Lady and the Champ (15 page)

“I’m not Mason Carter. I’m not going to fuck you over like that.”

She shakes her head. “There’s no way I can know that.”

“I just told you.”

“I can’t trust you. You’re…” She trails off.

“A football player?” I’m genuinely angry by now. She keeps blowing me off just because she’s got this idea of what I am, and it’s not even close. Yeah, I sleep around—or I used to before Chloe showed up—but I don’t tell a girl one thing and then do another. I sure as hell don’t throw them under the bus like Carter did.

“We’re not all the same, Chloe. Just like all physical therapists aren’t paragons of selflessness who only want to make the world a better place. Some PTs are assholes. I think maybe you work with at least one who would fit that description. And not all football players are assholes. Mason Carter? Ginormous fucking asshole. And not just to you.”

“I don’t—” she starts, at the same time trying to duck under my arm. I don’t let her.

“Look at me.” She looks, instead of focusing on everything except me like she’s been doing up to now. “Look me right in the eye.”

I don’t say any more until she steadies her gaze on me with an exasperated sigh.

“Okay, you keep looking at me, Doc. I’m going to say some shit, and I want you to know I’m telling you the truth.”

“Fine.” Still, her eyes slide a bit to the side. I jostle her, reminding her of what she’s supposed to be doing.

“You are probably the best PT I’ve ever worked with.” Her mouth drops open and I can tell she’s about to say something. “Hush,” I say before she can form words. “Hear me out.”

She nods, so I continue. “I’ve been hurt before—did some shit to my ACL last year, broke a rib the year before that. I’ve worked with doctors and PTs before, and you really know your shit. If I’d known you were working for that practice earlier, I would have requested you a long time ago.”

Again, she tries to talk. This time I lay a finger of my free hand across her lips. “Not done. What I’m saying is, if there’s anybody who can get me sorted out before the playoffs are over, it’s you.”

“I don’t think—”

“You really don’t understand this whole ‘hush up till I’m done talking’ thing, do you?”

She shakes her head. I can tell she’s softening again. Which is pretty much the opposite of what I’m doing.

“Look, Chloe. I want you to keep being my PT. I also want to…pursue extracurriculars. You get what I’m saying?”

She says nothing. I roll my eyes. “You can answer the question.”

“Okay, yes, I get what you’re saying. But I don’t think—”

“I said you could answer the question. I didn’t say you could keep talking after that.”

“Prick.”

“Yes,” I tell her, and I reach for one of her hands and draw it down between my legs. “Right here, Doc.”

I’m almost—but not quite—surprised when she shoves her hand down the front of my tight Lycra shorts. Her fingers wrap around my cock, which is perking up quite nicely after the indignity inflicted by the ice bath. Still, her hand is so warm in comparison it almost feels scalding. Her other hand yanks the shorts down a little farther to give her better access. She squeezes tight until I actually flinch.

“Easy there, Doc,” I murmur, and she squeezes tighter until I wonder if I’m going to have to forcefully unwrap her fingers. But then she starts moving her hand.

Her eyes are still locked on mine, and I see the flicker of anger in them brighten and then change to something else. Yes, she’s still mad. But she’s going to take it out on me, and yeah, I’m going to like it. A lot. I let out a groan that I make no effort at all to hold back.

“Shhhh,” she admonishes, but she doesn’t stop working me.

“God, Chloe. Don’t stop.”

I’m being loud, and I don’t care. She’s got a way with her fingers that for some reason I didn’t expect. I mean, I know she likes sex—she’s demonstrated that pretty clearly over the last few weeks. She just doesn’t want to admit to liking sex with me. But this is sheer talent.

Her hand is tight and clever, the grip varying with each stroke. One time she’s grasping me so tightly I’m not sure I can stand it, and the next her fingers are looser, sliding over the head of my dick, making firecrackers go off behind my eyes.

“Wow, Chloe. I had no idea… You’ve got mad skills, Doc.” My hands are clenching the edge of the tub.

“Stop it,” she hisses. “Stop it or I’ll stop.”

“No, you won’t.” Of course she doesn’t. “You’re too dedicated to your work, and this is making me feel so much better, I can’t even tell you.”

Her fist twists on my shaft, and I let out another hissed exclamation. She pumps me again, faster now, and shifts her other hand to my balls.

I lean forward and kiss her. She’s still half-pinned in the corner, so she can’t really get away unless she makes a concerted effort. Right now the only concerted efforts she’s making involve jacking me off. It’s getting close to time for practice to be over, which means the guys who are running drills on the field right now could start traipsing back in any minute. Okay, probably not for at least ten or fifteen minutes yet, but still.

I don’t want her to know that. I don’t want to ask her if she took note of the actual practice schedule before she made this appointment. I don’t want to do anything that could remind her that we could get busted here, with her hand on my cock and my tongue down her throat.

Her thumb slides over the head of my cock now with each firm pull of her fingers, and her other hand has engulfed my balls. I’m so close to the edge—

She bites my lip. Hard. And that’s the thing that shoves me right over. I grunt as I pour cum all over her hands, the sound so loud it’s almost a shout. The pulses come one after the other, fast and hard, pure pleasure knotting itself up at the base of my spine.

I grab her hair with one hand and pull her down for another deep, intense kiss, using the other hand to ease my shorts back into place.

“Your turn.”

She pulls back. “What?”

“Your turn.” I reach between her legs, feeling the heat there through her trousers. “I want my face right here.”

“I don’t think—”

“I don’t want you to think. I want you to find a horizontal surface, take your pants off, and lie down.”

“Austin—”

“Look.” I kiss her again to get her attention. When I’m done, she’s staring up at me with blown pupils and her parted lips a little swollen. “I owe you one. I’m going to pay up.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do.” I glance around the room, looking for a good place for her to sit or lie down so I can have full access to her pussy. I can almost taste her already. And damn, I want this. Any other woman, I’d be happy to take what I can get and let her go on her way if that’s what she wants. But not Chloe. I want to see her falling apart while my tongue stabs into her. I want to taste her juices pouring into my mouth. I want—

“There.” I point toward a weight bench near the back wall. The black padded seat will be perfect for her, and there are handholds above it where she can anchor herself while I work on her.

“On the weight bench?” She seems hesitant.

“Yeah. Look at it. Perfect place. Trust me.” I pick her up before she can protest and carry her over to it, then plop her down. “Pants off.”

“Practice is over pretty soon, isn’t it?”

Shit. I knew she’d figure that out sooner or later. “We’ve got some time yet.” Which isn’t a lie. We do have some time. Just not a lot of it.

She still seems hesitant, so I go to my knees in front of her, pressing my face between her breasts. “Think about it, Chloe. My face between your thighs. My tongue in your pussy. I’ll have you screaming so hard… I want you to come all over my tongue.”

This gets a low moan out of her. I reach for the button of her trousers, and she doesn’t protest as I unfasten it. Next comes the zipper. If she really wants to put up a fight, she won’t lift her hips to let me slide the pants down her legs.

She lifts her hips.

I drop her trousers and then her panties all the way down to her ankles, then slide one foot out so I can open her legs. My hands slide up her thighs, seeing the dampness that has spread there already. She’s so wet I can smell it, and when I move my face closer, the heat off her is like a furnace.

She jumps when I touch her with my tongue. I chuckle into her folds and she grabs my hair with both hands. All right then. None of this tentative stuff. I shove my face between her legs and go to town.

She tastes of need and sex and pure woman. I could do this forever, just basking in the flavor and the scent of her as it washes over my face. Her clit is hard and hot as I flick it, and then press it with the tip of my tongue. She starts to squirm, as if she can barely stand the contact. The insides of her thighs are shivering. I know we only have so much time, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to waste even a couple of seconds glancing up to check the clock.

Her fingers dig into my hair, her nails scratching my scalp. “God, Austin. Austin. We can’t—”

But of course we can, and I keep thrusting into her, finally sliding a finger inside, then two, then, just to see if I can, three. It’s tight, but she’s so slick it barely matters. And while I’m shoving into her with damn near my whole hand, I stroke my tongue up her cunt, over her clit, and she falls to pieces under me.

Her panting gasps are loud and stuttery, and I resist the urge to lay a hand over her mouth. Okay, yes, part of me is a little worried somebody will walk in. Not because I’m afraid anybody will say anything to me, but because I know Chloe’s worried about it. Instead I lean up and kiss her, deep and hard, stroking my tongue into her mouth, letting her taste her own arousal.

She’s still shaking with the aftershocks of her orgasm; I can feel it as I slide a hand over the curve of her hip. Suddenly she stiffens against me. I hear it at the same time—the sound of voices rising in the hallway that leads to the locker room. The guys are coming in from practice.

I grab her pants for her, drawing them back up into place. I get her sorted, but I don’t bother about myself. As long as she’s dressed, we’re good. Nobody’s going to think twice about me being naked in the locker room. Besides, I’ve got my shorts on. And if they look a little wet—well, I was just in the ice bath, right?

Still, I glance down, hoping there’s no cum clinging to the fabric. The voices are getting closer. Glancing at Chloe, I realize there’s no disguising the mussed hair, the kiss-swollen lips. I wipe my own mouth with the back of my hand. I’m probably visibly wet from her juices.

Dammit.

I remind myself I don’t care. Except I do. A little. But just for Chloe.

I hear the guys coming into the locker room, but we’re still okay back here in the training area. Until one guy wanders in, glancing around. He’s in a button-down shirt and slacks, and I vaguely recognize him as the PT who’s working with one of the defensemen. Chloe stiffens next to me, and I know this is Very Much Not Good.

“Shit. It’s Roger,” she mutters. So he’s the one who’s gunning for her. I scrape him with a look. He’s not so much. I could take him. If he gives Chloe any shit, I probably will.

Roger returns my look with a smirk, and then glances at Chloe. Automatically, without thinking about it, I touch her arm reassuringly. Roger notices, and his smirk deepens. I do not like this man. In fact, I dislike him intensely.

His attention returns to me, and I stiffen. He leers.

“So. You pay extra for that, or is she including it in the base fees?”

Fury rises so fast I can’t stop it, and for a second my vision turns red. I’m not even sure what I’m doing until Chloe grabs my arm, jerking me back. I’m at least a full step closer to Roger the Sleazeball. Only her small fingers on my biceps are stopping me.

“Don’t,” she says in a low voice. “He’s not worth it.”

Roger’s eyes narrow. “Not worth it, huh?” There’s a genuine rage behind his words.

What is this guy’s problem?

“At least now I know why you get the choice assignments. Cause you’re sucking everybody’s dick.”

“Roger—” Her tone is conciliatory, but I know already that’s not going to work with this asshole. He’s not the type to be placated.

“
Shut your fucking mouth
.”

“Why? Because she’s fucking you? Everybody knows the only way she even got back into the business was by showing her tits and getting on her knees for anybody she had to.”

Now Chloe’s getting angry. Those bright red spots have risen on her face, and her mouth is a tight, hard line. “That’s not true—”

Again, I cut her off. “You apologize. Right now.”

“Or what?” He’s mocking me now, like he really thinks I won’t pound him into a pile of squishy red sludge if he doesn’t shut his fucking mouth. “You’re going to hit me? Huh? You really think you can get away with that?”

I lunge another step forward, but again Chloe’s small hand holds me back. I could break free of her in a hot second if I wanted to, but I don’t want to. Instead I glare down at Roger and grate between clenched teeth, “I can get away with anything I damn well please. Who the fuck are you, anyway? Who do you think the rest of the team is going to believe if something happens right now? Who do you think the press is going to believe?”

He actually looks vaguely deflated at this. I can see him swallow a couple of times. “You lay one finger on me, and I guess we’ll find out.”

I’m about ready to lay a whole lot more than one finger on him, Chloe be damned, when a few of my teammates meander in, ready to hit the bikes for post-practice cool down. A few guys give him a look like they know he’s trouble. Some of my teammates grew up in not-so-great neighborhoods—they can tell when a guy’s just itching to start something.

One of them—Peterson, the guy Roger’s been working on, I’m pretty sure—gives Roger a look, then glances at me. “Everything okay here?”

Roger spins, stabbing backward toward me with a finger. “She’s sucking his cock.”

Peterson looks taken aback. He looks at me, at Chloe, then back at Roger. His posture shifts, and it’s all I can do not to laugh. Roger has picked the wrong guy to try to win over to his side.

“Looks to me like they’re both just standing there,” Peterson says.