Groupie (Juked Book 2) Read online

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  Groupie

  Copyright © 2016 by M.E. Carter

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  To everyone who has a past:

  Your past shapes you, but it doesn’t define you. No matter what you’ve done, the other half of your soul isn’t ashamed of you, so don’t ever be ashamed of your self.

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Preview of Goalie

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  “Hey, Rookie! How have your first couple of weeks been?”

  Daniel Zavaro sits down on the bar stool next to mine. All I’ve ever wanted since I could walk is to play soccer for a living, and now I am. A lot of people would say it was inevitable. Or that I didn’t have to work as hard as the others. They may think they know my dad. But they don’t really know him. Or me. And they have no idea the effort I’ve put in to distance myself from his reputation so I could make one for myself. I’m not ashamed to admit I’m really proud of what I’ve accomplished.

  “Really good so far. Thanks for asking.” Daniel has been captain of the Texas Mutiny, the team I play for, for a few years. Not only is he a kick-ass forward, he’s really respected in the league for being a stand-up guy, family man, local legend, and all around fantastic leader. I was really excited when I found out I was going to be working with him. The biggest scandal he’s been involved in his entire career is dating someone with a kid in the last couple of months.

  That’s the type of scandal I can handle. I’m much too low-key to enjoy public drama.

  People think I’m shy, but I’m not. I just like to observe. I like to watch the subtle movements they make. Their “tells.” I feel like I really get to know them that way, instead of filling up space with mindless chatter.

  Considering the noise level in this hotel lobby, where my teammates are hanging out, I might be the only one who feels that way.

  Daniel slaps me on the back. “We want you to feel welcome, Rowen. You’ve got an amazing ability to think four or five passes ahead and have killer crosses into the box. Just warning you now, we’ll be exploiting that skill later on.”

  I smile at the encouragement. Not only am I a member of the Mutiny, my captain is pointing out my skills. As a rookie. I shouldn’t feel this excited, because it’s my job. But it’s a total rush to hear these words coming from him.

  “I’ll be expecting you to exploit my skills for the good of the team.” I start to take a sip of my whiskey but change my mind, lowering it to the bar and turn back around so I can watch the action in the room. “That’s what I’m here for, after all.”

  “Hey let me ask you a question.” He leans closer, and my smile falters. “Why are you a midfielder?”

  “You mean instead of a forward?” No reason to beat around the bush. He obviously knows my heritage.

  “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong. You’re fantastic at what you do. I’m just curious why you chose to play defense.”

  I swirl my glass, making the Jameson spin. I’m sure it makes it look like I’m enjoying the drink, even though I’m not. “Easy answer. Would you want to be compared to your father your entire life, and how great he is, always afraid you’ll never measure up to that greatness?”

  A strange look crosses Daniel’s face, but he covers it up quickly. I can’t be sure, but after years of observing people, I’m willing to bet I accidentally struck a nerve.

  “Fair enough,” he says after taking a sip of his drink. “Now what’s the real reason?”

  I smirk. I should have known Daniel would see right through me. He is captain, after all. “My dad is a great forward.”

  “Arguably the greatest.”

  “Definitely the greatest. But that was never me. I’m aggressive on the field, but not like him. I love the idea of protecting the other players. Of protecting the goal and supporting guys like you so you can really shine.” I laugh and smack him on the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. “Plus, your abs will never compare to mine, since I do way more running than you do.”

  He punches my arm. “That hurt, ass-munch.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. The best players are the best because they know who they are and where they can be the most valuable. That’s a rare thing, man. I’m impressed.”

  I shrug and feel my cheeks redden. It’s the curse of being half Irish. Flaming red hair and cheeks to match when I’m embarrassed. “Hey, uh, the team doesn’t know who my dad is, do they?”

  “I haven’t told them,” Daniel says, leaning against the bar and looking around at the team. “You don’t want them to know?”

  “No,” I say quickly. “Let me prove myself first.”

  “Fair enough.”

  My dad is Ryan Flanigan. He is a legend in European football. Played forward for a few of the most prestigious European teams in the Premier Football League. His stats are unreal. He averaged roughly forty-five goals a season, which was unheard of back then, not to mention all the assists which weren’t recorded accurately that long ago. No one could match his stamina. It’s a lot to live up to.

  Add to it, I was one of only three guys drafted into the pros straight out of college. Everyone else went to smaller clubs to keep developing, so I understand why I need to bust my ass every single day. Not only am I “the rookie”, I’m the
rookie with the most to prove.

  “What are you going to do when they find out?” Daniel asks.

  “I’m going to hope I’ve shown them I got here for me, not for him.” I smile widely. “And then I’m going to offer his autograph as many times as it takes for them to lay off me,” I joke.

  Daniel laughs and pats me on the shoulder. “Good plan. So, full-ride at University of Southern Michigan. That’s a good school. Did you like it?”

  “Loved it. Good people, good athletic program. Can’t beat that.”

  “What did you major in?”

  I smile. “What else? Kinesiology.”

  He laughs.

  “I know it’s a stereotype—the athlete getting a degree in kinesiology. But I honestly can’t imagine my life without soccer in it, ya know?”

  “I know. I’m getting older, and I’ve started thinking about what I’m going to do when I retire.”

  “You’re not that old.”

  “No, but at a certain point, you have to stop pretending this career is gonna last forever and make other plans. Kind of like how other people make plans to travel and live off their 401K.”

  “I think someday I might coach or even be a trainer. Who knows?” We both turn when a small group breaks into raucous laughter. “I’ve got a little time to figure it out.”

  “You’ve actually got a lot of time, Rookie.” He claps me on the back and stands up. “You need another drink?”

  “Nah, I’m good, man,” I lift my glass to show him I still have some.

  “Okay. If you need anything, just holler.”

  “Thanks.”

  He strolls away, leaving me to my people-watching. I’m fascinated by some of them. There’s a couple in one corner. She’s wearing a blue, shimmery dress, hair pulled up into some sort of fancy bun. He’s in a suit, but he’s disheveled. His tie is loose and crooked, top button undone.

  She’s ready for a date. He looks like he’s just along for the ride.

  The more I watch them, the more fascinated I am by how removed from the situation he seems. Sure, he’s keeping up with the polite conversation, but it’s obvious she’s carrying the date. His phone is on the table, face up. And while he never picks it up, whenever it lights up, he looks at it and swipes it to shut it off again.

  Her disappointment shows whenever he does it. It’s subtle enough he doesn’t notice, but it’s there. It makes me want to interrupt so I can take her out and show her how she should be treated. But of course I won’t. I don’t care for conflict, other than what’s on the field.

  “You may want to tear your eyes away from them,” someone next to me says. A woman sits on the stool Daniel vacated. “You’re starting to look like a creeper.”

  I completely forget about the couple I was watching. She is, by far, one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life, and that’s saying a lot, considering my dad’s choice in career and the hordes of fans that come along with it.

  Her long, glossy dark hair falls halfway down her back. Her eyes are a deep brown. Her lips are plump and pink and perfectly heart-shaped. She’s stunning.

  I try to recover my wits so she won’t think I’m a total loser. Sitting here all alone, Chucks on my feet and my trademark beanie pulled low over my forehead, I don’t exactly scream success.

  “I’m not staring at them, I’m observing them,” I explain.

  She crinkles her brow at me. “There’s a difference?”

  “Yep.” Seems like I have her interested now. I guess we’ll see where a little light conversation takes us. “A creeper watches people because he has some devious plan as to how to incorporate them into his life. He doesn’t care if they’re afraid or if they might not want to go along with it. He does it anyway.”

  “The fact that you know so much about the thought process of a creeper is a little weird, ya know?”

  “I have to know the difference if I’m going to defend myself from being lumped into that category.”

  “Ah,” she says with a smile. “Makes sense. What are you observing?

  I set my drink down on the bar behind me. I’m not drinking it. No reason to hold it any longer. “I’m fascinated by human behavior, by what people say when they aren’t saying anything. What huge bits of information about each other do we miss because we aren’t paying attention to the little nuances?”

  “Hm.” She faces the same direction as me and watches the couple in the corner. “So what discoveries have you made about them?”

  “Well, his behavior hasn’t changed much.”

  “Meaning?”

  “He’s pretending not to play with his phone, but he is. He makes small talk, but his eyes keep wandering to the game on the TV. He’s trying but not hard enough. He’s not into her at all.”

  “If he’s bored, why is he still here?”

  “I think it’s a blind date,” I deduce. “See how nice she looks?” She nods. “She wants a relationship, a partner, maybe to settle down, maybe not. He, on the other hand, is probably a nice guy, but he’s not ready to commit to anyone. He’s uncomfortable because he doesn’t want to let his friend down, the one who set him up, but he knows this isn’t going anywhere.”

  She laughs. “You got all of that out of people-watching?”

  I shrug and smile. “I made up most of it, but it was their body language that led me to my conclusions.”

  She swivels on her stool and waves down the bartender. “Even if you’re wrong, the story is interesting.”

  “Oh, I’m not wrong,” I say confidently as I turn as well. I reach my hand towards her. “I’m Rowen, by the way.”

  “Rowen Flanigan, the rookie. I know who you are,” she says, shaking my hand. “I’m Tiffany Wendel. I’m friends with the team.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Tiffany. Are you hanging out here for long?”

  “Actually, a bunch of us are heading over to Mack Shivel’s place in a little bit for a get-together. Wanna come?”

  I can’t tell if she’s flirting with me or not, but I find myself extremely attracted to her. I’m really enjoying talking to her. Plus there’s the added benefit of getting to know more of my teammates. “Sure, I’ll go. Do you need a ride?”

  “Nah,” she says and picks up her drink. “I came with friends.”

  “I’ll see you there then, Tiffany.”

  She rejoins the group of women she came with, turns, and flashes me the most beautiful smile. I think I’m in love.

  “Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm.”

  I try to concentrate despite the humming next to my ear. This happens every time Santos LaGuajardo and I hook up. He’s not a terrible lover, but when he’s getting close but isn’t quite to the goal yet, he hums. I should be used to it by now, but it’s distracting every time.

  I focus on the slick thrust of his cock and the sound of flesh on flesh. Those are the things that turn me on.

  His lips find mine and his tongue plunges into my mouth, mimicking the motion of the rest of his body. “Are you getting close?” he whispers.

  “Yeah,” I whisper back. “Tilt your hips a little bit… oh yeah. Right there.” I kiss him again, and he goes back to humming with his tongue in my mouth.

  Just then Mack Shivel walks in and closes the door behind him.

  “Fuck!” Santos curses and stops, glaring at Mack as he takes a seat in the chair next to the window. Consequently, my chase for the Big O ends as well. “Every fucking time, man! I was this close, and you ruined my fucking concentration.”

  “Fuck you.” Mack unzips his pants and pulls out his cock, stroking it slowly. “Pull the covers back. I wanna watch, and I’m sick of waiting for my turn.”

  “Sasha wouldn’t give it up tonight?” I challenge as the covers are flung off the bed, revealing Santos and me in all our naked glory. Mack’s nostrils flare as his eyes rake my body.

  Most other women would be offended or embarrassed if someone walked in on them having sex and sat down to watch so they could jack off. Not me. To me,
it’s empowering. I love sex. I love all kinds of sex. And I love my Mutiny boys.

  “She’s off with Christian,” Mack says as Santos kisses down my jaw, getting himself riled up again. “You know how pissy he gets about me watching.”

  “I do.”

  Sensations take me over again as Santos kisses down my chest, pulling one of my nipples into his mouth. I arch my back and turn to look at Mack as I dig my fingernails into Santos’s shoulders. Mack’s eyes are hooded, and Santos is humming again.

  “Fuck, I love watching your tits bounce when he fucks you,” Mack says. He squeezes his shaft a little tighter and rubs the pre-cum off the tip. “I wanna watch him fuck you from behind. Santos, flip her over, man. Let me see you hit it.”

  Without saying a word, Santos pulls out, positions me on my hands and knees, slaps my ass hard enough to make me squeal, and plunges back inside me. All three of us groan as he enters me.

  “Fuck her harder,” Mack instructs, and Santos complies. “Grab those fucking sexy hips and hit it, brother.”

  He does, and I almost scream. I’m so close.

  “Tweak her nipples. Tiff, rub your clit, baby. Fuck, I’m close.”

  I move my hand down and rub just as Santos rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The humming grows louder.

  “Look at me, Tiffany,” Mack practically growls. “Look at me while I watch you get fucked.”

  Seeing him stroke and yank and tug throws me into overdrive.

  “Take it, Tiffany. Get it, baby. Let me watch you come.”

  That’s all it takes. I throw my head back with a moan as the first waves overtake me. I’m vaguely aware of Mack groaning “fuuuuuuck” as he finds his completion as well. But Santos doesn’t stop moving, and my orgasm keeps going and going. He digs into my hips so hard, I think he’s going to bruise me, and his humming turns into a moan. He pulls our hips as tightly together as he can, riding out the last of his, and my, spasms.

  I collapse on the bed, Santos collapsing on top of me. The only sounds are the three of us breathing heavily, and the telltale noise of the party outside the door.

  “I feel so much better now,” Santos says when he’s collected himself. “I think my legs were shot from the game. I needed a change of position to get off.”