by K. A. Berg
“Just as I thought, Ashley,” he whispers into the air. I close my eyes and try to tune him out as best I can but he has other plans. He wants me to say something back, engage him. He has always liked dirty banter during sex, but he isn’t going to get it today. “You’re so wet, baby. Your pussy misses me, doesn’t she?” he asks, gliding my panties down my legs and pulling them off. He drops to his knees and buries his face between my legs.
I hear him inhale deeply, taking in the scent of my arousal, and the sound makes me even wetter. The first lick along the seams of my folds sends my senses spiraling out of control. He licks me again and again in rapid succession, taking me to the edge as he assaults my flesh in the best of ways and pushes me over in record time. I try to hold my scream at bay, but I can’t. My orgasm rocks me to my core, sending me soaring to the highest of heights. I’m so high up it seems impossible for this sensation to be wrong.
“Fuck,” he growls, standing and unbuckling his belt. His pants and boxers hit the floor with impossible speed. Stepping out of them, he roughly grabs me and pushes me toward an upholstered chair in the sitting area of the bathroom. He sits down and pulls me between his legs. Using the slit in my dress for easy access, he pulls the skirt over the sides of my legs, exposing my lower body.
When I glance into the mirror in front of us, I see the moisture dripping down my legs, and I’m sure he must see it too. My suspicions are confirmed when he gathers my juices with a finger and brings it to his mouth, licking it clean.
“Mmm, exquisite as ever.” He moans. “Sit on my cock, Ashley.”
I don’t want to oblige any order of his, but old habits die hard. I hate to let him think he’s winning, that he can still boss me around. If I didn’t want to ride his cock as badly as I do, I’d tell him to fuck off, but I want him so much it hurts. Without further hesitation, I impale myself on his hard, rigid length.
I moan out, enjoying the burning stretch of having him fill me.
He grabs my legs and drapes them over his, spreading me wide. “See that, Ashley?” he asks, nodding toward the full-length mirror on the wall in front of us. “Watch me fuck you.”
Like a car accident on the side of the road, I don’t want to look, but I can’t pull my gaze away. I have a front row seat to the show. He digs his fingers into my hips, giving him the leverage he needs to bounce me up and down, and I watch his cock slide in and out of me as if its sole purpose is to please me.
“Your pussy knows my cock belongs in it, Ashley,” he growls. “She didn’t forget me. Your body knows we belong together, we fit perfectly.”
“Will you please just shut the hell up and fuck me?” I demand, tired of hearing his voice. Hearing him talk takes away from my pleasure. In silence, I can close my eyes and pretend the man I’m on top of isn’t him, pretend he’s someone else who actually deserves to be fucking me right now.
He finally shuts his mouth and does what I want him to—fuck me. In and out. Over and over. I feel my orgasm brewing on the horizon, so close I can taste it. Unfortunately, the asshole under me is the only one who’s ever been able to get me to this point. I’ve missed it, and it’s almost within reach.
“Harder, Tanner,” I order. “Stop dragging this out.”
Again, he does what is asked of him with no comment, fucking me harder, faster, and deeper. My orgasm barrels through my body, making me lose all motor and cognitive function. I scream out his name from force of habit and dig my nails into the hands gripping my hips with punishing force.
He’s still thrusting into me when my body collapses into a heap in his lap. He comes roaring my name along with every curse word in the book and a few that might be new.
I don’t want this to be mistaken for anything other than a quick fuck. I stand as soon as I’m able to, causing his cock to fall from my body. I quickly head over to the sink area to clean myself up, trying to make it look as though I haven’t just had my brains fucked out.
It doesn’t take Tanner long to follow suit. He pulls up his pants and boxers, getting dressed with a smile on his face. His eyes meet mine in the mirror, and he steps up to stand behind me. “I’m glad you were listening, Ashley. I’ve been miserable without you,” he says, smoothing my hair back into place.
I look at him for a moment before letting him know exactly where I stand. “I don’t know what you think just happened but let me enlighten you. That wasn’t me coming around. That was me needing to be fucked. Contrary to what you may think, I’m not a dirty whore, and I won’t be fucking anyone else while pregnant with your child. Basically, I wanted something, unfortunately, only you can give me. Nothing has changed. I still loathe you.”
The look on his face is priceless, and I know I should feel bad, but I just can’t.
“Come on. You can’t deny we belong together, especially after that,” he says, running his hands through his hair in exasperation.
I give him a sad smile and push away from the counter. “I thought we did at one time, but that time seems like it was ages ago.”
“What can I do to get you to understand I’m sorry and didn’t mean all those things?” he asks, watching me pull open the door to head into the hallway.
A song drifts in from the ballroom, and it couldn’t be more perfect, “You hear this song, Tanner? I didn’t request it, but it most definitely describes how I feel about you.”
He stands there, staring at me with devastation on his face. I can’t bring myself to care though, because like the song says, it’s too late to apologize.
Chapter Ten
Tanner
“Tag, you need to get your head straight,” Alex reminds me—as if I could forget.
“I know, man.” I sigh into the phone. “I’ve been trying. I don’t know what else to do.” My head has been in even more of a disarray since New Year’s Eve, which I hadn’t thought possible. I can’t help but think Ashley letting me inside of her—hell, even near enough to touch her—means there’s a chance for me to fix this. It has to. No matter what she says, she isn’t the type of girl to use someone for sex. I know it meant something. Unfortunately, these thoughts have occupied every part of my mind not dedicated to subconscious functions.
“Try harder. The playoffs start Sunday, you don’t have much time,” he says, being completely unhelpful.
“You think I don’t know that? My head doesn’t seem to really give a shit.” I used to be able to forget about anything when it came to football, but even the playoffs aren’t helping get my mind off Ashley and the harsh sound of her voice saying it’s too late to apologize. I refuse to believe it. Even the mere thought of it guts me.
“I wish I could help you fix this, but I’ve got nothing, man. I’m sorry.”
I sigh again—I find myself doing it a lot these days. “I know. This is my fight and I’m going to have to figure out how to put things back together on my own.”
“You know I’m always here if you need me,” Alex says. “I need to head out, though. I’m meeting Quinn for dinner.”
“Just Quinn?” I ask, an idea forming in my head. I feel hopeful for the first time in two weeks.
“Yeah, why?”
“Let me come with you. Please. Maybe Quinn will tell me what’s going on with Ashley.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he says wearily. “She doesn’t like being in the middle of this any more than I do.”
“But she helped me before. I’m sure she would again,” I say, trying to coax him into agreeing with me.
“Fine, but if she gets pissed at me, it’s your ass.” After giving me the name of the place, he says they’ll be there in an hour.
I move faster while getting ready than I have in the last two weeks, even on the field, and I get there before Quinn and Alex do. Anything that might help get Ashley back is the only motivation I need. I wish Ashley would just tell me winning the fucking Super Bowl would get her to take me back. I’d be on top of my damn game then.
Quinn gives me a sad smile when she a
nd Alex arrive at the restaurant, and I guess Alex must have filled her in on the way over here.
“You look as shitty as she does,” she says, pulling me into a hug.
My heart drops instantly, worrying Ashley’s sick again. “Did something happen? Is everything okay with the baby?” I ask, filled with concern.
Our conversation is momentarily disrupted by the hostess telling us our table is ready. It’s hard not to press Quinn for an answer, but I wait until we’re seated to continue.
“What’s going on, Quinn?” I ask as I take my seat. “You’re killing me here.”
“Everything with the baby is still fine,” she says as she does the same, finally giving me a little reprieve.
“Are you sure?” I ask skeptically. “Has she been back to the doctor recently?”
She grabs a menu. “Yes, she had an appointment earlier this week. Everything was good.” A warm smile spreads across her face, as though she’s recalling a fond memory.
“What did they say?” I ask, craving more information than she’s giving.
“That’s all you’re getting out of me, pal. Nothing has changed on my part there.” She gives me a stern look over her menu.
I sigh in exasperation. I know I should be happy Quinn’s willing to give me any information at all, but it’s my baby too. It’s not fair I’m being kept in the dark, especially considering I want to be part of this experience. There are probably thousands of women who would give anything for their babies’ fathers to want to be involved.
“I know. I’m grateful for you keeping me somewhat in the loop, but it’s still hard.” I bring my gaze to meet hers, hoping she sees my earnestness there.
“It’s a shitty situation for all of us,” she answers, looking toward Alex. It really must suck for them to be stuck in the middle, but it doesn’t mean I won’t try to exploit our friendship to get all the info I can.
“If everything is fine with the baby, then why does she look shitty?” I ask, coming back to her initial comment.
“You sure as hell did a number on her at that party,” she says. Her non-direct answer makes my stomach plummet again. She walked away from me, not the other way around. How could I have done a number on her? Unless, I physically hurt her…
“What do you mean? I… I didn’t hurt her or the baby, did I?” Fuck, I hope not. I wouldn’t be able to stomach that news. I’m suddenly reminded of the night in my kitchen when I’d thought I had pushed Ashley too far.
“No, relax. The bitch needed to be pounded out.” She laughs—fucking laughs as though she hasn’t just given me the heart attack of all heart attacks.
Alex’s eyes go wide. “Dude, you didn’t! Tell me you didn’t bang her out in the bathroom.” He shakes his head in disbelief.
Quinn grins before taking a sip of the wine I didn’t even notice the waitress had brought over. “He sure did. He worked her over like a two-dollar whore.”
“I…I didn’t mean to, I swear. I only had intentions of trying to talk some sense into her, but then I got all sidetracked. I don’t know what came over me. I just needed to connect with her again,” I explain and realize how lame I sound.
“You thought a quick fuck in the bathroom at a charity event was the way to reconnect with her?” Alex shakes his head again. “You really are a moron.”
“Quinn,” I snap. “What do you mean I did a number on her?” I’m getting really tired of having to repeat myself.
“She was a hot mess before that night, but it’s even worse now—I suppose in kind of the same way it is for you.” She gives me a pointed look.
“She told me she hates… no, loathes… me, and it’s too late for apologies.” Repeating Ashley’s words out loud leave a bitter taste in my mouth. “I think she made it out of that bathroom far better than I did.”
“She doesn’t actually hate you, Tanner. She only thinks she does.” Hearing that should fill me with hope, but it doesn’t.
“You didn’t see her face. She meant it.”
“She wants to hate you. If she actually did hate you, you wouldn’t affect her the way you do. It’s when she hits indifference you need to worry,” she says just as the waitress comes to take our order. I haven’t even looked at the menu yet, so I just order the first thing catches my eye—a sirloin.
“What do you mean by indifference?” I ask once our food has been ordered and the waitress has left.
“You’ve heard the saying ‘the opposite of love is indifference,’ right?” she asks, sounding surprised.
“No.”
“Love and hate go hand in hand, Tanner. If she didn’t love you, she couldn’t hate you. If she didn’t care about you at all, she would be indifferent, not caring one way or another. She still loves you. I know it. That’s why she’s trying to convince everyone, herself included, she hates you. I guess she feels like the more she says it, the truer it will become.” She still loves me? Those words fill me with optimism even though I shouldn’t let them.
“What am I supposed to do then? I have no fucking clue.”
Quinn looks me in the eye. “Take a step back—”
“No.” I shake my head. No way. It’d be too easy for her to shut me out further if I weren’t around trying to earn my way back in.
“Hear me out,” Quinn demands. “She’s a hormonal mess right now. She cries over everything. Last night, she cried hysterically over the damn animal welfare commercial—the one with that stupid Sarah McLachlan song. You being all up in her face isn’t going to help her sort shit out. It’s just going to make it worse.”
“I don’t like it,” I say, not believing any good can come from this plan.
Quinn lays her hand on my arm. “I’m not telling you to back off completely. Just be less in her face. Send her flowers, simple messages telling her you miss her… Remind her of the things you guys used to love doing together—other than fucking her brains out. She definitely remembers that. I promise you it’s a better game plan.”
I hadn’t really factored in the fact Ashley’s hormones are all over the place, and I should have. I remember how my sisters were when they were pregnant and how my brothers-in-law, Dillon and Tony, complained about never being able to do anything right.
“Okay, you make a good point,” I concede. “No one knows her better than you do.” From what I’ve seen and what Ashley has told me, Quinn has always been a straight shooter, I don’t think she would give me bad advice. “You really are a great friend, Quinn. I’m glad, she has you. Are her parents helping her at all?” I know Ashley isn’t really close to them, but maybe that’s changed too.
“She hasn’t even told them, but it’s for the best. Trust me. Her mother’s a real piece of work. I can’t stand the bitch,” she says, irritation all over her face.
“So I’ve heard.” I wish Ashley had more people to rely on, but it’s not my place to get involved in her family dynamics. If I’m going to gain my own entrance back into her life, I can’t be worried about them too.
Over the next two and a half weeks, I take Quinn’s advice to heart and back off a little. I do my best to physically keep away from Ashley, but I make sure she knows I’m thinking about her, sending sweet texts to wish her a good day or to remind her of our time together. I text her whenever I see something that makes me think of her. I have one sided text conversations with her. At least the nasty responses stopped coming after the first few days. I take it as a good sign.
I send flowers and little gifts—massage packages, spa days, and the like. I’ve continued to have the organic fruits and vegetables delivered to her every week despite her initial protests. I have no idea what she’s doing with all of them, but I’m content in being able to say I’m trying.
I’ve decided it’s best I keep myself busy with the foundation and practice while I’m waiting for Ashley to come around. If I’m not practicing, I’m organizing something or other for the kids. I’ve come up with a daily plan to keep my mind focused. I’m focused on all the prizes: Ashley, the
kids, and the Lombardi trophy. Crazily enough, it’s actually working! We’ve just won the AFC championship and earned our spot in the motherfucking Super Bowl for the first time since 1969.
It feels good to have something to be proud of finally, like a light at the end of the tunnel reminding me hard work always pays off. I just need to keep it up, and I’m sure I’ll get what I’m aiming for.
Chapter Eleven
Ashley
I’m so tired. I have no idea how much longer I can keep up with two jobs. If this is how tired I am at twenty-two weeks, I can’t imagine I’ll be able to keep this pace up for much longer. Tonight, in particular, was super busy, but what else can you expect from a sports bar on Super Bowl Sunday when one of the hometown teams is playing?
It was bittersweet for me to watch Tanner play the game of his life from the bar. Even though I’m still infuriated with him, I’m happy and proud for him and the team. I don’t even know if I really am infuriated anymore. All of his texts and deliveries have been starting to soften my anger. He’s clearly playing right into my current hormonal state, and whether I’m angry or not, I can’t deny he deserves the win. He’s put in the work.
Most towns in the area have been decked out in Jets regalia for days already, and there hasn’t been a corner to turn lately without finding a Jets flag waving or Tanner’s picture on display. All the bandwagon jumpers have been out en masse, and even some of the Giants fans are Jets crazy right now, local pride trumping team loyalty.
I’m pretty sure all the bars were just as packed as Legends was tonight with everyone out drinking and celebrating. Naturally, the more alcohol people drink, the faster they drink it, so the later it got, the more I had to run around like crazy. My ever-growing bump makes it hard to squeeze between the packed tables and crowds of people. On top of that, my feet hurt from all the extra walking, and my back is killing me from carrying trays.
