5. Stefan
5
STEFAN
Sitting here, I shake my head. I cannot fucking believe they are sticking me with a babysitter. What am I, five? The door to the conference room opens again, and Tania returns with a chick who looks vaguely familiar. I watch her walk behind Tania, and my gaze roams over her. She’s slim with a killer rack that’s hidden underneath a wrap dress that hugs her curves and highlights her assets. She has brown, almost-black hair, doe eyes that are a vivid-blue, and ruby-red lips.
She shakes hands with Leif, and I sit here focusing on her tits. Tits I’d love to bury my face, or cock, in. Man, I would love to get more acquainted with her. Preferably naked … and maybe with the chick waiting for me at home.
She turns her attention to me, and there’s a scowl on her face. It looks like she wants to be here just as much as I do, and it makes me wonder why. Most people would kill to be in my orbit.
“Hi, Stefan,” she greets me, taking the seat next to Leif.
“Why hello, gorgeous,” I lay on the charm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“We’ve met before, you asshole,” she spits at me, venom lacing her words.
“We have?” Shit, have we already slept together? Surely I’d remember a bombshell like her … unless she was a dud. You’d be surprised how many times the hot ones suck between the sheets. Luckily, I don’t have that problem. I’ve been blessed with good looks, skill on the ice, and a stick I know how to wield.
“Several times and, for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last man alive.”
“Stefan,” Tania interrupts. “Wren is with LTS. She’s your image consultant, and she’s been trying to clean up your image, but her efforts from New York seem to have had little effect on you, hence this new arrangement.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I hiss again. I cannot believe it’s come to this. I’m a twenty-seven-year-old man for fuck’s sake. I don’t need a babysitter. Sure, I get into sticky situations at times, but what guy my age doesn’t?
“The tabloids say otherwise,” Tania states matter-of-factly. Then she follows up with a statement that stops me in my tracks. “Stefan, as part of your contract with LA, you’re to maintain a positive public persona at all times. It should reflect highly on yourself, the team, and the sport. Right now, you’re not reflecting highly on anyone.” She pauses and gives me a look that means business. “You either take this or we terminate your contract. Right here. Right now. And then I’ll sue your pretty ass for breach of contract, and let me tell you, my lawyers will eat your lawyers for breakfast. I suggest you listen to Wren and take this chance because I will only be offering it once.”
“How long?”
“Until your image is overhauled and not a minute sooner.”
“But that could take years.”
“Then she will be your roomie for years.”
Wren makes a sound that has my head snapping toward her. From the look on her face, it seems she’s as impressed with this arrangement as I am, because the scoff that just passed through her lips was felt on the other side of the world.
“Look, Stefan,” Wren says. “You can do this. There was once a time when you were a pleasant person to be around, and like many young guys, sometimes the fame becomes too much and they act out?—”
“I’m not acting out,” I snap. “I’m living my fucking life.”
“But you’re in the public eye. You cannot live your life like a regular Joe, but I can help you?—”
“Yeah, to become boring.”
“It will only be boring if you make it boring. I’ve worked with many clients who I guarantee do not live boring lives. You just need to find a balance, and with my help, I can do that for you.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself,” I throw at her.
“And you’re an egotistical asshat douchehole who is about to lose everything if you don’t pull your head out of your ass. From where I’m sitting, everything you’ve worked so hard for is going to be taken away from you. Wouldn’t you rather be remembered as LA’s amazing left defenseman than the douche from LA who threw it all away?”
When she puts it like that, it causes me to stop and listen. I’ve worked too fucking hard to get where I am, and from the looks on both Tania’s and Coach’s faces, they mean business, but can I do it? Can I tame my wild ways?
“Stefan,” Coach states. “You can do this. I believe in you. If you take your talent and willingness to learn and utilize those skills in your personal life, you’ll become the person we all know you can be. Listen to me on the ice, and listen to Wren off the ice.”
“Fine,” I relent. “It’s not like I have a choice in the matter.”
Letting out a sigh, I realize I have no choice. Looking to Wren, I see that she wants the best for me, and since I have no choice here, I offer a suggestion. “Look, my house isn’t roommate worthy right now. Can you give me a few hours to clean up”—and get one last fuck in—“and then we can start our new arrangement?”
“That’s fine,” Tania answers for her. “We have some paperwork to fill out, and I’d like to discuss a few things with her.”
“Perfect,” I state.
Throwing my keys at Wren, I smile at my new roomie and before anyone can say anything further, I hightail it out of there … and home to my bunny.
“Fuck me harder,” the bunny purrs. She’s bent over the back of the sofa, and I’m fucking her from behind. I never fuck them face on, eye contact means feelings, and feelings are the last thing I need or want from a bunny. She was on her way out, and when she bent over to pick up her purse and I saw her naked ass and the salacious look on her face when she stood back up, I had to have her again.
She’s moaning like a porn star, and from the corner of my eye, I see Wren standing in the doorway to my home. Shock etched on her face. Turning my head to face her, I smile at my new roomie and continue fucking the bunny. The bunny reaches her peak, well, I think she does, and gives an Academy Award winning scream as she tumbles over the edge.
After a few more pumps, I empty my load into the condom. Pulling out, I remove the condom and pull my pants back up as the bunny rights herself and pulls her dress back into place. She turns around and that’s when she sees Wren. “You could have joined us,” she purrs to a scowling Wren.
“Pass,” Wren replies.
“Your loss,” she throws back at Wren. Then she looks my way. “Call me.”
Nodding, I stand here and watch her walk toward Wren. She turns before exiting, “You don’t have—” But before she can finish her sentence, Wren slams the door in her face.
“You had to clean the place, huh?” She sneers at me.
Nonchalantly shrugging, I smile. “Welcome home, roomie.”