The tip of my dick swells as I feel her pussy start to tighten around me, and I pump faster, the noise of our wet skin clapping together on each thrust.
“Come for me, baby,” I command her.
As if my words push her over, Colleen’s entire body shudders, and the pulses she sends around my cock set me off too. I spill inside her, my vision swimming for what feels like minutes.
My God, I will never get enough of this woman. That might be the most dangerous part of this whole thing.
28
Colleen
We hit a patch of turbulence, and I grip the armrest, my heart descending into the pit of my stomach.
It’s a dreaded side-effect of the job, flying so much. I’ve been terrified of planes since I was young, but get dragged onto enough of them over your lifetime and you’re bound to become conditioned to at least tolerate them. Still, with every bounce and swoop of the team jet, I can’t help but envision the worst. It’s unnatural that these multi-ton crafts can fly so high and so long without falling out of the sky.
Our pilot, Victor, who has been with the team for as long as I can remember, turns on the sign that we can remove our seatbelts. So, hopefully, we’re past the point where I feel like I’m on a perpetual roller coaster.
I have to pee so badly, and have been waiting until I’m convinced the floor won’t open up below me, so I walk as gingerly as I can with a full bladder down the center aisle.
Along the way, I pass players in various states of relaxation. We’re coming back from the first three playoff games in Tampa, so the flight isn’t too long, but after a three-game stretch with so much pressure, the guys are exhausted. Most are conked out with headphones or eye masks on, and a couple are scrolling their phones or enjoying the in-flight entertainment.
I typically sit up front with my uncle, if he decides to travel, or the marketing team or other executives who accompany the team to away games. It’s not like the players want to chat with the front office, and the coaches generally don’t want to see me unless it’s in a scheduled meeting.
By the time I make it to the back of the plane, both bathrooms are occupied. I curse myself for being afraid to walk down here during the turbulence, because I’m paying for it by the subtle wiggle dance I’m doing, as if I’m a five-year-old still learning how to completely potty train.
Hayes appears at my side, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Mr. Swindell.” I nod in his direction.
“General Manager,” he greets me back.
We avoid each other as much as we can during team outings, public appearances, and games. It would look suspicious if we talked more than two or three times a week, because I just wouldn’t have that kind of relationship with anyone other than Walker. And since there are so many rumors linking us together after the attack in the parking lot, it’s even smarter if we separate.
Still, sometimes Hayes can’t help but push the envelope a little bit.
“Good game today.” I try to put on my professional voice.
“Just trying to be a team player.” He winks.
We’re up two to one in the first round of the playoffs and headed back to our home turf. Hopefully, in the next game, the guys can get the job done.
No one can see us back here, and if they can, they’re probably not even paying attention. However, I still feel that jolt of naughty electricity between us, like we’re doing something we shouldn’t.
My full bladder is all but forgotten when I feel the lightest brush against my pinky. Covertly, I cast my gaze down, to see Hayes stealthily running the nail of his pointer finger up and down my smallest digit. The contact is minimal, a whisper of a touch, but it electrifies my entire body.
God, how I wish I could just turn to him and have him envelop me in his arms. Like a normal couple, on a normal flight. We could even sneak into the bathroom to join the mile high club.
Unfortunately, I’m not sure that day will ever come.
We’ve been together for almost three months now. The longest, most serious romantic relationship of my life, and I can’t even tell anyone about it. There are no dinners out, no family gatherings I can introduce him at. Hayes is the person who makes everything better at the end of my day, and yet I can’t truly share a life with him.
I’m not sure how this will work going forward. If he stays with the team, if he doesn’t. Either way it breaks down, if we go public, it will look like I used my position to influence the relationship. The media will paint me in the same light as my father, when in reality, I just couldn’t help who I fell in love with.
Love. I’m in love with Hayes Swindell, that much is evident. I haven’t told him in so many words, but I’ll end up confessing it soon enough.
One of the doors opens, the assistant pitching coach coming out with a brisk nod and heading back to his seat. I try not to make it look like I’ve jumped, but my body betrays me. Luckily, the coach is none the wiser.
Hayes waves for me to proceed, and I walk ahead of him. His hand ghosts over the small of my back, and when I turn around to flash him the briefest of smiles before shutting the door, he’s staring intently at me.
I’m pretty certain he’s thinking the same things I am, and it both thrills and saddens me. We are both head over heels for each other, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
29
Hayes
“Put that thing down, gorgeous.”
I kiss up the column of her spine, leaving open-mouth kisses and a trail of my wet mouth as I go.
Colleen barely even notices, her nose stuck in her phone. “Damage control, sorry. The team publicist just sent me another article my father supplied quotes for. When will enough be enough?”
She’s sitting up in my bed, naked except for the sheet pooling around her waist. I’m propped up on an elbow, equally as naked, having finished our second round of sex just twenty minutes ago. It seems, while I was in the bathroom wiping up and brushing my teeth, Colleen reached for her phone as she’s so prone to do. I’ve never been much for mobile devices, and don’t spend much time on mine if I’m not texting her or chatting with Bryant, so it kind of grates on me that she lives on the thing. But I get it, for her, business never sleeps.
“He’s a narcissist, in every sense of the word. Also a thief, a jackass, a criminal … there are many names I could apply to him,” I grumble, annoyed that her piece of shit father keeps invading her thoughts.
Sitting up, I pull her back into my lap, so that she can rest on my chest while I massage her scalp and shoulders.
“He groomed me for this position, which is what I can’t figure out in all of this. He literally trained me to take over, and now that I have, it’s like I’ll burn the entire Pistons organization to the ground.” She points at her phone, accusing it as if it’s Jimmy Callahan.
My fingers dig into the muscles of her shoulder, which are surprisingly tight and wound up for a woman her size. She doesn’t even flinch when I press harder.
“It’s because he didn’t do it the way he always intended. The job, his life, was taken from him because of his own actions. He’s salty as hell that you’re the one in power now, even though you’re cleaning up his mess and learning on the fly because of what he did. That’s the true nature of a narcissist.”