Bedding the Bad Boy (Bad Boys of Football Book 1)

by Penelope Silva

  “Your body is so fucking sexy,” he moaned, licking his lips in between his words.

  I looked down at my now-rumpled dress, wondering what it was he saw in me. I imagined, I must have looked like a hot mess. I’m sure my hair wasn’t holding up after the night we’d had.

  “Turn around,” he whispered in a husky voice.

  This time, I hesitated. “Why?” I asked.

  Beck’s eyes met mine. “Don’t ask questions; just do it.”

  The practical side of my personality fought to resist, but my body told me to do anything and everything he said. What did I have to lose? It had been a long time since I’d been with a man -- been intimate with anyone or anything beyond the secret friend I kept hidden in my bedroom closet. I guess that doesn’t qualify as a suitable mate when compared to this beast of a man. I wanted him. I deserved him. I’ll be damned if I wasn’t going to let him touch me. Screw the consequences. I needed this!

  I didn’t have time to protest because Beck was already pulling his shirt up over his head. “Come here,” he ordered.

  Hot damn! This is happening.

  I moved forward, trying to give off an air of confidence, but shaking behind my façade.

  He lunged for me, wrapping his arms around my thighs and carried me across the room, stopping when he had my back up against the wall and his tongue on my neck.

  I was gone. He had me. I jerked my dress up as high as I could get it as I wrapped my legs around his slim waist. The next sound I heard was the sound of his belt unbuckling.

  Oh God, yes!

  “Where the hell is she?” A male voice screamed from downstairs.

  Beck stopped his sensual assault on my neck, breathing heavily. “Damn, that’s Cole! What the hell does he want now?”

  Chapter Six – Beck

  “Whyare you looking at me like that?” I asked her.

  “Why are you so defensive?” She retorted, wrapping her arms around my waist. “I thought now that we’re official, I was free to treat you like a fiancé.”

  She was semi-right. She could say anything to me and it wouldn’t bother me. I knew the second I laid eyes on her that she was trouble. She was the kind of woman, my mother hoped I’d find and settle down with -- the kind of woman Cole and his management team wanted me to marry. That made her all the more dangerous. I couldn’t cramp my style. I had an image to uphold.

  “I didn’t know you could cook,” Isla said, releasing her grip on me to help me stir the pasta sauce. “Who taught you how to cook? Wait; don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

  I had to laugh. I knew what she was trying to say. The question was, how long would I let her suffer before I told her the truth?

  “Alright, I know I’m going to regret this, but as your public relations manager, I might need this information.” Isla tried to make it sound like it was part of her job, but we both knew better. She wanted to know more about me. I was tempted to give her some song and dance about a culinary student by day, stripper by night girl, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I don’t know why. It was like the universe wouldn’t let me treat her the same way I treated every other woman in my life… Well, everyone except the most important women in my life.

  “I’ll tell you as soon as you admit this isn’t about you needing to know because of your job. We both know that’s a big, fat, make-you-want-to-squeeze-that-ass lie,” I said to lighten the tension building in my bones every time I looked at her. Every. Single. Time. Being around her did way more good for me than running five miles a day did. Hell, hanging out with her was better than almost anything.

  Isla blinked wildly, a gesture I noticed she did every time she got nervous. “I’m not big fat anything. Thank you very much,” Isla retorted.

  It didn’t take long for things to ease even further. Soon, she had me telling her all kinds of information about myself. I told her things I’d never said to any other woman before in my life.

  After an hour of her listening to me lament about my childhood and growing up with a single mom and my grandmother, we moved on to talk about her life, her upbringing.

  “When my dad died, I thought my whole world had come to an end,” Isla said. “It took a long time before my mother and I were able to venture far from home. There were too many memories. Everywhere we went, we saw my dad,” Isla explained.

  “How old were you when he passed?” I asked her. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why in the world I cared. It didn’t matter to me. It wasn’t my business. Even if it was, I didn’t like to think about that type of stuff. Death wasn’t exactly my favorite topic of discussion. I’d seen a lot of it. I dealt with it in my own way, but never by talking about it.

  “I was ten.” She hesitated, wrapping a loose curl around her fingers. “You don’t want to hear about this, do you?”

  No, I thought, but it’d kill the mood we had going if I said it, so I gave her one of my smiles. The one that usually sealed the deal for me.

  Her shoulders started to creep up toward her ears. I had to get things back under control before I ruined our evening.

  “I do want to hear it. I want to get to know you better,” I lied, but this time, the lie didn’t feel the same as it rolled off my tongue. It felt unnatural. What the hell was going on with me? I’m Beck Alexander, not Joe Schmo from Ohio.

  The corners of Isla’s lips lifted as her shoulders returned to their original position. “Let’s change the subject. Let’s talk about how we’re going to make it seem like we’re dating. How long are we going to keep this up? I mean, if we end it soon, someone will figure out, it was a publicity stunt, but if we let it go on for too long, won’t it… won’t it…”

  I had to laugh. I knew where this was headed. No matter how fine the woman was, they always found a way to bring things back to the age old question: where is this relationship going? What I wanted to say to her would have caused an issue and the last thing I needed was another female issue on my hands, so I swallowed my initial thoughts and told her what I thought she wanted to hear. That was the safest bet. In my experience, the more bullshit you fed a woman, the better. They loved to believe they were your one and only. They wanted men to worship the ground they walked on and, apparently, this Nubian queen was no different.

  “We’ll keep it going as long as you want to. I’m not going anywhere. When you get sick of me, I’ll leave you alone, but until then, I’m here for you,” I said. Service with a smile; that was my motto. I’m Team Whatever-the-hell-will-make-the-woman-stop-asking-me-questions.

  She looked at me like I’d lost my mind. What did I say wrong now? “You do know we’re not really dating, don’t you?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, why?”

  With her hands on her hips, she took a step back, squinting her eyes at me. “Why are you trying to butter me up? If we both know it’s not a real relationship, why are you hemming and hawing like it is? What; you like me now?”

  Why did she look so offended?

  “Most women would kill to have me pay even a smidgen of attention to them and you’re tripping because I told you I’m here for as long as it takes? I don’t get it,” I said, shaking my head.

  She shifted from one foot to the other. “I give up. I don’t know what to say to that.”

  Good.

  “We’re going to need a plan,” she said after a moment.

  Great! Now she wants to make things all complicated.

  “A plan?” I turned my attention back to dinner.

  “Why are you repeating what I said?”

  I could tell by her tone, she was ticked. Damn, this was feeling more and more like a relationship each second. Why did I get myself into this mess? Time to go back to what I do best, even if it kills me.

  “Come here.” There she went again, ready to ask another round of questions, but I put my hand up, touching my fingers to her juicy lips.

  “Come closer,” I whispered.

  “But, I…” Isla started.

  I steppe
d toward her to pull her in for an embrace, lifting her off the floor. “Don’t talk,” I whispered before placing my lips on hers.

  She relaxed.

  I don’t know how long we remained in the kitchen, our lips locked on each other. My dick sprung to attention and that’s all I could focus on. I needed to have her.

  Between kisses, Isla squirmed in my arms, but I held her tighter, hoping she’d feel the heat between us.

  “We should…” she tried as my tongue slipped in and out of her mouth.

  A low hum escaped her lips as I forced her legs around my waist, positioning her right.

  “But, what about…” she tried again, goose pimples covering her arms.

  “Shh!” I said, cupping my hands on her firm ass as I walked her back to the living room, where we’d have plenty of room to taste, feel and touch each other with no interruptions.

  Soon, we were on the floor in front of my fireplace. I could feel her tight core pulsating with every touch. I was pleased she’d figured out that resisting what we both wanted wasn’t in her best interest.

  Her legs tightened around my waist as I ran my tongue down her long, sleek neck, blowing small pockets of air as I moved down every ounce of her body.

  “There you go, baby,” I whispered, my heart bursting out of my chest. I loved this moment. I fucking lived for moments like this. Listening to a hot woman pant and moan with pleasure was magic. My personal brand of magic.

  “Don’t talk,” Isla said, surprising me. She was more into it than I thought.

  I didn’t have to be told twice. I let my lips, tongue, and hands do the talking for me.

  A long, slow moan told me she liked it.

  I let my tongue follow the soft contours of her curves, starting at her neck, over to her shoulder while my hands slid up and down her body, teasing her until she shivered with pleasure. She was melting in my hands and I loved it.

  Writhing under my touch, Isla shifted her hips, swaying them from side-to-side, her breathing becoming heavier. I could have watched her all day. She wanted me. I knew I’d get her there, but never thought about how hot she would look and feel when I did. Her skin was like silk -- something someone would be willing to pay a high price to get close to. Her hair was soft and silken.

  It was time for more. The clothes would have to go. and fast. I already had her dress up over her beautiful breasts covered by a red, lacy bra. It was begging to be removed, so I obliged. Lifting her back into an arch and bursting her bra open with a quick flip of the fingers, I proved how much of an expert I was in that department.

  Her full, firm breasts bounced out, begging me to taste them. Isla gasped at my swift movement, but didn’t resist. I had to have them in my mouth. Flicking my long tongue in and out of my mouth, I lapped her erect nipples and worked them until goose pimples covered every inch of her body.

  Soon her hips were swaying, this time with more intensity. Removing her panties didn’t take much effort. With one of her breasts still in my mouth, I slid my hand down into her panties, teasing her mound with slow, steady ministrations. Heat penetrated through her body into mine, like our bodies breathed the same air. My body wanted to explode, but I fought to stave off the pleasure until she could no longer hold back.

  I stood up, my manhood pulsating.

  “Where are you going?” She asked.

  I turned to face her, licking my lips. “Don’t move. Well, on second thought, keep things hot for me. I think, you know what to do.”

  Panic flickered in her eyes.

  Had she never touched herself before? This was going to be more fun than I thought.

  I stood over her with a condom securely in place and took in her beauty with my eyes. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on in my life. Where had she been all my life?

  I dropped to my knees, startling her.

  “Um…” she tried, but stopped, her eyes honed in on my massive erection.

  “Don’t talk,” I said, ready to take her now. I leaned forward, positioning myself so I hovered over her.

  She gasped slightly, opening herself up for me.

  I lowered myself over her again and teased her flat stomach with the tip of my cock.

  Her back arched.

  Just as I was ready to make my move, the wall of flat screen televisions came on, nearly stopping our hearts.

  I looked for the remote and found it next to Isla’s outstretched arms. She’d accidentally hit it and turned the televisions on.

  “Sorry,” she said, scrambling to shut them off again.

  A reporter on the sports network was discussing breaking sports news. He said, “Who would have thought the once bad boy could have turned his life around? E.J. ‘The Arm’ Razor is now a family man and well on his way to superstar status once again. Congratulations to The Arm and family!”

  Family?

  I pulled myself from Isla and sat down next to her. “What the fuck?”

  She turned on her side to face me. “What’s wrong?”

  “That asshole is a hero because he knocked some stripper up?” I stared at the ticker flashing on the screen. The Arm announced he was going to be a dad. What was so special about that? Two months ago, he got arrested for a domestic assault and now he’s a fucking hero?

  “That dude’s an asshole; that’s what’s wrong,” I answered, jumping up to pull my pants on.

  Isla sat up, suddenly shy, covering herself with her hands. “And?” She asked.

  “And, everyone used to be focused on his fucked up life. Now he’s an angel all of a sudden. That’s bullshit! You have a kid and get to be a favorite? Is that how it works?” I asked as it dawned on me. “You know what; he might be on to something.”

  Now, fully-dressed, Isla sat down on the sofa. “Okay, what are you talking about? Why does his life matter to you?”

  “It matters because if they’re not paying attention to him, they’ll be all over me,” I answered, already picturing the drama that would come out of this situation.

  Isla didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. Was this her first job? If she was going to play with the big boys, she better figure out how things worked. The media liked a bad boy. Bad boys made them money. If the ultimate bad dude, The Arm, was becoming a family man or making it look like he was, then, the media would need to latch onto someone else and, in all likelihood, that someone else would be me. I was the one who had a hot story going at present. Telling them I was engaged to Isla didn’t satisfy them enough, but maybe a kid would.

  “You want to have a baby?” I asked.

  “Excuse me, but have you lost your damn mind? No, I don’t want to have a baby. And, what makes you think you can spring that on someone? Did you really believe I’d agree to do it?” Isla’s green eyes narrowed at me.

  “Yeah, why not? If you had a baby, they’d finally leave me alone. I’d be a hero off the field,” I explained.

  Chapter Seven – Isla

  I’dmanaged to avoid him all week long. I made sure to not be in the office when he had practice. I sneaked in early, before any of the players would even think about rolling out of bed and off their latest conquest. I wrote press releases. I fielded calls and questions. I ignored all text messages, emails and phone calls from Beck. It was easier that way. He had a lot of nerve assuming I’d give up my life to have his baby and save his ass. Nope. No can do. Today, I wouldn’t be able to avoid him. The team had a charity event today -- one I’d scheduled to improve their image. Everyone had to be in attendance. Everyone, including Beck.

  It took me two hours to pick out the right outfit. It’s not like I had many to choose from, but I needed to find an outfit that wouldn’t send out the wrong message to the media or to Beck -- my fake fiancé. I had to look professional and also give off the appearance of a woman in love. Whatever that meant. So, I chose a form-fitting, gold dress with a decorative collar, low enough to give off sex appeal, but high enough to keep my tatas from popping out on camera or in front of Beck.
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  “Good morning, pretty lady,” Beck’s voice purred like a lion in heat.

  Why is he here this early?

  “Good morning,” I said dryly.

  “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said.

  So he noticed?

  “I needed some time to wrap my heads around things,” I lied.

  True to form, he replied, “I have a head you can wrap something around.”

  I didn’t have time for this. I agreed to pretend to be his fiancée, but I never once agreed to do anything more. What happened between us last week was a weak moment. It had been a long time since I’d been touched by a man. I had a moment of insanity. That wouldn’t happen again. From now on, our relationship was only for the cameras. I wanted my boring life back.

  “You are a pig. Since you’re here, let me explain how things are going to work between us from now on,” I started, stopping as the corners of his mouth curled up in a sinfully sexy manner. What was he trying to do to me? Sabotage me?

  Putting his hands up in a defensive position, Beck pretended to be afraid of me. “Yes, oh mighty Nubian princess. Your wish is my command. I bow down to you.”

  I had to laugh. He was so ridiculous. “Stop. It’s not that serious. Well, it is, but this isn’t about me. Not right now anyway. This is about the children. These kids are coming to see you – the players. You and your teammates have to be friendly and engaging. And, not because there are cameras there.”

  Beck smirked.

  “I’m serious. You’re the team captain. Talk to the team and let them know this is a big deal and if they blow it, we’ll never recover,” I said.

  “Got it, now, let’s talk about your dress. Damn, girl!” His eyes traveled up and down my body.

  Well, his ‘yes, ma’am’ routine didn’t last long.

  I moved around my desk to stand in front of him and look into his eyes.

  His eyes lit up the closer I got to him.

  “Understand this; we made a deal. A business deal. An arrangement. Nowhere in this arrangement does it state you can ogle me or make lewd remarks. And, so you know, saying, ‘Damn, girl’ doesn’t make you black. It doesn’t make you sound hood. It makes you sound like an ass,” I said with a satisfied smile. He needed to be put in his place – off the pedestal America put him on and back to ground level with the regular people.