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I remind myself that you can’t see her face. That it’s impossible to tell exactly whose pussy my head is buried in. Unless…
What if there’s something I missed—a birthmark or a tattoo—something that tipped him off?
Christ, he just referred to his daughter as being some broad’s pussy.
My football career flashes before my eyes. My whole life does. Everything I have been working for my entire life is gone. All because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants. All I know is that I need to give him my side of the story and hope he believes I had no clue Lexie was his daughter.
“Carter, this is my daughter Lexie.” Coach introduces me to the woman I fucked several times, in several positions, as recently as yesterday.
Without any hesitation, Lexie walks up to me and extends her hand.
“Nice to finally meet you, Carter.”
Speechless, motionless, I stare at her hands—the ones that had been wrapped around my cock last night—unable to wrap my head around this newest revelation.
She clears her throat, a subtle reminder that I should take her hand and introduce myself. I shake her hand, barely uttering the word “Hi” as I do. My eyes search hers for answers as I hold her hand far longer than the pleasantries last. She glances down at our still joined hands, and when she does, I yank mine back.
With a pissed look on her face, Lexie faces her father. “We have a two o’clock meeting, and I’m not letting you off the hook this time.”
“Yes, Lexie, I am well aware of our meeting, as well as why I asked you here. Now, sit down,” Coach instructs, his voice reminiscent of how he speaks to his players—direct, no-nonsense.
Lexie takes the seat next to me. Her hands are clasped in her lap, and even from my position, I can see the way he affects her.
“I’ll just go,” I say as I begin to stand from my seat.
I need to get out of here… away from her.
“Sit your ass down, Wallace. I’m not finished with you yet.”
Coach Masterson is not a man you mess with, so when he tells me to sit, I sit.
Lexie and I are side by side, our eyes looking straight ahead as Coach paces the office. His silence is almost more terrifying than his anger-filled voice.
“I will not let you throw away your future because of a stupid injury. You need to get yourself under control. You need to heal.”
Seeing Lexie made me forget the real reason I’m in here—I tried fighting Green because I have a sex tape.
“I will. I am,” I tell him. “Ask Todd. I’ve been kicking ass at therapy. He says I’m doing great.”
“He’s said that before. Then you went and punched some idiot and undid all the work you did.”
“I’ll do better.”
“Damn right, you will,” he says. “To start, you’re going home. I already talked to Rick about it; we both think it’s best if you lie low for a while. You need to get your shit together and get back on the straight and narrow.”
“That’s not a good idea,” I tell Coach. Home is where Cody is, and if I so much as lay eyes on him, I’ll kill him.
“Yeah, well, you don’t have a choice. Your career depends on it. Either you go back home, straighten up, and heal, or you can kiss your starting quarterback position with the Knights goodbye.”
“That’s not fair,” I argue like a child.
“Not fair? What isn’t fair is that I have to deal with this shit at all because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants or your mouth off a pussy.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lexie’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red.
“Carter, you’re going home. End of story.”
“I hate to interrupt, but what does any of this have to do with me?” Lexie chimes in.
