Sly Bullhorn Brodsky

by Jean C. Joachim

“I came to have dinner with Samantha, Tiff. She’s my girlfriend.”

  “Yeah. I got that.”

  “Good. Remember it.”

  Samantha’s gaze shot from Tiffany to Sly and back again.

  “You don’t have to be nasty. Maybe someday you’ll take me to the place where you got those burgers.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Someday,” Sly muttered, tucking into his dessert.

  Tiffany sauntered over to the table. “Can I have a taste?” Not waiting for an answer, she plucked the fork from his grip and took a healthy chunk. It was gone before he could object.

  “I was just going out to get something to eat. You wouldn’t want to give me a lift, now would you, Bull?”

  “There’s a diner on the corner. Food’s very good. Reasonable too,” Sam put in.

  “I’m not finished. Try the diner, Tiffany.”

  She made a face then turned slowly. “I’m sure you don’t want to be seen with me. People might think you did this.” She indicated the bruises on her face.

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass what people think. I’m here to be with Sam. Get that straight.”

  “Okay, okay. You don’t have to get huffy. I get it. You prefer her to me.”

  Bull let out a long breath. “It’s not like that. You and I have been over for a long time. You’re married, remember? There is no ‘us’ anymore. Your choice. And now, it’s my choice to keep it that way. Let’s be clear about that.”

  “So, you’re deserting me, when I have no one?” Her eyes watered.

  He made a face. “I’m not deserting you. But you have to get your own life back together. Call your lawyer. Do whatever you have to. But leave me out of it. I’ll be there at your trial, testifying. I got you in here. That’s it, Tiffany.”

  “She does look a whole lot better than I do.”

  “Don’t go there. Leave Samantha alone. She’s nice enough to take you in here.”

  “I get it. I get it. Yeah. Okay. I’ll leave her alone. I hope you’ll both be very happy together,” Tiffany snapped. With a sour expression on her face, she went through the door, slamming it behind her.

  Samantha sighed. “Thank God.”

  “She’s not finished.”

  “Really?” Sam turned to him.

  “You don’t know Tiffany. When she wants something, she doesn’t give up easy.”

  “She can’t have you. You’re mine. And I’m keeping you.”

  He grinned. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Get that through your head. You’re mine.”

  “Music to my ears, baby.” He leaned over to kiss her.

  Samantha and Sly stuffed the empty containers back in the bag and cleaned up the table.

  “Will you stay over Friday night?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Good. What time should I pick you up?”

  “I close up at ten.”

  “I’ll be here at ten on the dot.” He pulled her into a quick embrace. “Love you, honey,” he whispered.

  “Me too,” she replied.

  He took one last look at her before heading to the parking lot. As he drove past the diner, he glanced in and saw Tiffany sitting at the counter, next to some man, laughing. He smiled. She’ll find someone else and fast. Tiffany can take care of herself. The muscles in his neck relaxed a bit as he drove home.

  * * * *

  Friday couldn’t come fast enough for Samantha Drake. She had passed an evening with Devon and Stormy, who arrived with dinner, just like Bull. While she knew she needed her own place, she missed living with her brother and her best friend. He was funny, silly, and annoying, all at the same time.

  Friday morning she dressed with care, selecting a sexier top and higher heels. Her whole body tingled at the thought of a night with Bull. And they could sleep in. At least for a little while. Bull had a warm up and practice on Saturday morning for Sunday’s game. But that wasn’t until ten. She sat back in her chair in her cubicle and closed her eyes. Thoughts of snuggling and making love with Sly turned the heat up. Sweat broke out on her upper lip.

  She took a valise down from her closet shelf. After hesitating for a moment, she packed the small bag with essentials for her overnight—makeup, toothbrush, sexy nightie, robe, and a change of clothes. It’s been a long time since I planned to spend the night at a man’s place. Harry was the last one. I hope this doesn’t end up like that. A frown passed over her features. Sly’s not like Harry.

  Excitement at the thought of making love with Sly then sleeping in his bed bubbled through her. While still reluctant to commit to him in words, in her heart the commitment was already made. The lineman was sweet, treated her like gold, and appeared to be faithful. Now that she wasn’t seeing Devon every day, her mind cleared of his negative comments. The lineman her brother saw was different from the one she knew. At least, it seemed that way.

  She added a hairbrush, perfume, and body lotion then zipped the bag up. She dumped it in the trunk and drove to work. The day dragged then all of a sudden, it was five o’clock. She packed up and headed for her car. Some nights, she stopped at the diner for dinner to go. This evening, she swung by The Savage Beast. She had a taste for Carla’s special burger.

  “You want this to go?” the attractive waitress asked.

  “Yep. Gotta work tonight.”

  “Haven’t seen you in here much lately. Everything okay?”

  “I took a three month, evening job. To help out and earn a little money. I’ve got a new apartment and no furniture.” She laughed.

  “Makes sense,” Carla replied as she filled the bag.

  “I love your food.”

  “Thank you.”

  Sam took the sack, paid Carla, and returned to the shelter. Hunger gripped her belly as she practically inhaled the meal. Then, time began to drag. She tried to read, but couldn’t concentrate. A couple of women came in and asked for information. Two from the shelter wanted a restaurant recommendation. Sometimes, the ones who stayed there became friends. Samantha loved that—women pulling together and supporting each other through times of crisis.

  She hadn’t seen Tiffany, which made her day better. Sam didn’t trust her. Although Sam empathized with her plight, she refused to hand over Sly Brodsky. Of course, she didn’t own him, but according to him, they were a couple.

  Are we exclusive? Committed? We haven’t discussed that. She chewed her lip and knit her brows, lost in thought, when the door opened.

  “Worried?”

  “Just thinking,” Sam said, turning toward Tiffany.

  “You’re dressed up. Got a late night date?”

  “How are you doing? Are you comfortable? Have you tried the diner?”

  “I see. Not answering any personal questions. I get it. If I were you, I wouldn’t either.” Tiffany ambled toward the exit, pulling her key from her pocket. “Don’t get too used to him. He might not be yours for long.”

  Anger flashed through Sam. She bit her lip hard to keep from retaliating. Tiffany shot her a glance before leaving. Fury bubbled up inside the brunette. That bitch! She’ll never get him.

  Samantha paced, talking to herself to calm down. She checked her watch. Almost ten. She returned to her desk to freshen her makeup.

  When the outer door opened, she spoke, “Right on time. Great to see you.”

  “Really? You were expecting me?”

  The unfamiliar voice snapped Sam to attention. She turned questioning eyes to a man standing in the doorway. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Clyde Belden, and I’m here for my wife, Tiffany.”

  Chapter Ten

  Samantha couldn’t hide her surprise. “What?” Her eyes widened.

  “You heard me. I’m here for Tiffany. I’m her husband. She has to come with me. It’s the law. So, go get her. Tell her I’m here.” He lounged against the doorframe and pulled out a cigarette while his other hand located a book of matches.

  “There’s no smoking here. I can’t confirm or deny whether your wife is here or not. Men ar
e not allowed on these premises. Please leave.” She slid her hand under her desk, feeling for the panic button that would alert the police. Her heartbeat increased when she couldn’t locate it.

  The thin man wore faded jeans and a hoodie. His dirty blond hair was stringy, hanging just below his ear. He had a sharply pointed nose, like a bird’s beak, and light brown eyes that darted around the room. He appeared to be looking for something. He slid the cigarette behind his ear, and his lips compressed into a thin line as his gaze finally settled on her.

  Tiffany picked this loser over Sly? She must be crazy.

  “Oh, she’s here all right. Where else would she be? Maybe at Brodsky’s place?”

  As if on cue, Bullhorn pushed open the door. The light of recognition lit up his eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?” He entered as her hand found the button. She pulled away, relieved that she didn’t need to call in the police.

  “I’ve come for Tiffany.” Clyde glanced at Sly then looked away.

  “I explained to him that we can’t give out any information about who is staying here. I can’t confirm or deny. He’ll have to leave.”

  “You heard the lady.” Sly’s body stiffened. His hands fisted at his sides. He dwarfed the other man by several inches and at least fifty pounds.

  “I’m going. But I’ll be back. I’ll get a court order. A wife has to live with her husband. It’s the law. And if she’s at your place, Brodsky—”

  “Don’t come around my house, she’s not there. If I see you, I’ll have you arrested. Leave Tiffany, me, this shelter, and this young woman alone. Why don’t you get your act together, Belden? Stop beating up women.”

  Clyde Belden shrank back, and his gaze hardened. “You’ll have to tell me where she is.” He glanced at Samantha. “I’ll get a court order. The police. I have rights.”

  “Get out!” Bull said, taking a step toward the skinny man.

  Trying to keep her face placid, with no expression, Samantha couldn’t hide the fear inside her. She grasped a pen so tight she almost cracked it. “You have to leave, Mr. Belden.”

  “I’m going. But I’ll be back. With the law!” He practically ran past Bull and through the door, slamming it behind him. Sam jumped.

  “You ready?” Bull asked.

  “We’d better wait for him to leave.” Sam packed up her belongings. “Maybe you should go ahead, and I’ll stay behind for fifteen minutes.”

  “I’m not leaving you with that lunatic lurking around here.” Sly moved to the window and parted the drapes.

  With trembling hands, Sam gathered her things, turned off the computer, and stepped away from the desk. “Any sign of him?”

  “Nope. I saw him drive out of the lot, but I was waiting for him to return. You should call the police,” Bull advised.

  “Can I do it from your house? This place is giving me the creeps.”

  Sly slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Come on, babe. Let’s go.”

  He escorted her to her car, waited for her to pull out, and then followed her to his house. Once inside, he took her bag up to his room while she made coffee. It was eleven. Sly flipped on the news in the den. Samantha carried in a small tray with two mugs of coffee, milk, and sugar. He patted the sectional sofa cushion next to him and smiled.

  The brunette sank down onto the comfortable cushion and snuggled up to him. He wrapped his arm around her as she cuddled into his chest. She took a deep breath and let it go, enjoying his scent and the calming effect it had on her. His presence erased bad thoughts and fear. She sighed.

  “Nice,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed.

  “Very nice,” He rested his chin on her head while his fingers played with her hair.

  As the voice of the newsman blurred, Samantha drifted off to sleep.

  * * * *

  She awoke with a start. She was naked, in bed, and the room was dark. A chill caused her to pull up the comforter. She couldn’t see much, but a soft snore came from the other end of the mattress. She reached out and touched warm, hairy skin. Sly?

  Mumbled, unintelligible words brought her fuzzy mind into focus. She was in bed with Sly Brodsky. How did I get naked? All she remembered was cuddling with him on the couch, and now, she was here. Did we make love? What happened?

  “Sly,” she whispered.

  “Wha..?” His voice was thick with sleep.

  “What am I doing here?”

  An outline of a large man formed in the darkness. “Sleeping?”

  “How did I get here?”

  “Is something wrong? Are you okay?” the deep baritone asked.

  “How did I get here?”

  The sound of a yawn came closer. The pleasant scent of expensive aftershave mixed with Sly’s, teased her nostrils. “I carried you upstairs.”

  “Did you undress me?”

  “Uh huh.”

  A moment of embarrassment shot through her for a second before the idea sent heat to her core. The image of him touching her, intimately, while she slept made her tingle.

  “Sleeping in clothes is grubby,” he added.

  “Yep. Thank you.”

  A snicker erupted from the man. “Believe me, it was my pleasure.”

  Despite the darkness, Sam could feel herself blush. Words wouldn’t come.

  “Sam? You there? You okay?”

  Silence.

  Bull slid closer to her, and his hand bumped into her arm then moved up to her neck. Heat from his body warmed the sheets. The covers slipped down, uncovering her torso. “Come here, baby. Don’t be embarrassed. It’s okay. Nothing I haven’t seen already, though seeing it again was…well, great?”

  “Oh, Sly.”

  He chuckled. “Come over here. Or I’m coming there.”

  “It’s so dark in here.”

  “I’m here. Nothing to be afraid of.”

  He reached for her, pulling her into his embrace. Then, he fell back on the bed. Samantha bounced on his chest. She giggled as he wrapped his arms around her.

  “It’s cold in here.”

  His hand rubbed up and down her arm while the other moved the covers up over her. She snuggled up against him. His large, hard body excited and calmed her at the same time. He enveloped her in warmth and safety. She couldn’t stop smiling.

  “You all right?”

  “Never better. Heaven,” she muttered, closing her eyes.

  He squeezed her rear, gave a lusty laugh, and folded his leg over hers. Although it wasn’t completely stiff, his shaft poked at her. “We could almost… I mean, if you shifted just a little to your right, we’d be…uh…joined?”

  She giggled. “Look, Ma, no hands!”

  That cracked him up. Before she could move, he was on top of her, kissing her neck, fondling her breasts, pinching her peaks. Desire rushed up her belly as his hardness rubbed against her.

  “Wanna do it? Make Love?” His hand crept up her thigh to caress her center.

  “God, yes,” she moaned, her breathing ragged.

  She raised her knees, and he was inside her in a heartbeat. The spontaneity of it doubled the excitement. No complicated foreplay, no premeditation, just good, old-fashioned, mutual lust and a heated coupling.

  Sly pumped into her slowly at first then got his rhythm and increased the pace. She lifted one leg. He grabbed her ankle and hooked it over his shoulder. Then, he filled her completely, pushing in all the way. He groaned, sliding his hand down her thigh then back up.

  “Sam, Sam,” he moaned. “I love you, honey, love you, baby. Oh, God.”

  She gripped his massive shoulders, pressing her fingertips into his flesh. Everything about Sly Brodsky turned her on. He lowered his mouth to hers and took it almost savagely. His hands wrapped around her wrists as he took control.

  Samantha closed her eyes, focusing on the sensations coursing through her body. Her temperature climbed, and her breathing became ragged as he pumped away, harder and faster. When she could stand it no more, release exploded inside, like the colored
lights of fireworks. She cried out his name as pleasure flowed all the way to her toes.

  He didn’t reply, but issued a loud moan shortly after. Her fingers caressed his wide neck, through the fine sheen of sweat there. He pushed up a little so as not to crush her, and the hair on his chest tickled her nipples, making them hard again. He bent to kiss them. Tugging gently on each in turn. She stroked the back of his head.

  “Awesome,” she groaned.

  “Damn awesome,” he responded, rolling off her. “Com’mere.”

  She scooted next to him then turned onto her side. He was spooned behind her, his arm folded protectively over her middle, his hand cupped around her breast. She pulled the covers up to her chin and glanced at the clock. It’s three. So what?

  A sweet satisfaction entered her heart. I could do this every night. A sense of safety washed over her. As long as she was in his arms, nothing could harm her. Sam sighed, kissed his biceps, and eased closer to him. “You make me happy, Sly,” she whispered, not wishing to disturb the gentle silence surrounding them like a mist.

  “I’m glad. Same here,” he replied.

  And, once again, she was asleep. She dreamt, smiling, with Sly Brodsky draped around her like an expensive, sable coat.

  * * * *

  Bull was up early on Sunday. He’d spent the weekend with Samantha. While she slept, he worked out, made coffee, and then ate a bowl of fruit. The Kings always put out a huge spread in the locker room before a game. Bull was used to loading up there instead of having a huge breakfast at home. He dressed and stretched his muscles, hoping Samantha would wake up before he had to leave.

  Bullhorn Brodsky was proud to be an unsung hero. He was a key player, keeping Griff Montgomery, the Kings’ talented quarterback, from injury. Griff was the team leader, and Bull was assigned to protect him on the field. Keep the quarterback from getting sacked—that was his job. And he was good at it.

  He saved some coffee for Sam. She padded downstairs barefoot, wearing his robe, which hung like a gunny sack on her. Bull laughed. She looked waif-like in the giant, terry garment. She brought out his protective side too. He wanted to take care of her. Though he loved the feeling, it scared him. He was getting in deep, very deep, maybe setting himself up for another humiliation. No way. I’m never gonna go through that again. Because I’m never gonna have a big wedding. That idea relieved his mind. Now, if Tiffany would just leave town, his life would be perfect.