Chapter 8
EIGHT
REED
I returned from a Gala I never wanted to attend, fifty thousand dollars lighter. Not to mention the money I’d spent on the tab for our table.
Mia chewed my ear off the entire journey back to my hotel, saying how bad it would have been for my new image if I’d been caught sneaking out the back with another man’s fiancée. Luckily, we’d dropped Phoenix off at Ma’s house by that point, so I didn’t get it in the neck from both angles.
I’d screwed up, and I knew that. Not because of Mia’s point, but from what I had said to Storm after I’d gotten carried away and fingered her behind the gym of our old school. Goddamn it! I was an adult now, and a professional athlete, yet the woman still turned me into a horny teenager.
When I’d seen her on stage in that gray silk number that wrapped around her body like a lover, my heart had beat like a war drum in my chest. Storm still moved like a society darling, irrespective of her fucking doctorate.
Bidding for her had been automatic, a no-brainer. The thought of anyone else winning that date with Storm had riled me up more than Phoenix used to when he took my Jeep without asking.
I’d wanted to rip the eyes out of most men’s sockets for even looking at her. Storm projected an air of confidence, had even wiggled her ass, a motion that would tempt a fucking saint, but I knew she didn’t really want to be up there. It was all part of an act.
Nobody knew Storm as I did, no one! I smiled at how my dick had twitched in my pants at that wiggle.
Her ass had always been one of her best assets, like a perfect heart shape that looked even better with my handprint on it.
As I said, we shared the same type of fetishes, and Teacup loved being spanked when I took her hard from behind.
I recalled the way she’d watch me over one shoulder with her pupils blown as I pounded into her.
Again, unwanted thoughts of her douche of a fiancé touching her in that way bled into my mind. It made me think of all the ways I’d love to gut the fucker.
Jasper the prick had continued to size me up across the room once Storm’s father had revealed my presence: his piss-poor attempt to stare me down, laughable. His too-wide-for-his-face smile was the opposite of friendly; his expression clearly telling me to fuck off.
I’d held back my sour look and had reacted graciously, but hadn’t been prepared for that announcement.
After stating that I would go to Nix at the country club, I changed my mind and arranged for the NFL shop to donate the football instead.
Phoenix had been the one to push me into going, as did the urge to get back at Jasper for getting all up in my business that day.
And now I was relieved that he did, even though the shit with Storm went sideways when we were interrupted.
I hadn’t been able to go after her due to the boner I’d been sporting in my dress pants.
Nope. I’d had to stand there until my full mast situation had calmed the hell down.
Tasting her on my fingers hadn’t helped speed that process up.
Storm’s pussy was still the sweetest I had ever sampled.
I was helpless as she’d run away, leaving a faint trace of her sweet scent and a hefty dose of unfinished business.
After around ten minutes, the jackass who’d unknowingly spoiled my plans of getting my dick wet behind the gym strolled over and offered me a drag on his blunt.
We’d chatted for a while. His name was Carl, and he was a huge fan, so he said. Weren’t they all. His timing still sucked ass big time. I’d forgiven him in payment for the buzz his joint had given me. It still didn’t take my mind off the fact that I’d made Storm cry.
I wondered what would have happened if Carl hadn’t come through the door at that moment.
Who knew. When I had seen the hurt on Storm’s face, I knew in a heartbeat that any previous plans I had for getting revenge on her were gone.
Were they ever even there to start with?
Probably not. Hot fucking air was what that was.
When I’d tried to find her in the hall, Mrs. Parker, the mother of a girl I went to school with, said she’d seen Storm getting into an Uber.
Her dick of a fiancé was still milling around, doing that shmoozing shit.
He’d tried to make eye contact a couple of times, but I purposefully avoided engaging in any more conversation with the idiot.
I didn’t do small talk with just anyone and was already exhausted after Dominic Summers brought a group of ‘fans’ over to talk to me.
I allowed a couple of pictures and then got the hell out of there, pining for what I’d lost behind the back of the hall.
The truth of the matter was finally clear to me.
I wanted Storm back in my life, and I would do anything I could to get her there.
Yes, we had drifted apart due to circumstances, but we were still the same.
Two broken pieces that would eventually fit back together again, no matter how much Storm chose to deny it.
Thanking Mia for driving, to which she replied. “Don’t see it as a favor. You’ll get my bill.” I undid my seatbelt as she steered into the lot beneath the Bayberry.
I knew she was partly pissed because of her attraction to Storm.
Typical that the woman of my dreams was lusted after by both sexes.
That meant I had to fight twice as hard.
Mia parked the car, and then we rode the lift in silence.
My head of PR had checked into the same hotel the previous day, as it was easier logistically.
After a brief reminder about our nine o'clock breakfast meeting, which had been arranged to take place before football practice, she left the lift on her floor with a grunted goodnight.
When I got back to my room, I hit the shower.
As the cool water pelted my back, I thought about the kiss with Storm.
After four years, our chemistry was even stronger, like the adult version of the kids we had once been, if you could call us kids back then.
Our hidden affair had started a few months before our seventeenth birthdays and lasted until I left Newport when we were around twenty.
Considering everything that had happened to me in my life, I was pretty grown up for my age, even at sixteen.
I recalled the noise of sheer unadulterated pleasure Storm made as I slid my fingers into her panties, as I fisted my cock in the shower.
I was rock hard within seconds of that thought.
The memory of the way her body responded to my touch forced me to stroke my length, pumping from root to tip.
A frenzied excitement pulsed through me as I placed one hand on the tiled wall of the shower and jerked myself off: memories of fucking Storm from behind while she was on all fours, and how she looked when she’d suck me off spurned me on.
Fuck, when I’d first pulled into the parking lot at Harbor Heights, I walked by several places where Storm and I had done something sexual together.
Keeping those memories of my girl getting off in numerous positions, I came hard, my balls tightening as ropes of cum hit the tiles.
After cleaning up, I climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist. I’d managed to steal Storm’s number from Phoenix’s cell.
He’d left it unlocked when he went to take a piss at the Gala.
I’d backed the guy up in every school fight and college house party we’d torn up.
All of which had been instigated by the big man himself.
I’d been there for him during his menace to society years, but he wouldn’t give me Storm’s cell number.
Not without asking her first. WTF? Nix had forced me to take it by underhanded means.
What? If I needed to stoop, I did. Dude shouldn’t have spent most of that night messaging Harper.
Whoever said ‘crime does not pay’ was wrong. I got that being bad was a recipe for destruction, but it was still as exhilarating as fuck. Bottom line, if Phoenix knew I’d hacked his phone, he’d tear me a new one.
Taking an extra towel from the rack, I dried my hair and then threw it into the hamper. Padding over to the bed, I grabbed my cell. I had a few missed calls and a message from Hudson.
Dinner at Ma’s on Wednesday night. Be there.
No, please, or a question asking if I was available, just a straight-to-the-point order.
Same old Hud, I thought with a smile. I wondered if both Hudson and Phoenix’s lives were boring now that they had girlfriends; they were more grounded than they used to be.
Turning the news on, another wave of guilt hit me as I saw the reporter standing outside the courthouse: the Palmers’ attorney was attempting to walk through a sea of people who were shouting abuse.
The Horror House was the caption on the screen.
Would coming forward help or hinder the case? I certainly didn’t want to turn something so serious into a media circus by being a high-profile victim.
Shit. I had decided to hold off on doing anything until I spoke to Storm.
I was genuinely interested in what she would say.
I knew she was an excellent counselor, had heard it from some of the best in the business.
I hoped I hadn’t ruined my chances after my big fucking mouth.
Once I had squared things with Storm, I’d contact my lawyers.
No longer able to stomach some of the clips they were showing, I turned the news over to a sports channel and fired off a couple of texts.
One to the coach about practice, and the other to one of my teammates who had arranged a victory party the following weekend.
We were up against The Bears. I chuckled at his positivity, a victory party.
We hadn’t even played them this season, and he was already predicting a win.