Savage: A Pro Football Romance

by Michaela Scott

  Meagan looks down the hallway for a few more seconds with a conflicted expression on her face. Then, her brow furrows in anger, and I can practically see Dr. Larson’s yelling face reflected in her glasses.

  “You know what?” she says, her hand shooting towards her key ring, “Burn it down.”

  She slams the keys into my hand, and instantly, I break off into a full sprint towards the door Meagan locked a couple of minutes ago. The more of a head start I can get before every doctor in this whole fucking clinic comes down on my head, the better.

  I round the corner, flying down the hallway with the keys in my hand. Then, when I reach the one that I opened earlier, I slam the key into the lock, twisting it until it clicks and throwing it open.

  There’s a pretty normal-looking storeroom on the other side of the door…but I’m not worried. Not after seeing the look in Dr. Larson’s eyes when he saw me opening it. I’ll get what I’m looking for in here…I just have to find it.

  Hearing the sound of footsteps running down the halls behind me, I storm into the supply room, ripping open the cardboard boxes that line the metal shelves. I don’t have time to sort through this shit before someone calls security on me, so I just need to get as much of it onto the floor as possible.

  With one motion, I rip the side off a cardboard box, and thirty IV bags tumble down to the floor. Then, I rip the one next to it, sending a bunch of rolls of bandages down on top of the IV bags. And as I hear the footsteps outside getting closer and closer, I pull an entire shelf’s worth of boxes down onto the floor and tear open as many as I can until finally, taped to the bottom of one of the empty, shredded boxes, I see a little plastic bag full of syringes like the ones I saw the doctor carrying past us.

  Only these ones are full. And they’re definitely what I’m looking for.

  Heart pounding in my chest, I take a second to get into position like I do out on the field as I watch the supply room door. Then, right as it opens, I rip the bad of syringes off the bottom of the box and leap over the mountain of medical supplies, blowing right past the doctor who was opening the door and sprinting down the hall towards the waiting room.

  And that’s when Dr. Larson himself steps around the corner.

  “Security!” He roars, before stepping into the hallway to block my path.

  Typical Dr. Larson. Doing everything he fucking can to get between me and Cassie one last time. I honestly have to give it to him; not a lot of people have the balls to step in front of me when I’m running at a full sprint and try and stop me.

  Unfortunately for him, there’s a reason for that. After all, I’m Brady fucking Mack.

  So as he lunges out to try and snatch the plastic bag from my hands, I lower my shoulder and charge into his chest, laying him out on the ground and trying to run over him towards the hall that leads to the waiting room. He manages to get one hand on my ankle, then the other one, holding on for dear life as he tries to slow me down long enough for security to catch up to us.

  And honestly, he’s pretty fucking strong for his age. I take two powerful steps down the hall, and he’s still hanging onto me.

  As I drag Dr. Larson into the hallway intersection, I see two huge security guards charging towards me.

  “Grab him!” Dr. Larson shouts from the ground, “Grab the bag out of his hand!”

  When the guards realize I’m holding a bag of syringes, they start running even fucking faster. Watching them run, I’m pretty sure they’ve both played a little football before, so I need to get Dr. Larson off me before they get too close.

  Or, actually, maybe I don’t. Maybe all I need to do is get Dr. Larson to let go, at which point, I beat these two in a race to the clinic doors.

  I kick against Dr. Larson’s hands one more time for good measure, dragging him out into the hallway. Then, as the guards barrel down on me, I grab Dr. Larson by the wrists and start dragging him towards the waiting room door.

  And if he wants to save his illegal steroid clinic, all he has to do is keep holding onto me. With him hanging off of me, I can make it into the waiting room, but I probably can’t make it out the door.

  But I know Dr. Larson well enough to know he’s not going to do that. He needs to show everyone around him he’s the boss, and if his staff and patients saw him getting dragged across the ground, they might not be so scared of him next time he wants to go on a power trip. So just like I expected, as soon as I reach the waiting room doors, his hands let go of my ankle.

  And I’m gone.

  Everyone but Meagan at the front desk jumps as I burst into the waiting room, two security guards hot on my trail. Cassie, brochure still in her lap, shoots me an adorably confused look as I sprint towards her, scooping her up in my free arm. At this point, the guards are insanely close to tackling distance, so with Cassie tucked into my body and her arms wrapped around my neck, I launch myself over two back-to-back rows of chairs, hitting the ground hard on the other side and sprinting with everything I have towards the door.

  I bought a little bit of time with that jump, but as I take the last couple of steps towards the door, the guards gain ground on me, reaching out to try grab onto my shirt or Cassie’s jersey and keep us in the clinic.

  But fuck that. No one’s keeping us anywhere anymore.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of the guards launch himself off his feet, trying to spear tackle us before we reach the door, apparently not even caring that if he does, he’s probably going to send all three of us through the fucking glass.

  And as I make one last push towards the handle of the door, I feel time slow down around me, like it always does when I’m inches away from the end zone.

  Gritting my teeth, I launch myself forward with every step, hand reaching out for the door handle as I feel the guard make contact with my back. I can feel Cassie’s heart beating through her jersey almost as hard as mine is, and, knowing it’s the only way to avoid getting tackled by the guard, I launch myself up in the air, leaving my feet in one last desperate leap.

  The guard slams into my back as his arms try to wrap around me and bring me to the ground.

  But he’s just a second too late.

  Because as I slam into the handle of the door, blowing it open, I have just enough space between me and the guard to start fucking sprinting the second I hit the clinic sidewalk, and as soon as I start, he can’t hold on, landing hard on the ground as I leave him in the dust.

  And I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see a million cameras pointed at me.

  “You guys want a real story?” I ask the crowd of journalists as I run past.

  A bunch of cameramen start running alongside me and Cassie as I carry her across the clinic parking lot.

  Smiling for the cameras, I toss the plastic bag to the nearest reporter with a free hand. “Here. Story of the year.”

  The reporter catches it, almost dropping it when he sees it’s full of syringes.

  “Is this what I think it is?” He asks, squinting into the bag.

  “Yep,” I say, and as the cameras pack in tight around us, I turn to address them. “Have fun.”

  As word passes through the parking lot about what’s in the bag, the camera operators running alongside us stop in their tracks and turn their cameras towards the reporter who caught it. That should buy us a little privacy for the next couple hours.

  But I keep running anyway. I run off the parking lot and straight onto the beach, and I keep running until Dr. Larson’s clinic is a tiny little dot on the horizon. And when we’re finally fucking alone, I let Cassie down and drop onto my back, breathing hard like I just played an entire fucking game.

  Cassie sits down next to me, catching her breath and laughing as she looks down at me. “Have you ever thought about not doing everything in the craziest, most dangerous way possible?”

  I grin up at her. “Hey, it fucking worked. And besides, I felt your heart beating the whole way out here. You fucking loved it.”

  Cassie rolls her
eyes, but she can’t keep the smile off her face. “Okay, it was a little fun. Do you think it’s going to work?”

  I shrug. “Who knows? But hey, Super Bowl or no Super Bowl, I know one thing. We make a good fucking team.”

  Cassie squeaks as I grab her and pull her down on top of me, our lips meeting in a deep, deep kiss.

  A team. I didn’t realize that’s what we were until the past couple days, but it’s true. I also didn’t realize how fucking good that feels until just now, kissing my new teammate on the sand.

  And call me crazy, but after everything we had to go through to get here…the two of us just might be going all the way.

  Chapter 23: Cassie

  “Brady, wait, we don’t have time for—mmh!”

  The TV remote I was holding bounces off the mattress and onto the floor as Brady’s massive arms snap my legs open and he brings his face down between my legs.

  I bite my lip as I look at the clock beside Brady’s bed as he bathes me with the heat of his breath. The commissioner is supposed to be making an announcement any minute now about whether or not he’s decided to reverse our suspensions, but about ten seconds ago, I made a joke about Brady being out of shape for the Super Bowl because while the rest of his team has been battling their way through the playoffs, he’s spent most of his time since getting back from Oceanside in bed with me.

  And now, my panties are hanging off the doorknob, Brady’s mouth is on my clit, and my eyes are rolling all the way back in my head.

  Arching my back, I grab Brady’s hair and moan his name as he pins my butt up against the headboard of the mattress to get a better angle.

  Somehow, even after a couple weeks of this, I’m still shocked at how he can turn me into a shuddering, squirming mess in a matter of seconds whenever he wants, and even thought his lips and his tongue are lighting every molecule of my body on fire right now, I really don’t want to miss the commissioner’s announcement.

  “Brady…we’re going to…mmh…we’re going to miss it!”

  Brady pulls his mouth an inch away from my heat and looks up at me.

  “Fifteen seconds,” he says with a smirk, before going right back down and picking up where he left off. It’s not the first time he’s told me exactly when he’s going to make me come in the past couple days, but it’s definitely the most ambitious.

  I open my mouth to tell him that even he’s not that good, but the only thing that comes out is a ridiculously high-pitched moan as Brady’s hands go from the inside of my knees to the outside of my hips, squeezing my thighs together against his stubbly cheeks as he slowly, steadily starts to pick up the pace.

  And you’d better believe I’m counting to fifteen in my head. Sure, he might send me over the edge in twenty seconds…okay, maybe seventeen because he’s trying so hard. But fifteen? That’s just crazy.

  Okay, nine…ten…my heels dig into the massive muscles of Brady’s back as I try and get to sixteen. My hands grab the back of his head, but that just makes him lick even faster. By the time I hit thirteen seconds, I can feel it coming, and all I can hope to do is hold out for just one second of bragging rights.

  But it’s no use. The second fourteen turns into fifteen in my mind, my toes curl and my face shoots up towards the ceiling, feeling my whole world ignite as Brady finishes me off exactly when he said he would.

  “Any more smart little comments?” Brady asks, hopping up from between my legs to press his ripped, shirtless body up against mine as I start to come down. Normally, this would be the part where he’d grab my hips and slide me onto his cock, taking his time as he watches me take every inch…but right now, we have an announcement to watch, and we’re already fifteen seconds late.

  I shake my head. “Nope,” I say, between hard, panting breaths, “Clearly, you’re still in good shape. Now let’s watch the announcement.”

  Leaning over the side of the bed to pick the remote off the carpet, I bite my lip as Brady pulls me up onto the edge of the bed, wrapping a powerful arm around my hips as I turn on the TV.

  And luckily, the commissioner’s podium is still empty. Is that a bad sign, or is he just running late?

  “Here it is,” I say, “The moment of truth.”

  “Yeah,” Brady says, “But like I said, if they keep me out of the Super Bowl, we’re not losing a fucking game next year. And besides, if I don’t have to get on a plane tomorrow, we can spend the rest of the fucking month up here.”

  My eyes go wide as I think about the possibilities. That’d definitely be a pretty good consolation prize.

  “Besides,” Brady says, holding me tight to his side, “There’s more to life than football. At least, there is now.”

  I look up into Brady’s fiery blue eyes, noticing something a little different behind them. But before I can look too deeply, our eye contact is interrupted by the flashing of a bunch of cameras on TV as the commissioner steps out of the doors of the league headquarters and walks up to the podium.

  I’ve never actually seen the commissioner before; I always pictured him as a mean-looking, fun-hating old man, but he’s surprisingly young…and he looks like he hasn’t slept in a week.

  “Welcome to Super Bowl week,” he says, flashing a weak, tired smile, “Despite everything that’s going on, I’m confident that the Kings and the Lightning are going to give us a hell of a game this Sunday. I’ll be taking questions at my scheduled press conference tomorrow afternoon, but I won’t be taking any today. Instead, I’m just going to make a statement on the…on the Mack case.”

  He looks down at the podium and shakes his head. I bite my lip in concern and lean a little closer to the TV.

  “As you know, this year the league adopted a new discipline policy designed, among other things, to keep players from entering into inappropriate relationships with team employees. And, as you also likely know, a few weeks ago that policy was very publically violated by one of our most visible players, causing that player to be suspended. And then…while on suspension, the player and the employee that broke the policy…took it on themselves to do a little investigative journalism, and uncovered some…things…that shook the foundations of the entire league.”

  I go up for a high five, and Brady gives it to me, looking surprisingly calm for someone watching a huge announcement being made about his future. Nervously, the commissioner takes a deep breath, and then continues.

  “Since that news broke, there’s been a little bit of a movement among football fans to let the player who broke the scandal play in the Super Bowl as some kind of reward for exposing one of the league’s darker secrets…and although the actions of the two league employees involved will ultimately make our sport better and our players healthier…it doesn’t nullify the fact that they broke their contract, so it doesn’t make any sense to undo their punishments because of what they did.”

  My heart sinks as the commissioner rejects our appeal, but when Brady sees me looking down at the bedroom floor, he lifts my chin up gently with his hand, guiding my face back to the TV screen.

  “Not so fast,” he says.

  Meanwhile, the commissioner continues. “But,” he says, “I did have a conversation over the phone with the player in question, where he explained some of the details of the situation. He asked me to read a statement at this press conference, and I’ve decided to honor his request. So, without further ado, here it is:”

  Pulling a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket, the commissioner opens it up and looks down, reading off the words. “‘Hey commish! It’s me, Brady, your favorite player. Sorry to hear about your cousin’s divorce. Until I heard the news, I thought she knew Dr. Larson was pumping half the league full of dope, and honestly, I thought you did, too. But hey, if you really didn’t know about any of this, maybe you’re not such a bad guy after all. Maybe you’re just new, and you’re scared of what might happen if you don’t make sure everyone constantly follows the rules all the time.’”

  At first, Brady tries his hardest to hold bac
k his laughter as his words come out of the commissioner’s mouth. But as the commissioner starts reading the next part of the statement, I can feel him getting more serious next to me.

  “‘But here’s the thing: rules can only take you so far in life. At a certain point, if somebody’s rules are stopping you from being happy, you have to break them. So that’s what I did with your contract. I met someone who makes me happy in ways I honestly never thought I could be, and when your rules told me I couldn’t have that happiness and keep playing football, I broke your rules. And it was the best decision I’ve ever made. So if you decide to stick to your guns and keep the two of us off the team, then go right ahead. In that case, I can only hope that you’ll learn your lesson someday soon, maybe when the next football star gets suspended for finding someone who makes them happy. But if you let us back on the team, here’s what I can promise you: the girl I ‘broke the rules’ with? She’s not going away. Whether I win the Super Bowl five years in a row or never win another game, she’s going to be there. Because I love her. And if I can’t play your sport because of who I love, then I don’t want to play it at all.’”

  By the time the commissioner finishes reading Brady’s statement, I’ve got tears running down my cheeks. I look up at Brady, who immediately brings his mouth down on mine, pulling me into a kiss that I never want to end.

  “Since the whole world’s already seen us kissing, I thought they should know the whole story,” Brady says, embers glowing in his pale blue eyes as he wipes a happy tear off my cheek, “And so should you. I love you, Cassie. And I always fucking will.”

  I lean up to kiss him again, but before I can, the commissioner starts to speak again, and I slowly turn towards the TV to listen to the end of his statement.

  He takes another deep breath, emotional from reading the end of the statement. Then, he looks up at the crowd of reporters in front of him. “And he’s right. I wanted to send a message in my first year running this league, but what kind of message would it be if I kept two people out of the Super Bowl because they fell in love? So for that reason, Kings fans…I have good news. From this point forward, Brady Mack is immediately reinstated onto the roster of the San Diego Kings, and Dr. Cassandra Parker is immediately reinstated onto their medical staff. I’ll be taking your questions about this and anything else tomorrow at my regularly scheduled press conference, but for now, I just want to say…Brady, if you’re watching this…thank you for the advice about rules. I hope in the seasons to come, you’ll find that I’ve taken it to heart.”