Page 3 of Cocky Player

Nodding my head toward the direction of the guy, I leaned closer to her and shouted in her ear.“That guy in the white still watching?”

“Oh yeah!Salivating is more like it!Let’s make it good.”She slid her arm around me, pressed her chest to my back and then we ground to an R&B beat I didn’t know but was perfect.

Two

Connor

Angel.

It was the only word that came to mind when I saw her.Innocent.Pristine and pure.It could have been her creamy pale skin.It could have been due to the dress she wore, bright white, a shining light on her that illuminated her out of the crowd of hundreds of dancers on the floor beneath me.

Too damn sweet for me.I saw her as soon as she started twisting and turning her way to the dance floor.In a sea of darkness, she was the only one I noticed.Long, light red hair that had to be professionally colored recently.It gleamed when the chandeliers and lights danced over her.It was impossible to take my eyes off her despite the fact I hadn’t come to Glitz tonight for this.

For her.

There was no way in hell I was leaving without meeting her.Touching her.Tasting the sensitive skin at her neck, right behind her ear where she’d sigh and press her generous tits to my chest.From the distance between us, it was impossible to tell her size, but she was dwarfed by most of the men, taller than most of the women.In heels, most likely with pointed, spiky heels that would feel incredible digging into my ass as I rode her hard.Rough.

“Found one yet?”Kolby Jones, a teammate of mine, asked.Nice as hell, rarely one to hook up with someone from a bar.

He blamed it on having a daughter, raising her by himself with the help of his mom.Proclaimed he wanted to set a good example of what kind of man she should want in her future.I said the girl was five, oblivious to what her dad did when he wasn’t home.No matter, the man had more morals in his pinky finger than I had in my entire body.

Beaux Hale, another teammate and one of my best friends stepped to my other side, crossing his arms.“The one in white,” he said.

As he spoke, the girl who was indeed the one in white, faced us and lifted her drink.A challenge or an acknowledgment?It didn’t matter to me.

Her friend slid behind her and wrapped her hand to the angel’s stomach.They swayed and danced, a provocative move done to ensure my attention fixated on her.

It wasn’t a guess.

She kept glancing at me over her shoulder, tucking hair behind her ear when she saw I was still watching her before glancing away.

“How’d you guess?”

“She’s sexy enough to attract every man’s attention in this place.But you never go for the sweet ones, probably because you’d leave them in tears.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“Not my fault they’ll never get better than me.”It was true.I was damn good in bed.Damn good at giving women everything they wanted, leaving them breathless and exhausted.I imagined if I stuck around until morning they’d also tell me about their sore hips and stomach muscles.It wasn’t arrogant bullshit, just the truth.I never went back though, and this girl already had me thinking of tomorrow.Which meant she wasn’t only beautiful, but dangerous.

I kept my sexual nights to one-night encounters for a reason, and I learned it after trying to date my first few years playing pro football.By the time the few I knew found out who I was, that glimmer of sexual satisfaction turned to something much more vicious.

Jersey jumpers.The last thing I needed was that in my life, a woman who didn’t want me for me but for what I could give them.A small amount of local fame, a glance here and there on television during a game or a photo op at a fellow teammate’s fundraiser.Women somehow blew our fame out of proportion thinking it would give them something more than a few thousand followers on Instagram and they were wild with trying to attract it.

No, thank you.I had little use for drama and less desire to get caught up with a woman who thrived on it.I preferred things simple.We both got off, she loved it, I took what I needed to relieve the stress enough to keep my head in the game.We both left satisfied with a smile on our face and a lack of promises given.

And I didn’t have to worry about getting caught up in the drama of a relationship that could easily fall sour when undoubtedly, I refused to show her the attention she craved because I was too damn focused on my career as a running back, the only thing I’d wanted since I could remember.Age three, to be exact, watching the Super Bowl on my grandpa’s knee.Beer bottle in one of his hands, my baby blanket over his shoulder, bouncing me to keep me quiet and engaged in watching the Packers crush the Patriots…two of the greatest all-time teams with the best quarterbacks duking it out.

I never had the arm to throw the ball like Favre or Rodgers or Brady, but I had feet faster than anyone currently in the league.

So women?No, I didn’t have time for them.Not past the few hours I needed them.

And the angel?She wasn’t my type at all.

Too sweet.Too breakable.

Yet no one else had grabbed my attention all night.

Which meant it was her or no one—and it’d been awhile.

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