Playing Dirty

  So I covered up the goddamn tattoo with my thumb, and I fucked her. I fucked her hard and without mercy. Not a sound other than the slap of skin on skin and my own muted grunts. Cassidy took it. She took it and she didn’t say a word or try to stop me. She liked it. Hell, I’d bet she even loved it.

  But that goddamn tattoo was burning under my thumb, eating through my skin like liquid acid. And no matter how powerful I felt with each punishing thrust into Cassidy, satisfaction eluded me. My grip tightened and my pace quickened as I chased after it, but my control was quickly slipping. What the fuck?

  I was very much aware of each milking orgasm she’d had. Three, to be exact, but there would be none for me. Out of breath, frustrated, and confused, I pulled free of her tight cunt and quickly tucked my deflating cock back into my pants before she could tell I was half limp.

  Cassidy dropped the leather from her mouth and straightened. “What’s wrong?”

  When I took my belt back and started feeding it through the loops on my slacks, Cassidy put her hand on my arm. “Shaw?”

  Her recoil as I looked up at her was unexpected. I wasn’t sure what she saw on my face, though if it was anything like the chaos banging around in my head, it must have been scary. But again, I didn’t give a shit. So I yanked free of her hold and made like a speeding bullet toward the door.

  In truth, I didn’t know what was wrong with me. But even if I had known, I sure as hell wasn’t going to share with her.

  CHAPTER 10

  Cassidy

  I had absolutely no clue what was going on. Everything was in chaos. Or so it seemed. And time to think about it over the weekend had made matters even more confusing.

  I was fully aware of what the episode in my office on Thursday was all about. Shaw had felt emasculated, like he needed to prove something. Though I wasn’t quite sure what that something was. What I did know was that I’d been nothing more than a tool in his quest to do so, an obstacle he needed to overcome. The fucking had been a spillover of the disagreement, an argument turned physical—only sexual instead of violent. We hadn’t been two people engaging in the act of sex for mutual gratification. No, it had all been very one-sided. Shaw’s comeback to my panty-throwing tantrum wasn’t a witty retort but, rather, a show of dominance. Clearly, he had been fucking me. And then he stormed out of there without release and without giving me the chance for a rebuttal. I’d had no say in the matter, and even though I shouldn’t have, I’d liked it. He’d taken the alpha title, and I’d surrendered it without putting up much of a fight. I was a little disappointed in myself, because I’d never been one who easily admitted defeat. But, somehow, I didn’t feel defeated. All those orgasms felt like mini victories to me, even if they were made possible only by his generosity.

  Nevertheless, Shaw’s abrupt departure in the middle of our—let’s call it “confrontation”—was still playing havoc with my head. The fact that he’d left without a word was like putting an exclamation point on the upper hand he’d already claimed. Dammit. My being okay with it wasn’t sitting well with me. Though I knew it was impossible, I was afraid my submissive stance over my desk might lead to a submissive stance where Denver was concerned. Not that I’d literally bend over a desk for him like I did for Shaw, but that I might slip and let Shaw take the lead there as well.

  Then there was the matter of Casey. Well, Casey wasn’t really a “matter” per se, since he wasn’t physically here, but I still felt his presence in my thoughts and heart. He’d been the only man I’d ever cared about, so why was I thinking about him in the same circle as Shaw? Much like I’d done to his picture on my desk, I pushed the thought of Casey aside once again to focus on the two more pressing issues: Shaw and Denver.

  Both had gone MIA. Denver hadn’t returned my phone calls over the weekend, and Shaw hadn’t bothered to show up for work today. Shaw also hadn’t been occupying his regular bar stool at Monkey Business. That was a huge miss. Chaz hadn’t a clue what was up. Or so he’d said. And he’d stuck to his story even after Demi had put the whammy on him with that way she flirted to get anything she wanted. I had a sneaking suspicion something was happening on the QT. That or Shaw and Denver had gotten together and swapped stories like two chicks who’d just realized they’d been seeing the same guy. Technically, I hadn’t been seeing Denver, but I hadn’t done anything to make sure he was clear on that point, either.

  Feeling the lateness of the hour from the long day, I unlocked the door to my apartment and stepped inside, closing it behind myself only to sink against it. A sense of abandonment punched at my chest for a moment. Not because Denver and Shaw had pulled a disappearing act on me but because my closest friend wasn’t there. Quinn had moved in with Daddy over the weekend, and although none of the furniture in our apartment was missing—it all belonged to me—I still felt the emptiness.

  With a heavy sigh, I pushed off the door and went over to the kitchen bar to put my messenger bag down. From there, it was on to the bedroom to change my clothes. I’d no sooner kicked off my shoes and shed my skirt than my cellphone rang. No way was I going to miss a call from Denver, so I ran out to the kitchen and dug through my bag to retrieve it before he could hang up.

  The second I saw the caller ID, my heart leapt into my throat. My hands were shaking as I slid my finger across the bottom of the screen to answer the call. “Casey?”

  “Hey, Cass. How’s my favorite girl?” That deep, raspy voice with its heavy New England accent almost brought me to my knees.

  A tear fell down my cheek as I sank to the floor and cradled the phone to my ear. The sound of his voice … Oh, God, the sound of his voice was like a hug from his arms. I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to hear it. Maybe that was the reason I’d been thinking about him so much.

  “I’m good,” I lied. “Working hard, trying to land a new client.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who’s your victim this time?” I could hear the chuckle in his voice and imagined the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his dazzling smile.

  I couldn’t help but smile as well. Casey had a knack for making me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. “Denver Rockford.”

  “No kidding? Tell me something: is he as much of a show-off in person as he is on the field?”

  “Worse,” I laughed.

  “Bet he’s got a thing for you.”

  That was Casey: he always thought everyone else was out to get his girl, because to him, I was the biggest catch in the ocean. And every time he asked the question, I could confidently tell him he was wrong. This time, it would be a lie. Seemed I was doing a lot of lying to him during this call. So instead, I opted for “Stop being silly.” It wasn’t a yes or a no, but it was still misleading.

  “I’m not being silly. Whether we’re together or not, you’ll always be my beautiful girl.”

  “Casey …”

  “All right. I’ll stop embarrassing you.” There was a pause and then: “I’m really proud of you, Cass. I know you don’t hear it often enough, but I am. And for what it’s worth, you did the right thing. Even if you are a million miles away from home … away from me.”

  “Casey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve really missed you.”

  “I know, Cass. I miss you, too. Every single day.” He went quiet on the other end, but it didn’t matter. He was there and I was here, yet we were still in the same place together. “Look out your window. You see it?”

  The moon was only partially full, and wisps of clouds were floating by, but it didn’t matter. My heart swelled all the same, because I knew exactly what he was getting at. “Yeah, I see it.”

  “So do I,” he said. “Whatever … whenever.”

  Whatever was wrong or right, whenever I needed him most, he’d be right there. Just like the moon. That was what he meant. He’d made that promise the last night we’d spent on my rooftop before I’d left home for good, the night we’d broken up. And he’d always been true to his word.

  “Same goes fo
r you.”

  “Yeah, yeah … I’m fine. I’ve got a strong back and an even stronger mind, with the will to survive. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “What about our folks? How are they?”

  “They’re alive and kicking. You should probably call your ma, though. You know how she gets about not hearing from you.”

  “I just talked to her last week.” Or at least I thought it had been last week. Doing the count in my head, maybe it had been the week before. I blamed Shaw and all his nonsense for getting me so sidetracked.

  “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger,” he laughed. “Other than that, you know I’m holding down the fort here.”

  “I do. You’re sort of my hero.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet. Just sort of, huh?”

  “You know what I mean.” I cradled the phone to my smiling cheek. “Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, Cass. We’re family. That’s what we do.” There was another pause and then: “So how’s the superjerk?”

  I was stunned for a moment at the question. The superjerk was Shaw, and I’d always talked about him with Casey, since the day he’d arrived at Striker and waltzed into that boardroom like a hotshot who was going to blow everyone else out of the water. I’d proven him wrong time and time again since then, and shown him that a woman could dominate in our world. I wasn’t sure who was dominating whom now.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “You have no idea,” I said.

  “Then tell me.”

  But I couldn’t talk about Shaw with Casey. Not anymore. Not when I wasn’t sure where the truth began and the lie ended.

  “It isn’t worth the breath. Tell me about what’s been going on with you.”

  “There isn’t much to tell. It’s Stonington, Cass. Nothing happens here.” He laughed again.

  “Then tell me what you did today. From the time you woke up until the time you called me. And go slow. I just want to hear your voice.”

  “Aw, darlin’ … you’re the sweetest part of me.” He liked to say stuff like that to make me feel girly, and it worked every time. “Okay, so once upon a time …”

  Though it was a normal day, Casey had this way of making the mundane seem spectacular by adding a wee bit of pizzazz and a lot of embellishment. This time, he told the tale as if he’d been a newcomer. He walked me through Stonington and his day on the boat like a virtual tour of the imagination. Every detail he provided was as if he’d seen the village where we’d grown up and met its locals for the very first time. It was a brilliant idea, one that reminded me about all the comforts of home and made me long to be there with him on our rooftop, under a sea of stars. To add insult to injury, Ma had apparently cooked up a batch of her famous chili and shovel-fed it to Casey—not that it had ever taken much effort on her part in reality.

  Our laughter finally died down sometime later, when Casey reminded me that he was three hours ahead on the East Coast and needed his beauty sleep. A fisherman’s alarm had him up and at ’em before most people switched to the cool side of the pillow. And Casey was no slacker. In addition to being the most adorable man I knew, he was also hardworking, with a blue-collar sex appeal.

  I thought I’d be sad to hang up the phone, but I wasn’t. I felt better than I had in a very long time, assured and more confident. Casey’s “Show ’em no mercy, beautiful girl” was just the kick in the pants I needed. First thing in the morning, I was going to track down Denver, set him straight on what an appropriate relationship between a client and an agent was supposed to be like, and then I was going to do what I did best: bring home the win.

  But tonight I needed food. Or at least that was what the rumbling in my tummy was telling me. Eating at home was something I rarely ever did, since I was usually out with my friends; luckily, Quinn always made sure we had the necessities, just in case. Chicken noodle soup sounded pretty good, so I dumped it into a bowl and popped it into the microwave and headed off to change into my jammies. Jammies, for me, consisted of a simple T-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. By the time I was done, so was the soup. The crackers were a tad on the stale side, but they’d do. Soup, spoon, and water in hand, I decided to park it on the couch and do something else I rarely ever did: watch television.

  Grabbing the remote, I clicked the TV on and settled in. Naturally, the channel had been set to whatever station would be broadcasting entertainment news, because Quinn liked to keep up on which celebrity was doing what and with whom. I was going to change it, but then breaking news hit, and I choked on a stupid noodle when Denver’s face was plastered to the screen.

  “San Diego quarterback Denver ‘Rocket Man’ Rockford was in the center of a scene that led to the arrest of sports agent Shaw Matthews earlier this evening. Matthews was reportedly arrested for assaulting a member of the paparazzi outside a Las Vegas strip club after this video was shot.”

  The screen cut to a shaky video clip showing Denver climbing onstage to get his bump and grind on with a barely legal blonde with a blackout bar across her obviously naked chest. She bent over for a Miley Cyrus twerk on his crotch, which was disgusting enough, but then all hell broke loose. While Denver was in the middle of “making it rain” on her, a plump woman in her forties stormed the place shouting, “That’s my daughter! She isn’t even eighteen, you pervert!” Sidekick Shaw went pasty white and scrambled to get Denver off the stage at right about the time the cameraman made his presence known, which sent Shaw into a frenzy of trying to get Denver to safety while blocking the camera’s view and pushing the paparazzo off.

  The film kept on rolling as they made it out to the sidewalk, where the cameraman pushed up against Shaw while the underage stripper’s mother was dragging her out by the arm and yelling threats of legal action at Denver; on TV, Denver’s every other word was bleeped out. Once Shaw had him inside the car, another cameraman muscled his way inside in an attempt to get even more footage. That’s when it happened. Shaw grabbed the cameraman and yanked him out, shoving him to the sidewalk, and then took the camera from his hands and smashed it to the ground. A police officer charged Shaw there and then, pinning him to the car and twisting his arms behind his back.

  It made me cringe. “Ouch! That’s gotta hurt,” I said out loud, even though no one else was there to hear me.

  “Rockford’s camp hasn’t issued a public statement as of yet. In other news …”

  Yeah, I really wasn’t interested in any other news. This was exactly why I never watched television. Nothing good ever came of it. Hitting the power button on the remote, I sighed. “Well, at least I know where they’ve been hiding out.”

  And then my cell phone rang again. Only this time, it wasn’t Casey. “Cassidy Whalen,” I answered.

  A prerecorded voice greeted me from the other end. “This is a collect call from …”

  “Shaw,” the automated system provided in his voice.

  “… an inmate at the Clark County Detention Center.” There was a lot of legal mumbo jumbo after that, but I was too busy rolling my eyes to pay attention. I did, however, accept the call.

  “Hey, buddy! How’s Vegas?” I asked when the connection was finally made.

  “Cute.” I didn’t think he meant it. “How much do you know?”

  “Not much. Just what’s plastered all over TMZ. I’ve got to hand it to you, though: it made for some pretty great entertainment. I suppose you’re going to want to tell me your side of things now?”

  “Not particularly. Besides, I don’t have time. I need you to do something for me.”

  “I’m not bailing you out. You can rot in there for all I care.”

  “I’m desperate, but not that desperate.”

  “The fact that you’re on the other end of my line, calling from a Las Vegas jail to ask me a favor, would indicate the opposite.”

  “Look, I just need you to check on Denver and be sure he made it back okay.”

  “You lost Denver?” I shrieked. “Nice. Real nice, Matthews. You know he’s
impulsive, and you’ve got him in the city of sin on top of that.” I felt like a baby mama lecturing the father on his bad parenting skills.

  “He’s not impulsive. He just likes to show off a bit. Will you check on him or not?”

  “I tried calling him all weekend. I highly doubt he’s going to suddenly answer now.” And then I had an even better idea. “I’m calling his mother.”

  “No! Cassidy, don’t call the man’s mom on him. That’s not cool.”

  None of this was cool.

  “Bye, Shaw. Be sure to keep your back to the wall in there. Your ass is much too pretty for your own good.” Before he could say anything else, I hung up the phone.

  Shaw

  Cassidy had disconnected before I could ask her to call Chaz for me. Which meant I’d likely be sitting in a jail cell until a court hearing, where the judge would, hopefully, let me go on my own recognizance. In hindsight, maybe I should’ve used my one phone call to ring up my only friend instead, then had him make the embarrassing plea to my competitor. I’d had hours to bang my hungover head against the wall because of that bad decision. Well, all of the bad decisions I’d been making as of late, really.

  Christ, what a weekend. In the wake of my loss of composure with Cassidy on Thursday, I’d had a little pep talk with myself. Whatever malfunctioning my brain was suffering from had to be righted. I was Shaw fucking Matthews, and Shaw Matthews never lost control. Least of all to a chick. Looking back at the whole painful ordeal, I could at least be honest enough with myself to admit that in an effort to assert my dominance, I’d become weak. Not anymore.

  All of this debauchery had started with the partnership, and the partnership was where it would end. I couldn’t lose sight of that. No matter how good the pussy, Denver was the finish line. The problem was that Denver also had pussy on the brain. So I’d decided to give the man what he wanted and, thank God, I knew where to get it for him. What started out as a party with Yvonne and one of her very good friends ended up with us ditching the girls and skipping town on a last-minute Vegas getaway instead. Denver’s idea, of course. Denver’s idea, but my tab. Fuck it. It would be worth it in the end when he signed on the dotted line and made me a very happy man with the secured future I’d been busting my ass for.