Page 72 of Roughing the Player
Oh, God. He is a devil. “Here?”
“Back seat.” He barely waits for my ‘Yes,” before helping me to the rear. He opens his driver’s door and crawls in with me. The panties come off and his mouth covers my pussy. His fingers continue what they started, while he slicks his tongue over me. I clutch his hair, as he tongues me, bites me, drives me wild. With such expert handling, it takes me no time to come.
Gulping in air, I slick sweaty hair off my face. That’s when I catch the time. “We have to stop. Kaylee.” That’s all I can manage.
Breathing hard, he rests his forehead on mine, as he brushes his hard-on against me. “Of course.”
I know what he wants, and I’d love to return the favor, but we have to get home. Our daughter’s needs come first.
At his condo, he spends little time filling his suitcase. But then, as many away games as he’s played, packing must be second nature to him.
We arrive home to find no paparazzi at our door. Maybe they got their fill at the press conference. Yeah, right. They’ll probably be back the next day.
Inside, Kaylee’s seated by the kitchen island eating a bowl of something with Butch at her feet.
“Did Grandma leave?”
“She headed out as soon as I got home. She had some food shopping to do.” She squints at Brock. “What’shedoing here?”
After the press conference and sex in Brock’s car, I find myself lacking in parental patience. “Heis your father, and he’s moving in.”
Frowning, she awkwardly comes to her feet. “It would have been nice to have gotten some notice.”
I start to respond, but Brock gets there before I do. “If you want someone to blame, that would be me. I sprung this on your mother.”
I can’t allow him to take all of the responsibility for this decision. That would only make Kaylee dislike him more. “And I agreed.” I walk up, put my arms around her. “Honey. You’re right. We should have told you. But things are moving kind of fast. I hope you can accept them when they do.”
Staring at the floor, she shrugs.
Not really a response, but at the moment, it’s the best I can hope for. In time, I pray she’ll accept Brock’s presence in our lives.
After rinsing and dropping her dish in the dishwasher, she turns back to us, “I saw your press conference.”
“How on earth did you do that?” As far as I know, the press conference was not live.
“A YouTube channel showed the whole thing.”
Brock’s gaze seems to say ‘Told you so.’
“Thank you for not bringing me into it. It’s bad enough at school as it is.”
“What’s happening at school?” Brock asks, his Papa Bear instincts seemingly kicking in. Who knew?
“Nothing,” Kaylee says. “Shouldn’t have mentioned it. Well, I better leave you alone. I’m sure you have wedding plans to discuss.” And with that, she rolls out of the kitchen and disappears into the hallway that leads to her room.
Brock’s worried gaze follows her. “Is she going to be all right?”
“Yeah. She will. She’s a strong kid.”
He tangles a hand through his hair. “Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, talk to her or something?”
“I will, later on. But right now, she needs some space.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.” More than likely, she doesn’t want to air her feelings in front of Brock. It’ll take time for her to come to terms with him.
After dinner, I knock on her door. “Kaylee? May I come in?”
