Play

by Melissa Young

  “It’s about fucking time you got here boss,” he extends his oversized hand to me and brings me in for a huge bear hug. I feel swallowed in his arms. I mean, yours truly is bigger than your average bear, but Demarius, he is a different breed of man.

  As any sportscaster would describe him, he’s 6’7 and 250lbs of pure muscle. An absolute beast on the court. As any woman at this bar would describe him, he’s the 2-year running Hottest Athlete Alive recipient and a tall order of chocolate milk they can’t seem to wait to taste.

  I’m very comfortable in my sexuality and I’ll assure you, with his emerald eyes, perfect teeth and body filled with tattoos, Demarius is one handsome bloke.

  “And who is this vision?” He turns his attention to Jane and takes her hand in his, his diamond earrings catching in the light, nearly blinding. He kisses the top of her hand and I watch as she turns to goo.

  I’m not envious or surprised. Adams has this effect on women. Hell, he has this effect on everyone but I’m not threatened. Why drink Merlot when you can enjoy Bordeaux?

  No contest.

  “Jane, this is Demarius Adams and…”

  She interrupts me. “Yeah, I know who he is.”

  They exchange subtle flirtatious glances and Demarius plays with the gold chain hanging around his neck. “Yeah, I bet you do.”

  I break it up. “And Demarius, this is Jane. Jane Smith.”

  Demarius fires me a subtle look that reads chockfull of skepticism and all I can do is shrug. Even he is convinced that is not her real name, which is as reassuring as it is unsettling.

  “Well, it is a pleasure to see you both. Come, let’s pop off some fuckin’ bottles.”

  “Yes, yes indeed. Give us a quick sec, would you?” I try to shoo Demarius away. I know his presence here is the real reason why I came to The Ivy tonight, but that all fell to the wayside as soon as I met Jane.

  Demarius bites on his lower lip, claps his hands and pats me on the shoulder. “You got it, boss. See you soon, Jane.” He eyes her up one last time before disappearing into a crowd of females.

  Jane turns to look at me, slowly, and I can feel her sizing me up.

  “Yes?”

  “You know Demarius Adams?”

  I nod. “Why I would hope so. He is one of my top clients after all.”

  Jane falls silent, digesting the information. It excites me that she’s a bit taken aback. Turns out, there is far more I can show her and wow her with.

  We are just getting started.

  “So, another drink then?” I propose.

  “You have some tricks up your sleeve, don’t you?”

  I place my hand on the small of her back and lean in, smelling the sweet scent of her skin and the warmth that radiates off of it. I pause, before the flesh of my lips delicately caresses the folds of her ear. “Darling, you have no idea.”

  six

  “So, what do you want to know?” She fiddles with the stem of the martini glass between her fingers, as she sits across from me in the private booth.

  “Oh you know,” I pause with an exaggerated sigh. “Just everything.”

  She smirks. “You go first.”

  “And what do you want to know about me?”

  “Whatever you’re willing to share?”

  “I’m usually such a gentlemen and insist that a lady is always first to go,” I flash her a sly smirk. “But I’ll take the bait.”

  I slide closer to her in the booth, using the loud music as the perfect excuse to get closer to her. “Well, name is Oscar Rose. I own Gold Talent Agency. I was born in Peckham, just outside of London, in England. Lived there until me mum died when I was 17. Then, packed up, got the fuck out, made it to NYC and the rest is history.”

  She nods. “Sorry again about your mum.”

  I shake it off. “Now, your turn.”

  She hesitates and inhales. “Well, name is Jane Smith. I’m… a nurse. I was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, but my parents moved around a lot because of my dad’s line of work. Eventually, we had to settle in New York and… that’s about it.”

  “No boyfriend?” I press her again.

  She shakes her head. “No Mrs. Rose?”

  I nearly choke on my drink. “Hell no!”

  “So you’re anti-marriage?”

  “No, no, it’s not that at all. I just wonder if I will ever truly meet a woman who can handle me.” I flash the cheesiest smile I can muster, purposefully.

  She giggles. “You mean put up with you.”

  “Ouch.”

  There is another of these long standing pauses between us, only heightening the playful tension between us and I have to confess, I am loving every bloody second of it.

  “And you? What is your stance on tying the knot? Do you want to be like Casey and have your bloke literally by the balls?”

  “Maybe?” She contemplates. “All I know is I’m not ready for marriage anytime soon.”

  Jackpot.

  “Music to my ears.” I grin.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that assumes that his dick possesses magical powers and makes women fall in insta-love with him?”

  “No, no not at all.” I take another sip of the watered down scotch. “It’s usually my tongue that does the trick.”

  She rolls her eyes, but I get a sense that now all that is on her mind is what my tongue can offer her. I’d bet any money that she is thinking about how good it would feel to have the warmth of my mouth playing with her clit and the girth of my finger plunged deep inside of her. I bet she’s thinking about the electricity that would flow through her body and the amount of times I could make her scream my name. I know how infrequently women experience oral and how even more rare it is, to find a bloke who knows what the fuck he is doing.

  She tries to play it off, literally shaking her head of the thoughts. “How old are you?”

  I answer immediately, trying to stifle my cocky smile. “33. You?”

  “29.”

  Bullshit. I’m not even sure if she is a nurse or if anything she has told me tonight is nothing more than a fabricated lie. Fortunately for me, though, I’m not here to find my soul mate; I’m just here to find my next fuck. I could care less what her name or her occupations are. I usually just fill this time to come across as less of a predator and more of a human. It may seem harsh, but no one wants to fuck a bad guy, right?

  “So, nurse, 29, absolutely ravishing, can hold her liquor better than any Scot I’ve ever met and not married – pray tell?”

  “By choice,” she begins. “I’m just not ready yet. And you? 33 years old, seems as though you are quite successful, cute accent and handsome enough. What’s your reason?”

  “You think I’m handsome?” I bat my eyelashes at her.

  “Handsome enough, I said. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  “Then, what else can I put in your mouth?”

  I use my hands to propel my body closer to hers in the booth, our legs nearly touching now and I get another trace of the way her body smells. I turn in towards her, my muscles in my upper body flexing as I move. She looks down for a peek and I can tell that she wonders just how my pecs look underneath my shirt.

  “You know, you can drop the hard-to-get act at any moment,” I tell her. “I know you are charmed by me and as I obviously am by you. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be upstairs, alone, separated from the parties that brought us here in the first place. Right?”

  She leans in closer and grabs me by the collar of my shirt. Her grip is firm and steady. Not waning in fervor. She pulls me into her, our lips nearly brushing. She holds this pose for a moment, but I allow her to take lead. My desire to find out what her next move is trumps my desire to kiss her right now.

  She moves positions, turning her attention towards my ear, settling upon our cheeks touching, and I can feel the heat of her breath upon my flesh.

  “Nice dodge, but you didn’t answer the question.”

  I turn my neck to the side, releasing
some of the tension building in my shoulders. Also, trying to shake off this erection that just won’t die in my pants. She’s sexy as hell, yes but her feisty nature has me on edge. I’m beginning to question whether fucking her is worth all of this back and forth after all.

  Who am I kidding? I love a fucking challenge and it has been quite some time since a woman has made it this hard.

  Yes, that was a double entendre.

  “Well,” I begin as she loosens the grip she has around my shirt collar. “There was someone, at one point…”

  “That bad, hey? She cuts me off, or at least it feels that way. I can’t remember if I just trailed off, getting submerged by my train of thought or if she jumped in.

  “No, it was good, but…”

  Demarius comes flying into our booth, and cuddles up right next to Jane, his husky arm wrapping around her. “Yo, there is my girl. How’s Slither treating you, Janet?”

  What an utter disaster of a sentence.

  I massage the bridge of my nose in anticipation of this headache of a conversation we are about to partake in.

  “Okay, first of all, my name is Jane,” she is very sharp to correct him and all of a sudden, my interest level is right back on par. “Second of all. Slither?”

  And now I think we have collectively murdered the boner in my pants.

  Jolly well done, team.

  Her glances shoot between Demarius and myself, and a part of me feels as though I should take the reigns on this topic before it goes all to pot, but Demarius dives in.

  “You see this ring on my pinky?” He flashes it in front of Jane’s eyes.

  She nods, unfazed.

  “Guess how much it is worth?”

  “Well,” she takes in a closer look but I can tell from here that she gives zero flying fucks how much this ring costs and would much rather he just get on with it.

  That makes two of us.

  “A lot.” That’s all she gives him.

  Demarius brings the ring back to his attention, focusing on every diamond like it’s the first time he has laid eyes on it all over again. “It’s worth $300,000 and I have 5 of them, plus a house back home in Atlanta for my ma, a penthouse here in Manhattan and a crib up in the Hamptons. I also got all the rides you could ever dream of. Who made it all happen?” He points back at me. “That guy right there. Highest salary for a starting draft pick ever in the game. We broke records, baby. He knows how to get right in there, stealth as a snake and he’s just as fucking lethal.”

  I must admit; although a rave review, I’m deeply disappointed the nickname had nothing to do with my oral sex tip.

  Sigh.

  “So, what should I know about Slither?” Jane mocks me.

  I cover my mouth with my hands. I think this might be the longest I’ve gone without speaking in years. Is this what dying feels like?

  “Well,” Demarius begins. This can go one of two ways and all I’m hoping, is that like earlier tonight, he surprises me and it goes swimmingly.

  “This guy right here. He’s the real deal. He’s not like the other agents out there, you know? He’s a fighter. He’s tough as nails. He’s a huge fucking asshole, but he gets it done. And you know who he’s fighting for? Me. Us. His clients. He’s the best in the game because he gives a shit. They don’t make them like Oscar Rose very often, let me tell you.”

  If I could kiss his little cheeks right now, I would.

  Jane continues to eye me up and down. “So, what you’re saying is, I should go home with Oscar tonight?”

  Fuck. Yes.

  “Now, hold on little lady,” Demarius plays with the stubble on his chin. “If there is any guy you should be going home with tonight, he’s sitting right here with his arm around you, ready to show you the world if you think you can handle being my co-pilot on this magic carpet ride?”

  Please tell me I don’t sound this asinine when I’m trying to court women?

  Jane laughs and pats him on the shoulder, which to us men is nearly the most humiliating form of subtle rejection possible. It’s like the equivalent of a pat on the back in replacement of a participation ribbon. I feel myself wincing, but only temporarily.

  “You seem like a lovely man, but someone else has tickled my fancy tonight,” Jane responds to him with a faint accent similar to mine. She flaunts this demure smile my way and I eat it right up in one bite.

  Just as I’m about to try to get my first words in what feels like eons, I’m interrupted once again, but this time, by a loud summoning emanating from the ground floor below us.

  “Jane! Jane! C’mon, we are leaving!”

  Her friends all call out for her, in no particular order and it’s a wonder how she is even able to decipher the message through the noise.

  “Excuse me,” Jane signals for Demarius to exit out of the booth and she slinks past him towards the railing, peeking over to see what all of the commotion is.

  Demarius and I link eyes briefly before we both admire Jane’s assets from behind.

  “Yo, she’s fine as hell.”

  I nod, my focus locked in Jane’s direction. “That she is, mate. That she is.”

  “But there is no fucking way in hell her name is Jane Smith. She’s lying to you, bro.”

  I smirk. “Do you think I’m looking for fast or forever, Adams?”

  It takes him a second but he shifts his attention back onto me, flashing me a full-fledge view of those pearly whites. He tips the champagne flute in his grasp in my direction, all the while laughing a deep belly chuckle.

  “My man.”

  I smile back at him, both of us with the worst shit disturbing grins on our faces that you could ever fathom. I reciprocate the gesture and tip his flute with the rim of my highball glass.

  “Go get that girl, Slither.”

  “With pleasure, Adams. With pleasure.”

  seven

  I slip past Jane, pressing upon the latch to the exit, holding the door open for her and her entire group of friends as we step out of the bar onto the sidewalk. There is a hideous hot pink stretch SUV limousine parked out front, which has their names written all over it.

  I catch a glimpse of the valet and I don’t even have to say a word before one of them slips around the corner, rushing to fetch my baby for me.

  I rush to the rear door of the limousine, beating the sluggish driver and opening the door for every single member of the bridal party. It’s not that I’m trying to impress Jane at this point; well I am, but also, and more importantly, I’m a preserver of chivalry and choose to display it at any opportune time.

  I swing the oversized door open and place my hand out before bridezilla, Casey, assisting her with her entrance into the limousine.

  “Don’t you dare forget about what I said?” She threatens me, albeit far less coherently and subsequently, less terrifying.

  “Trust me,” I reassure her. “Unlike your counterpart, I like my balls too much.”

  The comment generates a few snickers from her comrades behind her. I don’t think she appreciated it but I also doubt she will remember it in the morning. Or any of this night, truthfully.

  I continue carefully assisting the drove of drunken females into the safety of their ride home, until I fall upon the best for last. I grab Jane by the hand and instead of assisting her into the limo, I close the door and swing her around, until she collides with my chest, my arms wrapping around her.

  The privacy windows to the limo lower and an array of hooting and hollering can be heard from within. The loud but albeit hilarious reactions from her comrades forces an embarrassed laugh out of Jane; accompanied by a smile that stretches from ear-to-ear is stamped across her face.

  “Come home with me tonight,” I’m practically begging her, holding her in my grasp, trying to keep her warm amidst the cold night wind.

  She contemplates it and sighs. “I want to, but I can’t.”

  “Why not?” I do my best to avoid sounding desperate but I want her. Badly.

  “I do
n’t go home with guys I just met.”

  “Just met? Fuck me. Just met? I know so much about you.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s my favorite color?”

  “You’re seriously not going to have sex with me because I don’t know your favorite color?”

  “You’re seriously not even going to just take a wild guess? You had like a one in seven chance of getting it right.”

  “Yes, in manland I had a one in seven chance of getting it right, but in womanland, it’s much different. You ladies have colors like moon mist, virgin rose or some other bullshit. It’s very hard to navigate. Trust me.”

  “You didn’t even take a chance. I thought you had bigger balls than that?”

  “Sweetheart, with this chatter about my balls this evening, you know that if you want to see how big and non-hairy they actually are, all you have to do is say yes?”

  As we continue our banter back and forth, the engine to my beloved Aston Martin rolls and revs behind the limousine. It catches Jane’s attention.

  “Let me guess, that’s yours, isn’t it?”

  The valet personnel walks up to me and hands me the ring of keys. I haven’t felt like this much of a baller since, well, probably last week, but that’s beside the point.

  “Yes, that is mine and although the interior is surprisingly quite spacious, I’d highly recommend my bedroom instead of the backseat, but my main goal here is to please you, so…”

  C’mon, woman. I’m dying here.

  “You know what they say about guys with nice cars?” She teases.

  “They have huge dicks?”

  She laughs again hangs her head to her feet before snapping it back up again and presses her way out of my arms. “No. Date first. No sex.”

  Date? I don’t like these words.

  “I don’t date.” I’m quick to respond.

  “Then I don’t fuck.”

  Fucking hell. I was not expecting this. “I know you want me. I can feel how badly you want me. Why are you making it so hard?”

  Her top lip snarls and curls into a smile. She lessens the distance between us, coming at me again, slowly. I look down at her, our bodies separated only by a mere few inches. She looks up to meet my gaze, her breath warm on my neck.