by Garnet Hart
His mother had volunteered, or rather insisted, to take care of Bessie while they were on honeymoon. That was just what they thought, though. He and Zoey knew there wouldn’t be a honeymoon. He had made it clear in their agreement that sex would not be a part of it, but if she consented, he wouldn’t let go of the chance.
It was their Bye week. He’d have a lot of spare time to quench his hunger for sex, and it would be great if he’d spend it with her.
It was a long day for him, and a long night before that. He just suddenly got nervous about this wedding, but at the last minute, he had decided to stop being a coward and raced toward the church.
He stood still during the ceremony, hoping that it would be over soon, until he heard her say “I do”.
Her voice sounded like an angel to him that moment. It relieved him of his fears. It soothed his nerves. As he stared at her, something told him he did the right thing.
So he enjoyed the rest of the day dancing with her for hours. He didn’t like it when his team mates smeared icing all over his face though. Even after he had washed, it still felt sticky… until now.
Finally, they made it home, but Zoey was still asleep. He stepped out of the car and scooped her up in his arms. She woke up.
“Good evening, wife,” he teased and entered the door.
She yawned. “I can’t believe I slept all the way here.”
He lowered her on the couch and fixed her dress. She got rid of her wedding gown after the cake slicing part, but she wore another white dress with almost identical bodice, but shorter.
He caught a sight of her cleavage and he quickly pulled his eyes off it. This woman was tired. She couldn’t possibly accommodate his insatiable sexual appetite. Not tonight. He did not like the idea of a quickie either. That was just for amateurs who couldn’t control their orgasm.
“Should I take you to bed?” he asked.
She shook her head and sat upright. “Later.”
“Wine? Champaign?”
“Red wine. If you have.”
“Got it,” he said and headed for the kitchen. There was one bottle of red wine that he had kept in the fridge for a month now.
He returned to her and placed the bottle and two tall glasses on the center table. He poured the wine in the glasses and handed one to her.
They tossed before she took a sip. “It’s quite a day, isn’t it?” she asked.
He nodded. “So do you regret being Mrs. Troy Myers?”
“Oh.” She rubbed her forehead as she rested her head on the top of the couch. “I can’t imagine I am now sharing the name of my most hated player.”
He laughed and sat beside her. “Don’t tell me you still hate me until now.”
“I could have if you had not arrived for the wedding. I could have exposed all your antics as well.”
“That’s another reason why I had decided to come. I knew you could do that.”
Although weak, she laughed. “Well, now that all your plans have been accomplished, what’s next?”
“Hmm.” He thought for a moment. There was one more thing. This would be for his mother who suddenly changed from being an alcoholic to a doting grandma the moment she set her eyes on Bessie. Perhaps if he could give her a grandchild, particularly a boy, she would be even happier. “I’m thinking about having a baby.”
Her eyes widened. He was kidding, right? “Baby? Like adopt?”
“No,” he promptly shook his head. “My own baby, coming from my own sperm, to carry my own genes.”
She shrank backward. She already knew what he meant. “That isn’t a part of the deal.”
“I know,” he smiled at the horror on her face. He had taken her by surprise once again. “But we can make another deal. Besides, we’d be staying together for a year. It would be nice if we can accomplish something.”
“You consider making a baby an accomplishment?”
“That’s what married couples do.”
“Well, we’re not like any regular couples. We can’t make babies.”
He raised his eyebrow and swallowed the content of his glass. “Just let me know if you changed your mind,” he teased and winked at her. “I’ll see to it that I always have some reserves for you.”
She followed his finger pointing at his crotch. She rolled her eyes. “Jack it off with your hand. You won’t put a drop of that in me.”
“You think so?” he dared.
“Don’t try, or I’ll smash them.”
He laughed and laid his glass on the table. He knelt beside her and took his jacket off, and then he unbuttoned his shirt.
“Are you sure you don’t want it?” he taunted.
“Stop that,” he said, turning her head away as he bared his chest.
“I know you want to touch me, Zoey,” he said. “Remember what almost happened in your apartment? If Bessie had not come, you could have spread your legs for me right on the floor.”
She threw the content of her glass in his face. Fortunately, only a drop was left. It hit his lips and he just licked it off, annoying her further.
“You’re unbearable,” she said and stormed away from him. “Dipshit,” she added before climbing up the stairs.
He shrugged. It seemed he had upset her. He used to say those words to his women, but none of them reacted like how she just did.
Women. He never realized they were of different species. He may have to study this particular breed he just married.
*****
“Troy?”
Zoey peeked inside Troy’s private gym. She found him in the corner, with his back on her, reaching for a towel. He was topless, wearing only a pair of sweatpants.
“Yes, Mrs. Myers,” he replied as he wiped his face and neck. “Do you regret sleeping the night without me?”
“If that’s how you say good morning, then good morning, as well.”
He turned to her and smiled.
She lowered her gaze. She’d never seen him half naked before, aside from his billboard photos. She thought those sexy posters and billboards of him were photoshopped, but now she realized he looked even more marvelous in person.
He approached her, and before she knew it, he was already standing before her, with one arm raised over his head, holding on to the top of the door frame.
His biceps and shoulders bulged. His display of power overwhelmed her.
“So what do you think?” he asked.
She frowned, keeping her eyes on his face to save herself from the temptation of touching him. But even his eyes posed danger. They were so rich in blue like a deep mystical ocean. She wanted to dive through them to find out what sort of mysteries lingered beneath them.
“W-what do you mean?” she stuttered.
“My body. Is it good enough for you?”
She took a quick glance at his chest and abs. She could feel her cheeks burning. “You’re fine.”
“Just fine?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Look at it.”
“I just did.”
“Take a longer look. See which part of me do you think needs improvement.”
She obeyed, not because she asked her to but because it was her chance to fill her eyes with the sight of him, with his consent.
He had a perfect tan, which emphasized the contours and shapes of his muscles. They must be hard and smooth. Her fingers itched to touch them.
“So?” he asked, breaking her dreamy eyes off his body.
She quickly returned her eyes to his face. “I’m not sure.”
“You can touch.”
“Why?”
“So you’d know if I have some extra fats that need to be rid of.”
She did not move, even if that was exactly what she wanted to do. She suspected he was trying to manipulate her into something.
“Come on.” He took her hand and pressed it on his abdomen. “Feel it.”
With her gaze locked with his, she stroked him, relishing the feel of his hard muscles underneath her f
ingers. His skin was hot and moist with sweat. It burned her palm.
A smile pulled the corner of his mouth as he guided her hand lower to his body. She allowed him to. She was too enamored to resist anyway. But when he pressed her hand against his pants over a piece of hard flesh, which somehow had a shape distinct from his ab packs, she froze.
His dick! His hard, seasoned dick. Shit, it was huge!
His evil grin brought her back to reality. She pulled her hand off his grip and slapped his shoulder, pushing him away at the same time.
“Your breakfast is ready,” she said and turned away from him.
“I’d rather have something else for breakfast,” she heard him say, but she ignored him and headed for the kitchen.
“What a prick,” she uttered as she sat at the table, before her cup of coffee. She wiped her palm on her clothes as if to wipe off the sensation that still lingered there, but it didn’t help. The hard feel of his flesh still clung to her palm.
She took a deep breath and found herself smiling. That felt really huge. She wondered just how huge exactly it was.
Five minutes later, Troy walked into the kitchen, wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt.
Thank God she didn’t have to resist another temptation.
“I’ll get you another coffee,” she said and rose to her feet. His coffee went cold already. After she refilled his cup, she laid it in front of him.
He took a big bite from the tuna sandwich. “You made this?” he asked.
She nodded. “You bet.”
“Hmm. I didn’t expect you can cook.”
“I did not cook it. I just threw the ingredients in a bowl and stuffed them in between two slices. As simple as that.”
He nodded. “Not bad. Where’s Cora?” he asked, referring to his helper.
“I gave her a day off,” she replied. “Besides, she said she had to watch her son’s baseball game today.”
“Then who’s making lunch and dinner?”
“Leave it to me.”
He smiled. “Alright, do anything you want, but once I’ve sown my seed inside you, I won’t allow you to do any household chores.”
She sucked in a breath. “I did not agree to that.”
“Oh, yes, you did.”
“I said I’m not getting a drop of your dick juice.”
“Who says you’ll get a drop? You’ll be getting a whole month of load. For your information, I never had sex since the accident. My balls are about to burst.”
She froze in shock for a second or so. “Ah!” She tapped the table. “You’re the most disgusting prick I’ve ever met, Troy Myers. Your big dick is written all over your face.”
“How did you know I’ve got a big dick? That’s not written in the tabloids, is it?”
She growled and left. That was it. She could not possibly keep a nice conversation with him. She’d rather go check the backyard to see if there was something else she could do out there.
“So what are we going to do in one year?” he asked behind her. She realized he had followed her all the way to the garden. “Bore ourselves to death?”
She looked at him over her shoulders. “What about you fuck yourself to death?”
“Or fuck you to death?”
“Don’t start again. It’s been barely twenty-four hours since we’re married and now you’re pissing me off.”
“What are you so pissed about? I just wanted to have a baby.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Not even for twenty million?”
“Christ, will you stop shoving your money in my mouth. Your money is yours. I signed a pre-nup agreement and I’m expecting a generous divorce settlement after this. That’s good enough for me.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “What about I set you up on a date with Wayne?”
“I thought I didn’t have a chance with Wayne?”
“I lied.”
She sighed and pointed a finger at the door behind him. “Troy Myers, go back inside and eat your breakfast. Your coffee’s getting cold.”
He shrugged. “Yes, ma’am,” he said and headed back to the house. Before the door, he turned around again. “By the way,” he said aloud. “If you accept my offer, I’ll throw in a ball with my signature as a bonus.”
She rolled her eyes and sighed. Some things would never change. He was still a pompous prick.
Chapter 11
Zoey stretched her neck, searching through the crowd that had gathered at Kirk’s house. It was the Patriots’ running back’s birthday. Troy had taken her along with him, but left her in the company of some women half an hour ago.
Those women were the wives of some AFC Officials. They were rich and sophisticated, not to mention beautiful. Even if Troy had bought her a pretty expensive dress for tonight, she still felt like an outcast.
“There you are, you fucktard,” she whispered when she finally spotted him surrounded by a group of women. The son of a bitch was flirting with them. He was grinning from ear to ear as if he had forgotten he had left his wife in a group of strangers half an hour ago.
She squeezed through the crowd until she got to his place. “Excuse me,” she told the ladies and pulled Troy with her to the balcony.
“What were you doing flirting with those women? You just got married four days ago,” she scolded.
“Yes,” he nodded and took a small drink from his wine glass. He obviously looked drunk already. “With a wife I can’t even fuck.”
“Jesus, Troy.” She sighed. “Our deal was clear on that matter. It doesn’t include sex. You wrote that down yourself.”
“But it also doesn’t include prohibiting me from having sex with other women, does it?”
“You crazy?” she exclaimed and quickly looked around when she realized she had spoken too loud. There was only one person on the balcony with them, though, and he was busy talking with someone else on the phone she didn’t think he gave a damn about anyone else around him. “You just wiped your ass clean at the expense of your bachelorhood. Don’t you start shitting all over the place again.”
“Trust me, this time, my shit comes with a different aroma.”
“A shit is a shit, even if it smells like roasted pussy to you.”
He flinched, probably surprised at the words she said. “Does that recipe include hot, thick gravy?”
Her phone rang. She decided to ignore him and answered the caller. Anything than go on talking with this fucktard.
“Zoey!” Franki screamed from the other line. “It’s 32-29. It’s over.”
“What?!” Zoey couldn’t contain her excitement. Franki was talking about the Jets’ game against the Raiders that she didn’t finish because she and Troy had to attend this party. A few minutes ago, she had tried to get an update from Franki but her friend said it still wasn’t over and the scores were tied twice. “Who won!”
“The Jets won!”
She found herself screaming. “That’s 8-2 for the Jets. They’ll definitely make it to the playoffs.”
“No doubt about that. Hey, I’ve gotta go. The baby’s crying.”
“Thanks for the update,” Zoey said and lowered the phone.
“They won, huh,” Troy said with a hint of sarcasm.
She was dumbfounded when she happened to see Troy glowering at her. She had almost forgotten he was standing right beside her, and that he was a player from her team’s rival.
“S-sorry,” she said, but she quickly realized he didn’t deserve her apology, not after all the nasty things he had told her. “No, I’m not sorry. I’m a Jets avid fan. You knew that.”
He nodded. “Why don’t you celebrate here while I go enjoy myself somewhere else?” he said and turned away.
She was about to call him back so she could apologize again, for real this time, but she decided it would be better to let the matter slide away for now.
She went back inside the house and took a glass of wine from the bar. Standing at the corner like a scorned castaway, she watched Tro
y flirt and dance with one woman to another.
“Manwhore,” she uttered and quickly emptied her glass. She returned to the bar, and this time, she asked for brandy.
She didn’t usually drink, but she had nothing else to do. The guests all seemed very friendly. They would say hi or smile to her every time they passed by her, but no one really stayed long enough for a brief conversation.
She asked for another drink.
The music switched to slow. When she looked at Troy again, she saw a tall woman clinging to him, with their lips barely an inch apart. And that manwhore, he seemed to enjoy the soft feel of the woman’s huge breasts pressed against his chest.
She felt insulted. Her ears turned hot. But what right did she have to stop him? He was right. Nothing in the agreement prohibited him from having sex with other women.
“Another one, please,” she asked the bartender.
The young man smiled and refilled her glass. “I think you’d better get your husband out of there. He’s drunk.”
She looked at him and realized he was right, instead of standing here waiting for him to fornicate right before her eyes.
“Yeah,” she nodded and gulped down her drink. “Thank you.”
She walked towards Troy. She felt a bit tipsy, maybe because she was wearing a pair of two-inch heels while her injury had not yet fully healed. Or maybe because of the brandy.
It didn’t matter. She still could think clearly.
She wasn’t sure how she got the courage, but she found herself pushing the woman and her husband apart.
“Excuse me,” she told the woman, “but I think my husband owes me a dance.”
The woman gave her that killer stare, but left anyway.
Zoey laughed and clung to Troy’s shoulder. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”
He had no reaction. “You should have come earlier to take your rightful place.”
Her vision swirled. She blinked, but the more that her surroundings darkened.
What is happening? Did she drink too much?
She dropped her head against his chest. If she’d pass out, at least she knew Troy got her.
Chapter 12
Zoey felt her back being pressed against a soft mattress. She forced her eyes open. She found Troy on top of her.
