up their defense. How is Marshal ever going to score when the defense is this poor?”
They’re three years old, for fuck’s sake. I don’t even try to hide my eye roll, not that she would see anyway since now she’s texting away on her phone.
I spot Jax running after a boy who’s kicking the ball. I pray to God he doesn’t just push the kid over and pick up the ball with his hands. Rick and I decided it would be good to get him into sports early. One sport, one language, one instrument. But for fuck’s sake, he’s only three. I am glad I got him into sports to work off some of that excess energy, but these people drive me up the damn wall. I didn’t come from daddy’s money like these other women. I worked hard to get my restaurant up and running. I put everything I had in me into this industry. It took ten years to get to this point, and at thirty-one I’m the proud owner of an award-winning Italian bistro.
Jax kicks the ball, thankfully misses the kid, and runs down the field. “Go Jax!” I can’t help screaming excitedly and hopping up and down on the balls of my feet. My voice gets the attention of the other moms. I see them smirk and look at each other from the corner of my eye, but I learned to ignore them early on. Mommy playgroups are cutthroat in this social group. I know they talk shit about me. That they defended Rick cheating on me because I work too much, and didn’t make enough one-on-one time for the two of us. But they’d be fucking stupid to say that shit to my face.
The thought of Rick hits me hard. My chest hurts, and my heart twists in agony. He may have been an asshole of a husband who was going to try to get every cent from me that he could in our divorce, and try to take my baby away from me, but he was also the father of my baby boy. I smile weakly watching Jax in his little black and blue striped jersey. Number three, because that was Daddy’s number. Tears well up in my eyes, and my throat closes as a bastard lump forms. I shake my head and try to think about happy times.
My eyes pop open wide, and my thighs clench. Thoughts of the bookie rutting into me like he fucking owned me make my heart race, and my blood heat. My senses are flooded with the image of his corded muscles pinning me to the wall, the masculine smell in the hot air, and the sounds of him fucking me. I shift my weight and try to cool down, feeling much hotter than I did a moment ago. I'm extremely aware of the fact that I'm no longer wearing any panties. I was in such a fucking rush to get out of there, I left them wherever they fell. My forehead pinches as I try to recollect what happened to them.
A shudder runs through my body as I remember. He ripped them off of me. That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever done. But with him? With a stranger? A criminal? I don’t even fucking know his name. Shame washes over me, and that damn lump in my throat returns. I never lusted after a man before. Never. School and work were all that mattered. I married a nice man when I finally had life all worked out. Had a baby at twenty-seven. I did everything the exact way my parents would have wanted. My blood turns to ice and I look down at my feet, wondering if they’d be ashamed of me now. Now that my marriage failed, and I’ve fallen to a new level of filth I’d never thought I’d reach.
For fuck’s sake, I let him cum in me. I cringe, but my treacherous pussy clenches. I have to repress a moan, remembering how good it felt. My lips purse as I pull out my phone and text Sarah. She’s out getting dinner for Jax and me so I can be here to watch his game.
Plan B ASAP please.
I never thought I’d be texting my PA to pick up the morning-after pill. But hell, in the last few months we’ve grown close. I imagine we’re as close as sisters would be, but I wouldn’t know. I'm an only child, and I haven’t had any