Hooked

by A. M. Hargrove

  “Randy, stop. He’s obviously tired.”

  “Then he’s not up to the challenge.”

  Riley starts to say something else, but fed up, I beat her to it. “You know, he might be your better option. Last thing I want to do is ruin your game.”

  I’m not a quitter, but I’ve had enough. Quite possibly if I’d had more sleep, I could have taken all the jabs he’s thrown at me all day. But right now, I want to slug the guy. Better to walk away than have Riley think me a violent man.

  “Mark, wait,” Riley calls.

  I don’t look back, because if I see her face, I’ll surely cave. And it’s in our best interest I leave now. So I lift a hand and wave goodbye.

  Following the cart path, I head back to the clubhouse and call the hotel for a ride back to The Sanctuary. Once there, before I can sleep, I read through the Wall Street Journal and Investor’s Business Daily. I check the trends for the day and make adjustments in my investment portfolio.

  Next, I check my email inbox, and I have a reply from one of the clients I responded to yesterday. I end up reading through his email twice. He wants me to continue working on his portfolio personally until I find another firm. His words, he doesn’t want to chance his money with anyone else. I grin to myself.

  Throughout the years, I’ve toyed with the idea of going at it on my own. However, the overhead and risk had been too high for me then. I’m no longer a rookie at this with lofty dreams. Now a seasoned guy, it’s something to consider.

  I send a quick reply to the guy that we should talk and come up with terms. It’s not as easy as me running his accounts on the side. It needs to be legal, so I can’t be sued for hacking into his account and doing crazy things he doesn’t agree to. I’ll have to contact a lawyer to draw up a contract.

  Just as I’m about to send an email to Ben Rhoades to tell him I’m in town, Riley comes through the door. I can’t tell if she’s pissed at me or at the world until she stops in front of me.

  “What the hell, Mark? Do you always leave when things get tough?”

  She has a right to her opinion since I didn’t complain that I hadn’t had enough sleep the last few nights between working and making love to her. I also don’t want to fight over something stupid like words said out of foolish anger.

  “Randy’s right. I’m not the right choice for you.”

  Holding her gaze, she chews on her lower lip, and I see some of the fight leave her. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “Randy was out of line.”

  “He’s got your best interest at heart.” As much as I hate the guy at the moment, that much I believe.

  “Still, he had no right to beat up on you all day. He’s worried I’ll be distracted like I was the last time I dated someone.”

  A part of me wonders whom she dated that fucked up her game, and if she still cares for that guy.

  “We’re dating?” I say instead, playing it off as a joke.

  “What do you call it? I’m not in the business of sleeping around. I’m not saying we’re on the path to marriage or anything, but I assume we’re at least exclusive.”

  I haven’t really thought about it. However, I don’t like the idea of her being with someone else.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  Steadfast in the point she wants to make, she ignores my comment.

  “Well, he sees you as an obstacle, a disruption to my game.”

  Scooting the chair back, I pull her down onto my lap because my need to touch her when she’s near overcomes me.

  “I get that you’re competitive and he wants you to be the best, but this is a charity event. He acts like this will somehow affect your golf ranking. And as much as I want to help you and be there for you to win like the winner you are, I’m not up to being chastised like a child for the next week to come.”

  She squirms on my lap, because while I spoke, I worked my hand under her shirt to cup her breast.

  “Believe me, I talked to him. He was under the impression that I was paying you, and therefore at his mercy as much as mine. I told him you refused payment, and to be honest, I think that made him respect you more.”

  “Honestly, I don’t care what he thinks of me. I care about you. And if I stayed there any longer, I might have taken our argument in a different direction.”

  I pinch her nipple, and she arches her back against me. “So you’d hit an old man.”

  She takes my other hand and puts it between her legs.

  “I didn’t want to, which is why I walked away.”

  Taking my fingers, she strokes them over her clit.

  “So you’re the bigger man.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere,” I joke.

  “I would laugh if I didn’t need you right now.” She places a kiss on my lips. “Did I ever tell you I don’t have any gag reflex?”

  If my dick hadn’t already been hard since she strode through the door, it would have gotten there now. She slides off my lap, never letting her eyes drift from mine. When she unzips my pants, junior pops out like a jack-in-a-box. I raise my hips, letting her tug my shorts down. My dick bobs until she circles her hand around it.

  When she takes me in her mouth, my muscles tighten in anticipation. The warmth of her makes my heart race, and all I want to do is bend her over the desk and fuck the shit out of her.

  On her knees, she shows me that she can manage to swallow me whole. It’s sexy as fuck. I cup the sides of her head and guide her up and down my length. She hollows her cheeks, forcing me closer to the edge. Pulling her free, I take her by the shoulders and spin her around.

  “I hate that we have to use a condom,” I mutter.

  “Me, too,” she says as I bend down to get my shorts and come up with a foil packet.

  “Always prepared, even if we are on the green.”

  “A guy can hope,” I say, tearing the foil.

  I don’t mention that I have every intention of fucking her on the course, one way or another. Quickly, I roll it on and seat her fully on me. But the furniture in front of us calls to me.

  “Grab the desk.”

  She does, and we lose the chair. I love watching her ass, but as I slide in and out, I need that connection between us. I pull out and turn her around. Then I press her back against the surface. I lift her legs at the knees and slide back in. I groan, louder than the sounds of her sweet moans. Her breasts bounce with our movement between us, so I lean over and suck one into my mouth. She bucks, wanting her clit to be stroked. I maneuver my hand between us to do just that. Then I take her mouth, stroking her tongue the same way I stroke between her legs until she’s vibrating around my dick. It doesn’t take long before I follow her into oblivion.

  We stay like that, panting for long minutes, until I kiss her one last time before helping her to her feet.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” she offers. “Join me.”

  “Give me a minute. I need to send out this email to Rhoades first.”

  “Are you really considering moving here to South Carolina to work?”

  “The interview is here, but the opportunity is to open a satellite office in Charlotte. You can’t get rid of me yet.”

  “Oh.” She looks relieved.

  I want to, but I don’t read anything into that yet. What we have is new. And what I’ve learned over the years is we‘re in the honeymoon phase of whatever is between us.

  “But the good thing is, after I send this email, I’m all yours. I’ve taken care of everything else for the day.”

  She frowns. “You’re still working.”

  I laugh. “I have to keep current with the trends and take care of my portfolio along with my families’. If I don’t keep up with what’s going on, I won’t be good for anyone to hire me.”

  “Wow, I guess I didn’t think about it. Is that why you were so tired today?”

  “You noticed?” Though she’d said it to Randy, I hadn’t been sure if she was making excuses for me, or if she knew the truth.

  She nods. “I
caught you yawning a few times. I thought maybe it was me.”

  I stand and circle my arms around her waist.

  “I’d gladly lose sleep for you.”

  “Really.”

  “Yeah, I’ll follow your lead, just how I let you kiss me that summer.”

  Incredulous, she narrows her eyes at me. “That’s not how I remember it. You were practically begging me to let you kiss me.”

  “Begging, huh?”

  “Absolutely, on your hands and knees and everything.” She laughs.

  “Truthfully,” I begin. “I kicked myself for days after you left wondering why in the hell I waited so long.”

  “Why did you?”

  Pushing a hand through my hair, I answer honestly. “Hell, I was sure you’d slap me when I told you.”

  “Slap you? I wanted to ask you what took you so long, and I might have if Ryder hadn’t have shown up.”

  I go in for the kiss, remembering that first time. There is an insatiable need in me every time I’m with her. So I pull back, otherwise we’ll never get any sleep tonight.

  “Go ahead and start the shower. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  I tap her sweet ass before she walks naked toward her bathroom, stirring my dick to life again. Down, boy. I need to write a professional email to Rhoades. Last thing I need to do is slip up and write some stupid shit because there’s not enough blood flowing to my brain. I think about the bear market we’re in right now, and that’s enough to have my dick softening. Then I compose my email. However, when I close my laptop, I hear the water running in the shower. That’s enough to make me picture a wet Riley waiting for me. And I practically jog to the bathroom, determined not to miss a second more of that.

  Riley

  It’s ten o’clock when we show up at the course. Randy isn’t there, so Mark and I do the usual of heading to the first tee. Things are more relaxed when my coach isn’t around. But it doesn’t last long. He meets us after the ninth hole, where we grab a quick bite to eat.

  “So, investments, huh?” Randy asks. He is totally checking Mark out, and it’s pissing me off. It’s not like we’re getting married or anything.

  “Yes, sir.” Mark isn’t giving him much, and I want to laugh. There is definite head-butt potential here.

  Randy then asks Mark, “So, how’s she hitting ’em today?”

  “I would think that’s a question you’d be asking her.”

  Randy squares his shoulders and says, “Normally I would, but I want to see if you’re up to par.”

  “Again, you should check with her on that.”

  Time to run interference. “Okay, gents, let’s take it down a notch. Randy, lay off. I’m hitting them damn good, actually. Mark is doing a great job, too. If you want answers, ask me. I’m a big girl, you know.”

  Mark wears a self-satisfied grin. He needs a little admonishing, too. “And, Mark, you have to understand Randy’s position. He wants me to be number one, so cut the old man a little slack.”

  “Old man?” Randy practically screams.

  “Come on. You know I’m just playing with you. But you are being antagonistic, so stop.”

  Randy wears a sheepish expression, so he’s gotten my point.

  “You two only have to get along until Sunday. And then you can hate each other all you want. But I need you to accommodate each other, for my sake, until this event is over. Can you do that for me? Please?” I flutter my eyes at both of them, and they chuckle.

  “Yes,” they both say. Then I wonder how Randy will act if I ever do decide to get married. I’m sure the lucky guy will have to walk over hot coals or broken glass with bare feet. Or even sleep on a bed of nails.

  My back nine is even better than the front, and Randy can’t stop complimenting me. “If you play this well, you might beat some of the men.”

  “I’d like to think that. It means more money for the kids,” I say.

  Mark and I get into our cart and Randy follows in his to the driving range. I don’t hit as many balls there as usual, but instead, head to the putting green. On the way, Mark asks if it would be much of a problem for me if he goes back to the room.

  “I emailed Ben Rhoades earlier, and he wants to get together while I’m down here for that interview. Since Randy’s here, I was wondering if you’d mind too much.”

  When I don’t immediately answer, he jumps in and says, “It’s okay. I don’t have to go.”

  “Of course, you have to go. But I also need you to know how to help me read the greens. That’s one of my biggest failures as a golfer.”

  “Then I’ll stay,” he says, grabbing my hand. “I don’t want to let you down.”

  “But this is a charity event. You need to go. It’s your livelihood.”

  “I’ll email him from here and tell him I’ll have to do it in the evening, that’s all.”

  “Why don’t you do this? Hit the putting green with me for a little while and then head back. Make your plans and do what you have to. I’ll be fine.”

  He hesitates, and I say, “Do it. This is an opportunity you should check out.”

  “Okay, I will.”

  While I’m practicing my putting, Randy gives Mark a few pointers before Mark leaves. Then I wrap up the day, and we head to the clubhouse.

  “How about a beer?” he asks.

  “Sure.”

  We’re seated at the bar, enjoying the view when I hear, “Riley, I was glad to see your name on the roster.”

  The voice sends a wave of anxiety laced with anger ripping through me. It’s the same voice that made all kinds of wonderful promises to me, and the one I heard moaning out some other woman’s name when I walked into his house for a surprise visit. I haven’t seen him since that night—the night he pretty much made me look like the biggest fool in the world.

  “I bet you were, Justin.”

  “You’re looking good.” Then he notices Randy sitting next to me. He dips his head and says, “Hi, Randy. Hope you’re well.”

  “Better than you are, I’m sure.”

  Randy says that because ever since we broke up, Justin’s career took a nosedive, while mine soared.

  “So, you here alone?” he asks.

  I can’t believe the douche wants to know that.

  “No. I brought my entourage.” Sarcasm weighs down my tone.

  “Your—” It sinks in, and he chuckles. The thing that kills me is that man is still hot. I wonder if he’s still fucking every woman he can get his fingers in and on.

  I reach for my beer, looking away, hoping he’ll leave. No luck there.

  “So, Riley, congratulations on your amazing year. You really knocked it out.”

  “Thanks,” I say, not the type to be a bitchface.

  Damn, if the man doesn’t order a beer and pull up a seat next to me. Randy kicks my leg.

  “So yeah, the Wilde twins dominated the sports news this year. Your brother rocked it, too, didn’t he?”

  “Sure did.” I hope my brief responses will clue him in. But no. As usual, the dumbass keeps yapping away.

  “The World Series. Holy shit. How cool was that?”

  “Very.”

  Randy is about to burst out laughing, and I have to flash him the stink eye, so he averts his gaze to the huge window and doesn’t even dare glance my way.

  Then the fidiot asks, “Did you get one of those cancer kids to play with you?”

  My fuse has reached the stick of dynamite it’s attached to, and I blow. “Justin, what in the actual fuck do you think we are all here for? Every golfer is assigned one of those cancer kids to play with, you moron. It’s a fundraiser for the Make-A-Wish Foundation. And each of those children has requested a certain golfer they want to play with. Why any of them chose you, I have no idea.”

  “Jeez, Riley, that’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

  “No, Justin, what’s harsh is that you don’t have a clue what’s going on here. And what’s even harsher is that those poor kids are dying, and one of thei
r last wishes on Earth is to play golf with us. It’s an honor, Justin. Treat it as one.”

  “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t think—”

  “See, that’s your problem. You don’t think.” I guzzle the rest of my beer because it’s time for me to get the hell out of here. I can’t be around this guy.

  “Randy, I’m headed back. You ready?”

  He jumps out of his seat, and we leave. When we get outside, to where the transportation stand is, he says, “Damn, Riley, you bit that poor guy’s head off.”

  I cringe, saying, “I know, but his stupidity grated on me to the point where I exploded.”

  “Do you think it was a little more than that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  The hotel van arrives, and we get in. Then Randy says, “Maybe you’ve been holding that anger in for all this time.”

  He has a valid point because I have. When it all went down, Justin saw me standing in the doorway. I ran out of there and he followed, saying the usual stuff—she’s nothing, I don’t love her, blah, blah, blah. But it was over, and I broke it off. Only I never let him have it. I was hurt at first, but the anger came later. Today was the manifestation of that.

  “You’re right. But he deserved it, especially after the comment he made about those poor kids.”

  “True, and you should’ve seen his face. Was he always that dimwitted?”

  “I guess so. Maybe I was blinded by his beauty.” And we’re both silent for a couple of seconds, right before I burst out laughing.

  “Riley, you could’ve handled it a bit better. He looked like he got hit in the head with a hammer.”

  “He did. The Wilde Hammer!”

  I chuckle the rest of the way back to the hotel, which is only about five more minutes. Randy doesn’t appreciate the humor, but I don’t care. I’m still chuckling when I get to my room, and Mark wants to know what’s so funny. Not wanting to get into the whole Justin story, I divert his attention by asking about his interview.

  His arm curls around my waist, and he says, “I actually have a breakfast meeting with him.” My heart falls. “But don’t worry. He’s meeting me out here at seven thirty. I told him what I’m doing, so he gets why my schedule is so cramped. I explained how I’d have to be finished by nine thirty. He’s promised we would. So I’m all yours afterward.”