Chapter 9

Nine

“It all begins with something small.

A trigger—warning us something dangerous lies ahead.” ~Logan Carrington

Flying with Ash is never easy. He fidgets constantly. Annoys you by beginning a conversation when you’ve just placed your headphones on, then forces you to remove them only to have him ask if he can eat your fucking pretzels.

He goes on and on about Alessandra. Complaining about how she makes him throw his dirty clothes into the hamper rather than leave them on the floor, or how she scolds him for dumping wet towels on the bed. Honestly, that’s something I can’t fault Alessandra on—Ash is a fucking slob and no woman has ever been successful in changing him, no matter how much pussy they give up.

We’ve flown first class to the States with the US Soccer officials wanting to meet to discuss the team they’re putting together for the World Cup trials. Chris had a lengthy conversation with Coach and there was talk about Ash and I playing for the US team.

I couldn’t believe the news. World Cup—a fucking dream.

Representing our country means everything to me, so I’m incredibly keen to get onto US soil and possibly get picked.

That, and there’s one other thing—Emerson.

Weeks have gone past without any contact, and just like we said we would, we kept it our secret. It doesn’t erase the constant reminder of that night, though. Fuck. I can’t even think about it now sitting next to Ash. Removing my headphones, I excuse myself to use the restroom, leaving Ash to watch some movie with subtitles because the fucker thought it would be porn.

It’s a short walk to the main restroom, passing the other passengers who sleep comfortably in their sleepers or are busy typing away on their laptops. The hostess greets me, offering me a beverage. I tell her I’ll take a beer when I’m back at my chair.

Inside the tiny cubicle, I take a piss then wash my hands thoroughly. Goddamn germs are everywhere, and I hate sharing such a small space. The quiet, confined area gets me thinking about Emmy again and the way we left things…

It was never my intention to finger her fucking pussy in the lake. I was angry at her for being such a bitch and turning into one of those Hollywood divas, at Ash for marrying the first girl to suck his dick, and most importantly myself for letting Louisa go.

I wasn’t thinking. Something about Emmy does that to me. She always has done since we were kids. She riles me up until I burst into flames, and do something stupid just to prove a point. But we aren’t kids anymore. We’re adults.

I touched her to shut her up. To get back at Ash for being a hypocrite and making me choose between him and Louisa. I wasn’t myself that night—the anger had been bottled up for a while and coincidently quadrupled when the tabloids announced Manchester’s top player, Jared Carr, dating Louisa Hemmings.

My Louisa Hemmings.

Past. Fucking. Tense.

Louisa wanted a life with me—marriage, babies, the big fucking castle outside London where she’d make me drive past every weekend. It was a relationship I never expected to last that long, but instead, it lasted a whole two years. The majority of the time was spent hiding it from the media and with her traveling globally for work. Most of our relationship was through text messages and video chatting.

She was switched on—a career in marketing with her own firm set up in London. She thrived on schedules, routine, and planning. Everything had to be planned.

Ash hated her, voicing his opinion on more than one occasion.

“Does she plan when you fuck too?” he asked once when we were out drinking with the boys. “Monday… you get blown, Tuesday… she likes a tittie fuck and Friday night… you take her in the ass?” He knew I hated discussing my personal life and that ‘joke’ took it over the line. My fist almost smacking him in the face if it weren’t for Jerry, a teammate who held me back.

We didn’t talk for weeks. I crashed at Louisa’s apartment until Coach pulled us in for a meeting. He warned the both of us that our three straight losses were not unfortunate, rather a lack of teamwork. We had to choose what was more important—soccer or women.

I thought long and hard about what Louisa meant to me and if it was worth the fight. That was until Ash gave me another ultimatum—him or her.

Ash had been my best friend since I could remember, he was my brother. Louisa was in my life for two years, I loved her but it wasn’t enough to give up everything I’d worked so hard for, and thus I ended our relationship thinking it wouldn’t be hard because I’d find someone else.

It was more difficult than I’d thought. I missed the sex and her companionship. Despite her need to plan everything, I felt lost without someone nagging and getting me off my ass when I felt like doing nothing. I never let it affect my game though, training harder during the day and partying well into the nights on the weekends.

I wasn’t prepared the night I ran into Louisa at that party. Her body wrapped around another man. She tried to be polite, apologizing for bringing this stranger to a mutual friend’s apartment. The manipulative bitch knew she’d gotten under my skin, and to pay her back I fucked her assistant against the brand-new Porsche Daddy had bought her.

It was the same night Ash changed everything between us.

“Bro, I gotta tell you something but you can’t flip, okay?” Ashley Chase had said this to me only once in the entire time I’d known him—the time he’d accidentally ridden my BMX into the lake and couldn’t retrieve it because it had sunk to the bottom. The important thing was that he survived.

“I know you’ll be angry, but hear me out. That woman last night, the one with the long, dark brown hair... I... I married her.”

There were no words left to say. He married her! He was forced to go back home to tell Chris and Abbi, and I tagged along to reap joy in the fact he’d be crucified.

Then Emmy...

Emerson Chase was never someone I’d considered jumping into bed with. I had my moments where I found myself infatuated with her, but then I’d become distracted by someone else. I enjoyed tormenting her, she was an easy target. Yet, this trip back home was different. She’d changed. Even before she told me what had happened, I could see she was troubled.

Pushing her buttons was easy, but she always gave it back. She hated losing. Claimed she wasn’t competitive, but I’d never met a more competitive and stubborn woman.

And sexy, hot...

I can’t rid my mind of the image of her buried into me while we floated in the water. The way her body moved and so quickly peaking from the simple touch of my finger gliding in and out of her tight pussy. I wanted to stick my cock in her, and give her a taste of what a real man was all about. But I didn’t. Our ties were too strong and there was way too much at stake.

I blame it all on her. She dared me like she’d always done.

I wanted an escape just as much as she did, but I thought she’d have pushed me away by telling me how disgusting I am, and how dare I touch her.

Yet, she didn’t.

She couldn’t stop staring at me, even when we were standing in the kitchen her eyes trailing my body like a hungry beast.

It started something bad.

I just didn’t know exactly what that was yet. I knew it would be awkward, but only if we allowed it to be, and knowing the type of person Emmy is plus, the fact she has no interest in me whatsoever, I was happy to brush it off like nothing had happened between us. Take the memory of her and store it for times when I needed to jerk off and had no one sucking my cock.

Until I watched her show—for the first time.

We’d just flown back into London and I was eager to begin training again. It pissed me off that Ash busied himself fucking Alessandra every night, and so with a few minutes to spare I did what I promised myself I wouldn’t do, I streamed the last episode of Generation Next - The Proposal episode.

I couldn’t fault the show. As far as my eyes were concerned this shit looked real, not two people acting in love. It was almost too perfect, and I had known Emmy for as long as I’d known Ash, and not one boyfriend or guy had ever made her smile that way.

She fucking loved him, or should I say still loves him, and they’re still living together.

The dick fucks two whores then he expects to marry Emmy? You’re damn right it pissed me off.

It’s the reason why I stopped contacting her. She enabled his poor behavior and in my eyes that made her weak.

That whole family fucked me off right now.

Chris was also on my back about training harder, continually pointing out my weaknesses and giving me a massive complex.

Abbi kept pushing me to call my mom. Why couldn’t Mom call me? Was it that hard to pick up the phone and call your only son? She never cared when I was a kid so why would she start now?

I didn’t need anyone. Just someone occasionally to suck me off and that wouldn’t be Emmy. At least, I didn’t think it would be her.

Until she texted me.

As much as I wanted to ignore her—I couldn’t…

After heading back to my seat and sitting quietly for the rest of the flight, we land just before midday. It doesn’t go as smooth as I would like after being spotted by some fans in LAX where we are asked for some pics. Being that they’re girls, Ash laps it up and grabs the number of the blonde with the bouncing tits.

Personally, all I want is to make a quick dash to the hotel to shower, get the grime and grease off me, then meet with the officials and definitely not think about pussy.

“You want the blonde’s number?” Ash hands the paper over in the limo.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Did you score a blowey off any of the girls at the apartment last week?”

The girls who hang around our apartment are the same old leeches who follow us at each game and hover around the entrance of the locker rooms hoping to score some dick. The older one, a Scandinavian woman, sucked me off once with no happy ending. I wasn’t into it. When I started to chafe I politely asked her to leave. It was the oddest thing ever. Typically I’d be pulling her hair tight and watching her eyes bulge from my cock going down her throat.

“Yeah, I did,” I say, to shut him up.

He doesn’t press any further, busying himself with his phone.

“Emmy is taking us out for a late lunch after the meeting. You got plans?”

It catches my attention, yet I’m quick to keep my smile hidden. “Nope, where at?”

“Hold on…” He types quickly and responds a couple of seconds later, “Some Indian place near Melrose.”

I hide the grin trying to appear by grabbing my phone and typing a message to her.

Me: Indian? You know what happens to Ash when he eats Indian? Burning assholes.

I see the bubble bouncing before her response appears on the screen. Ash has taken the moment to call Alessandra, and already they’ve gotten into a fight over him being photographed with his arm around some woman at Heathrow.

Emerson: Burning assholes. Great visual yet funny at the same time. I’ll make sure I order him the vindaloo.

I sit back in the chair and stare out the window. Emmy was never on my mind before our trip back home, I guess since she’s announced her engagement on television I figured she’d forever be gone from our lives. We rarely see each other, and every time we do it stirs this weird emotion—like nostalgia. She was always around us as kids, annoying the fuck out of Ash and me. Third wheel as I liked to call her. It wasn’t until we left to train for the league did I think, thank God, we’ve finally gotten rid of her.

“Fucking ball breaker. Did you see me fuck that woman in Heathrow? No. But Sandy seems to think so,” he yells into the air as I purposely ignore him.

What the fuck’s new anyway?

* * *

“Hey, lil’ sis.” Ash places his arm on her shoulder, pulling her in roughly for a hug.

“Little? We’re twins. Granted, you came first but I slid out of Mom’s vagina right after you did.”

Ash scowls. “Oh... hey ... thanks for that visual.”

Emmy is still in his arms, watching me with a smile planted on her face. She looks so goddamn cute in this tight black bodysuit and skinny blue jeans. It shows every curve. And when I say cute, I mean fuck. I could just eat her.

She plays with her hair, moving it to the side and exposing her skin. Untangling herself from his embrace, she moves closer to me and wraps her arms around my waist and places her head on my chest. The familiar scent— something sweet—tickles my senses leaving me holding on to her longer than I should. Remembering that Ash is standing next to us, I let her go and pretend as if that means nothing whatsoever. And that my dick doesn’t stir at the feel of her tits being pushed up against my chest.

“Let’s go inside. I’ve got a hankering for something spicy.” Ash rubs his hands together with delight, abandoning us without waiting for a response.

With the two of us standing outside the restaurant, she scans our surroundings to see if anyone’s watching. It’s Friday afternoon the streets are busy with locals and tourists. From where I stand, I don’t see anyone following her with cameras, but paparazzi have many tricks up their sleeves and it won’t surprise me if they’re hidden in the bushes or in the apartment block across the street.

“Hey.” She smiles nervously, a slight blush against her delicate skin.

“Hey, that’s all I get? No, nice to see you, Logan. You look so hot I can’t stop thinking about your body in Sports Illustrated magazine.”

“You are such a jerk.” She tilts her head with a smirk, keeping her gaze lifted. “Let’s go burn Ash’s asshole.”

I follow her lead, purposely walking a step behind so I can watch her ass sway.

Fuck, why do I torture myself?Because you remember how damn good her ass feels in your hands.

The restaurant is small and intimate—decorated in maroon andgold. It appears to be rundown with old weathered paintings. Only a few people sit inside, keeping to themselves in the dark corners. Emmy chose this place because she knows it’s not a crowd-drawer, therefore, won’t attract the paparazzi. The staff are very accommodating, offering the menu and serving the dishes with jugs of cold water.

“Fuck, this is spicy.” Ash wipes his forehead with his napkin, taking a long gulp of the water and immediately refilling the glass.

“Hot? Is it?” Emmy questions, her eyes wide with an innocent pout.

“You don’t think so?”

“I eat here all the time. Got a stomach made of steel,” she says, patting her belly and pretending she didn’t tell the waiter to add more curry powder to his dish.

“I just never...” he stops mid-burp, “… eaten anything so hot.”

“Seems fine to me,” I chime in, hiding my smile behind the fork strategically placed to my mouth.

Ash takes a break from eating, his uncomfortable stance making this moment too comical. Leaning back into his chair while breathing in and out at a steady pace, he motions the waiter and requests another jug of water.

“How was the meeting? You didn’t tell me what happened.”

“They’ve asked us to represent the States in the World Cup trials. Do you even know what this means, Emmy?” Ash bellows with excitement.

“That you’ll play for the World Cup?” she answers looking back and forth between Ash and me.

“It’s what we want but ultimately, the decision comes down to Coach Bennett and our commitment to the Royal Kings. It’s not as clear-cut as we would like it to be, but Dad’s handling all that. The problem is we’ve only just negotiated new contracts, so I don’t know...” he trails off with worry but quickly smiles again. “If we play trials we’ll get to move back home for a while. I’ll fucking love that. I miss this place.”

There’s a mixed look of concern on Emmy’s face. “Uh… that’s great, I guess. When do you find out, and where will you move to?”

“Here,” I tell her, face blank watching her reaction.

“Wow... that’s so close.” She hides her gulp behind her glass of water.

“What? You don’t want Ash and me around?”

“You’re both kinda annoying.”

“We’re not cool enough for her, eh bro?” Ash picks his up his fork, scooping another piece of chicken and smothering it in sauce. “We don’t know for sure yet. We find out in a few months or something. Anyway, what are you up to tonight?”

Emmy lifts the napkin to her mouth, wiping her chin. My gaze instinctively shifts to her pout—full, soft, and inviting—covered in a glistening red shade of lipstick. Despite them being twins, she looks nothing like Ash. He looks like a dork with his crew cut and semi-broken nose. She is gorgeous. Pale skin with a few freckles scattered on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes are blue, this bright blue which makes it difficult to concentrate if you stare into them. She’s always had long lashes and was teased in school for them being fake. I remember she wanted to prove the bullies wrong and plucked them out in front of them. They brushed it off like it was nothing until she flipped her eyelids inside out and terrified the older boys. They called her the spawn of the devil and she lapped it up using it as her weapon against them from that moment on.

“There’s a party on tonight. One of my friends is hosting it… Scarlett Winters? You might have heard of her.”

Ash and I simultaneously turn our heads to look at each other. Is she fucking kidding me? Scarlett fucking Winters. Ash had repeatedly told me he jerked off to her tits every night. He dreamt that one day he would motorboat them and it would end with his cum all over her face. Crude but so very Ash.

“You never told me you’re friends,” Ash quickly reprimands her.

“Yeah, and I never told you that Logan was the one who told Mom you screwed the older lady down the street when you were eighteen.”

I kick her under the table until she jumps. “Way to throw me under the bus.”

She points her fork at me deadpan. “You’re a tattletale.”

I place my glass down, leaning my elbows on the edge of the table. “I’m a tattletale? I don’t think so.”

“You told him I slept with the guy from the burger joint.”

I exhale. “Ash was adamant he’d hocked loogies in his burger. I did that simply to prove him wrong.”

Ash shakes his head disapprovingly. “Honestly Emmy, that guy was a geek.”

“You told Ash I was the one who spiked his drink with drowsy cough syrup because I didn’t want him to chaperone me to that party.”

Again, I exhale but much longer this time. “I wanted to go to that party too, but knew you wouldn’t listen to me when the fucking bottle came out. Who plays spin the bottle anymore? Dumbest game ever.”

“Dumb?” She laughs. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you. Your first kiss was at sixteen playing that game with that Debbie something-or-other. I can’t believe you were sixteen when you got your first kiss. Talk about frigid.”

Raising my eyebrows, I question her casually pretending it’s not true. “Why would you say that? That’s not true.”

Ash clears his throat, avoiding eye contact. The little fucker had to open his big fucking mouth. When I was younger I was terrified of girls. I only kissed Debbie because of peer pressure and everyone calling me gay.

“Did you know Ash fucked your best friend Riley on your bed during one of your sleepovers?”

Her face pulls back in utter shock. “What? Where the hell was I?”

“You were in the basement with me. I needed waffles and you were trying to find the waffle maker then we got distracted with the fake spider I planted on top of the waffle maker.”

“I nearly died,” she whispers to herself. “And it explains why Riley complained all night that the room was hot in the middle of winter.”

“You didn’t almost die.” I roll my eyes in frustration. “It was fake. And what’s the worst thing a spider can do to you?”

“Kill you,” Emmy and Ash say in unison.

The both of them are petrified of spiders. A reason why Ash hates the thought of traveling to Australia to play the summer games.

“So, this party tonight? Can we come?” I switch the subject, knowing the spider talk doesn’t ease their anxiety.

“I don’t think so,” she answers instantly.

“Why not?” I question, the same time Ash puts on his whiney face.

“I don’t know because it’s a Hollywood party and the cameras are following me around tonight. Trust me, it can get rather annoying.”

What a stupid response. The cameras follow us all the time when we play. The games are all televised being shown nationally and internationally. They film everything down to every move, including when I’d been caught out many times in a heated argument with the referee and sent off for mouthing off.

And then it clicks.

If the cameras are following her, Wesley Rich will be there.

I’ve never met him. I know he comes with a silver spoon in his mouth from the many husbands his mother has screwed and then walked down the aisle with. Of his behavior I’ve seen on television, he’s a fucking jerkoff. Something about his attitude gets under my skin.

When Ash told me Wesley and Emmy were dating, I was surprised she’d stoop that low. He enjoyed his women and was known to toss them out when he was done.

Apparently, she tamed him.

“Will Wesley be there?”

She keeps her head down, swirling the food on her plate. “Yes.”

“Who cares, Emmy! I’m bored. Plus, I need some head to relieve the tension,” Ash whines.

It catches her attention with a reactive response. “Uhuh… you’re married. Don’t go screwing things up. We don’t need any more scandal in our lives.”

“What are you talking about? There’s no scandal,” he corrects not knowing about Wesley’s indiscretions. I hadn’t said anything to him, keeping my promise to her intact. “And a hand-job doesn’t count. It’s not cheating.”

I try to keep a straight face but let out a laugh. We’ve had this conversation numerous times and I agreed it doesn’t count.

“It counts. Believe me. Seriously, you’re an idiot,” she tells him without emotion. “You can come... on one condition.”

I shake my head glancing at Ash. “Here we go. What?”

“You don’t touch any women and they don’t touch you.”

“Fine,” Ash agrees, wincing and letting out another loud belch. “Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.” He bolts off to the restroom leaving the two of us alone at the table. The remaining patrons have vacated the premises, leaving only the two of us and the waiter in the room.

“So, does that rule count for me? Or am I free to do whoever I please?”

She glances up from her plate, her blue eyes wild and staring at me with curiosity. “You’re free to do whoever you please. You’re not tied to anyone.”

“I’m not,” I say freely, keeping my gaze fixed. “So, what’s the deal with you and Wesley?”

“No deal. We’re just filming.”

“As a couple?”

“For the sake of the network. Yes.”

“But you live together?”

“Technically, yes.”

I remain quiet, unsure of why my heart rate spikes and why my fist is clenched on the table while she stares blankly. The unanswered questions swirling in my mind drive me to the brink of insanity, but I have no right to put her on the spot because she has her life and I have mine.

“Go on. Ask the question. You want to know if we’re still sleeping in the same bed or if I’m fucking him. Right?” She waits for my response, irritated we’re even talking about this. “The answer is no, Logan. I don’t fuck him.”

“I never asked.”

“I can see it burning on the tip of your tongue. He cheated on me. He was the one who broke our relationship,” she reminds me.

“Interesting. Were you not the one who just told Ash that hand-jobs are classed as cheating?”

“Yeah, so?” She shrugs.

I lean in closer, purposely making her uncomfortable. “So, me fingering that tight little pussy of yours is not cheating?”

I expect her to blush, squirm in her seat, and make this moment awkward. But of course, Emerson Chase has to have the last word, the only woman to never back down. “In my mind we were already broken up. So, get off your high horse because you getting me off meant nothing more than that.”

Fuck. Me.

Ash thunders back complaining that his ass will be burning for days, and now he knows what it feels like when women complained his dick’s too big.

It’s enough for Emmy to almost throw up on the table.

We call for the check before making our way outside. There’s two men wearing baseball caps standing on the opposite side of the road. They keep to themselves though look in our direction every few seconds. LA is swarming with paparazzi, it’s one of the reasons why I hate visiting the place.

We chat briefly about tonight with Emmy agreeing to pick us up at eight. The network’s organized a limo expecting a huge viewership of this episode. She told us she’ll need to let them know we’re riding, and if the footage is to air it will require our consent as well.

Ash hurries the conversation, climbing into the car, rushing to get back to the hotel in case his ass explodes again. We take off and with Ash’s erratic driving, I should offer to take the wheel considering this is a rental. He seems to know his way around, ignoring the GPS and cussing at drivers who are observing the actual speed limit.

Emmy’s been the only girl to ever challenge me. She knows how to get to me and her comment in the restaurant doesn’t leave me so easily. I know I’m competitive, but my desire to make her squirm overtakes any rational thoughts I once had about Emerson Chase.

Me: Tell me something, Emerson Chase. Would me fucking you also be classed as nothing more?

That will put her in her place. I really wish there’s some sort of visual contact so I can see her face turn bright red.

Emerson: I don’t know Logan Carrington. Give it a try and see how you go.

I stare at my phone, almost gulping as I read the message. It’s not like it took her minutes to respond where she had time to think about it—that reply was instantaneously.

My fingers can’t type because I’m confused and unsure of how to respond. All I can think about is thrusting my cock inside her. Placing my lips on her clit and tasting her sweet pussy once I’ve blown inside her. All the things you shouldn’t be thinking about because the man beside you is your best friend, her brother.

I place my phone in my pocket avoiding any further contact for now, at the same time Ash swerves into a gas station and runs for his life, leaving me alone in the car.

The temptation’s too high.

And so, I type...

Me: You’re asking me to do something dangerous, Emerson. If you know me, you know I never back down from a challenge.

The bubble lingers for what feels like minutes. Ash walks out of the restroom with a relieved look on his face. He climbs into the car and gives me a rundown about how dirty it was inside, and how his ass is literally burning, and he doesn’t think he can go out tonight. I’m half paying attention to him until her message appears on my screen.

Emerson: Ditto.

“Can you believe Emmy telling me not to score tonight?”

Yes, I can. Emmy has always believed that if you commit to something you have to stick it through. Relationships are no different. And despite her telling us the ins and outs of cheating, she knows very well what she’d done with me was wrong.

It was nothing more than a lover’s revenge.

Driven by anger, hurt, and wanting to make Wesley Rich feel as small as she was feeling.

I should walk away. Remove myself from this tangled web.

But I want in.

All in.

I want her revenge and everything that comes with it.