Damn Woman
Morgan
My days have been full of working behind the scenes with Jax’s youth program, spinning one PR crises from another with most people coming out of the woodwork from Peak Performance Fitness and their now firing of the naughty trainer, and prepping for my meeting with the GWL later today about being on call for their PR needs with the progress of Jax’s rebranding with the assistance of Mike, his agent.
I adjusted my blazer in the elevator mirror, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle because, let's face it, I was nervous as hell.
The San Francisco team's headquarters loomed above me like a glass fortress.
Me, Morgan Stevens, accidental PR wizard, pitching myself to the GWL as their on-call crisis fixer for wayward players?
It sounded like a plot from one of those rom-coms where the plucky heroine stumbles into success.
But after handling Jax's paparazzi fiasco and turning his youth program into a feel-good headline machine, I figured why not?
Bills don't pay themselves, and my business could use the boost.
"Morgan, right? I'm Carla Ruiz, head of GWL player relations," the woman said, standing to shake my hand.
She had sharp eyes and a smile that could disarm a tabloid shark.
Flanking her were Tom, the burly crisis lead, and Evan, the young analytics guy who looked like he'd just graduated from PR boot camp.
"Yep, that's me," I said, sliding into a seat and pulling out my portfolio like it was a shield. "Thanks for meeting on short notice. I know you guys are busy keeping the leagues image shinier than a Super Bowl ring."
Carla chuckled, gesturing for me to start. "We've heard good things. Let’s dive in."
Quick and to the point—my kind of meeting.
I launched into my pitch, heart pounding but voice steady.
"So, I'm proposing an on-call service for player PR crises. When one of your guys lands in hot water—paparazzi scuffles, social media slips, whatever—I step in with tailored strategies to flip the narrative. Events, community tie-ins, media redirection. No cookie-cutter fixes; personalized plans that humanize them and rebuild trust.”
“Would you travel to the teams or…?” Carla asks.
“I would and I would also be able to do video conference calls when scheduling doesn’t bode well. Ideally, I would like to bring a few people into regional areas for each zone.”
“Perfect, I like the goal of expansion. You’re one woman after all.”
Tom leans forward, steepling his fingers. "Examples?"
I flip open my portfolio to the Jax section—photos of the youth program launch, headlines like "Carr Redeems: From Field Fights to Future Champs.
" "Take Jax Carr. You know his rep: the 'jerk tight-end here for the Wolves‘ who recently lunged at a pap and smashed a camera.
It was all over the news, dragging his name—and mine, since we're dating—through the mud. "
Evan nods, tapping his tablet. "Yeah, that was a mess. Lawsuit threats, fan backlash."
"Exactly. But I helped him channel that energy into something positive.
We built a youth football program in Daly City—mentorship, drills, life skills.
I handled the pitches to city officials, partnerships with YMCA and schools, even crowdfunding.
Now? Headlines are glowing: reduced youth crime stats tied to the program, better school attendance, kids raving about 'Coach Jax.
' His approval ratings are up 30% in fan polls, and sponsorships are rolling in. Nike's all over it."
Carla scans the clippings, her expression impressed. "We've noticed. Jax has turned a new leaf—more composed in pressers, no more snarky soundbites. Doesn’t seem as grumpy as before. Can't help but think it's because of you. The girlfriend effect?"
I laugh, a little self-deprecating because, hello, imposter syndrome.
"Well, I like to think my nagging helped.
But seriously, it's about strategy. I know the local scene—Daly City's our backyard. I can do the same for your other players. Quick interventions, measurable turnarounds. Ideas to improve.”
They exchanged glances, the kind that said they'd already half-decided.
Tom speaks first. "We like it. Your track record with Jax speaks volumes.
We're swamped with off-field issues—DUI whispers, Twitter feuds.
We'd hire you temp, starting now. One particular client in mind: our rookie wide receiver for Los Angeles, Devin Mills.
Kid's got talent but a mouth that writes checks his image can't cash.
Latest? A bar altercation caught on video.
We need a reset before it tanks his endorsements. "
Evan chimes in. "If it goes well—say, in the next month—we bring you on permanent. Retainer, full access to our resources."
Carla extends her hand. "Deal?"
I shake it, grinning big. "Deal. I'll review Devin's file and send a prelim plan by end of day."
The meeting wrapped in under twenty minutes—handshakes, business cards, and I was out the door, heels clicking on the marble like victory drums. In the elevator, I let out a whoop, fist-pumping the air.
Temporary gig with potential permanence?
Yes, please. My bank account was doing a happy dance, and my ego? Slightly less bruised.
Outside, the November breeze nipped at my cheeks as I slid into my car, the San Francisco skyline glittering like a diamond. I hit Jax's contact photo before even buckling up, the phone ringing through the Bluetooth as I merge into traffic.
He picks up on the second ring, his voice that deep, rumbly baritone that still gave me butterflies. "Hey, beautiful. Miss me already?"
"Always," I tease, though it was half-true.
He'd been out of town for an away game series and I’ve missed him the past few nights.
"But guess what? I just nailed that PR meeting with the GWL.
They hired me—temp for now, but with a shot at permanent if I crush it with this rookie they're throwing my way. "
"No way! That's my girl." His laugh boomed, warm and proud. "Knew you'd wow 'em. What'd you say to seal it?"
"Oh, you know, dropped your name a few times. Told them how I turned the infamous Jax Carr from grumpy camera-crusher to community hero with the youth program. They ate it up—said you've turned a new leaf, and it's all because of me. The 'girlfriend effect,' they called it."
He snorted. "Girlfriend effect? More like Morgan magic. But hey, if it gets you the gig, I'll take the credit. Congrats, babe. We celebrating when I get back?"
"Absolutely. When's your flight land? I can pick you up."
"Uh, about that..." He trailed off, a mischievous edge creeping in. "Might be sooner than you think."
I frowned at the dashboard, navigating the winding the packed streets toward home. "What, like tomorrow? Your game's not till Thursday."
"Just drive safe. Talk soon."
He hangs up before I could pry, leaving me puzzled but buzzing.
The drive home blurred in a haze of excitement—mental notes for Devin's plan, replaying the meeting's wins. By the time I pulled into my townhome’s driveway, the sun was dipping low, painting the sky in oranges and pinks like a cartoon backdrop.
And there, on my doorstep, sat Jax. Leaned against the railing in jeans and a hoodie, duffel bag at his feet, that dimpled grin splitting his face, knowing his presence was a surprise. My heart does a somersault—surprise, joy, and a dash of "you sneaky bastard" all rolled into one.
I slam the car door, keys jingling as I approach. "What the—? I thought you were still in Seattle! How...?"
He stands, pulling me into a hug that lifts me off my toes, his scent—sandalwood and that faint gym freshness—wrapping around me like home. "Caught an early flight. Wanted to surprise you. Mike pulled strings; no practice till tomorrow."
I laugh into his chest, swatting his arm as he sets me down. "You could've said something! I was planning a solo pizza and wine party to celebrate."
"Now it's a duo." He cups my face, planting a kiss that starts sweet and turns toe-curling, his hands sliding to my waist like they belong there. When we break apart, breathless, he murmurs, "Proud of you, Morgs. Seriously. You're turning my mess into your empire."
I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks heat. "Flattery will get you pizza. And maybe more."
"Deal." He grabs his bag, following me inside. The door clicks shut, and just like that, the day went from good to perfect.
As we settle on the couch, ordering takeout and toasting with cheap wine, I couldn't help the witty quip. "So, boyfriend effect, huh? Guess I should charge for that too."
He chuckled, pulling me closer. "Name your price. I'm all in."
And damn if that didn't make my heart melt faster than cheese on a hot slice.
I turn toward him, reach out to him, my hand rubbing down his chest. I bite my lip and lean into him.
Our lips touch, sending a jolt through my body at the contact.
That will never get old. His hand wraps around my waist pulling me closer to him.
The kiss deepens, the space between our bodies shrinks, while we melt into one another.
I move to sit on his lap as his hands pull my shirt over my head and I pull his off as well.
My fingers fumble for his belt and buttons, as his hands unsnap my bra and runs his large hands across my bare back.
His lips brush against the collumn of my neck, sending goosebumps across my skin.
Moving down to my breasts, his lips suckle and his hand kneads to unlavished breast.
I move off him, undo my pants and let them slide down to the floor.
My finger tips dip into my the waistband of my panties, and I let those fall as well.
Jax watches my every move as he scoots out of his pants and boxers.
He fists his cock, stroking himself, before I return to my seat astride him.
I rub his cock with my pussy. His cock gliding through my center effortless while Jax’s hands guide me across him with a clenched jaw.
I lift slightly, reach between our bodies and place him at my entrance as my hair falls over my face, shielding my eyes as I take his length.
We begin to move together, in tandem at a rhythm that’s just the right speed to make me lose my breath as his hands grip my thighs as his gaze holds mine while I move up and down with his hips thrusting up in perfect timing.
His hands move to my hips, tightening as he holds me in place while he thrusts up in rapid succession.
I cling to his shoulders as my heart pounds and my pussy tightens as my orgasm hits.
My breath Is stolen as I crane my head to the ceiling before bringing my gaze to him.
My mouth agape with a silent scream as he pistons below me.
My pussy squeezes and contracts, pulses with the aftershocks of pleasure ripping through my body as I close my eyes tightly with stars erupting behind them.
He continues to move underneath me, moving faster, and faster until he pumps slower into me, then holds me to him. He blows out a shaky breath and kisses the crook of my neck.
“Damn woman.” He whispers against my skin.