caused by a fucking gold-digger?"
"Maybe you should stay away from gold-diggers," I respond.
"Then I wouldn't ever get laid," he says.
"You mean you can't get women on your looks and charm alone?" I tease.
"Not when they know I play for the NFL."
"I'm sure there are plenty of men who’d gladly take your place."
"Hell I know that," he mutters with his eyes lowered, absently peeling away the label on his beer bottle. "But once in a while it'd be nice to have someone want to just fuck Jake Young instead of the Wildcat's starting wide receiver."
"Well...you are the third best wide receiver in the entire league," I brag on him.
"Only because Zack played like shit our first few games. Watch and see, sweet cheeks. I'll be first in the rankings before Thanksgiving," he replies with a smirk when he looks up and gives me a wink.
"After a woman gets past your stellar NFL record, devastating good looks, and incredible charm, I'm sure it's your modesty that seals the deal."
That makes him chuckle. "I was being modest. I didn't claim that I'd be named MVP of the Super Bowl."
"No?" I ask with a raised eyebrow in question.
"Someday," he says with a boyish grin so charming that I know for a fact it has made many, many panties disappear.
Finally our pizza is delivered to interrupt our conversation. It was getting way too...normal and nice for my liking. It's weird to be on uncharted ground with Jake.
Chapter Eight
Jake
Practice is just wrapping up Friday afternoon. I'm walking back to the locker room when I look over at the sidelines of the practice field. There, sitting in the otherwise empty bleachers, is no other than Satan. Fucking great.
He's either here for me or Zack, and since Zack walks right by him without a word he must be here to talk to me. Can't wait.
I take my helmet off when he stands up and approaches. I'm hot, tired, thirsty, and hungry so I'm really not in the mood for this shit.
"Young," the smarmy lawyer calls out, like I don't know he's there for me.
"What's up?" I ask.
"I don't like what I've been seeing in the lifestyle section of the newspaper," he tells me. So far the Charlotte News & Observer has published a picture of me and Addy sucking face before getting kicked out of the Capital Grille, one of us holding hands at the pizza place, and one last night of me kissing her cheek while holding the car door for her when we left the Japanese restaurant.
"Then you should take that up with Jerry," I snap. "He wants me to look pussy whipped. No one's gonna buy that shit if she doesn't ever touch me out in public."
"You listen to me, asshole,” he says, getting into my face trying to be all threatening, even though I’m at least half a head taller and definitely a lot bigger. “Keep your fucking hands off of Addison or I'll have your contract shredded."
"All I'm doing is what Jerry told me to fucking do," I respond through clenched teeth. "He's the one that makes the call on my contract, not you."
"Yeah he does. Maybe I need to tell him about you fucking my assistant after he told you to keep your dick in your pants."
"That's bullshit! You know Holly and I were-"
"I’ll let you in on a little secret Holly doesn't know because she's new. We have cameras all over the office, including the copy room and the conference room. From what I saw, you fucked her at least three times, on Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday, all after your and Bradford's meeting with Jerry on Monday."
“Yeah, and if it wasn’t for you blackmailing her with that shit, I’d still be fucking Holly instead of living with Addison, wouldn’t I?”
My fists are balled up at my sides, begging to punch this motherfucker in the face.
"Keep your hands off Addison or Jerry's getting those tapes. My word against yours. This is your last fucking warning," he says before walking away.
I’m still fuming after I shower and drive home, unable to figure out what pisses me off more, him telling me I can’t touch
"Maybe you should stay away from gold-diggers," I respond.
"Then I wouldn't ever get laid," he says.
"You mean you can't get women on your looks and charm alone?" I tease.
"Not when they know I play for the NFL."
"I'm sure there are plenty of men who’d gladly take your place."
"Hell I know that," he mutters with his eyes lowered, absently peeling away the label on his beer bottle. "But once in a while it'd be nice to have someone want to just fuck Jake Young instead of the Wildcat's starting wide receiver."
"Well...you are the third best wide receiver in the entire league," I brag on him.
"Only because Zack played like shit our first few games. Watch and see, sweet cheeks. I'll be first in the rankings before Thanksgiving," he replies with a smirk when he looks up and gives me a wink.
"After a woman gets past your stellar NFL record, devastating good looks, and incredible charm, I'm sure it's your modesty that seals the deal."
That makes him chuckle. "I was being modest. I didn't claim that I'd be named MVP of the Super Bowl."
"No?" I ask with a raised eyebrow in question.
"Someday," he says with a boyish grin so charming that I know for a fact it has made many, many panties disappear.
Finally our pizza is delivered to interrupt our conversation. It was getting way too...normal and nice for my liking. It's weird to be on uncharted ground with Jake.
Chapter Eight
Jake
Practice is just wrapping up Friday afternoon. I'm walking back to the locker room when I look over at the sidelines of the practice field. There, sitting in the otherwise empty bleachers, is no other than Satan. Fucking great.
He's either here for me or Zack, and since Zack walks right by him without a word he must be here to talk to me. Can't wait.
I take my helmet off when he stands up and approaches. I'm hot, tired, thirsty, and hungry so I'm really not in the mood for this shit.
"Young," the smarmy lawyer calls out, like I don't know he's there for me.
"What's up?" I ask.
"I don't like what I've been seeing in the lifestyle section of the newspaper," he tells me. So far the Charlotte News & Observer has published a picture of me and Addy sucking face before getting kicked out of the Capital Grille, one of us holding hands at the pizza place, and one last night of me kissing her cheek while holding the car door for her when we left the Japanese restaurant.
"Then you should take that up with Jerry," I snap. "He wants me to look pussy whipped. No one's gonna buy that shit if she doesn't ever touch me out in public."
"You listen to me, asshole,” he says, getting into my face trying to be all threatening, even though I’m at least half a head taller and definitely a lot bigger. “Keep your fucking hands off of Addison or I'll have your contract shredded."
"All I'm doing is what Jerry told me to fucking do," I respond through clenched teeth. "He's the one that makes the call on my contract, not you."
"Yeah he does. Maybe I need to tell him about you fucking my assistant after he told you to keep your dick in your pants."
"That's bullshit! You know Holly and I were-"
"I’ll let you in on a little secret Holly doesn't know because she's new. We have cameras all over the office, including the copy room and the conference room. From what I saw, you fucked her at least three times, on Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday, all after your and Bradford's meeting with Jerry on Monday."
“Yeah, and if it wasn’t for you blackmailing her with that shit, I’d still be fucking Holly instead of living with Addison, wouldn’t I?”
My fists are balled up at my sides, begging to punch this motherfucker in the face.
"Keep your hands off Addison or Jerry's getting those tapes. My word against yours. This is your last fucking warning," he says before walking away.
I’m still fuming after I shower and drive home, unable to figure out what pisses me off more, him telling me I can’t touch
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