Blitzed by the Brit: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (22 page)

Kristi turned her face ever so slightly in my direction. She was holding her breath now, her fingers gripping the pen and threatening to snap it in half.

A loud knock at the door snapped us both out of our trance.

“Maintenance,” a man yelled.

Kristi exhaled a short breath and then took in a deep one. “Just coming.”

Yeah, I bet you were
. She put the pen and notebook down on the table and went to answer the door.

I went to log into my Twitter account when I saw the notes she’d made on the page.

“Hey,” I yelled out. “It is not five and a half inches, and I will not fuck anything that moves.”

T
oday was a rare day
. Today I had a meeting with Leona, and I wasn’t absolutely terrified.

The Twitter Q&A session had gone about as well as could have been expected. Barton tweeted out that he was taking questions, and they soon flooded in. Between all the questions about penis size, and requests for sex—not all from women—he did get some sensible questions that in turn received sensible responses.

Barton even paid attention for some of it. He had the attention span of a small child, but between watching baseball and staring at my thighs, he did provide some constructive responses. I refused to tweet out his penis size though. Nine inches sounded like an exaggeration.

Leona had emailed me that night, and set up a meeting for first thing in the morning. Finally, I’d done something worthy of recognition besides remembering how she liked her coffee.

“You should have run that Q&A session past me first,” Leona said, before I’d even sat down. I should have known a ‘well done’ was too much to hope for. “You might be working with the client, but I’m still in charge.”

“Sorry,” I replied. “I’ll double check next time. I thought it went well, though.”

Leona should look happier. I’d made Barton look good, and that made her look good. Her dad was a founding partner of the firm, so all she had to do was not fuck up and she’d be partner too one day. Having a happy client like Barton Fenner should have brought out her positive side. Maybe she didn’t have one. Maybe this was as good as it got.

“You certainly did a good job crafting those responses for him,” Leona admitted. “Perhaps a little too good. I can’t imagine many people believed he said those things.”

“He did come up with a couple,” I replied. “Are you annoyed that the responses were too fake?”

“No, that’s not it. Look, this isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I never properly explained the situation to you.”

“What situation?”

“The situation with Barton Fenner, and the work we are supposed to do for him.”

“I know I’m inexperienced, but so far things have gone smoothly. Anything has to be better than those pictures that did the rounds after his last party.”

Leona shook her head. “You really don’t get it.”

“Perhaps if you explained it to me….”

I knew I was stepping over the line, but it was damn irritating to be told I was doing it wrong when I’d made it perfectly clear that I shouldn’t have been given the responsibility in the first place. What did she expect from an intern?

“Do you know why we were hired for this job?” Leona asked.

“To make Barton look good. Or at least to stop him looking like an ass. His football team is strict on that kind of thing.”

“His team didn’t hire us.”

“Barton is paying us directly?” I’d always assumed that the team would end up paying the bill, but I suppose they could make Barton pay. They held all the power in the end. Well, that wasn’t quite right. The team needed Barton almost as much as he needed them, especially with the other quarterback out injured.

“Barton isn’t paying us,” Leona replied. “His agent is.”

“Okay, so what difference does that make?”

“Barton and his agent earn a fortune from sponsors, and they’ll earn even more in the next few years. It will dwarf the salary he gets from the team. In other words, sponsors come first, and the team comes second.”

I struggled to imagine Barton agreeing with that. I’d replied to a few of Barton’s sponsor emails yesterday, and he’d barely shown any interest. So far, his priorities seemed to be football, then women, then fans, then money. Or maybe
women
, then football, then fans, then money. Either way, he didn’t seem to bothered by the money.

“Does it matter?” I asked. “The sponsors and the team want the same thing anyway.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Leona replied. “Sponsors might occasionally bang on about ethics, and wanting players to appear reputable, but for the most part it’s complete BS. Barton acting like a dick brings in plenty of media attention. That gets the sponsors plenty of airtime. You remember that photo of him with his hand… where it shouldn’t have been?”

I nodded. I could barely forget it.

“He was wearing a watch from his sponsor that has now been seen by millions of people. You can’t buy that kind of publicity.”

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Well, look busy, and make an effort, but don’t be too successful at it. The team insisted that Barton work with you, but that doesn’t mean it has to go well. Ultimately, he’ll earn more money by carrying on the way he was, and he’ll have a lot more fun in the process.”

That’s why she put me on this job. Leona and the firm didn’t want me to succeed. The worse I do at my job, the better for everyone. Everyone except Barton.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” I asked. “Barton has no clue.”

“His agent’s job is to do what’s best for his client. I believe he determined that it would be best Barton not know. Listen, if you’re not capable of doing this, then I know plenty of people who are.”

Jessie wouldn’t hesitate. She wouldn’t have to do any work and could screw Barton all summer. She’d be in heaven.

Leona was giving me an out. I could walk away and never see Barton again. Except then I’d never get a job after college, and Barton would be screwed, and not in the way he liked. The team would eventually drop him and he might end up on the scrap heap.

“I can do it,” I replied.

Now I just had to make Barton look good, but without anyone realizing I was doing it. And I couldn’t tell Barton what was going on. That might prove a challenge.

“
D
o you ever work
?” I asked Tasha.

I snuck out of the office early on the pretense of needing to see Barton, but really I just had to get out of there. After my meeting with Leona, I felt dirtier with every minute I sat at my computer.

“I had to meet a source today,” Tasha replied. “It finished early, so I decided to work from home.”

“When you say work from home….” I poked my head in her bedroom, expecting to find a new man in there.

“I
mean
work from home,” Tasha replied. “Although if you want to set me up with a footballer, it wouldn’t go amiss.”

“The only footballer I know is Barton Fenner, and trust me, you wouldn’t want him.”

“I certainly would, but obviously I’m not going to step on your toes.”

“You’re perfectly welcome to him. I’m not interested.”

“Oh come on, how many clients do you bring home? You have a huge office downtown to entertain clients, and you just happened to bring him back here on a day when the air conditioning didn’t work?”

“I wanted to be in for the repairman,” I insisted. A repairman who had arrived not a moment too soon. Barton’s whispered attempts to seduce me got closer and closer to the mark. One more and he would have hit the bullseye.

I’d always hated crude, vulgar men, but Barton managed to get away with it. He didn’t sound like some immature frat boy—he sounded like a man with every intention of carrying out his promises.

“How did it go?” Tasha asked.

“Fine,” I replied. “Hence you’re no longer sweating in here all the time.”

“I meant the date with Barton.”

“It wasn’t a date, it was a client meeting.”

“Funny, because I spoke to John this morning—”

“John?” I asked.

“The repairman. Did I mention I hooked up with the repairman a few months ago?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Oh. I hooked up with the repairman a few months ago. Anyway, he mentioned that when he came in you were dressed like you’d thrown on some clothes after sex, and Barton was barely dressed at all.”

“It was hot,” I pleaded.

“Okay,” Tasha said, holding up her hands. “I’m just saying that I’ve had a lot of client meetings in my time, but I’ve never got changed into casual clothes, and watched the client strip. Not during the meeting anyway.”

“We have rules about dating clients,” I protested. Why did I keep saying that? As excuses went, it was a shitty one. I should have said ‘I’m not interested in him’ and left it at that.

“And I’m not supposed to screw sources or the people I write about. Darling, rules are there to be broken.”

“I really need to stop introducing you to people as my sister. People might think I’m like you.”

“Don’t worry, no one will think that. You’re too boring.”

“Just because I’m not screwing Barton doesn’t make me boring. He’s just not my type.”

“He’s everyone’s type,” Tasha insisted. “He wants you, I can tell.”

“You’ve only seen him for a few minutes. You can’t possibly know that.”

Damn it, Kristi. Again with the silly responses. How hard is it to just say “I don’t care?”

“How often do you think someone like Barton spends the evening working?” Tasha asked. “Be in denial if you like, but please Kristi, if he offers it to you on a plate, promise me you’ll consider it.”

Barton wasn’t going to offer sex on a plate; he was going to make me beg for it instead.

“Fine,” I replied. “If Barton makes a move, I’ll think about it.”

Tasha raised her eyebrows in pleasant surprise and then narrowed them in suspicion. She knew it couldn’t be as simple as that, but I stared back at her, confident in my ability to slip this one past her. She didn’t need to know Barton had promised not to ask for sex.

“Alright,” Tasha said. “That’s good. I’m going to crack on with some of the work I missed this afternoon. Remember, if you happen to bump into any of his hot footballer friends, put in a good word for me.”

“Like how you’re an uber-intelligent and successful journalist, funny, witty, et cetera?”

“God, no. Tell them I’m a slut, and will try anything once. Twice if they buy me a nice dinner.”

Not for the first time, I wondered how the hell Tasha got away with being such a sl— free spirit, while managing to write great stories that got her paid big bucks. If she worked full-time, she would earn more than enough to buy a nice place instead of renting this crappy apartment.

I often wondered how many of her colleagues knew what she was like outside of work. Only me and our parents knew what she was really like, and none of us gave her a hard time, so long as she was safe. Even Dad was cool with it. He was one of those new-age feminist types, and Mom had more in common with Tasha than me.

I couldn’t bring myself to let go and have fun. I’d never talked about sex with any of my friends; I kept it behind closed doors at all times. Sure, I didn’t have a lot to talk about anyway, but I could have. It’s not like I’d never been hit on before. I’d even been tempted a few times, but I didn’t want to end up as another notch on the bedpost who got talked about in the locker room.

That’s why nothing could happen with Barton, even if I wanted it to. That man had so many notches on his bedpost, it looked like it had a woodworm infestation.

One day I’d meet the right man, and then we’d settle down and do the whole family thing. Tasha insisted I’d regret not having fun in my twenties, but I couldn’t have fun if it meant jeopardizing my career or getting my heart broken.

I would settle for a functional man, who could provide the three kids I’d always craved. That would be enough. I didn’t need a man like Barton in my life, no matter what talents he might possess on and off the field.

“
Y
ou’re underestimating your receivers
,” Milton explained.

He still had a plaster cast on his leg, but he’d hobbled onto the pitch with the aid of crutches to give some words of wisdom.

I didn’t need them. He might technically be the team’s first choice quarterback, but by the time he’d recovered from that injury, I would have cemented my place in the team.

Still, for now, he was the pro, and I had to at least pretend to listen to him. He did know the first team players better than me, so I might be able to learn something.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You’re used to training with the second string, but let me tell you, these guys are on another level entirely. Take that last throw where you threw it out of bounds. Why did you do that?”

“No one was open. They ran their routes well, but the defense picked them up. If I’d thrown the ball it would have been intercepted.”

“That’s the difference with the first-teamers,” Milton said. “They can adapt. They know when they’re not open, so they’ll look for space. If you throw it into a space near them, more often than not, they will be in that space by the time the ball reaches it.”

“Sounds risky,” I replied. “Couldn’t the defense use the same logic?”

“Sure. But with experience, you’ll get the hang of when you can and cannot make the throw.”

“Thanks, Milton.”

“No problem, Barton. You need to get this team to the playoffs, or there won’t be much for me to come back to.”

Milton slapped the palm of his hand against my back and went off to catch up with some of the other players. He seemed surprisingly chirpy for a man who wouldn’t be able to play again this season and would be looking for a new team next year.

The offensive coach called us all together to practice two of the plays that had been giving us problems. There were few harder circumstances in football than to run a play against a defense that knew exactly what play you were making. Sure enough, all the receivers ended up closely tracked on their runs.

Let’s see how good that advice was, Milton
.

I looked for Doug who was the furthest down the field on the left hand side, with no chance of catching the ball if I threw it directly into his path. Instead, I passed it nearer the middle which was wide open. Doug saw the trajectory early, and adjusted his run. He caught the ball with ease, and ran through for a token touchdown.

Not bad, Milton. Not bad at all
.

“
N
ice throw back there
, Barton,” Doug said, as we dressed after showering. “That won’t always work, but it damn well did that time.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “Milton suggested it.”

“You should listen to that man. I know you want to replace him, but that doesn’t mean he can’t impart some of his wisdom on you first.”

I looked around, but no one was in earshot. Most of my teammates had already showered and left, so it was just the two of us, and a couple of stragglers still in the showers.

Everyone knew I wanted to take Milton’s place in the team, but it wasn’t something you talked about with teammates. Coaches wanted to encourage friendly competition, but the key word there was ‘friendly.’ I didn’t do friendly.

“You coming over tonight?” Doug asked.

“What’s happening at your place?”

“What do you think’s happening? We’re going to get drunk and fuck sluts. Not necessarily in that order. You should see some of the beauties I’ve got lined up. My sister works for Victoria’s Secret and she invited me to a staff party. Anyway, as you can imagine, every chick in there was all over my dick. When I told them I was having a party for teammates, they couldn’t sign up fast enough.”

“Sounds good,” I replied half-heartedly.

“Good? Man, I told them they could only wear their work clothes. They’re
underwear models
,” he added unnecessarily. “It’s going to be wall-to-wall vag in my apartment.”

I’d been to parties like that before. God damn, they were fun. In my experience, parties always followed the same universal rule; clothes gradually came off as the night wore on. That didn’t mean everyone got buck naked, but by the end of the night you were wearing less than when you started. I once hosted a party for girls who’d showed up only wearing bikinis. The rule still applied.

Everyone who went there was going to have a lot of fun, but I wouldn’t be one of them. The thought of a party with underwear models would usually have my dick twitching in anticipation, but all I felt right now was ambivalence. Been there, done that. Probably literally.

The only woman who got blood flowing to my cock was Kristi. I had to shake her image from my mind before anything happened downstairs and Doug got the wrong idea about my feelings for him.

“I can’t make it,” I lied. “I’ve got to be on my best behavior for a bit. No more pictures of me with tits in my mouth.”

“I’ve banned cameras,” Doug said. “Apart from a couple I’ve discretely placed in my bedroom, but you don’t need to worry about those.”

Stay classy, Doug.
“Still, I’ve got to work with my image consultant tonight.”

“I’m sorry, is the infamous Barton Fenner really blowing off an underwear party to work with his image consultant? I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true.” Doug was going to give me no end of grief, and so would the rest of the team. I didn’t have the energy to deal with it. “Obviously I’m screwing her,” I added. “She ended up begging for it, and I couldn’t deny the poor girl.”

“Oh, well that makes sense. She was a hot piece of ass.”

I clenched my fists by my side, but didn’t say anything. I’d thought the same thing about Kristi when I’d first laid eyes on her, but now it sounded almost like an insult. Kristi had a hot ass, but she wasn’t a ‘piece of ass.’

There was far more to Kristi than just her ass, and I couldn’t wait to discover it.

I
had
three hours to kill at home before I was due to meet up with Kristi again. I drove myself into a frenzy, and couldn’t concentrate on anything. With an hour to go, I decided to release some of the tension. It was either that, or burst through her door and demand sex immediately.

Why had I promised not to hit on her? She might want me, but she was never going to beg me for sex. If she did… I wouldn’t be able to hold back.

My cock pulsed and quickly hardened in my pants. I quickly released it and took hold of the beast in my hands. Maybe a cock pic would get Kristi wet between the legs? It probably would, but she still wouldn’t beg. Too fucking stubborn.

I’d been so close to getting some last time before the fucking repairman had shown up. I’d been half-naked at the time. Maybe the solution was just to whip out my cock and let her examine the goods?

I stroked my cock slowly as I imagined her staring at it, quivering and licking her lips in expectation.

“Are you going to make me beg for it?” she said, her eyes still looking down directly at my head.

“I said I’d make you beg for sex. Show me how much you want this cock in your pussy.”

No one ever accused me of not having an active imagination.
The straight-laced intern, in a tight, light-blue blouse, and a skirt that practically held her legs together, jumped off the sofa and dropped to her knees in front of me.

Kristi reached out a hand and grabbed the base of my cock, pointing the head—glistening with precum—towards her lips. She opened wide and quickly licked up the sample from my head, before humming in pleasure.

“There’s plenty more where that came from.”

I desperately wanted to coat her face in my cum, but then I wouldn’t get to see those lips spread around my cock. Her hand stroked my cock agonizingly slowly, while I sat there and watched the glimmer in her eyes as she admired my greatest asset.

She looked up and met my eyes before ducking her head down and taking me in her mouth. I groaned instantly, and again had to fight the urge to explode. Her head moved halfway down my cock before she came back up for air. This time she licked me from the base all the way up to the tip, looking up at me the entire time.

There was a surreal contradiction as I looked at her in the skirt and blouse, formal and innocent, while she sucked my cock with more skill and enthusiasm than any of the bikini girls I’d partied with in the past.

Kristi’s head went back down on my cock, and this time she managed to get a little further, as my tip tickled the back of her throat. When she came back up, she took a few seconds to lick my balls between heavy breaths, and then dived straight back onto my cock.

“I’m close,” I moaned. “Where do you want me to cum?”

Kristi didn’t take her lips from my shaft. Instead, she sucked harder and harder. That was all the answer I needed. I grabbed her hair and held tight as I squirted heavy jets of cum down her throat. She swallowed eagerly, but a few drops escaped her lips, only to be licked up as Kristi cleaned my shaft.

When I pictured Kristi with a small drop of my cum on her chin, I knew I couldn’t hold on any longer. I quickly grabbed a tissue and came hard, my legs shaking under me as I imagined spraying my load down her throat.

The fantasy helped. For about twenty minutes. Then I wanted to fuck Kristi again.

She’d better beg me for sex soon, because there’s no way I’m going to be able to hold out much longer.

I had to have her. Soon.