New Balls Please (Ball Games #3) (7 page)

'Dora. Strip down to your tee and pants.'

'What?'
Shit. Shut up, Dora.
'Yes, Tim.'

I strip off until I'm standing in my sports tee, Victoria’s Secret bra and pants.

He walks over to me with a slow swagger.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
I figure he's horny and it's overruling him being mad at me. It's coming out in sexual tension instead.

Tim grabs hold of my pants and pulls them upwards and to the side hard. My pants make a tearing sound and cut into the inside of my leg. He does it again… three times. Each time it cuts into the side of my groin area.

'Just a minute,' he huffs and walks into the kitchen. He returns with a pair of scissors and cuts through the side of my pants so they fall off. Then he picks them up and puts them in his trouser pocket.

'I'll be keeping those.'

Okay, nutter. What's he want them for? I bet it’s the silky material. He'll clean part of the bloody car with them or something.

I’m led over to the bed and told to lie on my back. Tim lifts my top up and puts it across my eyes.

I hear his clothes hit the floor and feel his weight above me on the bed. He puts his dick against my entrance and starts to push in. I'm as dry as a bone so it fucking kills when his dick drags across my vagina.

'Aaaaaahh.'

'Like that do you? You dirty bitch. I'm going to fuck you hard.'

Oh, my God, he thinks that noise was arousal, not pain. Of course, he can't see the tears in my eyes because he's covered them the fuck up.
Dora, think sexy thoughts quick.
I imagine it's Tom Hiddleston, not Tim, and my fantasy assists with being shagged from dry. I fake an orgasm in the hope this will end quickly. But no, I'm dragged into various different positions while he continues to say the most ridiculous things I've ever heard. If I weren't following that book, I'd be laughing and crying right now.

'You are quite something, Ms Evans.'

Ooh, compliments. This fucking subservient shit works. I'll carry on. Looks like I won't get bollocked for running away after all.

'
Thank you, Tim.'

'Anytime, kitten.'

Kitten? KITTEN?

He pulls my top off my head and I squint as my eyes adjust to the light. He pulls me over to him and nestles me in the crack of his arm. Loving though it is, his underarm stinks of sweat after all the sex. Now, I'm not allowed to tell him he stinks, so how do I word this? Oh yes, as a suggestion.

'If you'd like, perhaps we could use the shower now?'

There's a pause. He scratches his chin while he thinks. 'Yes. Great idea. Let’s.'

He stands up. 'Come on then. What are you waiting for?'

He must want me to go in first. Fair enough, he takes forever anyway.

In the bathroom, I stand next to the bath, reach up to the overhead shower and turn it on. After a few adjustments, the water is at the right temperature for me. I climb over the side of the bath and get in. My butt keeps hitting the plastic shower screen as there's not much room in here. So I'm a little perplexed when Tim gets in.

'Tim, wha-'

I'm silenced by his lips on mine. He pushes me against the bathroom wall. Oh my God, anyone could have been pressed up against this. It looks clean enough but ew. I'll need to scrub my back with exfoliant now. I can't speak because he won't stop kissing me. His stubble is making my face sore. Why hasn’t he shaved? What on earth has got into him? His behaviour is well over the top. Then it hits me. Of course. He thought he'd lost me this time. Tim's showing me how much he missed me and loves me. He’s a desperate man.

'Open your legs.'

I do as I'm told and the next thing the water from the shower head is no longer cleaning me but being pointed upwards. I'm getting a douche.
It's supposed to tickle my clitoris, not wash my insides!
If I get any more water up my arse, he'll need to be paid for a colonic irrigation. I quickly fake another orgasm. It works as he moves the shower head back onto our bodies. He pushes me back against the shower tiles and enters me again. With each thrust he speaks.

'You. Fucking. Love. This. Don't. You?'

No, I fucking don't. I've got an arse cleared of good bacteria and a chafed and sore vagina.

He comes as I fake a third orgasm. On the whole, I usually have real ones and only fake when I'm dead tired and want to get it over with quickly. This is a record. I’m more fake than a reality TV show.

'Love you, babe.'

Babe? BABE?

I can't cope with being awake anymore. I can't take another hour of his penis, or his gob.

'What about an afternoon nap?' I suggest.

'Great idea, babe. Let me finish showering and I'll come join you.'

When he gets in the bed, I've faked being asleep so he can't attack me again. I hear a relaxed sigh escape his mouth. Glad someone enjoyed themselves.

Chapter Nine

Tim

I call Center Parcs and after I explain my situation, they book me a day pass. They say if Dora wants me to stay she can come down to their Visitor Centre and add me on to the accommodation list. I ask when the next tennis lesson is and set off in good time to see her there.

I'm not expecting to see the Tennis player with his body wrapped around hers.

Although I want to go charging over there and drag him off of her, I remember what I've read in the books about playing it cool. Also, that bloke’s bigger than me. I might get hurt.

I feel stupid wearing a bloody suit when everyone around me is in fitness gear. But that's what these billionaires in the books wear. Gone is my old suit that's shiny at the knees. Now I'm in a brand new dark grey suit. A pale grey shirt and silky black tie complete the ensemble. I even polished my shoes. I've not shaved to attain the rugged image. Have to admit, I could keep the rugged image. Shaving is a pain in the arse, well, the face actually. I don’t shave my bum.

So I walk over, taking my time while Dora looks at me, eyes wide with what I guess is surprise or apprehension. Once she's recovered from seeing me, I’m sure this court will see a slanging match. Dora won't give in easily when she thinks she was wronged. Heaven forbid she gives me time to explain.

The tennis bloke holds out a hand to shake mine. Fuck off, dickhead. I glare at him and he goes away. Thank God that worked. I can hardly lift my arm in this new jacket.

Then a woman comes over, looking like she might start on me. Dora talks to her and she goes back to her tennis lesson.

Dora turns to me and starts to apologise. I take a deep breath. I need to start as I mean to go on.

'That pussy is mine. I own it, and you'd better not forget it. Now, where's your villa, because you need to be punished.'

Her jaw drops. She nods and walks towards the exit. I follow. Bloody hell, this book stuff might actually work. For the first time in the history of our relationship, Dora's done as she's told.

I make her strip down to her pants and tee shirt. Firstly, I need to address the pants issue. In several of Dora's books the alpha male tears off the woman's pants. I grab them and pull and... nothing. I try again. Nothing. I end up cutting them off with scissors. Fucking books. Get your facts right. It doesn't bloody work. I almost cut off the circulation in her vagina. Why do the alphas keep the pants in their pocket after? I feel like a right pervert but Dora's not complaining, so I carry on.

Next, I put her top over her head like I saw Mr Grey do to Ana in the
Fifty
film I endured last night. Ana had nice tits, that's about my whole take on that DVD. I wrinkle it up so it covers her eyes and then shag her. She makes moaning noises and comes. Bloody hell, she's really enjoying it. I want to lie at the side of her and rest but they don't do that in the books. Time to try some positions I've read about. While I bonk her, I call her a dirty bitch. I make sure I add some endearments I noted from the books too, kitten, and babe.

Absolutely fucking exhausted, I pull her towards me so she's tucked under my arm in a macho embrace.

She asks if I want to get in the shower.

She's not done?

I can hardly say I'm tired. That’s not something I’ve read in one of her books so I agree and follow her in. I grab the shower head. At least my dick thanks me for a well-earned rest while I bring her off with that. She loves it. My dick lets me know that actually it will have another go, so I shag her quickly and hard while I do some more macho posturing.

'You. Fucking. Love. This. Don't. You?'

Now don't get me wrong. We're in our forties, not dead and we have had marathon shagging sessions, just not very often these days. I've always treated her with respect. It’s ridiculous yelling out this bullshit. But look at her. She's come again. I don't remember the last time she came three times in one session. She really does love it.

We get out of the shower and Dora asks if I fancy an afternoon nap. I really do, but she probably doesn't mean sleep. I say yes but decide I'll stay in the shower for a while longer, have a nice wash and rest my dick for a while.

When I get to the bed, she's asleep. Thank fuck for that.

I crawl in beside her and let out a satisfied sigh. Then I turn over and close my eyes. Please don't let her want another shag when we wake up.

When we awaken, Dora suggests we book into the spa and do the couples session. I check out what she means and it’s sitting in a steam room and having a swim. That I can cope with, so I agree. I call work and let them know I won't be in the rest of the week. To be truthful, I feel rather guilty wagging it but I can hardly ask for holiday straight after sick leave. I just hope I'm not seen by any clients. As a Tax Inspector, I'm sure they'd be only too pleased to exact revenge. Before we go there, Dora goes to the Visitor centre and adds me to our booking. At least I'm getting some benefit from all the money she's spent.

The couples’ session is relaxing. Dora has booked us into a restaurant after and we enjoy a three-course Italian meal with wine. We both drink a lot more than usual and arrive back at the villa too pissed and relaxed to do anything but sleep.

Thursday, I fancy a go on the karts. It's fucking brilliant tearing around the course pretending I'm Lewis Hamilton. Then Dora suggests we both go horse riding. I point out the paddles in the stables and she laughs and rolls her eyes. I'll not bother buying one of those then, it didn't seem to appeal, thank God.

On Friday, it's time for Dora's last scheduled tennis lesson.

'Do you want to come see me play?'

'I want to come all right. We'll see about taking that kit off you after the lesson.'

She giggles like a little girl. I'm not sure how much longer I can take being this Alpha.

Dora has told me all about Cole and Jackie so I no longer fear meeting him. Instead, I walk over to him, introduce myself and shake his hand. Today I'm dressed in the nearest outfit I could find to Christian Grey’s hoodie and running outfit from that damn film. At least I can move my arms around.

I watch Dora going through the different training in her lesson and she's really good. She's also got an amazingly fit arse. I'm glad my jogging bottoms are baggy because even though it should be broken given all the action it’s seen over the last few days, my dick has woken up at the sight of Dora picking up a runaway tennis ball.

From Dora's expression, though, something is annoying her, and I watch as Cole flirts with the other women. She watches him closely and I note the flare of her nostrils. Don't tell me she fancies him after all.

Lesson over, she says goodbye to Jackie and then thanks Cole. She comes walking over to me, still with that underlying rage.

'Are you all right?'

'Listen. If it's okay with you, I need to get something off my chest.'

She does fancy him. I can't hear it. I can't.

'Okay?'

'You don't mind?'

'What is it?'

'Just a moment.'

Cole passes her, and she grabs hold of his arm. For a big bloke, he looks shocked as she spins him around. An angry Dora is a surprisingly strong Dora.

Oh God. This is where she tells me they've been having an affair and she's leaving me.

'Cole.'

'Er yes, Dora.'

He looks edgy. Yes, you'd better be nervous. Come on, Tim, think of the Fifty film where Christian punches that bloke who gets fresh with Ana. Ready?

'Take my advice; stop flirting with all those other women and see what's happening right under your nose. I really don't know why you men have to have love pointed out to you with a giant fucking stick.'

Eh?

Cole's jaw drops.

'Jackie met you on holiday years ago, where she informs me you were a lovely bloke who got messed around by an evil ex-fiancée. For some reason she thinks you're a top bloke. I just see a wanker with a large ego who thinks he's God’s gift to women.'

Cole's jaw tenses.

'If you're a wanker then it's a real shame as you're a good looking bloke with talent. If you're not, then you might want to take a closer look at Jackie because she’s leaving tonight.'

Cole takes a deep breath. 'Not that it’s any of your business but no, I'm not a wanker. I'm a bloke who got played and I don't want to be put in that position again. I'm the player now.'

'Well, Player, you're a Loser.' My wife tells him. 'Your ex is still winning the game.'

He bites on his lip. His cheeks aflame.

Dora carries on. 'Well, as they say, the ball is well and truly in your court. Thanks again for the lessons.'

Cole crosses his arms. 'Why am I of the opinion I'm the one being taught something?'

As Dora walks away, I lean towards Cole. 'If I were you I'd do what she tells you, mate. You don't want to be on the wrong side of my other half.'

He nods and we leave.

We pack up early on Saturday morning. Dora insists on doing all the packing and won't let me help. Instead, she makes me a cup of tea and tells me to put my feet up. She obviously feels guilty for leaving me, and although she hasn't said it, I've let it go as she's making up for it with all this fussing around me. I put my feet up on the sofa and look at the birds and squirrels outside the patio doors for a final time, and then we're on our way back home. Dora's car is right outside the villa, whereas I have to walk to the main car park.