No Running From Me

7. Press Conference Room

❝I'm losing focus every time you speak, girl.❞

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"He's the same." Jack said. He is sitting next to the hologram of Pepe Guardiola on the press room table.

"That's just the idea." I sit on one of the benches where the journalists normally sit. When we got here, I gave him a short introduction to the room, where the players are questioned by the world's media to fulfill their post-game duties. In this room, there is a hologram of Pep available for interaction with visitors. Jack was glazed over by the doll of his future boss.

"Does he really answer questions?" Jack looked at me for a moment, and I shook my head in agreement.

"Pep, why is Jojocat so inexorable?"

"I think that's great!" Virtual Pep answers, and I giggle at Jack's confused face because the answer makes no sense to his question.

"He just uses ready-made sentences, Jack." I explain.

"Oh great, right." He looks from me to Pep and tries again with another question, "Do you agree that I will be the best 10 City has ever had?"

"You bet I will." The recorded voice says, and Jack smiles, he seems satisfied with the automatic answer.

"Now your turn, Joey." Jack points to me.

"You're the one on the spot to be questioned, not me." I shake my head and watch him stand up, in the blink of an eye he is standing in front of me.

I shudder every time he approaches, I think we will continue what we started in the warm-up room.

"Then let's switch." I was about to complain, but the next thing I know, Jack is already pulling me up and leading me to the chair he was sitting in before. He sits down in the chair I was in before, standing with his legs spread wide apart. I can't help but lower my gaze to his crotch, almost salivating at his thick thighs, imagining the mark of his cock in his underwear. By God, I think I have a thing for his thighs. I want to jump on top of him right now.

"What do you want to ask?" I ask, Jack analyzes me and for the first time I feel like I'm in the players' shoes when they go through these press conferences, but it's all much more intense.

"Have you ever had sex with anyone from Villa?" The question is random and takes me by surprise. I arch my eyebrow at such audacity. I don't think there is any version of Jack Grealish in the multiverse that isn't audacious.

"Why should I give you details of my sex life?" I relax my back on the bench and cross my arms.

"Please."

He is almost pouting, as if his existence depends on the answer to that question.

"No, no one." I admit. Working around football players is not always easy, it takes a good deal of self-control to be surrounded by tall, handsome, and fucking hot men almost every day without wanting to jump on them all the time. But I am proud to say that during my time in the Vila and during these eight months that I have been in Manchester, I have not fallen into temptation once.

"None? Not even Mings?" His voice expresses surprise.

"Why Mings?"

"You know, he's the team's hotshot, everyone says so." I giggle. He has a point.

"That's true, but no, not even Mings. I was at Villa to work and not to hit on players, same thing here."

He seems to ponder for a few seconds and stands up. "That makes sense."

"What makes sense?" Jack walks over and stops facing me, only the table separating us. I feel his fingers clamp my jaw to look directly at him.

"I want to lay my cards on the table, Joey, talk about us directly."

I think Jack is tired of this cat and mouse game, these double entendre sentences, and when he admits it, I finally realize that I am too.

"You really don't know how to listen to a 'no', right?"

"You never said a 'no' to me, nor did you give me a reason." I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking. He really is right, I never said a straight no to him. Maybe my actions are confusing enough. Damn, I don't think I'm in control of anything anymore.

"Is that why you don't want me?"

"Also, I mean, it's not just that."

"You can be honest with me." He gets closer and I smell his minty breath. "Just tell me why you don't want me because I want you, Joey, very much."

Of course, I should maintain a professional stance, but that's not why I don't want to get involved with Jack. In fact, I don't want to get involved with anyone. I have a dancing career to build, I don't have time for boyfriends with all their demands and jealousy. And I say this with propriety. I have done this test, it just doesn't work. My grandmother used to say that boyfriends are synonymous with being late, and she was right.

But I also think it is a very pretentious thought to think that Jack wants a relationship with me. Maybe he just wanted to have sex, relax his muscles and cum madly. I also can't remember the last time I let someone fuck me to the point where my legs were weak. I have been recharging the battery of my vibrators more often than I would like.

His orbit is making me dizzy. Jack is the kind of guy who knows exactly what he has to say to win you over, has a smell that intoxicates the soul, a voice that excites in any tone, and the ability to strip you bare with just one look. This is what I feel when he looks at me. I bite my lips, stopping myself from telling him to fuck me right here. I want to find out what his kiss is like and wrap my tongue around his. The wetness in my panties begins to bother me. I can't hold it in anymore. One night of sex wouldn't hurt. I would not be betraying myself if I let him ruin me today, just today.

I feel him impatiently, sliding his beard across my face until his lips brush my ear. That sends shivers through every hair on my body.

"Well? Are you going to answer?"

"I don't have an answer for that, Jack." I want to kiss him, but not here, in such a limited space. "I want you too."

"Jesus, finally!" I notice him leaning in to kiss me, but I pull away, and he opens his eyes in bewilderment. "Really, Joey?"

Jack looks frustrated, but I'm not joking with him, just making things a little more interesting.

"When you are going to kiss me, I want you to use all the mobility you have in your body."

I reply and get up from the table before he has time to react. I walk over to Jack and pull him by the wrist to our next and final stop: the home team's locker room.