DIRTY PLAYER: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Vesper Vaughn

  “A condom?” I sigh.

  “We already made one kid,” he says. “I don’t care if we make another one.”

  I look at him in surprise.

  “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack. I just want to be inside of you right now. I want to fuck the life out of you, Camille. I love you.”

  That is all I need to hear. I strip off my panties and mount him, sliding his hot, bare shaft into my throbbing slit. I gasp as he enters me, his fullness pulling at my insides. I slide up and down, riding him, bucking my body back and forth.

  “I love you, Camille Sanders,” Blake whispers in my ear as he massages my breasts.

  I come first, fireworks shooting across my vision. He follows soon after, the Ferris wheel moving and taking us to the climax of the ride.

  I pull my underwear back on and Blake and I proceed to make out like teenagers for the rest of the ride.

  ***

  “Mommy, Blake said one day we could go to Fantasy Land together!” Hazel says on the way back home. “He said we could see the castle and everything!”

  “That’s good baby girl. Did you have fun tonight?” I ask her. It’s mostly a rhetorical question. I pull the car to a stop at a light near our house. Eloise is asleep in the passenger seat.

  “I did. You know what, Mommy?”

  “What, baby?”

  “I wish Blake could be my daddy,” she says, her voice quiet.

  I don’t know what to say to this, so I say nothing.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  BLAKE

  We win the Championship game.

  I’m suddenly the hottest thing football has ever seen. I can’t go to Whole Foods without being swarmed by people thanking me and wanting my autograph.

  I certainly don’t mind the attention, though.

  Two weeks after the winning touchdown, I’m putting on my nicest, most modest suit and heading to the Ranch Hotel on Lady Bird Lake. It’s a brilliant February day in South Texas. The temperature is in the sixties and there’s not a single cloud to mar the idyllic blue sky. A light breeze plays at my hair as I wait for my Very ride to pick me up.

  “You’re-“

  “Yep,” I say to my driver, not letting her finish.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not a football fan so I’m not going to bombard you with questions,” she says kindly.

  “Thank you for that,” I say. “How’d you know who I was if you’re not a fan?”

  “You’ve been all over the papers. Something about you sleeping with your boss?”

  I laugh darkly.

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “You think you’ll be fined or fired?” she asks, flicking on her turn signal.

  “It’s a possibility,” I reply.

  “Do you, you know. Love her? Or was it just a one-time thing?”

  I clear my throat.

  “I don’t really feel comfortable-“

  “Oh, oh, of course not. I’m sorry. I told you I wouldn’t ask you any questions yet here I am asking you questions.” She spins the steering wheel to switch lanes. “Although technically I told you I wouldn’t be asking you football questions, and I’ve stuck pretty well to that promise. Sorry, I talk when I’m nervous.”

  “It’s okay,” I say honestly. “I’ve been there before.”

  “I don’t normally get famous people in my car,” she says, flipping her black hair over her shoulder. “I did drive Sandra Bullock to the airport once. I freaked out. Told her I loved Miss Congeniality. Can you imagine? Of all the films she’s done, that’s the one I tell her I loved.”

  “I had a friend in college who made it a point to compliment celebrities on their worst work just to see their reaction.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Used to get tickets to the Sundance film festival just so he could tell Nicolas Cage he loved him in Left Behind.”

  My driver cackles with laughter.

  “That makes me feel better then. Thanks.” She pulled to a stop in front of the hotel. “Good luck with everything.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “Hey, Blake?” she asks as I’m halfway out the door.

  “Yeah?”

  “If you do love her, you should let her know.”

  “I have,” I say.

  She grins.

  “Good. And good luck.”

  I shut the door to the car and walk up the hotel steps.

  “Hi, I’m Blake-“

  “Mr. Merriman, please go right up to the penthouse suite,” says the man behind the counter.

  “Great, thank you,” I reply. I take the elevator, already sick of coming here. This is my fifth meeting in the last week. Today is the day we get the decision. I tap my feet against the marble tile as the elevator slowly climbs to the top floor.

  The doors ding and I step out, knocking twice on the double doors in front of me. They open quickly. It’s Janet. She looks grim.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Camille is already here,” she says. “They’re all waiting on you.”

  I walk quickly across the penthouse suite to the main sitting room. Three men in suits sit across from Camille, whose face is stony. She’s silent. So are the men.

  “Mr. Merriman, glad you could join us,” says the commissioner.

  “Mr. Commissioner, forgive me. I thought we were starting at ten.”

  “We were. But we all got here early anyway, except for you. Never mind. Have a seat, please, next to Camille.”

  I cringe at the fact he’s calling me Mr. Merriman and not bothering to do the same for Camille. He’s already a misogynist, I can tell. My blood boils pre-emptively on Camille’s behalf.

  “Camille, Mr. Merriman,” the Commissioner says. “We’ve deliberated.”

  “Just get on with it,” I say.

  Camille looks at me, shocked, her blue eyes on fire.

  “I’m serious. Just tell me if I’m banned or what.”

  The Commissioner doesn’t look amused. Neither do the two men sitting on either side of him.

  “Mr. Merriman. We’ll start with you. We found that you were not the victim of sexual harassment, being that you were in a consensual relationship.” He cleared his throat. “In lieu of a traditional fine, we do ask that you donate one hundred and fifty thousand dollars to a charity of your choice.”

  I nod.

  “Fine. Done.”

  “Camille,” he says.

  “Ms. Sanders, you mean,” I interject.

  “Mr. Merriman, I’ve known Camille her entire life, since she was in diapers.”

  “You should still show her the same respect that you show me,” I say adamantly.

  “Blake,” Camille whispers under her breath. “It’s fine, I promise.”

  “It’s not fine to me,” I say to her. “Call her Ms. Sanders.”

  The Commissioner’s face is now cherry red and there’s a vein going at his temple.

  “Fine. Ms. Sanders. We have decided that the team must pay a half million dollar fine and you must sell your interest in the team if your relationship to Mr. Merriman is to continue. Is that clear?”

  Camille blinks several times.

  “Are you…are you serious right now?”

  “Quite serious,” he says. He stands up, as do his two co-workers. “It’s been a pleasure meeting the both of you. I trust you can see yourselves out?”

  A few minutes later, Camille and I are standing in the elevator. She looks crushed.

  “Cami,” I say.

  “It’s fine,” she replies stiffly. “It’s fine. I never was interested in football anyway.”

  I pause.

  “You’re telling me you want to sell the team? Because of me? Are you serious?”

  She opens and snaps her purse shut several times, apparently forgetting what she went in for in the first place.

  “I love you, Blake Merriman.”

  I press the emergency stop and step closer to her. I brush a strand of her silky hair beh
ind her ear.

  “Say it again,” I whisper to her.

  “I love you, Blake Merriman.”

  I kiss her on the mouth, and she’s hungry for my touch. She smells like lavender and rose petals mixed together, and the taste of her mouth reminds me of citrus. I breathe her in, drink her up, hold her head while we kiss. I could stand like this forever.

  “Let’s get a room,” Camille whispers to me. She’s panting heavily and so am I.

  “Let’s,” I reply, pressing the emergency stop button again. The elevator moves.

  Camille practically throws her AmEx black card on the countertop. I stand behind her, my hands on the sides of her hips. I keep kissing her neck. She’s bright red and blushing furiously.

  “I think they know why we want the room,” she says to me as we wait for the elevator.

  I laugh.

  “I don’t care. I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CAMILLE

  By the time we get to the hotel room, we’re at the door in our underwear. A maid looks at us askance, but we ignore her. We only have eyes for each other.

  Blake pushes me against the wall and pins my wrists together above my head. His tongue caresses my breasts and I moan and gasp as he finds places to kiss that I didn’t even know existed.

  “Oh, Camille,” he whispers against my wetness. “You taste amazing. I could do this forever.”

  “Don’t stop,” I say to him, bucking against his mouth. “Don’t stop, oh, don’t stop-“ I careen into blackness, holding onto his shoulders while he finishes me off.

  ***

  We make our way around the room all afternoon until I can’t walk anymore. Blake lays me down on the bed and disappears, naked, into the bathroom. He returns with a bottle of lotion.

  “Roll onto your stomach,” he says.

  “Then I can’t look at you,” I say, drinking in his tattoos and muscles and salty skin.

  “You’ll live,” he says with a smile, bending down for one last kiss before I flip over.

  I hear lotion being squirted into his palm and soon his strong hands are massaging every single inch of my body.

  “You’re trying to kill me with pleasure, aren’t you?”

  “On the plus side, if you’re dead, you won’t have to pay that fine.”

  I laugh into the pillow.

  “So, what do you think of everything?”

  “I think I want to leave a bag of flaming dog shit on the Commissioner’s doorstep.”

  “Nah, his help would be the ones who would have to clean it up. Much better to just send him official-looking envelopes stuffed to the gills with glitter. It’ll take him more decades than he has on this earth to clean it all up. His great great great great grandchildren will find it in the carpet.”

  Blake laughs heartily before massaging my ass.

  “I like the way you think, Sanders.” He stops massaging.

  “What?” I ask him.

  “I love you. And I don’t care what it takes for us to be together.” He pulls my hair off my neck and kisses me there.

  ***

  “Mommy! I’m cold!”

  I reach into my tote bag and pull out another wool blanket. An irregular cold front swept through Austin a few nights ago. It is twenty-eight degrees and my Texas baby can’t seem to get warm on the day of the celebratory Championship parade. I wrap Hazel up and hand her a thermos full of salted caramel hot chocolate.

  Hazel drinks it hungrily.

  “Mm.”

  “Eloise made it especially for you.” Eloise’s arthritis acts up when it’s cold, so she opted to stay at home. We are seated in the bleachers at the end of the parade route, in front of the stage where the team will soon be assembled.

  We wave at the horse and buggy carriages, dive for fistfuls of thrown candy, and sing along to all our favorite Texas songs as floats pass by.

  “There’s Blake!” Hazel yells as the final caravan comes into view.

  Blake waves at both of us and blew a kiss. Hazel catches it mid-air and shrieks with happiness. I blow him a kiss back.

  The team exits the caravan and walks to the grand stage. The Commissioner is there holding the beloved Championship Cup made of glittering crystal.

  “I want to thank the city of Austin for supporting us this season. And now we’ve proved that we are the best football team in the whole damn world!”

  The crowd cheers, Hazel joining in. Blake is beaming at the crowd.

  “And we couldn’t have done it without our star quarterback. Blake Merriman, everyone!”

  The crowd goes absolutely wild as Blake takes the microphone.

  “Thank you, Mr. Commissioner. But football is a team sport. I couldn’t have done this without my teammates. Let’s give them a round of applause!” Everyone gladly obliges. “And then our incredible owners. Janet and Camille!”

  Everyone turns around and claps for us, Janet a few rows back from where I stand with Hazel.

  “Now I know there have been a lot of rumors about the team being sold,” he says. “And some other less savory rumors. My lips have been photographed more than any other part of my body,” Blake jokes.

  Everyone laughs at this. Someone wolf whistles and I blush from the second-hand embarrassment.

  “But in all seriousness, I do have an announcement to make.” The crowd hushes. “I’m retiring from football. Officially.”

  The gasp that goes through the crowd is quick and sharp. It devolves into boos and jeers and mass confusion.

  I stare at Blake; he meets my eyes from ten yards away.

  “I’m not leaving Austin. I’ll be here. But I’m done with football. I always say people should go out on top. And it doesn’t get much more ‘top’ than holding this Championship Cup right here. I couldn’t have been more honored to be your star quarterback. Whoever takes my place will do a great job. Unless it’s Josh.”

  Josh smiles good-naturedly at this joke.

  “I’m just kidding. I love you, Austin! Be good to each other. I’m off to be with the love of my entire life, Ms. Camille Sanders.”

  Tears stream down my face and freeze to my cheeks. I can’t believe what’s happening.

  “Marry her!” someone yells in the crowd.

  Blake breaks into a sexy grin.

  “I plan on it.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  BLAKE

  I hand the microphone back to the Commissioner, who puts his gloved hand over it. He looks stricken, that same vein going in his temple as the other day.

  “Why are you doing this?” he hisses.

  “Because you didn’t even consider asking a man to give up his career for the woman he loves. I’m done making money for all of you. I’ll be with the love of my life if you need me.”

  I turn on my heel and walk off the stage and through the crowd to the bleachers. I see Camille and Hazel. Hazel bounces on her feet as I pass in front of spectators. I reach down and sweep her off her feet.

  “What happens now?” Camille asks, her perfect, beautiful face covered in frozen tear tracks.

  “I think we’re going to Fantasy Land.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CAMILLE

  The plane ride to California is blissful; Blake got us first class tickets.

  We arrive at the main hotel via a town car Blake rented, complete with a driver.

  “We don’t need a rental car,” Blake says with a smile. “We’re at Fantasy Land. No need to go anywhere else.”

  The hotel room is the uppermost suite. A trio of monogrammed cat ear hats await us. Hazel’s has a princess crown on top of it.

  “Mommy! This says my name!” Hazel says, shoving it haphazardly on her head.

  “It does, baby.” I check my watch. “Okay, we need a quick nap before we hit the park, okay?”

  Hazel groans. “But-but-but I’m not tired.” A yawn interrupts her words.

  “Clearly,” I say with a smile. “Come on, let’s get y
ou in your room.” The only thing that gets her in bed are the kitty-cat-covered sheets and the stuffed princess cat doll. I shut the door and I know she’s already asleep.

  “Nap time for us?” Blake asks hopefully.

  I put my arms around him and he squeezes my ass.

  “I think that’s in order.” He kisses me. “Did you do all of this in here?”

  “The hats and the stuffed toys and the sheets?” he asks. “Nah. Didn’t know a thing about it.” He winks at me and we fall into bed together.

  ***

  I fall asleep after our little tryst. I wake up to find Blake whispering on the phone.

  “You calling your mistress?” I ask him.

  He nearly drops the phone hanging it up. “You’re awake. What did you hear?”

  “Only that she told you she’s not wearing any panties,” I say jokingly.

  “With the amount of sex we have, do you really think I have the energy to entertain another woman?” He crawls across the bed, shirtless, and kisses me.

  “Probably not. But as far as I know, you could be a sex addict, always thirsty for more.”

  “I’m always thirsty for more of you but never for anyone else.” He kisses me again, moaning as he does so. “Hazel will be awake soon. Otherwise I’d spin you around for one more ride before we go to the park.”

  “That sounds amazing. We’ll have to save it for later.” I stretch and start to put my clothes back on. “What are the plans, exactly?”

  Blake smiles.

  “We’re eating at the Violet Vineyard tonight. I got us a table. Hazel will love it. You can watch the boats go by on the Kitty Kat pirates ride.”

  “You really planned this whole trip down to the letter, didn’t you?”

  Blake puts on a serious face.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I want to talk to you about tonight. I was thinking that maybe tonight we could tell Hazel that I’m her dad.”

  I look at him in surprise.

  “You’re serious? You want to?”

  Blake takes my hand.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Camille. I want to be with both of you. Forever.”

  He reaches into the nightstand and I clap a hand over my mouth in shock, tears already pricking at my eyes.