Heartless Player by R.C. Stephens
Twenty-Seven
Wolfe
I pull into Rebel’s driveway.
What am I doing?I’m here too much. She’s falling for me. I can feel it. And I can’t get her out of my head. We’re spending too much time together, getting too close, and yet I’m too weak to stop it. Anxiety bubbles inside me, but I’ve been alone since my family’s accident. When they blamed me and shredded what little confidence I had left in myself. Just thinking of the disdain in my father’s gaze makes me feel fidgety and like I’m not good enough to be with anyone, let alone a girl like Rebel. I will disappoint her and let her down. It’s what I do.
And what if I tell her the truth? Bare my secrets. Will she accept me? Dump me? We aren’t even together. I don’t owe her anything. Then why does it feel like I do? Shit, I feel like I’m losing it. All I wanted was to see her face.
Man up, Wolfe.
The girl got under my skin and I can’t risk her discovering the truth any other way.
I leave my Mustang parked on the street in front of her house. Each step I take makes my chest feel tight, but when she opens the door and smiles, my anxiety melts away like an ice cube on a scorching hot day. That smile. Those warm eyes. She’s happy to see me. Genuinely happy, and it’s not because I’m captain of the hockey team or she knows who my family is and has something to gain. This girl sees me. Me.
“Hey,” she says, leaning into the door frame. “You plan on coming in or staying out there to freeze your ass off?”
“When did you get such a potty mouth?” I ask, stepping into the warmth of her house. My arm wraps around her waist and I pull her into me. The way her body melds with mine is pure perfection. She kisses me and the sweet taste of her gets me all riled up.
“You smell good enough to eat,” I growl in her ear.
“I was hoping you’d say that. I got a new coconut body butter.” She smiles seductively.
“What is this body butter you speak of? Is it something for your pussy?”
She swats me in the chest. “Don’t talk like that.” She blushes. “Blossom is upstairs.”
“Sorry.” I flinch. “Forgot we aren’t alone when you gave me those seductive eyes at hello.”
Her cheeks turn a healthier shade of pink and so does her neck. “You’d think after everything we’ve done you wouldn’t blush.”
“Yeah, I’m working on that.” She grins. She moves away from the door and I walk farther in. I slip off my shoes and hang up my jacket.
“Is your sister around? I thought we were hanging out,” I say, since the house seems quiet.
“Nah, she was tired. She went upstairs,” she says. “Do you want some Thai food? We have tons of leftovers.”
“Thanks, I’m stuffed. Cole made dinner.”
“Didn’t you say he doesn’t know how to cook if his life depended on it?”
“He was on FaceTime with his grandmother. Made us a southern meatloaf. Was mouthwateringly good.” I rub my stomach.
“Okay then.” Rebel stands and watches me. This is her being shy. “Should we sit in the family room? You wanted to tell me about entering the draft and my life was so crazy we never got to talking about it.”
“I’d like that,” I say and I follow her into a little room with brown couches and one of the oldest TVs I’ve ever seen.
“Hope you don’t mind watching television on this ancient thing.” She snickers and takes a seat on the couch.
I sit beside her and take in her fresh floral scent and my mind goes to ideas of having her writhing beneath me on the couch. Not now.
“So, the draft,” she starts.
I rub my hands up and down my thighs, feeling nervous. I remind myself that this is Rebel and we’ve had more intimate talks than I can count. “Coach thinks I should enter this year. I always thought about getting my degree and going to law school, but the more I think about it, the more unappealing that life is to me.”
“I can see how passionate you are about hockey.” My gaze diverts to her distracting lips as she speaks.
“I am. I’ve been playing since I was five. My parents hated me playing, but I insisted on it and they just let me do my thing. They always had someone driving me to practice and games. They were never supportive, but it didn’t make me love the game any less,” I explain.
“Sounds like you were lucky to have hockey. You and the team seem really close.”
“We are close, but it’s more than that. When Coach talked to me about entering the draft, I felt this current of energy running through me.” I can hear the awe and wonder in my voice.
“I think it’s called excitement, Wolfe. Just watching you speak of hockey right now has your blue eyes lighting up like Christmas lights,” she says. “I think you know what you want in your heart of hearts.”
“I wanted to not be a disappointment to my father,” I say and pause. I should tell her the truth now, but… “But I can’t base my life on making that man happy. Where will it leave me? He’s impossible. At the end of the day, I don’t even know if me becoming a lawyer would appease him.”
“You need to mark your own path in life. I don’t think you should do something to make your father happy. I mean, maybe I’m a bad person to get advice from. Neither of my parents did the parenting thing very well. I just know what I want and I go after it,” she says.
“That’s what I admire about you.”
Of course she blushes.
“I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that I want to be a physical therapist. I can see myself doing it for the long run and I think it would be a good career path for me, so that’s been my focus. I definitely don’t have my shit together. I’ve basically been a monk for the past three years,” she says.
“Don’t go being hard on yourself now. You’re a hard worker. That’s something to be proud of,” I say. “Now, get over here, because I don’t know why, but I have a feeling you aren’t wearing anything under that top.” I pull her gently toward me and she climbs on my lap so she’s straddling me.
“How can you tell?” She giggles.
I groan. “You aren’t wearing a bra, are you?”
“No panties either.” Her mischievous gaze holds mine. She watches me with a bold look in her eyes and I feel like the air has been sucked from my lungs.
“Dammit, woman.” I slide my hands under her sweatshirt and cup both her breasts. They feel soft but firm in my palms and I feel her nipples pucker to hard points.
“Your hands are cold,” she whimpers. “But don’t stop, that feels nice.”
“Oh yeah,” I say suggestively. My dick has gone from half-mast to full erection in seconds and it presses painfully against my zipper.
Rebel feels it and she rubs herself against me. “I’d be careful unless you’re comfortable getting naked here.”
“Riding you on this couch is seeming like a very good idea” She grinds against me harder.
“I like the way you think,” I say and slide my hands from under her shirt and palm her cheeks as I bring her lips to mine. I can’t think of anything else, even though in the back of my mind I know there is something I wanted to say.
Rebel pops the button on my jeans and I pull the sweatshirt over her head. She shivers.
“You’re cold,” I say.
“So do something to get my blood pumping,” she sasses, batting her lashes. This girl.
“On it.” I close my mouth over her nipple. Her arms wrap around me as I pay each of her breasts the attention they deserve. Licking, slowly sucking. She grinds herself against me and I slip my hand into her yoga pants to find her soaked. She moans.
“You better get those jeans off,” she says against my lips.
I have to take my hand out of her pants and she slides off me so I can get my jeans off.
“Boxers too,” she orders.
“Somebody’s gotten bossy,” I say. “Very hot.”
Her gaze drops to my dick and she licks those bow-shaped lips of hers. Then she removes her pants. She must have shaved most of her pussy. It’s hot. Not that I didn’t like it with her mound covered, but seeing her bare and dripping for me is a big turn on too.
“My eyes are up here.” She lifts my head with two fingers under my chin.
I laugh. “Get over here.” I gently pull her back on top of me. Having her warm body against mine, breasts pressing into my chest, the heat between her thighs rubbing on my dick while our tongues lash and mingle, is a heady feeling I never want to end.
“Condom,” she says, panting in my mouth as I finger her and rub her clit.
“Not yet,” I reply, wanting to play with her. She’s so swollen and ready. Having her hold back her orgasm will just make it all the better.
She reaches down and fists my cock, then she begins to pump but not before smearing the bead of cum on the tip down my shaft. My vision blurs and I reach for the condom because my sex-filled brain is telling my dick to come now. I slip the condom over my shaft and Rebel seats herself on me. She moves slowly at first, but then picks up speed so her tits are bouncing in my face. We are a hot mess of moans and groans, and when she detonates, I follow right after her. Coming so hard my body jerks again and again as I wonder what it would be like to come inside her without a condom. And that’s when I know what’s happening here. I don’t just like Rebel. I’m falling hard for her. Harder than I ever planned to.
“Say something,”she says as we lie on the couch. Her arm and leg are draped over me and I draw lazy circles on her arm.
“I’m just thinking,” I admit.
“About the draft?”
“No, about you.” I don’t know if it’s a good time to bring it up, but I want to know how she was injured. What happened to her. I want to know everything about this girl and not because I’m curious about her injury or how I can help my sister, but because I am genuinely falling for her.
I feel her stiffen in my arms. “What is there to think about?”
“I was wondering what type of accident you were in. How you became an amputee. If you don’t want to talk about it, I totally get it. No pressure. Seriously,” I emphasize. I know I’m putting her on the spot, but I can’t stay away from this girl and it makes me want to know more.
“It’s not something I usually talk about, but I want to share my story with you,” she says quietly. Her palm rests over my heart and I wonder if she can feel how the beats are picking up. My own anxiety grows, knowing it can’t be easy for her to share her story. Knowing how hard it is for me to share my story. Hell, I even dropped my last name so no one on campus would connect me with my family and find out the truth.
“I’m all ears,” I say and I press a soft kiss to her forehead.
“You know my daddy was an addict,” she begins, and my own muscles grow tense. I nod.
“Well, he would get out of hand sometimes. He never really hit me and Blossom because we knew to gauge his moods and stay out of the way when we felt his anger rising. It was usually Mama who was there when he boiled over. He hit her too many times,” she says.
“That must have been so hard.”
“It was. Daddy would have his tantrums and take them out on her. Then he would feel bad and cry. He’d give her these long-winded apologies about how sorry he was. How he felt like an asshole for letting himself get out of hand. He’d promise to make things up to her. I heard my daddy in a fit of tears many times professing how he’d get himself the help he needs. Then he and Mama would make love. They weren’t very discreet. Blossom would take me to her room and make sure I stayed quiet, but as Blossom got older, she started to spend more and more time out of the house. That’s when I learned to run and hide in my closet.” She takes a deep, steadying breath, and when I look at her, she has a far off look in her eyes. Almost like she’s reliving the moments.
“I’m sorry. If it’s too much, I don’t want you to push yourself,” I say, because I feel nauseous just thinking what her childhood must have been like.
She swipes at a lone tear. “I never talk about it. Maybe it’s a good thing you asked. I’ve got a lot of secrets I’ve buried deep. I’m hoping talking about it will help me set them free and maybe me along with it.” Her words cut me deep. Deeper than she could possibly know.
“Continue then, beautiful. Cleanse all those bad memories from your mind.” When Rebel looks at me again, there is so much emotion in her gaze that my breath hitches and some weird feeling comes over me. I don’t have time to process it when she starts to speak again.
“One day, Daddy got really out of hand. I was a junior in high school. Mama had already left him, and Blossom was the one who carried the brunt of his anger. I figured it wasn’t fair and I wanted to help her calm him down. He was having a meltdown in the kitchen when I walked in. Blossom had gone grocery shopping. She was waitressing at that point and she helped pay for food. Daddy was angry that she bought too much. He didn’t have enough money to get more pills. I told him that we needed to eat, that we were hungry. But he didn’t care. He only cared about feeding his addiction.” She sniffles and blinks.
“I don’t know what came over me that day. Maybe I had enough of his meltdowns. I blamed him for my mama leaving, even though I know she was a coward and should have taken Blossom and me with her. Anyway, he started throwing the kitchen table around and breaking dishes. Then he reached for his keys. I grabbed them away from him and ran. He came after me. I made it as far as the front lawn when he took hold of me and peeled the keys out of my hands. Blossom picked up a baseball bat and began hitting him to get him off me. He was high and drunk when he got in his car.
“Blossom began to use the bat to blow out his headlights, thinking it may stop him from driving. I went to go move her out of the way and Daddy hit the gas. Only, he hadn’t put the car in reverse. He was so high he put it in drive. He ran us both over. I had multiple broken bones and so did Blossom, but a part of my leg wasn’t salvageable because he ran over it with the tire and the bones had crushed. I spent multiple weeks in the hospital. Blossom had more minor breaks and bruises. It was our neighbor, Mr. Hucksberry, who called the ambulance and police.
“My father took off in his car after he ran us over. I’m told he was involved in a high-speed chase when he smashed into a guard rail and was ejected from the car. He was pronounced dead on the scene,” she says, tears running down her cheeks.
My blood has run cold. Any nightmare I could’ve conjured up doesn’t compare to what she lived through.
“I honestly don’t even know what to say. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You’re courageous and supportive and loving,” I say, and my throat clogs with emotion.
“I was stupid. I never should have tried to stop him. I’ve run that day through my mind so many times. If only I did things differently. Calling the cops for one, instead of trying to stop him on my own,” she says.
“Those are your battle scars,” I tell her.
“Yeah, I guess I have the ones I wear and the ones on the inside too,” she admits.
“I…” My cell rings.
I pull it out of my pocket to see the name Christopher on the screen.
I put my phone aside.
“You can answer the call,” Rebel says.
“I don’t want to,” I say, shaking my head. And I know it’s not enough of an explanation after what she just shared.
“Okay,” she says softly. “You know you can talk to me too. It feels… I don’t know… cathartic?”
“It was my dad, Rebel. We don’t see eye-to-eye. He blames me for things I had no control over. He wants me to be like him, when I feel like I am nothing like him. After hearing what you went through, though…” I run my fingers through her hair and she leans up and claims my lips. The kiss is soft and slow. It’s nurturing and filled with so much emotion. “I have to tell you something. Something I’ve been hiding.”
She stiffens, but after a brief second, she relaxes. “Tell me. Whatever it is, it won’t change the way I feel about you.”
I want to ask her how she feels because I am swimming, or maybe drowning, in emotion right now. Whatever I’m feeling about her is strong and overwhelming but also very cleansing too.
“I’ve been lying to everyone…” I begin and take a breath. “I’m not actually who I say I am, and I know the minute I tell you, you’ll probably want to go Google my family, but I am asking you not to. I’m asking you to keep seeing me for me. I don’t feel like I’m anything like my family and I want to keep that separation,” I say, knowing I’m talking in riddles.
“Wolfe, you are a kind guy with a great heart. Nothing you say can make me think differently. I don’t care who your parents are. My parents were losers. Does that define me? Does that make you look at me differently?”
I rub my palm against her soft cheek. “You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”
She laughs like I’m being ridiculous.
“Don’t laugh. I’m serious. Your courage and good heart have taught me so many things.” I kiss the top of her head and take a breath, then I pull back and look her in the eyes. It’s not the only lie I’ve told, but it’s a start in the right direction. “My name isn’t Wolfe Judd. Well, it is my name, but Judd isn’t my last name, it’s my middle name. When I applied to college, I dropped my last name. I was angry with my father and I was out in the world on my own. I didn’t want to have any ties to him,” I say bitterly.
Rebel nods, looking me in the eyes.
“My last name is Ellison. My father is Christopher Ellison.” I wince.
Rebel sits up and uses the blanket to cover her tits. “As in the Governor of Massachusetts?”
“Yes. I give people the impression I grew up poor, because I’ve been paying my own way at college, but that isn’t the case. My father doesn’t talk about me publicly and I have basically severed all ties with him. I grew up going to private schools and living a rich life, but that’s not who I am. And when I came to college, I wanted to leave that life behind,” I explain, and I can’t help but wonder if she will Google my family now and learn about the accident. I want to tell her about the accident too, but it’s too much for one night.
“Wolfe, it doesn’t matter to me if you grew up rich. I really don’t care about materialistic things. I appreciate you telling me the truth, but where you come from doesn’t define you. I don’t know what caused the rift in your family or why you don’t want anything to do with them, but what I do know is that you are kind, caring, and you have such a big heart. You aren’t judgmental and you have such empathy and compassion that it takes my breath away,” she says.
“I haven’t done much good in my life. I’m an asshole who doesn’t know what he did to deserve your good graces, but I’ll take it, Rebel.” I lean it to claim her lips. Slowly, I pepper kisses down her neck. This time when we make love, I worship her body. I spread kisses down each of her legs. She is a warrior—my warrior—and she accepts me for me. Not because of my last name or who my daddy is, but because she sees me. When I slide inside her, everything feels different. My feelings are intensified. This isn’t about getting off, it’s about our connection. The way we make each other feel. When I feel her building, I pick up tempo and thrust faster inside her. Her eyes stay on mine and we watch each other come apart. I’ve never had this before. Never made love before. Never felt this before. But watching her come apart, I know this woman is mine.