Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
Emily
A few weeks later, I still can’t believe Jack wants to be all in with me. He has continued to ‘woo’ me, with gifts, dates and little reassurances where I need them. And the SEX! God, that is so good! Like so fucking amazing.
He's remained consistent all round, which is why, yesterday when we stopped in a cafe for a coffee and he snapped a picture of our cups on the table—my tights clad legs well in view in the background—I didn’t complain when I saw that it had ended up on his public Instagram story.
He has a private account, which around one hundred of his close friends and family follow and my face has already been on that.
It was a repost from Aimee’s account; a group pic from a dinner we had together, after we hit it off at that first breakfast. The minimal replies he had got from that were all messages saying how ‘cute’ we are together—his youngest sister—and how ‘gorgeous’ I was—his mum.
His public page? That is a different story.
That has millions of people watching it and it didn’t take long for a trashy tabloid to notice my leg and create a story about a ‘mystery woman.’ ‘Sources say it’s the same woman he was at the restaurant with last month,’ ‘has the heart throb football star finally fallen?’ Crazy how a picture of my knee and two coffee cups on a table could ignite such discussion.
Following the unveiling of the rumour came the obvious trolls. Some claiming to be on my side warning me away from the ‘man whore.’ But it was mostly just people who were assuming I was some ‘vapid dumb bimbo just out for his money, and I would get what I deserved.’
Lovely.
At first, I was worried that people would talk and make up things about us.
That they would somehow track me down and reveal all my dirty secrets to the world; not that I have any.
Well… maybe that time I peed myself when I was vomiting from Norovirus but I’m pretty sure I only told Jess and she will take all my secrets to the grave.
Then people did talk, and I read it. Well, Jack and I read it together, cuddled up on my sofa, with a glass of wine.
And it was funny. Some of it was mean and not deserved.
But some of it was so utterly outrageous and inflated, that we couldn’t help but laugh about it.
The more wine we drank, the funnier it got.
The funnier it got, the lighter it felt, and in one night all my worries about what people would think about me dating Jack were squashed. Not gone, but less.
Jack wanted the word to know he was no longer single; he wanted to show them me. Or at least, as much as I would let him. It felt like he was proud to be with me. Like he was not just showing them, but showing me, that he was all in with this.
Cracks have started to form in the wall I have built back up around my heart.
I sigh into my morning coffee as I think about the whirlwind that has been the last few months.
“That was the most ‘ooh Mr Darcy’ sigh I’ve ever heard,” Jess says looking up from her phone.
We’re sat in the break room, on one of the very rare breaks we get together.
She lifts a brow, “You thinking of lover boy?”
“Oooh, has Emily finally moved on?” Clara, one of our health care assistants asks. “Is this the one that sent those flowers a few months back?” I shoot Jess a glare, missing the time when we didn’t have our breaks together.
“Oooh yeah, they’re in deep now, he soft launched her on Sunday,” Jess grins. I continue to shoot daggers with my eyes at her.
“Did he do that first? He must really like you,” Clara says, eating up the gossip.
“He thinks she’s a keeper. Says she’s real striking. Feels so lucky when he scores.”
“Okay. Thank you. Enough now,” I interrupt Jess’ horrific football puns. “Proud of those ones?” I ask.
“I really am,” she nods, grinning from ear to ear.
“So… Who is he? What does he do?” Clara asks. I cringe not sure how to answer. I can’t tell her the truth, she’s the wards biggest gossip. The director of nursing will know about my new ‘relationship’—or whatever—before I’ve finished my shift. Hell, before my break is over. “Ummm…” I hedge.
“He’s just some guy she met at her volunteer gig. It’s cute really, he saw her in all that florescent panelling and thought, ‘she’s the one for me’,” Jess says, saving the day.
“Ohhhh how sweet,” Clara squeaks, a dreamy smile on her face, apparently placated for now. Thankfully, she drops it and goes back to probing another one of our colleagues about the reason she was off sick for over a month. Like it’s any of her business.
I kick Jess’ leg under the table, “Thanks, you big pot stirrer.”
“Ouch, and you’re welcome.” She shrugs, “Figured you’d never tell anyone you are off the market and now hopefully word will get back to Chris that you’re happy and moved on and he can go and fuck himself.”
I huff a laugh at my protective best friend. Honestly, I haven’t thought about Chris for weeks now, maybe even months. But, what else are friends for apart from actively hating your ex’s, even past the point of you being well over them.
***
Jack
Emily is naked, on her back, her legs bent at the knees and spread wide so I can see all of her.
Her vibrator slides in and out of her glistening wet pussy. Her fingers circle that sensitive nub above. “Jack,” she moans. I fucking love the sound of my voice on her lips on a normal day; but in that needy, breathy tone she uses when she’s at the edge, it’s like music to my fucking ears.
I firmly grip my cock at the sound of her gasps, pumping it in time with her thrusting her vibrator into herself. I watch as her legs start to quiver, release catching up to her fast, and I squeeze my cock imagining the feel of her walls tightening around me.
Her moans quieten and come out as soft little gasps, signalling to me that she is even closer than I think.
I speed up my own tempo, rushing to come with her when I watch her whole body tighten and relax.
The final shout of my name coming out of her lips has me spilling into my hand, tissue ready to clear up the mess.
I pant from where I am sitting in my hotel bed. Softening cock still in my hand I watch the rest of the video play out, Emily sitting up, smiling, a blush creeping up her chest and neck. She looks at me, off camera, her eyes still dark with lust. The video ends.
The day she agreed to let me film her I had fucked her from behind. Her wet, warm pussy making me come so quickly I’d had to pull out, finishing all over her ass.
Today, I had to settle for my hand, like I have all week.
I clean myself up and use the bathroom, jumping into some joggers, I get ready to settle down for the first evening of doing nothing since arriving in London five days ago.
I had an away match that coincided with a few brand events and photo shoots, so it just made more sense for me to stay here rather than travel back and forth.
But with my events and Emily’s shift schedule, it means it has been a week since I have seen her. And fuck, do I miss her.
I can’t stop thinking about her.
It’s not just how good she feels wrapped around my cock, or how soft her skin is when she is curled around me.
I want to see her. I want to hear her laugh so hard that she snorts.
To be in the same room as her whilst we talk.
FaceTime is fine, but it’s not the same.
I want to hold her hand, smell her lavender shampoo in her hair.
I’ve never felt like this with anyone before. Where I crave both the physical and the emotional from someone. Thankfully, we have been able to make some time together, even managing some FaceTime fun, through the magic of modern technology. But nothing will beat the real thing.
As if she can read my mind, and is missing me too, my phone vibrates next to me and her picture pops up.
It’s one I snapped of her when I hired out a private bowling alley for us and they pretty much forgot we were there.
We both wanted a drink, and we were hungry, so she snuck into the main building and came back with a tray of beers, some cans of diet cokes and 6 packets of crisps.
She is holding the tray up like a trophy grinning from ear to ear at her bounty.
“Hey,” I say as I answer. I can hear a low rumbling on the other end of the line.
“Hey, sorry if it’s noisy. I’m driving home, and I didn’t know if you’d want to chat.”
“Of course I want to chat, I miss you!”
“You do?”
“Of course I do, Emily,” I say rolling my eyes, as if she really believes that I don’t. “Now, tell me about your day.”
We talk all through her drive home and switch to FaceTime when she is cooking her tea, by cooking I mean heating up one of the meal-preps I left in her freezer for when she finishes long days, so she doesn’t live off toast and cereal. I order room service, and we eat together.
We debriefed about her day; she’s in a good mood having had a nice shift.
She even got to have her break with Jess, which I know fills her heart.
We talk about my brand meetings from today and how I think I’m going to turn one down because I don’t want to be involved with a company whose CEO is involved in some pretty public cheating allegations.
We talk about normal stuff, boring stuff, non-football related stuff.
Stuff that most people aren’t interested in speaking to me about.
When we are both finishing up, she yawns and rubs her eyes.
“You should get some sleep,” I say.
“Yeah,” She agrees on another yawn, this one so large that I see her tonsils. “I still need to shower the hospital off me.”
“I should let you go, then.”
Her eyes light up, “Unless you want to watch?” she suggests. I groan. Because I really fucking do. More than that, I want to be there with her, lathering her in her lavender soap touching every inch of her, massaging out the tension of the day from her shoulders.
“Fuck, Emily, you know I do,” I say and grit my teeth. “But you know that if I do, you won’t be going to sleep for a long while. And you’re obviously exhausted.”
She starts to disagree, but another yawn falls out of her mouth. “See,” I say, “Besides, I’m back tomorrow. I’ll see you then.”
She must be tired because she doesn’t hide the smile that spreads her mouth wide. “I can’t wait.”
“Me either,” I say returning her smile, not scared to show my own feelings.
I never have been with Emily; she has been mine for longer than she knows.
The fact that she’s now admitting to looking forward to seeing me, missing me, just shows how far she has come from that closed off woman she was when I first met her.
“I’ll nip home, drop my things and come straight to yours. ”
She looks at me shyly, “Um, if you want, I could pick you up? You’re all getting dropped at the stadium, right?”
My small smile turns into a grin. “You want to pick me up?”
A blush has crept up her neck to her cheeks and she looks down from her screen, “Well, I just thought…”
“I love that idea.” I cut her off saving her from whatever needless embarrassment she must be feeling.
She grins back. “See you tomorrow, then.”
“Good night, love,” I say.
“Night.” She smiles as she disconnects the call.
She wants to pick me up. Like a lot of the players’ wives or girlfriends do when we come back from a stint away. She won’t know this, but it feels like a big deal to me.
I’m still grinning from ear to ear the next morning when I board the team bus to take us home.