Chapter Six
Blake
“You have a simple part,” Chloe had said. “Just suck it up and get it done,” was her advice, accompanied by that half smile that I found both infuriated me and turned me on. She didn’t like that I had balked at the idea of the press conference to announce our engagement.
“It’s making too much of it.” I wanted it to seem real. I mean, who the fuck threw a press conference after they got engaged? It just wasn’t normal, sports star or not, but apparently my opinion didn’t mean shit to Chloe.
She was adamant. “Look, if I was getting engaged to you for real I would insist on a press conference. As your PR person, I’d tell you that love stories are pure gold. As your girlfriend, I’d want to put all those bimbos who chase after you on notice that you are no longer in play.”
Ultimately, I had to admit she was right. Still, I walked into the hotel with an uneasy churning in the pit of my stomach that made me feel a lot like I used to just before a game when I was first in the pros.
Okay, I had stage fright. As much as I hated to admit it, the limelight wasn’t exactly my favorite thing. I loved the attention of sexy women, sure, but when it came to the media being in my face all the time, I honestly hated it. I’d gotten into hockey when I was a kid because I loved the game. Sure, I became good enough to make a career out of it. Sure, money and babes were definite perks, but it had never been about the fame.
It wasn’t just that I had to talk to the press and would be on camera—I’d done that thousands of times. I didn’t ever mind talking to the press about my playing or a specific game, what went right or wrong, and I didn’t even mind facing them when I was being bailed out of jail. It came with the territory, and I knew their right to be there. I didn’t necessarily like it, but I let it roll off my back. The press was like the annoying little brother I never had.
It used to be funny. I’d never done anything illegal and I thought no one would care about the news stories. I’d been wrong, and now I had to care about my image. My tarnished image. My career depended on it. I had so many people breathing down my neck to make better choices it had me screaming inside. My exterior had to remain stoic though, no matter what.
I also hated that this press conference was a staged event. While Chloe was right, I did fake it sometimes on the ice, this seemed different. Going in front of the press to announce our fake engagement was taking another step toward convincing the world a new Blake Collins, a phony one had replaced me.
I felt like Chloe had chopped off my balls, and was ready to display them to the whole world as she tossed and twirled them like golden batons or something. I didn’t want to be a different person, and I really didn’t want my peers and teammates to think I had become pussy whipped. It just didn’t fit with my personality.
But my personality seemed to be my biggest problem and we’d started to fix the shit sandwich I’d made and there was no turning back. Not if I wanted to keep playing for a top team. I had nightmares on what would happen if I got traded to some D-list team where I’d never be noticed again and my pay would be sliced dramatically. I shook the thought right out of my head.
In the days leading up to the press conference, I’d taken Chloe out every night to dinner and dancing in prominent spots, introduced her to people and we’d wind up at her place or mine for part of the night. She always insisted on us ending up at our own apartments by morning. Yeah, I’d seen heat in her eyes, but I never knew if it was real or if she was acting. That was the worst. I knew where I stood with every woman on the planet but Chloe. The only woman I could touch without fucking up my entire career.
The day before, we’d gone to a jewelry store and the goddamn press followed. I’d seen the vultures outside as we picked out an engagement ring. I’d looked over my shoulder in annoyance, but Chloe had turned my head back to focus on her. “We must play the part,” she’d whispered. I’d wanted to punch a wall. What was real?
Even with all my frustrations and doubts, everything seemed to be going according to Chloe’s plan. She was good at her job and seemed to anticipate everything. That was fine, but she kept her distance except when we were supposed to be a couple in love. I was going out of my mind.
The woman had written a goddamn script for the press conference. It was just as well. At least I didn’t have to dream up some elaborate story myself. It wasn’t bad if you believed in fairy tale fantasies. I could see that some people would want to believe it and she kept it simple: When I got in trouble, Ralph hired Chloe to do PR for me and we’d fallen in love at first sight. Now, I was giving up my man whore ways to be with her forever and ever. The press never used the term man whore, but it was implied.
The very best sex was the first time, especially if you had to work for it. Having the same girl over and over again for the rest of my life sounded like a boring nightmare I didn’t want to live in reality. Yet I ached to kiss Chloe, to touch her. For real. But Chloe only wanted the world to think we were screwing our brains out.
As we played out her script, I intended to implement my variation to the storyline—one that shouldn’t alter the outcome in the least. I’d get this woman wanting me enough that I’d get to hear her beg me to fuck her. The image, the idea of it obsessed me. Begging was the only way I knew to get the truth from those full lips. I needed to know when I slid my dick into her that it was real.
But I had to play her game and pretend I was changing first. I couldn’t let her see the bad boy was still alive and well or she’d never let her desire show.
“You’re on time,” she said when I came into the hotel room.
“You sound surprised.” I looked at her and liked what I saw. She had it nailed, the fiancée thing, and was wearing a conservative white silk blouse, all buttoned up and a pencil skirt. A conservative outfit, but on her it was hot. I was sure she knew it too, but I tried to act casual, as if I didn’t think she looked so damn fuckable that my pulse was racing.
She shrugged. “Maybe I am.” She waved her hand and I saw the light flicker off the diamond in the engagement ring that she’d bought with my money.
“That ring makes the story look real enough.”
She gave me that knowing smile again and it made me burn. “We have to sell it,” she said. Then she nodded toward doors that led into a ballroom. “You ready?”
I moved close to her and put my arm around her. Her waist was tiny. I wanted to grab it and hold on as she bounced on top of me as she rode my dick. “I better have a practice kiss before we go in there. You wouldn’t want us to look awkward for the cameras, as if we’d never kissed before.”
I thought she seemed a little flushed, but her voice was steady. “You’re right.”
She turned up her face and I bent mine down. As our lips touched, I was sure I felt a slight tremble run through her body. I felt a searing heat run through me and I pulled her close, feeling her delicate body warm against mine. There was no way she could miss my cock growing hard. It was a damn pipe beneath my pants. When we broke the kiss, we stayed like that, catching our breaths. I saw something flicker in her eyes—amusement.
She stepped back and looked at me, her eyes on my crotch. “Perfect. Now you look the part of the eager boyfriend,” she said.
“Don’t pretend I’m the only one who liked that kiss,” I said. Yeah, I had to know. Real or pretend?
“What?” Something danced in her eyes.
“Don’t deny I don’t excite you.”
“You’re projecting, Blake. And guessing.” Her eyes sparkled as she rubbed up against me. “It’s all part of the script. If a hot kiss gets you turned on, I’m happy to provide it. You’re supposed to get excited when you kiss the girl you love and your fans would be disappointed if you didn’t have that big bulge in your pants when you announced our engagement.”
She took my hand and led me to the door. Fuck, the woman was tearing me apart one kiss at a time. I just wanted her to be as affected as me. Hell, she couldn’t miss how affected I was.
I sensed some emotion underneath her cool control. Her message, sent in clear signals, was that she wasn’t attracted to me—this was business. I got that loud and clear. Maybe she didn’t like dumb jocks. Maybe she didn’t like macho men. Who the hell knew? Yet I’d felt that tremble when our lips touched and there was nothing fake about that kiss. It was hot. And I was sure she was as turned on as me. I just wished I could slip my fingers beneath her panties to ensure she was as wet as I thought.
But she was so damn stoic about this. If I was going to get what I wanted, I’d have to get her to confront that desire for me, admit that she was attracted. Then I’d have to get her worked up to a point where she’d say it out loud, where she’d unzip my pants and wrap those long fingers around my rock hard cock and beg me to give it to her.
But this wasn’t my game, my world. In this hotel, with her setting the rules in the early stages of this farce of an engagement, I was out of my element. I needed to learn, so I’d play along until I could turn the tables on her, even if it meant walking into that press conference with my arm around her body, feeling her heartbeat, and walking stiffly because of a painfully swollen cock that wasn’t likely to get any relief soon.
As we entered, Ralph was at the podium. The press, probably twenty people, sat in folding chairs. At the sides and back of the room were television crews with cameras. I thought they all looked bored.
“Nice turnout,” Chloe whispered in my ear.
I snorted. “If you say so.”
Ralph smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Blake Collins, the star left wing of the Detroit Blizzards would like to make an announcement of a personal nature.”
I slipped my arm around Chloe’s slender waist and pulled her hips against mine. The contact made that same tingle in my cock come right back, even in front of all these people. I swallowed hard trying to get myself together so that I could get through the press conference without throwing her down, hiking that pencil skirt up to her waist, moving between her legs and screwing the shit out of her in front of everyone.
It was all part of her skills, of course, being that seductive, that hot, turning it on and off the way she did. I knew that, but it was driving me wild.
As the press applauded, she nudged me. “You’re on, darling.” Her husky voice rippled through me. I wasn’t used to the affectionate tone in her voice.
I took a long breath and faced the audience. Press releases Chloe had written were being handed out. They told the story of us falling in love, and gave them Chloe’s bio and the date for our wedding—a year out.
“I’d like to thank you for coming today. The details are in the press release and I’ll keep this simple. I wanted to announce my engagement to the beautiful and wonderful Chloe Hansen.” She smiled and held up the hand with the engagement ring. “Everything else, all you need to know, is in the press release. I simply asked you to be here in person so you could hear the truth from me and meet my lovely fiancée.”
Then, as scripted, I turned to her, looked deeply into her eyes and kissed her.
If I’d thought that first kiss backstage had been hot, I’d been mistaken. This blew it away. Her lips parted at the touch of mine and I instinctively explored her mouth with my tongue. I would get away with it because she wouldn’t be able to stop me. My hands slid down her back, traced her spine and then caressed her ass through her skirt. I was getting carried away in the heated moment and nearly forgot we were in front of the media. Pulling her against me I felt the warm, soft press of her breasts, the hard points of her nipples. She moved her hips and that warm and delicious body rubbed over my cock.
When the kiss ended, I struggled to breathe.
“Now we escape,” she reminded me, her voice breathy. “Don’t answer any questions.”
She turned, holding my arm and guided me toward the door leading to the parking lot where a waiting limo. A crowd had gathered, mostly women. Women who, in the past, I would have happily fucked.
But that was over and while I was aware the usual horde surrounded us, I didn’t really see them. I didn’t find it hard to play my role and focus my attention on the hot body that pressed against mine. To the woman whose kiss I could still taste.
I stepped into the limo and slid next to her. Her skirt had pulled up slightly and I was sure the crowd noticed as I put my hand on her thigh. I moved my hand and the touch felt electric. I had to resist the urge to run it up under her skirt. I wanted to slip my fingers under her panties and into what I was certain was an incredibly wet and warm pussy. She blew me a kiss as the driver closed the limo door, then turned her face away.
I continued to watch her and kept my hand where it was knowing that something was changing. The story was the same, but then had come that kiss. I always thought one kiss would be like any other. This one with Chloe? It hadn’t been like anything I’d ever experienced before. I wanted more, even if I wasn’t sure what that was exactly.
“I think that went pretty well,” she said. Even the calmness in her voice excited me. “The news should be all over the major outlets by the time we get to your place.”
Her words brought me back to the reality of the moment. Chloe was only my fake fiancée and we’d just finished a show for the press. She wasn’t really the girl of my dreams. At least, she wasn’t acting as if that kiss had hit her the way it had me. I was slightly disappointed that Chloe wasn’t showing the same type of reaction that I felt to that kiss, but there was nothing I could do about it right now.
“The vultures are following.”
No, maybe I could. I could give the press a show and find out if Chloe was faking or not. I waited for the reporters’ cars to come alongside to take photos. She turned and touched my cheek, and I kissed her. She responded and her mouth opened. Again, I explored it with my tongue and felt the powerful urge to take her right there. I heard a whimper and I knew that wasn’t for the fucking reporters. No, that sound had been just for me. When we broke the kiss, my heart was pounding, my balls aching for more.
“Perfect,” she said.
“Yes,” I said, glad to hear her say it. My breath was ragged and I was a fucking mess over a damn kiss.
“With that steamy kiss, we’ll be all over the social media,” she said.
I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut. The only perfection she noticed was in the execution of her plan. Who the hell had she kissed before that made her able to ignore this one? She hadn’t been immune, but she’d shut down all her passion for the job. Was she a fucking robot or something? I had never kissed a woman who afterwards seemed so distant. I ran my hand over my face, then reached down to shift my cock to a more comfortable position.
“And now we really have to play the part. The readers will want to know if this is real, or some sort of con. The press will be on us like white on rice—we need to stick to the script and stay in character.”
In character. That sounded bad to me. “The story will fade soon—it isn’t such a big deal,” I told her.
She shook her head. Her cheeks were flushed, but she seemed…unaffected.
“You still don’t get it. The press will not believe you’re giving up chasing tail. Your groupies and the press will expect you to stray. After all, you just met a woman, you didn’t undergo a personality change. As long as those girls who crowd around you think there’s hope, our engagement will be news.”
“Really? So, when they see how I behave what happens?”
“You’re a bad boy, Blake, and that’s part of the appeal. You’re a brute on the ice and an effective player, but the brute part is what appeals to people, especially the female fans. Their panties get wet imagining being with you. The story here is that a bad boy is trying to be loyal.”
“And do your panties get wet being here with me?”
She blushed at the question. “This isn’t real.”
That was not the response I wanted, dammit. I sighed. “I’m not sure how an engagement changes my image.”
“It shows you’re drawing lines. That you’re a star player who’s growing up. Becoming mature and not acting, in public, like an arrogant prick.”
I winced at her calling me an arrogant prick. I had to admit it stung a little, even if it was the truth, at least to those on the outside. It amazed me how many women liked the idea of spreading their legs for an arrogant prick. But Chloe made it sound like the words even tasted bad.
It surprised me that I cared what she thought about me, that her opinion mattered.
Fine. This bad boy would behave, but I’d also make sure I kept Chloe close and that she found out how mature I could be. If that was what it took to get her to beg for it, then I’d bide my time and try not to go crazy.