Quarterback’s Surprise Baby(5)

“Holding out for a lawyer,” we both finish together. “All right girl,” I continue. “Typical Sandra. Oh no, I’m going to be late! I’m gotta finish getting ready for work. I have to look my best! I'll talk to you later, all right sweetie?”

“Good luck!” she calls out. She makes some kissy sounds before hanging up. “You're gonna do great! I know you will!”

“Thanks, babe!” I say. “Barring anything weird happening!” I add, but she's already gone.

I catch my reflection in the mirror and there's still a bit of the sex flush going on. My lips are looking a bit more full and luscious this morning and I can see his stubble left a little redness on my chin, but it’s nothing a bit more makeup can't hide.

There's also a flutter in my tummy that I'm going to have to admit comes from the thought of that hot stranger’s hands all over me. Well, that and the few drinks I had last night coming back to bite me.

But that's it, from now on, everything is serious. No more playing around, picking up guys at bars. All work all the time. “You've had your fun,” I say sternly to myself before applying one more coat of lipstick to my bee-stung lips.





5





Gryphon



To think I'm waiting on this goddamned lawyer. I hate lawyers. If only I didn't have to go through this shit. It’s just infuriating. I never did anything to Sabrina, she's just a gold-digging whore. I can feel my fingers curling into fists just thinking about it. I'd like to knock her block off, but I would never hit a woman, not in a million years. It's just not the way I was made. Despite everything. I can’t wait until my next game, just to work off all this stress by giving my all on the field. Sometimes it’s the only thing that can give me peace.

Sabrina’s just trying to ruin me. It's Miss Emory all over again, and all the female authority figures in my life, for that matter. My own mother was a mess, my foster mom was no picnic, and all my teachers seemed to have it out for me. To top it off, now it seems I can't even go out with a girlfriend without something really goddamn bad happening.

I guess that the only people I can trust are my real true friends from college ball. The ones I made at Brooks University. That's when I really became myself, at college in Cali. If I hadn't had those boys to get me on track and keep me there, I'd have probably ended up in jail, or worse—dead, on drugs or a criminal. I remember when Jackson pulled me out of a party one time and made me go home and sleep before a game. I guess I was going nuts, and he was like, “Eyes on the prize, Gryphon. Don’t forget it.” And I learned. So instead of becoming a complete degenerate, I'm a football player, and one of the best in the world if I do say so myself. I thought my success would keep me safe, but it turns out that instead, it makes me a target now. A prized shining key for all the gold-digging bitches in the world to do their best to win me, then take me down and steal every bloody thing I have fought to earn.

It’s really too bad all women aren't like that girl from last night. Beautiful, free, and ready to fuck, over and over again. Sure, she was clearly not interested in anything more from me but a few good times together and to ride my dick until it explodes inside her, and that’s fine by me. I better not think too much about last night, or I'll get hard all over again. I have to meet this lawyer, and you know she's going to be a serious ball-buster. Probably will have her hair pulled back in a crazy severe bun, with glasses and a pantsuit. I wonder if I could charm a woman like that, since I want her firmly on my side. No harm in trying I guess. I check my look in the glass reflection and I know that I’m looking good. Hopefully the disguise of this expensive suit will make things go my way in the meeting.

I grab a quick Americano from the espresso bar in the lobby. I'll need it to get through this stupid meeting, after getting practically no sleep. My eyes are already practically closing as it is. If I weren't so screwed by Sabrina I'd be snoozing right now, resting up for the game tonight, rather than meeting a high-priced lawyer. I'll probably play like shit now thanks to everything Sabrina’s done to me. Part of it’s my own doing of course. I wouldn’t give up fucking a beautiful girl all night for a little sleepiness, though in the back of my head, comes Jackson’s voice—“Eyes on the prize.”

But the prize isn’t always football. I really should have gotten that hot chick's number, and we could just screw when we want to and leave it until the next time. Perfect arrangement.

What the fuck, I'll have another espresso.

“Can I help you sir?” says a well-modulated voice.

I look up and it's a woman in a sleek suit. Her hair is curled just so, and her makeup is perfect. She shares my fling’s lovely dark skin, but otherwise she’s an imitation, as well made up as she is. I catch her sneaking a look at me, at my body. We’re both sizing each other up.

“Oh thanks very much. I’m just waiting for a meeting,” I tell her. “Would you like an espresso?”

She laughs.

“No thank you, I’ve had enough coffee for today. You’re Gryphon James?” she asks and I nod. “Very good sir. Are you comfortable? Do you have everything you need? Your lawyer, Ms. Odell Williams, should be here any moment.”

What kind of crazy name is Odell, I wonder? But I guess I’m not one to talk. I’m pretty sure that Gryphon is the name of a mythical creature. But then again, looking at my biceps, I am pretty mythical.

“I hope so,” I tell her, trying not to sound too pissed off. “As important as this is, I don’t have all day to wait. I have to get to the stadium before the game, warm up, suit up, all that.”

“Of course,” she says. “Oh look, here she is now.”

Looking up, my eyes track beautiful heels, long, stockinged legs, a tight skirt that showcases muscular, thick thighs, and one of those little jackets that nips in perfectly at the waist. Her blouse reveals just the right amount of cleavage, and after lingering there for a moment, I face her, and I realize. It's ... it’s the woman from last night, the gorgeous, nameless woman whose every opening I had my tongue in. I look past her, desperately. Is this some kind of a joke? She can’t be my lawyer—she has to be here for someone else, she might be suing someone, anything. But she flinches too. Her eyes grow as wide as saucers; her mouth opens into an O not unlike how it was when she came all over my dick.

This has got to be some kind of trick. What in the ever-loving fuck is going on?

“Gryphon James, this is Odell Williams, the associate who will be handling your case. Odell, this is Gryphon,” says the secretary. “Odell, Mr. James doesn’t have a lot of time, so I’ll take you both to the meeting room right away, if that’s all right.”

“Certainly,” she finally chokes out, her voice a lot smaller than it sounded when she was screaming, “Harder!”

“Glad you could make it,” I grunt finally. Otherwise, I’m speechless. The fight or flight reaction is going through my body. I almost want to blitz everyone and run out, but that wouldn’t bode too well for my case now, would it? I get up and sway from one foot to the other instead, avoiding her eyes.

This is not how I expected the morning to go.

Understatement of the year.

She runs her little pink tongue over those luscious lips, and sticks her hand out. “It's a great pleasure to meet you, Gryphon,” she says, in what seems like an unusually bright voice compared to how she was talking last night, whispering in the alley, screaming as she rode my dick, or moaning in my ear. I guess it’s her version of pulling herself together. The slight emphasis on my name is the only betrayal of the fact that she's met me before, and one that only I'd ever notice.

“Hello, Miss Williams,” I say. My voice is flatter than a pancake. Two can play this game.

Goddammit. How the hell did this happen? Is it just a coincidence, or was she spying on me? But why? Trying to gather evidence before the case? She could have easily targeted me and picked me up—it’s not like I’m not the most famous footballer in Seattle. I rack my brain trying to think of what I might have told her last night, but I don't feel like I let anything slip to her about the case. Mostly we used our mouths for kissing, sucking and moaning—and kept the talking to a minimum. Anyway, I tell myself, it shouldn't matter what I said or who she is—despite Sabrina's ridiculous claims, I'm not guilty, and this lawyer is here to represent me. She works for me. Gryphon James, starting quarterback for Seattle.

I have to admit it though, I'm completely thrown.

“The other partners are waiting for you in the conference room,” says the receptionist as she leads us through the bright, airy lobby. I motion for Odell to go ahead of me in order to seem polite, but I can’t lie and say I wasn’t looking forward to checking out her sweet ass in that tight suit and those high heels that make it pop just so. I’ll use the chance to collect myself, hopefully even before she can. But it is distracting watching her walk. Damn, the way her body moves. So smooth. She must have been a dancer in some former life. Still, my mind is left reeling just thinking that this is the very woman who is going to be my lawyer during the most important moment of my life, and yet I can describe how she tastes.