Shot Caller (A Bad Boy's Baby Novel)

by Masters, Colleen

  “Go on,” Mad rasps, “Crawl for me.”

  I make my way across the wide sea of his bed, struggling to follow his orders when all I want is to impale myself on his thick, throbbing shaft. I can feel him kneeling on the bed behind me, pursuing me across the stretch of sheets and covers. Finally, as we come to the very center of his enormous bed, I feel his hands circle my waist, holding me still.

  “Stay,” he murmurs, running a hand along my spine.

  A moan rings out from my chest as his hand continues its journey, over the rise of my ass, down to that place between my legs. My back arches as I feel Maddox’s fingers trail along my slick pussy.

  “I love how wet you get for me,” he groans, tracing a slow, firm circle around my clit. “You wanna feel what you do to me?”

  “God yes,” I gasp, pulse quickening, “More than anything.”

  Maddox rolls my clit beneath his masterful fingers as he let the tip of his cock press against my pounding pussy. He holds himself there, poised and ready, until he feels me begin to tremble. I can feel an overwhelming, sinfully sweet orgasm mounting in my core as he rubs and strokes my clit, letting me feel his swollen head against my slit.

  “I’m right there,” I cry out, grabbing hold of the covers with my shaking hands.

  “I know,” he growls back. I can feel him gathering all his strength, just for me.

  My voice rises into the darkness as Maddox drives his massive cock into my eager body, unleashing that sensuous rush of pleasure that’s been building in my core. I come hard as he bucks his hips, letting me feel his manhood at my very core. My every muscle tightens around his thick cock as my orgasm sweeps through me, and I feel his fingers tighten around my waist.

  “You feel so good wrapped around my cock,” he groans.

  “Yeah?” I breathe.

  “Yeah,” he growls, as I press back against him with every pass.

  “I want to feel you fill me up,” I moan, as Maddox lowers himself onto me. His firm chest is flush against my back as he presses me into the bed, on the very edge of coming. “I want to feel every inch. Every—”

  “Fuck, I’m close…” he says through gritted teeth, our bodies bucking wildly as we each hold on for dear life.

  “Come,” I urge him, “I want you to—”

  His howling pleasure drowns out my voice as I feel his cock pulse deep inside of me. His last driving thrusts push me back over the edge, and I feel another wave of pleasure level me for good. Our bodies fall back against the bed as one, utterly spent. I can’t muster up a single word as Maddox wraps his arms around me, pulls my back against his heaving chest. At last, the cocktail of booze, sex, and exhaustion overwhelms us. The crashing waves beyond the window whisk Maddox and I off into a deep, sated sleep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Maddox

  All I can think as I peel my eyes open the next morning is, thank Christ it’s my day off. Between the several rounds of drinks and the mind-blowing fuck last night brought around, I’ll be lucky if I can even walk straight before noon.

  My arms are still wrapped snugly around Poppy’s naked, sleeping form. Her light brown hair is spread across my hotel room pillow, her tight body pressed flush against mine. Despite how completely zonked I am by last night, I can still feel my cock stiffening against her sleeping body, begging for another round. If I’m not careful, my need for this woman could very well kill me. But hell, I could think or worse ways to go.

  Poppy must be as beat as I am, because she doesn’t even stir as I slip my arm from beneath her and swing my legs over my side of the bed. The sheets and covers are in complete disarray from last night’s…activities. A trail of clothing leads toward the bedroom door and out into the living room. Stepping back into my boxer briefs, I stroll out into the suite to put on a pot of coffee. But just as I step into the very center of the living room, I hear the front door lock click open. Before I can move a muscle, the door clatters wide open.

  “Hellooooo!” my little sister Rose trills, all but skipping into my suite with a gigantic rolling suitcase trailing behind her.

  “Christ almighty,” I groan, shoving a hand roughly through my hair. I entirely forgot that Rosie was coming to stay with me for a bit. I even left her a spare key at the front desk so she could let herself in.

  “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Rosie replies, sliding her sunglasses up onto the crown of her head, “Especially not while you’re running around in your undies.”

  “You could have called to tell me when you were gettin’ in,” I grumble, continuing on toward the coffee maker, “Instead of just surprisin’ me, I mean.”

  “I did call you,” Rosie shoots back, trailing me into the kitchen, “I also emailed, texted, and tweeted. But someone’s been too busy conquering another football league to give his baby sis the time of day.”

  “Fair ‘nough,” I allow, pouring some water into the machine.

  “But speakin’ of surprises…” Rosie goes on, a wicked smile spreading across her face, “There is one little thing I may have failed to mention…”

  I whip around to face my sister. “What little thing is that, Rosie?”

  In answer, she turns expectantly towards the door of my hotel room. I follow her gaze just as another familiar face appears on the threshold.

  “All right, Mad?” asks Charlie Ainsworth, grinning ear to ear.

  I stare at the man who’s been my best mate since we were a couple of urchins roaming around the council estate. He’s grown up quite a bit since then, transforming from an underfed little kid to a burly, sturdy man. Charlie’s built like a bulldog, not too tall but very strong. He’s got black curls that trail down to his collar and perpetual scruff on his heavy jawline. But for all his toughness, Charlie’s the most loyal, dedicated man I’ve ever known. He was brought into the Hackney Firm just as I was, though he’s remained much more central to the organization than I have. Whereas I’m more of an occasional benefactor these days, Charlie is still right in the thick of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was running the whole damn Firm one day.

  “Charlie fuckin’ Ainsworth,” I bellow, striding across the room towards him, “What are you doing here, mate?”

  “Hold it, Walcott,” he laughs, strong-arming me as I go to give him a hug, “You’re gonna need to put some trousers on before I let you put your arms around me.”

  “I can live with that,” I grin back, giving Charlie a firm thump on the back, “But seriously, why didn’t I know you were comin’ along with Rosie?”

  “You think the Firm would let me hop across the pond to see you without sticking me with a chaperone?” Rosie asks ironically.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Rose,” Charlie winks over at her, “I just wanted to see how our boy was doing with my own two eyes.”

  “Is that really all, then?” I press my best friend conspiratorially. “You came all this way to just to pay a visit?”

  “Well…” Charlie allows, “I may also be doing a little casual reconnaissance for the Firm. Atlantic City is a great place to do business, you know. And now that we’ve got a man on the ground here…”

  “You know my foot soldier days are over, mate,” I remind Charlie, going to fetch a few coffee mugs from the cupboard.

  “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger,” Charlie laughs, holding up his hands, “Besides, it’s mostly you I’m here for, Mad. All the boys back home are glad to see you kicking some American arse over here.”

  “And landing some American arse too?” Rosie asks pointedly.

  I glance over and see her eyes land firmly on Poppy’s stilettos, lying haphazardly on the threshold of my bedroom. Ah, shit. Time to cover my arse—not to mention my trainer’s.

  “I’m a footballer, not a monk,” I shrug, pouring myself a cup of joe.

  “Who do you have in there?” Charlie asks, looking curiously towards my bedroom.

  “Just a girl I met at the casino last night,” I say, lying through my teeth, “You know how i
t goes.”

  “Mad, I wish I knew firsthand how it went for you,” Charlie laughs.

  “Bloody animals, the both of you,” Rosie mutters, turning on her heel, “I need a little lie-down after that flight. I’ll be next door in my room for a bit.”

  “Sounds good,” I tell her, trying not to sound too eager to be rid of her.

  “I’ll go track down my own room as well,” Charlie adds, following Rosie towards the door, “We’ll catch up later, yeah?”

  “Of course,” I tell him, “Go sleep off some of that jet lag and I’ll see you later.”

  I play it cool until the front door of my suite has shut behind them with a click. Setting down my mug, I go and do up the chain before any other unexpected visitors can pop in. But as I lean my back against the heavy door, I see a slim figure appear in the bedroom doorway across the suite.

  “Don’t mind me,” Poppy says lightly, padding across the living room in her bare feet, “I’m just a girl you met at the casino, in dire need of some coffee.”

  I watch her walk across the space, wearing nothing but one of my white tee shirts and some panties. It occurs to me, as she pours herself a cup of joe, that I haven’t had a morning-after run-in for years. I’m not really a stay-the-night kind of bloke, myself. Nor do I have much interest in having my one night stands sleep over. But last night, the thought of bailing or kicking Poppy out of my bed didn’t even occur to me. It’s not like I was blackout drunk, or anything. I definitely could have booted her out of my room. But I guess I just…didn’t really want to. And now that I’m watching her gorgeous self walk around my place, barely clothed, I can certainly understand why.

  “Sleep all right?” I ask her, making my way into the kitchen.

  “Sure, until your entourage showed up,” she replies, leaning back against the counter, “Who were those two anyway?”

  “Just my little sister Rose and my best mate Charlie,” I tell her, “They’ve come over to visit for a bit.”

  “Wow…” Poppy says, cocking her head at me, “That’s… uncharacteristically sweet.”

  “You sound surprised,” I observe, planting a hand on the counter to either side of her, boxing her in before me.

  “Well,” she replies, trailing a hand down my chest, “‘Sweet’ wouldn't be the first word I’d use to describe you. Especially not after the hard fucking you gave me last night.”

  A smile spreads across my face as Poppy toys with the elastic waistband of my briefs. This woman is insatiable.

  “You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself,” I murmur, leaning in so she can feel my stiffening cock against her hip.

  “Sure I did,” she breathes, flicking her brown eyes up to meet mine, “I like my coffee strong, my wine dry, and my sex good and hard. I don’t really go in for sweet.”

  “Good,” I growl, lifting the coffee mug from her hand and setting it down hard on the counter, “Because nothing I want to do to you is sweet.”

  Poppy gasps as I spin her around, bending her over the kitchen counter. Our knickers are back around our ankles before she can even say, “Oh, fuck yes.”

  One thing’s for sure—whoever said that the best part of waking up was your morning cup of coffee never took the time to fuck someone dirty while the coffee went cold. I, for one, highly recommend it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Poppy

  I have more sex over the next few weeks than I've had over the course of my entire adult life. Look at me, mad for the Mad Man. To give credit where credit is due, Maddox is far more discreet about our affair than I could have imagined. I guess that when you’re as famous as he is, you learn how to cover your tracks pretty damn well. If I thought our sexting habit was an exciting, intoxicating secret to hold between us, I could never have guessed how thrilling it would be to hide a full-blown affair from the entire world. And make no mistake, the entire world is watching.

  Though work could obviously be a huge complication in this sexy arrangement, it also provides a pretty excellent cover for my rendezvous with Maddox. It’s perfectly reasonable for us to stay after hours together and work on his physical fitness. Or for me to stop by his hotel to take a look at a potential injury. Or for us to go out with the guys after a game or practice. We even find that we can be friendly with each other while we’re on the job without attracting suspicion. In fact, Glover is glad to see what good bedside manner I have with the players.

  If only he knew the extent of it…

  The only person who seems suspicious of my easy rapport with Maddox and the rest of the team is Barry O’Leary. Ever since he made that crappy call about Barlow a few games ago, Barry has had it out for me. He watches me like a hawk, critiquing every single decision I make. Not exactly the best conditions for carrying on an illicit affair. But Maddox and I become pros at keeping our secret as the weeks fly by. Our time together is too important to jeopardize.

  Little by little, I start to learn more about Maddox Walcott, the man. Even though most of our alone time is spent fucking each other into oblivion, we manage to squeeze in some light conversation here and there. I tell him about my WASPy Manhattan upbringing, he tells me about growing up in London’s equivalent of the projects. I describe my emotionally abusive mother; he comes back with tales about his physically abusive father. I even get to spend some time with Mad’s sister Rosie and best friend Charlie when the team goes out as a group. Little do they know that I was the girl in Mad’s bed the morning they arrived.

  The days roll over me as I come to know Maddox Walcott’s body as well as my own—every perfect, chiseled inch of it. Sex with Mad is a full-body experience, an endurance sport if I ever knew one. Nothing I do or want is too much for him, and he challenges me every single day. Not just in the sack, mind you. But in my work, in conversation. He pushes me to be more assertive, more decisive, more firm in my opinions. Somehow, this arrogant, swaggering bad-boy is actually doing wonders for my self-confidence and happiness. Wonders never cease.

  One Sunday morning in April, just a little over three weeks since we first kick started our affair, Maddox and I are lying in a pile of jumbled blankets on the floor of my beach house living room. We didn’t even make it upstairs last night, so eager were we to have each other. Mad is still asleep as I roll over to face him, moving slowly as to not wake him. His face is entirely transformed in sleep. The hard, assertive mask he wears all day long is lifted. His features are softer, relaxed. He looks like an entirely different person… or maybe just the person he is underneath all his swagger and rage.

  I have to admit, as I lay here watching Maddox Walcott sleep, that some genuine affection is starting to color my feelings for him. Sure, this whole affair is still mostly just that to me—a lusty, passionate fling that will surely never grow into anything more substantial. But some little part of me is starting to truly like Maddox, despite all my good sense. The more I learn about his past, his ambitions, his demons and his strengths alike, the more I have to ask myself whether I really just want sex out of this relationship, or something more?

  “Jesus Christ,” Mad growls as his eyes crack open, “What’re you staring at me for, you bloody weirdo?”

  “Good morning to you too, sunshine,” I say, rolling my eyes as I sit up in our makeshift nest. “You want some breakfast before you steal away into the shadows?”

  “I am starving,” Maddox says, pulling himself up onto his elbow, “But there’s no way I’m risking my life with your cooking again.”

  “Hey!” I exclaim, giving him a playful shove, “I’m a perfectly…adequate cook.”

  “You can barely boil water, and we both know it,” Mad shoots back, standing to collect his clothes. I drop my protestations at the sight of his perfectly muscled naked body. I’m content to cede my point if it means I get to ogle him for an extra few seconds.

  “Tell you what,” he offers, stepping into his jeans, “Why don’t we go out instead?”

  “Out?” I echo, “You mean out into the world? Together?
As a…couple?”

  Maddox groans in disgust. “No, not as a bloody couple,” he says, “As two people who both need to eat food every once in a while.”

  “What I meant was, we could be mistaken for a couple,” I clarify. “It’s like you tell me all the time, prying eyes are everywhere.”

  “Not at some shitty New Jersey diner at 6 o’clock in the morning,” he replies.

  “That’s your pitch? Wow. You really do know how to show a girl a good time,” I scoff.

  “Fine. You can stay here with your burnt toast and slimy eggs,” he says, zipping up his hoodie, “S’no skin off my nose.”

  “Wait, wait,” I grumble, hurrying back into last night’s clothes, “I need a good Jersey diner fix. I’m coming with you.”

  Maddox and I trek out into the April morning side-by-side. The sun is just beginning to brighten the sky, and a warm breeze brushes against my face as we step out onto the boardwalk. Looking down the stretch of beachfront, I can see the small residential houses give way to the grand extravagance of Atlantic City. The antiquated architecture of the roaring 20’s still stands, here and there, run through with towering casinos and hotels. I wonder how many other pairs of forbidden lovers have made their way along this very boardwalk?

  This is a first for Maddox and I, stepping out together first thing in the morning. Usually, we make sure to part ways before anyone has the chance to spot us together. But Maddox is right, we have nothing to worry about. The only other people out and about this early in the morning are a couple of very devoted joggers, and they’re sure to be more invested in their Fitbits than the two of us.