speaks before releasing a kiss onto Giselle’s forehead. “I wondered where you had slipped off to.”

  The original exasperation returns to Devlin’s face.

  “William,” he acknowledges. “It’s nice to see you two, but if you’ll excuse me.”

  I smile and follow in the direction that Devlin leads me.

  “You should come to the wedding,” William adds.

  This stops Devlin’s forward movement and he turns to face the two.

  “I certainly will,” he adds with a counterfeit smile.

  After the first intense conversation, the rest are pleasant. Hugs and hellos from club members follow with kind words about Gladys and her efforts to fight her own mental illness issues and help others as well.

  Devlin hadn’t shared with me that his mother suffered from bouts of depression, but his inclusion of me in every conversation confirms that he didn’t mind my knowing. The people that Devlin congregates with aren’t half as bad as I thought that they would be. Maybe Lance’s family was so rude because they were well-off and not wealthy, or maybe Devlin just makes sure to associate with good people.

  I smile and nod as he ushers me through the event. Hand against my back or arm around my waist, his attention to my wellbeing is comforting. A quiet longing for him churns inside for his hand to slip a little a lower, for this night to get a little naughtier, even though I know that it shouldn’t.

  I sigh to release some of the pressure of my building desire for him. This would be entirely less difficult if his body wasn’t so warm next to mine, his hands so large and steady, or if his cologne didn’t smell so good.

  “Thank you for this,” he whispers against my ear, allowing his tongue to slide across my earlobe. His arm continues to rest along my waist as it has the majority of the night. A strike of desire flashes through me. I cannot handle naughty, not with Devlin.

  I catch his eyes with mine, and the wink he gives nearly makes me fall to my knees.

  My eyes close, weighed down by the intoxicating smell of his cologne mixed with the desire in his voice.

  “Anytime,” I breathe before clearing my throat.

  Being so close to him is becoming too much. His soft words and iron hard body, his alluring eyes, his careful concern, all make this feel real.

  An egg-shaped man with an oblong head partially covered by a patchy, bushy afro moves stodgily over to Devlin, gripping a glass of brown liquid. His gait indicates that the glass in his hand is most likely not his first one.

  “I didn’t imagine that I’d see you here,” the less subtle man exhorts in a deep bass of a voice. “It’s been years since you attended. Trevor has been here on the company’s behalf for the last two years.”

  “I thought it was time to make a return.” Devlin grimaces before he introduces us. “Mr. Randall is a M.I.S. executive board member. Mr. Randall, this is my date, Ayron.”

  The round man’s square, overgrown eyebrows nearly lift from his face as he takes a leisurely glance at my form.

  “I suppose if a person could resurrect an appearance,” he leans to view my backside, “I assume that she could.”

  Devlin’s look of agitation grows as he leaves my side to guide Mr. Randall a safe distance away.

  “Let’s walk and talk, Mr. Randall,” he says before turning to me. “I’ll be right back.”

  Maybe some space will calm my body temperature down. This is just a job like any other. Almost like any other. Devlin is just a man. A sexy man, with big muscular arms and a fit figure, who makes my private places alert and soaking in his presence.

  Groaning, I stroll out of the room onto the verandah overlooking manicured acres of lush grass. The night air and the cool, quiet space are refreshing.

  I had thought giving Devlin the thirty-day trial excuse would keep him at bay, but the way his eyes burn against me, it may have turned him on more than settled him. Not to mention the way my body reacts to him.

  “I bet he took you to Baraide’s,” Giselle says as she flounces next to me.

  The wicked witch has returned. Her eyes are tight, and she is too preoccupied with her flute glass to look at me. I figured that she would pop up somewhere. She had been watching Devlin and me all night.

  I don’t answer. I just feign a smile.

  “It’s kind of cute that he found himself a project. I could tell that he was a little lonely after our breakup,” she smugly offers.

  “Words are like arrows shot at the sun” circles through my mind. If the venue had been different or my attitude on the fritz, the bitch would be bald right now.

  I look over at the woman with a pleased look, imagining ways to rip the expensive-looking weave from her head.

  “His company has been pleasurable,” I respond.

  The quick wince on her otherwise mute face lets me know that the comment affected her. If Devlin makes love with the same passion that he kisses, then I know she is missing that pleasure. A pleasure that I shouldn’t even be considering.

  “You look decent enough, so I thought I would do the polite thing and warn you. First off, nothing ever has or ever will come before that stupid company of his. As though he doesn’t already have enough money. Even if he does decide to keep you around as his little toy, you don’t belong in this world, and once he is done feeling charitable, he’ll be done with you,” she sneers.

  I lift a finger, with the intent of showing the demeaning debutant just how much I “don’t belong,” but the warmth of a familiar hand is at my back before I do.

  Devlin whirls me around, pulls me close to him, and in an instant places his mouth softly against mine. I catch a look of desire flash in his eye and he deepens the kiss, parting my lips and thrusting his tongue between them. He searches my mouth as though he was a poor man and my teeth were made of gold.

  My eyes close and I feel light enough to float away, but the strength of his tongue keeps me tethered.

  “Damn, girl,” he says, releasing my mouth and biting his lip. “I have never been kissed like that before.”

  Everything on my body associated with sex clenches, pebbles, or leaks in that moment.

  Giselle looks as though she wants to throw acid, and she silently slinks her way back into the party.

  “Sorry that the ice queen got to you,” he apologizes. “She is definitely my ex for a reason.”

  I should ask probing questions, guide him to understand the importance of past relationships in building a stronger future, but I have nothing. He kissed away all of the mental capacity that I have to analyze behavior and assess through conversation.

  I simply nod at him.

  “You know that none of what she said is true, right?” He slides one of his large hands across his smooth, hunky face. “I know where you come from, and I’m glad that you aren’t like these people.”

  I manage to stick on a worried smile as anxiety twists through my insides. How long will I be able to push away this irresistibly sweet and sexy man? I have to hide the bag of chocolate for the candy dish at the office, just to keep myself from eating it all. He is ten times as alluring as a candy bar.

  “I know,” I answer. “Excuse me for just a little.”

  Without waiting for
a reply or giving an explanation, I head away from those mesmerizing eyes.

  I step into the private restroom, take a deep breath, and call my friend.

  “I can’t do it,” I rush before Monique has the chance to pop out a greeting. “I can’t spend the evening with him. I just can’t.”

  The tiled bathroom floor receives the brunt of my agitation, as pacing seems to calm my nerves a bit, but not enough.

  “Calm down,” she orders. “What did he do? I got bail money under the mattress, if I have to come beat his ass.”

  “He’s been a perfect gentleman,” I nearly yell in disbelief. “His father had me pumped up to meet this pompous, anger-filled miscreant, and Devlin is nothing of the sort. He bought me clothes, paid for hair and makeup and a limo just to have me stand by his side while he showered me with compliments all night!”

  “The dog,” Monique exhales sarcastically. “I’m going to tell you like Ms. Agnes would—carry yourself right back in there and enjoy that man.”

  “You don’t understand. I can’t do that. He’s been too sweet for me to keep leading him on.”

  “So he’s getting to you?” Monique says. “It’s alright to care about him as a person. You’re helping him become better.”

  I shake my head.

  I have crossed so many lines already.

  “I have to tell him what I do and why I am here. I need to confess,” I say.

  I look at myself in the mirror.

  “And what about Ms. Agnes? What about getting the office space that you need?” she says. “You’ve more than outgrown that broom closet at the community center. Focus on the goal.”

  A knock at the door startles me.

  “You all right in there?” Devlin’s smooth voice, and the image of his tall, handsome body leaning against the door, coming to check on me, cause the flutters return as though they’d never been absent.

  “Why does he keep being so nice?” I whisper to Monique.

  Devlin knocks again.

  “Ayron,” he calls.

  “He’s outside of the door,” I snap into the phone while searching through the small space for a window, porthole, trap door or something. “I can’t face him again, Mo.”

  “Do I need to call an ambulance?” he asks.

  “I’m all right, Devlin,” I squeak.

  “You can do this, Ayron,” Monique reassures. “The ends will justify the means.”

  Ending the call with Monique, I open the door to Devlin.

  “Is everything all right?” He examines me, his gorgeous brows furrowed. He places a steady hand on my cheek. “I thought you may have done a disappearing act on me, until coat check said they saw you slip in here.”

  “I’m fine,” I stutter, lost in the feeling of his caress.

  “I wish that I could say the same.”

  “What’s wrong?” It is my job to worry about him, to comfort him.

  “I need you. This—” His mouth is against mine before I can speak.

  If my mind would have allowed me to protest, I would have, but not telling myself the truth is futile. I want him.

  His skillful tongue breaches the cavern of my mouth, mapping the precise route to elicit moans. Heat courses through me. Devlin had skyrocketed me to a new place of pleasure with just the tangle of his tongue against mine.

  In a swift motion, he hoists me against the wall and releases my breast from the strapless gown. His hot tongue trails kisses down my neck onto my chest until capturing my hardened nipple. Each suckle lulls me further into a dream world. His world, and I am ready to sign up for citizenship, allow him to plant his flag in my fertile soil and claim me.

  Locking my legs around him, I feel the full rise of his hardness between my thighs, and I water at the thought of how good he could make me feel with other parts of his body if he works his tongue this well.

  I give in to the indulgence, a scorching shot of desire for this model-built man damaging my self-control.

  He tastes as good as he looks, and feels even better. Our tongues collide, and I am at a loss for words. I can only moan.

  Devlin moves his zipper loose and sanity begins to seep in.

  I tear my face from his.

  “I can’t,” I pant. “I can’t do this.”

  His ragged breaths fall against my neck as he nuzzles the crevice.

  “No worries, babe,” he whispers between kisses. “I’ll take care of you.”

  I wiggle and motion for him to let me down.

  “This isn’t right,” I say.

  Devlin helps me to my feet and I fall against him, resting against his heaving chest and thumping pulse.

  He encapsulates me with his arms.

  “I’m not out to just hit it and quit it,” he explains, placing a kiss on my head. “I have never met a woman as caring and wise and as beautiful as you.”

  I look into his eyes.

  “Then there is no rush,” I remind him. “Good things come to those who wait. You agreed to my thirty-day trial period.”

  He punctuates his compliance by drawing in a long breath.

  I step out of his embrace and fix my clothing. He tucks and straightens his clothing as well.

  “If that’s what it takes, then I’ll wait,” he exhales with a shake of his head.

  I gather my emotions and willpower before exiting.

  As Devlin and I move out of the building, enjoying the warmth of our hands held together, I notice a man and woman interlocked in a passionate kiss near the bushes.

  “I guess there’s something in the air tonight,” I say, nodding toward the pair.

  The instant Devlin spots the couple, he releases my hand.

  He steps to the side, but I place a hand on his arm

  “That’s Trevor and a woman who’s not my sister,” he says.

  His eyes narrow as his body turns in the direction of the unsuspecting Trevor.

  I feel his muscles tensing underneath my hand.

  The tightening of his jaw is a sure sign that a problem may occur.

  “Going over there won’t change anything,” I add, hoping to keep him calm enough to keep his position in his family company.

  “Standing here won’t make it better, either,” he replies, stepping out of my grasp and marching forward through the plush grass as if he were leading an army.

  “He’s not worth it,” I reason.

  He turns quickly toward me, his expression hardened.

  “That asshole is cheating on my sister, the woman that he is about to marry. I can’t stand back and allow that,” he says while removing his tuxedo jacket.

  I don’t like a cheat, and don’t care about the other half of the money I would get from David Masters, but I can’t see Devlin go far from me. That won’t happen if Devlin is in jail.

  “Let your sister make the decision on how to handle that,” I warn. “Would she even believe that you hit him because of another woman? Think this through.”

  This causes him pause. Devlin’s eyes narrow as his jaw goes slack, and his once-flared nostrils relax.

  Thinking quickly, I push up to confine his lips with mine, dosing out the percolating passion with a twofold mission—keep him out of jail, and feel his warm, slippery tongue again.

  “I will take you back in that bathroom if you keep kissing me like that,” he threatens after pushing away for some air.

  “You ain’t ready for this,” I tease before noticing that Trevor and the woman are gone.

  “Good trick,” he winks. “I still didn’t un-see Trevor’s snake ass. He’s got his coming.”

  “If you wrestle with pigs, you end up just as dirty,” I say to him.

  “What?”

  “Something that my granny used to tell me,” I explain. “Even if you are clean, if you wrestle with pigs, if you stoop to their level, you get just as dirty.”

  He shakes his head.

  “When it’s about my family, I don’t care about a little dirt.”

  “But is that leader-like?
” I propose. “Be smart about it. Strategic and not street. Presidents of anything don’t go around punching people. Let’s figure this out.”

  He pulls me close to him.

  “Kiss me again like before and I’ll consider your approach,” he growls.

  And I do. His touch feels right, like our romance is real.

  Riding next to Devlin has become the most natural thing. His opening and closing my door, the super-charged rumble that flows under the seat, and the bass that booms from the speaker are all commonplace now.

  I slide a hand across his thigh as though he were mine, as though I am not party to a charade to force this passionate and beautiful man into services he may not really need.

  “Is there anything that you want to talk about?” I question sincerely.

  “You’ve already done so much for me,” he responds sliding his eyes across me. “I truly mean it. I can count the number of people who have looked out for me the way that you have, and none of them are living.”

  His eyes divert then and a comfortable silence falls between us.

  “I lost my father when I was five years old. My mother passed away when I was eleven. I went to live with my grandmother after that and now she is gone as well,” I confess.

  The least that I can do is give him a piece of my truth. In my practice, I parcel information intermittently about myself when I feel that it will help, but I don’t feel like I am talking to a patient. I want him to know about me.

  He lays a supportive hand across mine, and I feel comforted.

  “I couldn’t imagine losing so many loved ones at such a young age,” he says before returning his hand to the steering wheel.

  “It’s a lonely feeling,” I tell him, swallowing the tickle in my throat.

  “My father wasn’t around much, and he shipped me away every chance that he could,” Devlin explains quietly, watching the road intently. “When I was home, my siblings didn’t like me. My cousins teased me. I was often surrounded by people and still felt alone.”

  “You are worthy of their love Devlin, of love in general. No matter how many degrees you achieve, how hard you work, or how many people you hit, it won’t change the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally,” I explain to him. “When you are making these decisions that can alter your life, you have to think about whether you are doing it for you or because you want their approval. If it’s their approval that you’re searching for, it may not happen.”