CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Plotting

Ashford.

I'm left dumbfounded, and it isn't because I've never been turned down and blatantly rejected before—more times than I can count in one night.

Although, I'm rarely ever turned down, that isn't it.

It's him.

Why is he so adamant?

I mean, it's so clear in his eyes—the want, the need, the desperate urge to crawl inside another person's skin and seek relief.

He can't hide it no matter how much he tries, but that doesn't stop Christian Thompson.

No matter what I say, or do, or how desperately I throw myself at him, he still sticks to his facade.

It's quite literally the most shocking thing I've ever seen.

Most people—myself included—just take what they want, irrespective of how wrong it is.

But not him.

He seems to hold on to the belief that this is wrong, and no matter how much I push and prod, he won't budge.

Maybe I shouldn't have told him fuck you, but why not?

He was acting beyond disrespectful, a behavior I've never been known to take from anyone.

What if that's the kind of thing that gets him off, hm? A small voice in my head asks me.

Shit.

So what if it is?

I've never been into being humiliated, both in and out of the bedroom, so I won't tolerate that.

And my dick is only hard right now because it's been a while I've gotten it wet, and not because of him.

Fuck him.

I meant that.

If he doesn’t want to fuck me—to let me fuck him—then that is his lose.

I'm a fantastic lay after all.

I flinch when someone presses their palm to my waist, a soft but firm body sagging against mine.

It takes me too long to finally relax, when I realize that it's Jake, or Josh.

But I'm still beyond annoyed—my skin suddenly feeling tight and itchy, and extremely uncomfortable.

Fuck Christian Thompson to the moon, and if I see his face in fifty years time, it'll be too fucking soon.

A smooth chin rubs against my shoulder blades, and I let myself accommodate my date's build.

He nuzzles on me slowly, "He isn't interested?"

I decide to finally settle on calling him Jake in my head. It doesn't matter what his name is anyway.

All that matters is that he's here, and he's willing, unlike him. Ugh, why am I even thinking about him? I should hate him, and I have good reason to.

Unlike him, who is probably just jealous of me.

That line of thought brings a smile to my face.

I'm sure he's scared to admit it, but the legendary player is literally just jealous of me—a kid who's been playing for less than half a dozen years.

It's pathetic.

He should feel pathetic, and I hope he does.

In fact, I pretty much want to make him feel that way now that I've thought about it.

And what better way to make the guy miserable than if he has to see me again?

Yes, that should work.

If he's in close contact with me, then he'll live every day burning in envy, and hating himself because he can't do anything about it.

I'm full on grinning now, even though a small, but distant part of me tries to warn me that isn't really a good idea.

But what fun will life be if all my ideas are good? Some little teasing won't harm anyone, would it?

And I'll have some fun along the way—although I doubt Christian will share the sentiment when he realizes what I want to do.

Oh, I can't wait now.

Eagerness burns through my skin, and I suddenly want to be out of here this instant.

I should call my manager and inform him of my plan.

Hopefully, this won't be too hard, right?

I've always been the perfect client to Pierce, and it's made things a hell of a lot easier for me.

If I don't behave too stubbornly, he can get me the things I want, and he's always delivered.

This is just another thing I want too.

More like desperately need to get, but that doesn't matter.

The thought of that impossible face morphing into one of those angry frowns of his causes a chuckle to bubble up my throat.

It's been a while I've felt this excited about anything, more or less about something so mischievous.

"What's got you smiling like that? I thought you'd be upset he turned you down?" Jake speaks again.

I look down at him, and frown, suddenly remembering that he's still here.

The glazed look in his eyes make it clear that he still wants me—good, because I'm wound tight enough to snap.

"Forget it. I'll be seeing him soon enough anyway." I answer coyly.

Jake doesn't get it, but he doesn't need to, does he? I won't be seeing him after today, once he gets what he's here for, and that's for better.

"Your place?" I ask, letting my eyes lazily graze his form.

He shivers under my perusal, and doesn't even bother to hide the way his eyes ogle my cock—which to my surprise is already hard and ready.

Did I get hard from plotting against him?

Fuck, that's crazy, I think to myself.

It seems the guy has a better control of my dick than I do, but I can't blame it.

He is hot.

It takes Jake a while for his eyes to clear up, and for him to meet my gaze with a clear look.

"Why not your hotel?" He asks, while slowly biting his lips.

They're really plump soft looking red lips, and I imagine stretching them taut around my cock, but his words make me frown.

My space is always out of bounds for any of my hook ups, but I remember that isn’t my place, but a hotel after all.

"If you want to." I whisper, all sultry instead.

His eyes glaze again, and he hooks his hand in mine. "Can’t wait to have you in me, baby.”

I smile.