Romance: Bad Boy Romance: Rough Play - A British Football Romance (Alpha Male Romance) (New Adult Sports Romance) (7 page)

5

A month passed after the threesome, and then another, and Greg remained, and their sex life was healthy. But he never invited anyone else into their bed. The relationship grew stronger, and got more serious, and Greg had begun dropping hints that Dana should leave her small apartment and move in with him. For some reason, she refused.

A part of it was her job. She still had never spoken with the mysterious buyer, the rich man instead communicating through a lawyer. She still wondered if it was Greg, and one night she decided to take matters into her
own
hands. She lay in bed that
night,
and he fucked her tits while she reached past him and used a vibrator herself. She came and then he did, spraying thick globs of semen across her neck and chin. He got up to shower, and asked her to join him, but she told him she wanted to take a bath
afterward
. He nodded and went to shower.

She got up as soon as she heard the water turn on down the hall, and found his cell phone still in the pocket of his pants, haphazardly strewn on the floor near the bottom of the bed. She strolled through texts but found
nothing. And then
she went through Greg’s contacts. It was there. The lawyer. There was the lawyer she had become so
familiar with
.

Dana wanted to confront
Greg,
but she had his splooge drying on her body, so she went and had a bath first. She stewed there, in the
steamy
water, and when she
was done,
she washed and dressed in a robe and stormed into Greg’s room.

“You have a lawyer’s number
in
your phone That’s the man who contacts me when Mr. White has something to say,” she said. Greg was lying on the bed, reading a book. He set it aside.

“I wanted to help you.”

Dana ground her teeth together. She had expected him to lie, and was glad he hadn’t, but she was still mad.

“I didn’t want that help from you,” she said.

“So what? Why does it matter? I have the
money,
I could help you.”

“You control me here. In bed. Not out there.”

“It’s not about control!” Greg said. “I just wanted to help.”

“If the business can’t make money, then it dies!”

“And then what would you do?” Greg asked.

“Start a new one! Get a new job! I don’t know, but I don’t want you sinking money into a failed cause for me. I don’t want to owe you,” Dana snapped.

“I’m just trying to help someone I
care about
. It’s not about owning you.”

“I don’t want your help, and I don’t want this,” Dana said, and she stormed out, still in the bathrobe.

Greg called her three times that night, and twice again the next day. And then, he stopped. The few things that she had left at his place came by way of UPS the next week. She didn’t hear from him, and Dana felt sad.

On a Monday, Dana was at the sex shop when the door
opened,
and a large man in a cheap suit came in.

“What can I help you with?” Dana asked.

“You must be Dana,” the fat man said. He was bald with a thin mustache that looked ridiculously out of place on his
bulbous
face.

“I am,” Dana said, unsure of who the man was.

“I bought this store, I
was told
about you,” the man said, and then he introduced himself as Michael Weathers.

“Oh,” Dana said, shaking his sweaty hand. She found herself surprised Greg had sold The Treasure Chest. She supposed that meant the relationship
really
was over.

“I’m afraid I’m going to change course,” the fat man went on. “This place is the perfect spot for a buffet. I’m a restaurant man you see. I did want to offer you a
job,
though.”

Dana respectfully declined, and that day was the last day in the shop. Michael stuck around, and on her way out, after waiting on a few customers, and taking her last paycheck, she stopped in the center aisle and took a black strap-on to the front, where the fat man stood waiting for the keys.

“Mind if I take this?” Dana asked. “For old times sake.”

Michale surely thought the request weird, his face showed that much, but he nodded and allowed it, and after she had
handed
him the key, Dana went through the door for the last time.

Within a few
days,
she had been hired at a small store which sold overpriced knick knacks to women stopping off of the highway, and life seemed as though it would get back to normal. That night, on her second day at the new
store,
though, Dana returned home to find Greg waiting for her in the parking lot.

“What do you want?” she asked, and the man couldn’t help but smile.

“I love you,” he said with a shrug as she stopped in front of him. They were standing next to his cherry red sports car.

“Don’t,” Dana said, holding a hand up.

“I wanted to tell you. I can’t stop thinking about you. The… duality you have, the
…
I’m just…”

“Intrigued?” Dana finished for him.

“In love,” he said instead. He reached out to take her hand, and the young woman let him.

“Come live with me. I miss you. I love you.”

“I told you not to buy my shop.”

“I know.”

“I wanted to do it all on my own.”

“I wanted to help. I think I already knew I loved you.”

“The worst part is I think I love you too,” Dana said. “Or at
least,
I did, but now… I don’t know. I trusted you… I told you I didn’t want your help.”

Greg sighed and held his hands up. “I sold the place, you know.”

“I know. The guy came by a few days ago.”

“You found a new job?” Greg asked her.

“Yes,” Dana said.

“You like it?”

“No.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Open a new shop. Not a sex shop, but something.”

Greg was nodding. “I could help
you,
if you wanted. Or not.”

Dana sighed. “Why are you here?”

“I want you to take me back,” Greg said.

“Why would I do that?”

“I sold your shop. To make it right.”

“You shouldn’t have bought it in the first place,” Dana said. She was growing tired of the argument, but she found herself yearning to ask the man to come inside, yearning to pull him to her bed.

“I gave all of the money to charity,” Greg said.

“Which one?”

Greg laughed. “A lot of them.”

Dana couldn’t help it. She threw herself forward, into his arms, and he wrapped those arms around her. Their lips
met,
and he backpedaled. He opened his mouth to
speak,
but she held a finger to his lips.

“Shut up,” she said. “Take me inside and fuck me. Oh, and I’m in charge this time.”

Greg smiled. “Yes ma'am,” he said.

Dana gripped him by the hair and pulled roughly. “I
said
keep quiet,” she said again. And all through the night, he did.

*****

THE END

''I'm afraid if you want to further your career, it's that or nothing,'' Josie said. She wasn't even looking at Cara, she was reading her emails.

''But I really can't. The memory is still too painful to.....''

''Cara. I've had enough of your whining now. You either do it or pack your bags.''

Cara hung her head and left the office. It was her third week as a junior reporter at Revolver Rock Magazine. She liked it, she felt she was at the beginning of a great career in music journalism, but Josie was turning out to be a real bitch. It wasn't as if she was much older than Cara. But Josie hadn't taken as long as Cara to decide what
she
wanted to do and had made the position of editor her own in double quick time. Whether it was because she was a good journalist or the fact that she was sleeping with Nick Best, the gorgeous media tycoon that owned the magazine, Cara didn't know. She suspected it was the latter.

Cara had graduated in journalism a year ago. She'd spent a few months afterward bumming around on the beaches of California trying to mend her broken heart. When she'd heard that Josie, who'd  graduated at the same time as she, already made
Editor
, Cara decided to get serious and start working.

Cara was more beautiful than Josie, and Josie knew it. Maybe that's why she
was being
such a bitch. She was scared Nick would dump her for the better-looking woman. But Cara wasn't interested in Nick or any man for that matter. She just wanted to knuckle down and develop her career.

''Why's life so damn
difficult
?'' Cara asked.

Ted looked up from his desk. ''Dunno, it just is.'' Ted fancied Cara, big time. Nick had hired him around the same time as Cara, his second junior journalist hiring of the year.  Ted wasn't the best-looking guy in the world, but he could write.
He
was tall and thin with a big nose and sunken eyes.
He
was more geek than hunk but Cara like him. He was generous and had a wickedly dry sense of humor. Ted for his part loved Cara. When he got back to his shared apartment in the
evening,
he would complain to his peers, that he wasn't able to concentrate at work. One day it was her beautiful legs, rubbing against each other that distracted him, the next day it would be her breasts peeking out over a low cut top.

''She's making me do it, I can't believe it,'' Cara said.

''It's cruel
of
her. But think of it this way, it's
a massive
chance for you to further your career. Of course, she could send me instead. I think she's just doing it to spite you,'' Ted mumbled as he fiddled with a digital camera.

''I don't know why she would want to spite me. I've done nothing wrong.''

''Ah. You haven't done anything wrong. But Nick can't keep his eyes off
you,
and she wants you gone.''

''Really?'' That hadn't occurred to Cara. ''How perceptive of you Ted.'' Cara got up from her desk and kissed him on the cheek. A massive grin appeared on his face as he inhaled her scent.

*****

The University of South California - Arthur Morris School of Journalism had looked very intimidating to Cara when she'd first arrived there as a fresh eighteen-year-old.

Her mother had
cried,
and her father had had a tear in his eyes when they'd dropped her off at Trojan Hall, one of four freshman halls of residence on the campus. Her sister, just seven had given her a knitted bear as a lucky charm. Cara didn't sleep much on her first night. There were echoes as people came and went in the corridor outside her room, and she was sure she heard a couple having sex in the room next to hers.

Cara was there to study
seriously,
and she doubted anyone would catch her coming back to halls in the middle of the night or
entertaining
men in her room. That was what she thought before she'd met Giles, otherwise known as Shifty.

''Hi, what's your name?''

''Cara.''

''You're hot, Cara.''

He'd made her blush. She'd never thought of herself as hot, although lots of boys at school had asked her on a date. She'd only ever kissed one guy, a guy from her village called Henk. She'd enjoyed the kiss, but not his hand up her skirt.

''What's your name?''

''Giles. But I hate Giles. They call me Shifty.''

''Why?'' Cara asked thinking he must have done something dishonest in the past.

''Because when I play the guitar my hands shift up and down the keyboard so fast you can't see them move.''

''Really? And are you any good at the guitar?''

''I'm okay I suppose.''

Cara had always wanted to play guitar, but her parents had made her play the violin. Her father had told her it was more becoming
of a
young lady, and far better to be classically trained than stand on stage making an almighty din. She'd faithfully gone to lessons once a week and scraped away in her bedroom
to
please him, but she'd never taken to it. It ended in tears one day when Cara, a hormonal teenager at the time, had taken a pair of scissors and cut through the strings.

Cara hadn't known what to think of Shifty in the beginning. He wasn't like any man she'd ever met. All the guys in her year at high school had been nice guys, well dressed with well-cut hair and pressed shirts. Shifty wore ripped
jeans,
T-shirts covered in expletives and sneakers that Cara wanted to take off him and throw in the trash. His blonde hair was shoulder
length,
and although clean, it was beginning to form into dreadlocks.

But he had something she liked. She saw through the image he was trying to create. She saw a sensitive man, a man who
liked
culture, a shy man hiding behind a facade.

''So what are you studying Shifty?'' Cara asked. They were sitting in one of the canteens at USC. He'd seen her sitting alone reading a book and decided to sit next to her.

''Oh, I'm not.''

''Not what?'' she asked.

''I'm not studying anything.''

''So what brings you here if you're not a student?''

''Cheap meals.''

''But you can only eat here if you're a student.''

''Who the hell asks? They're happy to take my money.''

At the time, it seemed daring to Cara. She'd never done anything remotely incorrect. She knew it wasn't the crime of the century but still, he was breaking the rules.

''You look like
a proper
student. They'd never refuse you,'’ he said.

''What do you mean?''

''You look prim and proper. You're well dressed. Skirt, blouse, ribbon in your hair.''

''Is there anything wrong with that?

''Er...no....suppose not.''

''Well, it's better than looking like an undercover cop from the vice squad.''

He looked at her. Her beauty took his breath away. She was classically beautiful, more Audrey Hepburn than Cameron Diaz. She was the kind of girl he knew his mom would like. His mom and dad were professional people, she a surgeon, he a lawyer, and they both despaired of Shifty or Giles as they called him. They often wondered what they had done wrong in his upbringing. His mother sometimes cried when she thought what he could be. She'd told him until she was blue in the face, that he could do better. She'd told him thousands of times how intelligent he was
in an effort to
encourage him to better himself. But Shifty wanted to play
music,
and that's what he was going to do. Even a serious fight with his father hadn't changed his mind. His father had become so frustrated with him, that he'd taken him into the yard and challenged him to a boxing match. He hadn't realized how strong Shifty had become until Shifty landed a punch on his nose, splitting it in two.

''I don't look anything like the vice squad,'' he complained. ''I look like me.''

''Do you do drugs Shifty?'' she asked abruptly.

''No. What makes you say that?''

''Dunno.'' She did know. She fancied
him,
and if he was
going to
ask her out, she wanted to know beforehand what he was.

''Well if you think I look like a junkie all I can say is, see you later.'' He got up and sat a few tables away.

Cara was surprised to find how disappointed she was when he went. She'd made a deal with herself not to get involved with anyone at college, but she would have been fully prepared to break that deal if he'd asked her on a date. He was tall and
handsome,
and his green eyes had spoken to her. He'd brought life to the
table;
now she was alone again. She stood up and went to his table where she sat down.

''What are you doing?'' he asked.

''You went off in a sulk before our conversation had finished.''

''As far as I was concerned it was finished.'

''Well as far as I was concerned it wasn't.''

''You insulted me.''

''Have you got such a thin skin?''

''No.''

It was going nowhere, Cara thought. ''Tell me about your music Shifty.''

His face suddenly lit up. ''Do you like music?''

''Yes. I used to play violin.''

Shifty pulled a face. ''I write my
own
stuff.''

''What kind of
stuff
?'' Cara hated the word
stuff
. It was a lazy word used when people couldn't be bothered to speak
properly
.

''Rock, ballads mostly. Love, pain, death, betrayal, that sort of thing.''

Cara leaned
on
the table with her elbows and set about reappraising him. She added driven to the list. ''Will you play for me sometime?'' she asked. What are you doing Cara, she asked herself? No guys until after college remember?

''Are you sure you'd like that?''

That was the opportunity for Cara to change her mind, get back on track, but she didn't take it. ''I'm sure I would.''

*****

Cara had made an effort to look the part, but she didn't possess the kind of clothes Shifty wore. She managed a pair of jeans, a red blouse and a pair of sneakers. She also let her hair down for the occasion.

''Did you find it okay?'' he asked.

''It was a bit tricky, to be honest. The cab driver didn't know where it was, neither did the controller.''

Shifty was sitting on
a disused
loading dock in a broken down industrial estate. Cara had never been
to
such a rough place. Even the cab driver had asked her if she was sure she wanted to get out there.

''Come inside,'' he said.

Cara followed him into the disused building. It had been some
kind of
warehouse in a former life. Now there was a stage made of wood against the back wall and a few seats littered around the place.

''Sorry, it's a bit basic, but I can't afford anywhere else. I even have to pinch the electric from the next building,'' he said. He pointed to a cable that came from behind the stage, ran up the wall and through a window.

''No, it's fine. I'm looking forward to hearing you play.'' She cringed as her imagination took over. He was standing on the stage, guitar in hand, making
the most awful
noise she'd ever heard. That was her worst fear. She would feel so sorry for him if he was no good. He would be living a
lie,
and she didn't think she could take it if that were the case. She already cared for him too much to think he was wasting his life pursuing a dream that had
absolutely
no chance of ever
being fulfilled
.

''Sit here,'' he said pulling
a grubby
looking chair toward the stage. ''Right, now give me a few minutes, I need to tune up.''

Cara sat patiently and watched a few pigeons nesting in the rafters high above them. He sat on the edge of the stage and
tuned
an electric guitar. When he was ready, he stood up and bowed to her.

''Lady, no gentlemen, welcome to this mini concert. The first song
is called
, ''Why I Fell For You.'' Cara applauded and sat on the edge of her seat, fingers crossed he wasn't' going to make a real fool of himself.

When he started to play and sing, Cara almost fell from her chair. His voice had such power and despite being ignorant of guitar playing ability, she knew
he
was
very good
indeed. She looked at his face and noticed how completely engrossed in the song he was. The lyrics were beautiful, about a woman he'd fallen in love with but who'd jilted him for a man with more money. She felt a lump in her throat. She felt like one of the judges on a talent contest, one who had just found the talent of the century.