22. Connor

The last person I expected to walk into my office at this hour was Brooke Westwood, yet there she stood, closing the door behind her with a quiet click that seemed to echo in the suddenly too-small room. Taking her in, dressed in her uniform that somehow managed to be both entirely proper and inexplicably enticing, I felt an instinctive pull, a surge of desire so strong I had to grip the arms of my chair to stop myself from closing the distance between us and doing unspeakable things to her.

She locked eyes with me, and in a voice that betrayed a hint of vulnerability, she asked, "Could your ex have told Detroit about... about what happened between us? I know you said no, but I'm asking you to seriously consider it. Could she have?"

The question caught me off guard, not just for its content but for the concern behind it, concern for me and the repercussions of our actions.

"I thought that at first," I admitted, the words leaving me slowly as I tried to piece together the logic in a situation that had little to do with reason. "But it doesn"t make sense. Detroit was paying me. Why would she help get me fired, especially since we were going through a divorce and she was keen on making me pay by taking as much money from me as she could?"

Brooke chewed her bottom lip, a gesture of deep thought, or perhaps, uncertainty. It was clear she was trying to process the information, to make sense of a situation that had more questions than answers.

"Come here," I said, a simple request laden with an unspoken need for her closeness.

She hesitated, her eyes locking with mine as if trying to decipher the multitude of emotions that lay beneath my two-word plea. Eventually, she closed the distance between us, walking over to my desk with a caution that mirrored the conflict inside her. My hands found her waist instinctively, pulling her onto my lap, a gesture that felt as natural as breathing.

"What made you think of that?" I asked in a low voice, curiosity mingled with a hint of concern over her sudden inquiry into the complexities of my departure from Detroit.

Brooke swallowed, the vulnerability in her action striking a chord within me. "I was studying for your final and it came up," she admitted. "Could Detroit have been looking for a reason to get rid of you?"

I sighed through my nose, resting my head against her chest. The sensation of her absentmindedly running her fingers through my hair was unexpectedly soothing, a balm to the restlessness that had taken root within me.

"I mean," she continued, "from what I remember, you were brought into Detroit as sort of this veteran player, an example for the rookies, almost like a mentor."

"You remember that?" I couldn"t help but ask, genuinely surprised she had paid such close attention to the narrative of my career.

"Don"t let it go to your head," she muttered

"Which one?" I teased, trying to lighten the mood despite the gravity of our discussion.

"I"m being serious," she said, her tone firm, pulling me back to the matter at hand.

"Why do you care, Westwood?" I asked, pulling back to look at her directly. "What happened happened, and?—"

"Because what happened wasn"t fair," Brooke cut in, her conviction clear. "And you think I said something, and I didn"t. And I don"t think it"s fair that you can"t play again. Or that you might not even be inducted in the Hall of Fame."

I gave her a long look, her words prompting a reconsideration of my own beliefs. "Maybe it wasn"t you," I admitted reluctantly. "Maybe you told Mathers, and she?—"

"I didn"t tell anyone," Brooke snapped, her frustration evident.

"Well, I didn"t either," I asserted, my own irritation surfacing.

"It could have been your ex," Brooke suggested, refusing to let the topic go. "Why won't you, at least, for one second, just think about that angle?"

"Because I know it wasn"t her," I replied, certain of at least that much in the convoluted saga that had unfolded.

"Aren"t you the same person who said you didn"t even really know her in the first place?" Brooke challenged, her words cutting through my defenses.

"Are you... are you jealous of my wife?" I asked, half in jest, half curious about the intensity of her emotions.

"Your ex wife," Brooke corrected sharply before she kissed me, a bold move that effectively silenced any further discussion on the matter, at least for the moment.

The kiss caught me off guard—a storm of emotions that had been building, unleashed in the space between us. Her lips on mine felt like a declaration, a statement of something more profound and complex than either of us could articulate. The world outside my office, with all its questions and uncertainties, faded into insignificance as I responded to her kiss, pulling her closer, deepening the connection. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, with both desperation and desire, as if in this kiss, we could find answers to the silent questions that haunted us.

Her hands found their way to my hair, tangling in the strands with a gentle assertiveness that sent shivers down my spine. The sensation grounded me, pulling me further into the present, into the reality of her touch, her taste.

Time seemed to slow, the usual sounds of the campus outside my office door dimming to a distant hum, inconsequential in the face of what was unfolding between us.

My cock stirred at her heat, at her body on top of me.

As I kissed her back, I felt a growing urgency within me, a need to take this further. My hands gripped her hips, urging her to move against me. Her response was immediate, her own desire mirroring mine. She ground herself against me, rubbing her core against my erection through our clothes. The sensation was electric, a wave of desire crashing over us both.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that what we were doing was dangerous, that anyone could walk through my door at any time, but in this moment, all that mattered was the unbridled passion between us. I felt her moan softly against my lips, a low, guttural sound that set my blood on fire. My hands slid up her back, grasping at her waist, urging her closer still.

I began to unbutton her shirt, keeping my eyes in hers. Her breathing was nearly as ragged as mine.

When her shirt was undone, I slid my hand underneath the thin material, pulling the cup of her bra down until her tit sprung out of it.

Her nipple was hard and erect, a flush of arousal darkening the skin. I gently squeezed it between my fingers, feeling the weight of her desire in my hand. She gasped, arching her back, and I could see the hunger glinting in her eyes.

I leaned forward, taking her nipple into my mouth. She let out a moan, one I had to smother with my free hand.

Brooke arched her back even more, her hips gyrating against me, a silent plea for me to keep going. I obliged, sucking and nibbling at her nipple, feeling her body tremble with each thrust of my teeth against her skin.

I took the other nipple into my mouth, switching back and forth between them, savoring the taste of her skin. She cried out, her hands gripping onto the back of my head, pulling me closer.

Her breathing quickened, and I could feel her arousal pulsing against my erection. My own desire was growing, my cock straining against my pants, begging for relief.

"I want you," I whispered, my voice ragged. "I need you, Westwood."

Before we could further explore the depths of our connection, the abrupt sound of the door opening jolted us back to reality. Instinctively, I helped Brooke off my lap, a rush of adrenaline fueling my movements as I quickly pushed her under the desk to hide her from the unexpected visitor. The vulnerability of the moment, juxtaposed with the sudden need for secrecy, heightened the intensity of our situation. As I straightened up, attempting to regain my composure, my heart pounded against my chest, not just from the scare but from the realization of who had just walked in.

Fucking Sarah.

Her presence in my office was the last thing I expected, and as she stood there, looking around with a curious and somewhat invasive gaze, I struggled to maintain a facade of normalcy despite my throbbing cock.

The air in the room felt thick, charged with an electricity that had nothing to do with the storm outside and everything to do with the complex history between us. Her timing, always fucking shit, had interrupted another moment with Brooke, leaving me torn between frustration at her intrusion and the urgency to protect Brooke from her prying eyes.

As I faced my ex, trying to steer her attention away from the area where Brooke was hidden, a cocktail of emotions stirred within me. There was anger, certainly, at her untimely appearance and the potential complications it introduced. But there was also a fierce possessiveness over Brooke, a determination to shield her from the fallout of my past mistakes. The situation was absurd, hiding her like some forbidden secret, yet in that moment, it felt like the only viable course of action. The stakes were suddenly higher, the risk of discovery by someone who had once held significant power over me now threatening the fragile bond Brooke and I were navigating.

Sarah wasted no time, her purpose clear. "I want my thirty percent, Connor," she demanded. "I was supposed to get it last week when everything was finalized."

At that moment, Brooke carefully undid the zipper to my pants before her warm fingers wrapped around my cock.

I cleared my throat, hiding the choked gasp.

There was no fucking way she was…

And then, she peeled down the waistband of my boxer-briefs, and her mouth was on my dick before I could even catch my breath.

"Well?" Sarah demanded.

The absurdity of the situation momentarily took a backseat to the irritation her demand sparked within me. I knew the intricacies of our divorce agreement all too well, and her relentless pursuit of what she believed she was owed had become a tedious constant in my life. "All of my checks go through my accountant," I replied, my tone even but firm, striving to keep any hint of the chaos she had interrupted from my voice, any hint at what Brooke was doing to me from her. "You-you should check…check with him."

In that moment, Brooke"s mouth enveloped me completely, her skilled tongue swirling around my shaft, her lips applying a perfect suction. It was like a dream, a fantasy made real, and the feel of her mouth on my cock was electrifying, making it even harder for me to focus on Sarah.

"Stop fobbing me off," Sarah relented. "I want the check right now. I won't leave unless you get it for me."

Brooke continued her assault on my cock, her fingers stroking the base while her lips motioned up and down. I clenched my teeth at the last minute, masking a groan, my brain doing its best to remember how to talk with Sarah while my body was consumed by this new sensation.

"I'm not…fucking hell, I'm not going to write you as check," I said tightly.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Sarah demanded, throwing her arms out. "All you have to do is sign a piece of paper. It's not that hard."

Meanwhile, Brooke"s talented mouth began to speed up, the rhythm of her sucking and the suction she created growing stronger with each second. My hands, which had been clenched into fists at my sides, were now tightening involuntarily, her skillful movements sending a wave of ecstasy through me. I wanted to grab her hair and force her to deepthroat me. I wanted to hear her choke on my dick.

I didn"t know if I could last much longer, not with her lips wrapped around me, her tongue dancing along my shaft in a way that was both seductive and outrageous considering the situation.

Sarah"s voice pierced the air again. "You always find a reason to stall," she said. "You owe me this. I'm not leaving until I get it."

I struggled to focus on her words, my mind and body preoccupied with the sensation of Brooke"s mouth on my dick. How could she be doing this, so brazenly, in the middle of my office, with Sarah just a few feet away?

I reached down with one hand, tilting my hips slightly to push deeper into Brooke"s mouth, feeling her throat muscles contract around my cock as she swallowed. I was getting dangerously close, my balls tightening, the pressure building. But I couldn"t let it happen like this.

"Sarah, we"ve been over this," I said, my voice a little shaky, trying to sound calm and in control. "There"s a delay with the paperwork, but I"ll have it sorted out for you soon."

Sarah"s eyes narrowed. "You"d better. And you better not treat me like this again or you"ll hear from my lawyer."

She stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her with a sense of finality that made me shudder.

The second I heard the door shut, I spread my legs and pushed Brooke down the length of my dick until I heard her gag.

"Fucking naughty, Westwood," I said. "Jealous thing, aren't you? Fuck, you suck my dick so good, baby."

I could give two shits if Sarah walked in right now.

I was going to come, and no one was going to stop me.

Brooke continued to suck me off, her intensity undeterred by the recent interruption. My hands instinctively tangled in her hair, guiding her movements as she expertly pleasured me. Her lips danced along the length of my shaft, her tongue swirling around the head, and I could feel my climax building within me.

"Oh, God, Brooke," I groaned. "That feels so good."

She knew exactly what she was doing, and the thought of her sucking me off right under Sarah"s nose filled me with a sense of reckless abandon. It was as if the very act of defiance against Sarah"s presence was propelling me closer to the edge.

"Fuck, I"m going to come..." I warned her, my hips bucking involuntarily.

Brooke seemed to take my warning as a challenge, and her sucking became more intense. Her lips wrapped tighter around my dick, her tongue swirling around the head, her head bobbing up and down at a rapid pace.

I could feel my orgasm building to a crescendo, the waves of pleasure washing over me like a tsunami. "Oh, fuck, Brooke!" I grunted, my hands gripping her hair tightly.

She kept going, not missing a beat, her mouth never leaving my dick. I could feel my balls tightening, my cock pulsating with each thrust, and I knew it was only a matter of seconds before I came.

"Fuck, Brooke, I"m going to come!" I said through a moan.

Her mouth never left my dick as my orgasm hit me like a slapshot. The waves of pleasure crashed over me, my muscles tensing and releasing as my cock spasmed inside her mouth. Brooke didn"t slow down, she didn"t stop; she continued to suck and stroke and swallow until every last drop of pleasure and satisfaction had been drained from me.

When it was finally over, I leaned back in my chair, trying to catch my breath. My heart was pounding, my body still shaking from the intensity of the experience. I looked down at Brooke, who was still on her knees in front of me, her lips swollen from my dick, tits still hanging out, and her eyes alight with satisfaction.

"Fuck," I muttered, still trying to process what had just happened. "Fucking brat."

She smirked.

"Sit on my desk," I ordered, my voice raw. "I'm hungry."