Love Turns With Twisted Fates 2 (10 page)

Mazzy hears everything. When I look to her for an answer to
the last question, her eyes are practically begging me to say yes. “Party
sounds fun. We’re in. And what do you mean what happened with James’ wife?”

“Izabella Santo that man is furious with me and it had nothing
to do with the game considering I gave him the ball so he could score,” he
levels me a look that says come clean.

“She was soooo busy talking about you and Sasha, I
challenged her to a ‘who can trust their husband’ contest.”

Jason bursts with a laugh. Diego is trying to stifle his.
“And Mazzy may have flirted with him knowing a little bit about their tabloid
history.”

Both men stop laughing and just stare at Mazzy. “Hey,” Mazzy
starts to defend herself, “Izzy was telling me how awful the team’s Club Mean
WAGS are, I thought I’d have fun with them while I was here. You know how it
is, D. When you mess with the Izzy, you get the Mazzy.”

“And when you mess with the Mazzy, you get the Izzy,”
finishing our dynamic duo mantra. “I haven’t seen James come out or the Queen
of Mean out here. I wonder how news got to the locker room so quickly. She must
have texted him.” I snort a little. “Oh!” my exclamation drawing the attention
of others around us. “Mazzy, this is Jason, or as Diego calls him, Jay. Jay,
this is Mazzy.” They shake hands.

“Careful. I heard she bites,” Diego playfully warns.

“That’s not all I do, Tweedle D,” she deadpans. She turns
her attention to Jason and falls into conversation with him as we make our way
out to our cars.

Diego wraps his arm around me and I take the opportunity to
confirm he’s not pissed at me for giving James’ wife a hard time. He just
laughed and said “the truth hurts.” He asked me if I was sure I was up to a
party and I eagerly answered with a “hell yes.” I never turn down an opportunity
to dance with my man.

September 2006

The ride over to Jay’s house is fascinating. Mazzy is going
on and on about whether or not Jay could be interested. After their flirting
session of matching wits in the parking lot after the game, she’s been more on
than off. It’s quite entertaining, actually. I haven’t seen Mazzy this excited
over a man in…Wow! I can’t remember the last man that got her going like Jay
does.

When we arrive, the sight is a bit startling. There is security
everywhere and the outside has ropes leading up the walk similar to the outside
of the club. Diego gives his name to the bouncer at the door and we’re led
inside.

The interior can only be described as understated opulence.
The size screams look at me, but the decor says, I’m a bachelor and I like to
keep things simple. Jay was nearby when we got there. I assume he’d been
waiting for Mazzy, because he immediately whisks her off to get a drink after
he offers us to make ourselves at home. Diego leads me to a set of couches with
empty space along the wall at the back of the great room. We make nice with a
few of the other partygoers before Diego decides he needs a drink and I need
water. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes and chastise him nearly makes me
break out in a sweat. When he’d been gone for what seemed to be too long, I
decided to stretch my legs and look for my god of a husband. Just as I stand, I
see him across the room headed back to me with our drinks in hand.

The party is filled with women willing to sell their souls
for a stolen kiss from my husband. It's obvious in their stares, the tug of
their teeth on their bottom lips, the shift in their posture as he makes his
way past them. He’s ignoring their attempts to get his attention. His focus is
on me and he knows I can see everything.

The slight scowl on my face is probably not as slight as I
think.

He's shaking his head, probably for more than one reason.
We've been here before, women willing to do anything for a taste of him, even
with me hanging from his arm. What floors me is their complete lack of respect
for themselves and relationships in general. I suppose their gold-digging,
athlete-stalking ways will eventually pay off. They're bound to find a
professional footballer that's all ego and no heart. They can't all be Diego.

The thought pulls a smirk across my face. He’s still making
his way across the room and back to me. The shift in my facial expressions
raises his brow in amused curiosity. There’s still a sea of partygoers between
us, but he’s getting closer. I’m moving before my head’s on board with the
decision to make my way to him.

When he notices that I’m on the move, understanding washes
over his gorgeous face. The smirk on my face melds into a look of seduction. He
knows. This is what I do. We do. Much like Diego makes every effort to stake
his claim on me, I don’t hang back or hide in the shadows when these knock-off
Barbies think that my man is fair game.

Hips in full motion, the slow sway stirs a longing in my
core. I swear he can see it the moment I recognize the ache. The look in his
lust-filled eyes could be seen from the Hubble telescope. Almost as quickly as
it’s there, it’s gone, replaced with a fiery glare and a scowl.

Before I can react to the sudden shift in his facial
expression, there’s a hand on my elbow giving it a squeeze meant to stop my
forward progress and shift my attention. I know without looking it’s not
someone I’m familiar with and it’s about to set off my Saint. With a less than
gentle tug, I’m free of the presumptuous man’s paws with not so much as a hitch
in my step.

“Dick tease,” he spits.

Where his unsolicited touch did not warrant my attention,
his uncouth verbal slap stops me dead in my tracks. Eyes still focused on
Diego, I steel myself. Who the fuck does this asshole think he is? Forgotten
are the Barbies pawing at Diego every step of his way back to me. This fucking
asshat has solicited my wrath. Diego’s tight grin tells me he knows what’s
coming. The shake of his head says, ‘Stupid fucker.’

“Excuse me?” I whirl around to dickless. I’m normally a
cross your arms across my chest kinda girl, but this little bundle growing
inside me has made my already ample tits almost a cup size larger. I don’t need
to give this hack anymore ammo. So, with my hands on my hips, I wait to see
what Mr. Asshat has to say next.

“You heard me sweetheart. Dick. Tease,” he makes a point of
annunciating his original slur. Oh, these fucking douche-thletes, every team,
every city, every country has them.

Stopping any further comments from Mr. Asshat, I begin, “If
I weren’t ready to put you in your fucking place, I’d be happily steering you
in the direction of the gaggle of vapid and obtuse dying to sink their claws
into someone,” I pause, pronouncing each of the next words with a pointed
finger, “just like you,” ticking off the next words on the same three fingers.
“Dickless, classless, and a hack. You resort to childish fucking name calling
when you’re let down gently.”

I notice that Diego’s made his way to my side along with
tonight’s Queens of the Vapid and Obtuse. Shaking my head, I clear my mind of
these clueless trolls. Diego drops back to just behind me. I can feel him, but
he’s letting me handle this.

“Way to be a fucking, man,” delivering the last of my verbal
lashing which drew the attention of the dozen or so closest to us.

It’s obvious the moment the humiliation is too much for this
macho man and he’s about to step into it with me. Literally. He lunges toward
me. “You fucking bitch!” he roars. I step to the side just as he grabs for me,
deftly avoiding him and putting him face to face with Diego.

“You stupid fucker,” Diego deadpans, catching the dead man
walking with both his hands at the man’s collar. I turn to catch recognition
flash in the other man’s eyes. “Bastos,”
Diego knows this guy?
“It’s
time for you to go.” Diego hands Bastos off to the security flanking him.

I can’t recall in our eight years together if he’s ever
approached a situation of this type as what can only be described as, coolly.
He closes the distance between us with a chuckle. I can feel that my face is
all kinds of screwed up.

Cool aaaand he’s laughing? What the fuck is going on?

I stand their incredulously. He wraps his arms around me,
the ease of this task made simpler when I instinctively drop my arms to let him
hold me. He gives me a gentle squeeze, “That was all kinds of fucking hot,
bella
.”

Ahhhh
, that explains it.

“I’ve never seen you have to use your ninja skills before,”
he continues, referring to the fact that I studied Aikido. He nuzzles my ear
with his nose, placing a kiss at my temple.

His public display of affection has backed off the vapid and
obtuse for now, his hard on reminded me of why I decided to not just stand and
wait for him. Lifting my arms out from under his embrace, I place my hands on
his chest slowly sliding them up and over his shoulders lacing my fingers
together at the back of his neck and bringing me to my tiptoes.

Pushing my tits further into his chest, I hear him groan,
the audible clue to close in for my own public display of affection. Licking
and the parting my lips, I hover for a moment—”Hey, Santo!” There’s a shout
from across the room.

Successfully, halting our kiss, Diego and I—and three
quarters of the room, look to see the man responsible for the shout. It’s not
hard to determine the source. Those paying attention are staring at the man
being escorted from the party. It’s the asshat from a moment ago.

Clearly, the man doesn’t know what’s good for him. Leaving
well enough alone is not in his wheelhouse.

Bastos has Diego’s attention, but he’s not getting a
reaction from my uncharacteristically calm husband.

“I’ll see you on the pitch, bro.”

“Teammate?” I question in Diego’s ear.

He answers me with a shake of his head. That can only mean
that this Bastos plays for another team in the league. Something about the
sneer the man is wearing worries me. I’ve seen douche-thletes like Bastos too
many times over the years of watching Diego play. They’re dangerous. With a
shrug, he shakes off the two men from the security team and turns to leave.

A clap on Diego’s shoulder and we’re jolted from the
disruption to the man on Diego’s right. Jay is looking disheveled and wearing a
lovely shade of Mazzy. “Bastos is a tool and a hack,” he states. “He’s just trying
to get a rise out of you. If you hit him, he wouldn’t hesitate to have your ass
suspended—”

“Is that why you didn’t, D?” I look up at him in admiration.

“Thanks, Jay. Sorry about the disruption, but this little
firecracker,” Diego says squeezing and looking down at me, “has a low threshold
for assholes.” I flush at the idea that this could have been avoided if I
hadn’t served Bastos his ass on a silver platter.

“Don’t even worry about it. Bastos is a prick. I’m sure
whatever he said to Izzy deserved at least what she said to him.”

We stand there in silence for a moment, before Jay
continues. “You know he’s going to be gunning for you, right?”

So my concern is valid. I shake my head. “Because of what
just happened?” I inquire nervously.

Diego doesn’t have a chance to answer before Jay does. “Ah,
hell no. Sure, this didn’t help,” he frames help with air quotes, “but Diego’s
stolen his limelight. The…” he pauses as if thinking of what to call Bastos.

“Douche-thlete?” I helpfully interject.

“A what?” he questions me with a furrowed brow.

“A douche-thlete. That’s what my bestie and I have deemed
these superstar athletes, footballers or not, that have douche tendencies,”
shrugging unapologetically.

“Santo, your wife is a riot. The douche-thlete, as you put
it Izzy, was also passed over for our team in favor of your husband. There were
talks of him being traded, but those stopped when word got around that
El
Santo Feo
was considering a British team.”

Jay slaps Diego on the back, “Thank fuck, we got you and not
him,” he tells Diego.

I can’t help the chuckle that slips. It’s obvious these two
have already bonded in the handful or so weeks, Diego has been here.

“There you are,” Mazzy practically sings to me from behind
us. “Did y’all see what that drama was about?” She’s acting like we can’t tell
that her and Jay’s appearances are conjoining puzzle pieces.

The three of us burst out in laughter. Diego’s the first to
get himself together, “Yeah, Izzy, did you see what that drama was all about?”

That gets another chortle from Jay.

“Iz, what’s Diego talking about?”

“The asshat called me a dick tease when I very politely
ignored his undesired attempt to garner my attention.” I explain the rest as
the boys start talking about the next game. Mazzy is practically in hysterics
when I reiterate the verbal lashing I served.

“Leave it to you, Izzy, to get the first asshole of the
night booted,” jabbing me in the side with her elbow.

Again, I find myself shrugging unapologetically. “If
assholes are gonna asshole, bitches gonna bitch. Plus, these hormones have
loosened my reign on my tongue.”

The song switches, Mazzy and I give each other knowing
looks. We start swaying in place increasing our movements as we both get into
it.

Together we sing, “Girl, put your record on…” We’ve now gained
the attention of my husband and Jay…and maybe a few others. We’re too wrapped
up to care about our audience. When this song was released earlier this year,
it instantly became one of our anthems.

We finish the song dancing and singing and get a round of
applause drawing our attention to the majority of the room listening to us.
Mazzy eats it up, I attempt to shrink away.

I see Diego staring at me. He’s got that smirk again, eyes
filled with desire. That’s when I register the song now playing. He’s dragging
me to the makeshift dance floor in the center of the room. I don’t object. I
never pass up the opportunity to dance with him. Plus, that look in his eyes
tells me he’s really in the mood for this dance.

He twirls me the last of the way to the dance floor in a
single twirl. My back’s to his chest, his breath is on the nape of my neck.
Diego places a feather soft kiss in the sweet spot where shoulder meets neck.
He trails equally soft pecks up my neck to behind my ear, nipping my lobe when
he stops.

“
Mi bella preciosa
, I have not forgotten what got us
in this mess to begin with,” pressing the evidence of his arousal against my
ass, the culprit. Ha ha.

“Why Diego,
mi amor feo
, whatever do you mean?” I
coo, looking up at him over my shoulder, feigning innocence with the bat of my
lashes. He’s circling his hips to the music, effectively distracting me from my
act. His motion stirs a longing inside me.

“Izzy, you know damn well what I mean. That dress alone
could cause a riot. Add in your sweet ass and your increasing rack size,
there’s not a man in here that wouldn’t kill to be me. I’m really surprised
that it wasn’t worse than what happened,” he chuckles at the end.

Moving us further onto the dance floor, Diego spins me
around to face him. “Have I told you how much I love you?” he whispers in my
ear.

Answering with a shake of my head, I ask, “How much?”

“So much, so much.”

He moves us with the beat. Making me light on my feet and in
my head. His rhythmic seduction is heady. The bass is bumping to the beat of my
heart, or maybe it’s the other way around. He traces a finger at the scoop on
the dress that rests low on my back. The light touch sends a ripple through my
body, bringing my head from his shoulders and my eyes staring into the
chocolate eyes darkened with lust and need. My pulse rises and pounds with the
song, plummeting when the bass drops and sending a flood to my pussy.