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“I might have an idea.” Leaning over to whisper in her ear, Carter gave her explicit instructions, and she was blushing by the time he finished.
“I don’t think I can do that right now,” she admitted.
He forced a disappointed expression. “It was merely a suggestion.”
“You know how much I love you?” Scarlett asked.
“How much?”
“This much,” she answered, kissing him passionately.
“Mama!” Maura stamped her tiny foot in the sand. Her long black hair flew around her face in the breeze, and disg
ust gleamed in her purple eyes.
“Hm, we should wait until there’s no audience?”
Carter called to Maura, “Head back up to the house, Mama and I will meet you there.”
Maura smiled and waved to them both skipping through the sand as Carter wrapped his arms around Scarlett.
“I want you,” he growled in her ear.
“But we’re on the beach, your family, the workers, people will see.”
“I don’t care.” She knew that was true, in the past four years they certainly hadn’t hidden their love.
She dragged her fingers across his scars, the ones her father had inflicted so many years ago. They never heard from him again, and her sister’s had both moved on with their lives. They had gotten married and found real jobs to earn their own way. Scarlett had finished her schooling and was now studying Greek architecture locally. Everyone had found their way.
Carter chewed on her lower lip and she let a moan escape her lips. His hands ravaged her skin, digging into her. He slipped off her bikini top and began to kiss her flesh, moving down her nipples. His hands found their way into her bottoms and he felt the wetness of her mound. As his body pressed against hers she felt his cock harden, he was ready for her.
She reached down and rubbed it as her breath became ragged. He made her feel so alive, so desired.
And that’s how it would be.
Forever.
Turn the page to read my friend Violet Paige’s Book Dirty Play
Volume One
1
Wes
I was a god. And not just any god. I had an arm that could throw a lightning bolt a hundred yards, with two seconds left on the game clock, and score. They should have called me Zeus. I could run faster than any damn lineman trying to knock the shit out of me. I could read the defense faster than the whistle blew. I could call plays and execute before the defense could say their own names. I was a fucking god out on that field, and everyone knew it. The coaches. My teammates. The fans.
Hell, I had known it since I joined the pee-wee league when I was six. That’s what kids do in Texas. Kids that have dads who want them to be competitive assholes before they can read. And that was me. Born to play football. Born to dominate. Born to win. Molded and coached into the best fucking quarterback to walk the planet.
And I did win. I won state playoffs in high school, I won our conference title in college, and I was on our way to taking our team to the Super Bowl. Nothing stopped Wes Blakefield. Nothing.
I could fuck any woman I wanted. I could gamble. I could party after a game. All of it. Because I won. The American Football Association wasn’t going to stop me. And neither was my team. I brought them millions. As long as I won, they would look the other way.
They didn’t give a shit about the women or the bets. As long as I put a W in the column every Sunday, they stayed off my back. I was a walking cash machine for those bastards.
Until everything came crashing down.
2 months earlier
