Hating the Cocky Jock

by B. B. Hamel

  “But they don’t know what it feels like to get hit.”

  He laughs. “Exactly.”

  “I never played football,” I point out.

  “But you know.”

  I take a breath, and for a second, I’m back on the soccer field, running after a ball, slamming into a defender, pushing my way past, breath screaming with each fast step, the ball jumping out ahead of me, no time to think, no time to do anything but move. It’s exhilarating, out there on the field, acting by pure instinct, getting physical, getting dirty, getting my butt kicked and kicking butt. I always felt so alive out there on the field. Maybe I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since.

  “Yeah,” I say finally. “I know.”

  He nods. “It’s what I liked about you when we first met. I thought you understood.”

  “I try to understand, at least,” I say.

  “Best you can do. Better than the other guys. They just treat us like cattle.”

  I grin at him. “Honestly, that’s how I saw you at first. Just another cocky jock asshole.”

  “And now?” he asks.

  “Now I can’t help but picture you in a mohawk.”

  He laughs and I grin at him. He shakes his head. “I’m gonna regret telling you this, but some of our songs are online.”

  “No way.”

  “Way. On our old MySpace page. Well, it’s on YouTube now, I think.”

  “Oh my god.” I pull out my phone and unlock it. “I have to hear this.”

  “No way,” he says, reaching across the car.

  I laugh and we struggle for a second, his body close to mine as he grabs at the phone. I laugh and jump out of the car, and he chases me. He swoops me up off my feet, putting me back down on the hood of his car and pulling the phone from my hands.

  “Okay, okay,” I say. “You win. Give me back my phone.”

  “Promise not to look it up.”

  I smile sweetly. “I promise.”

  He sighs. “At least wait until I’m not around.”

  “Fine.”

  He hands the phone back and I put it down beside me. I lean back, legs wrapping around his waist. He smirks and leans toward me, and we kiss.

  It feels strangely natural, like this was what had to happen. I can feel a thrill run through me again, a thrill at what I know he can make me feel, excitement pure and unbroken.

  But I pull away from him before I can go any further. He raises an eyebrow, cocks his head.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I bite my lip. “I have to tell you something.”

  “Okay, tell me.”

  “My boss. He’s been pushing me to write about you. But I have this deal with Wood, and I just… I don’t know what to do.”

  He stares at me for a long moment. My heart keeps beating and I watch him back, not sure what he’s thinking.

  I’m afraid he’s going to get angry. I wouldn’t really blame him if he did, honestly. Even out here, even after all this, I’m still thinking about myself, my job.

  “What is this, Brynn?” he asks me softly.

  “I don’t know,” I admit.

  He leans closer, grabs my hair. Tilts my head back. “Why do you keep coming to me?” he whispers. “Are you fucking me just to get a story?”

  “No,” I groan. “I’m not.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He bites my lower lip. I let out a soft moan.

  I want him so badly, it’s driving me insane.

  “I told him to go to hell,” I say softly. “But I can’t get away with that for very long.”

  “Do you want my help?”

  “I don’t know what I want.”

  He laughs softly and lets go of my hair. “Come on,” he says.

  I blink as he steps away and gets back into the car. I follow him, sliding into the seat next to his.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Back to my place.”

  I bite my lip, right where he bit me just a second ago. I don’t need to ask why. I don’t need to say anything.

  I let him drive us back to his apartment, my pulse racing the while time.

  13

  Sean

  I’m angry when I open the door to my apartment and drag Brynn in behind me.

  She looks a little scared. No, not scared. She looks excited.

  I can’t blame her. She knows what we’re doing here. I’m not being coy about what I want.

  But she’s in a shitty position. On the one hand, she has to write about me to keep her job. On the other, she can’t write about me if she wants to keep her job. She’s stuck between my coach and her boss, both demanding the impossible.

  Then there’s me, wondering why the fuck she keeps coming back.

  Maybe I’m just stupid. Maybe I just can’t help myself.

  Or maybe I just love her taste so much that I’ll put up with anything to get a little bit.

  “Take off your clothes,” I say to her once we’re inside.

  She hesitates. “Right here?”

  “Strip,” I say.

  I watch as her eyes get hard and she drops her bag on the floor. She takes off her top first, then her bra. I stare at her perfect fucking breasts, round and perky, her pink nipples begging for my tongue.

  But I hold off. I want her naked and vulnerable for me.

  I take off my shirt as she takes off her pants. I don’t need any fucking foreplay. I don’t need any bullshit building up to this.

  I’m half hard already. And I know she’s wet as she strips off her pants and underwear.

  She puts an arm across her chest. I kick away my jeans then stop her.

  “Don’t hide,” I say.

  She blinks, cocks her head. “What do you want, Sean?”

  “You know what I want.” I grab her hair, step closer.

  “No, I really don’t.”

  “I never hated you, remember, sweetheart?” I grab her hair, lips running against her neck, her throat. “You’re the one that hated me.”

  “Maybe I was wrong,” she whispers.

  I laugh, harsh and excited. “You’re damn right you were wrong.”

  I pull her hair tight and kiss her. I taste her tongue in my mouth as I pull her body against mine. She’s warm and smooth. Her breasts feel incredible against my chest. I can feel her breath heaving in as my hands grab her ass tight, pushing her up against me.

  I pull back and kiss her, cupping her breasts, pushing her up against the wall. She gasps as I put her there, one hand moving up to pull her hair as my lips move down to her collarbone.

  I kiss her breasts, teasing her nipples, one hand in her hair, the other moving down between her legs. I own her, completely and simply. I spread her legs and tease her clit gently with the tips of my fingers.

  “Shit,” she whispers.

  “This is why you keep coming back, isn’t it?” I ask her. “This right here. It’s why you can’t get enough of me.”

  She groans. “Maybe,” she says.

  “I know,” I whisper. “I know what you want, Brynn. I know what you need. You pretend like you hate me, but deep down, I think you’re afraid of how badly you want my cock.” I tighten my grip on her hair and she gasps as I press my fingers deep inside her.

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” she says.

  “Liar. You’re terrified. You’re afraid you’ll do anything for my big, hard dick.”

  “No,” she moans.

  “Yes. You’re afraid of being pathetic, but it’s not pathetic, Brynn. You can’t help yourself. You know what you want.”

  “I know what I want,” she repeats.

  “That’s right. You want my cock. You want to feel good.”

  Her eyes meet mine. “Then make me feel good.”

  I laugh gently. “No.”

  She blinks. “What?”

  I pull my fingers back and step away. She groans.

  “Get on your knees,” I say. “You want to feel good? Fucking earn it.”

  She drops down,
a greedy glint in her eyes. She tugs at my boxer briefs and I pull them off, revealing my thick, hard cock.

  She takes it between both her hands and slowly strokes me before taking me in her mouth. I let her do the work, tongue licking at the tip of my dick before sliding me deeper into her throat.

  I love it when she gags, pulls back, strokes me like she’s angry. She always goes back, gags again, sucks me harder. It feels so fucking good as I grab her hair, holding it tight, letting her work my cock faster.

  I groan, push her deep. She can barely take me. Halfway and she’s already giving up. I fucking love it, and I know I’m going to split her in half, just like she wants it. I know how to make her moan my name, over and over again.

  I lean back and watch her breasts shake as she sucks me faster, faster, hands stroking, both wrapped around my big shaft. I can feel the pleasure deep in my balls, and I want to come in her mouth so badly, make her swallow every drop, but I pull her hair, stopping myself.

  I pick her up and bend her over my couch. I stare at that round ass, her pussy wet, pretty, glistening for me. I slap her ass, spanking her hard, before spreading her wide and teasing her with my cock.

  She groans when I sink myself deep inside. She wiggles her hips and slides me just a little bit deeper. I can tell she’s getting used to my size now. There’s less pain in her expression, more pure pleasure. I know what she needs now as I slap her ass rough and start to pump deep into her pussy.

  I grab her hips and fuck her. I’m not being nice, or holding back, or taking it easy. I want to fuck this pussy hard and deep, I want to take her exactly how I want it. She groans when I slap her ass, groans when I pull her hair, and I know she’s deep in her own space, blissing out on my big dick.

  I reach around her hips, leaning over top of her to whisper in her ear as I rub her clit, grinding my hips against her pussy.

  “I want to make you come on this fat cock,” I whisper. “But I need you to admit something first.”

  “What?” she moans.

  “Admit that you love this dick.”

  “I love it,” she whispers.

  “Admit you love sucking my cock and getting fucked by me. Admit that I can have every inch of your body and you’ll do anything for me, no matter how fucking filthy.”

  “I’ll do anything you want,” she moans.

  I spank her ass and fuck her deep. She rolls her hips, riding me as I thrust inside her, rubbing her clit at the same time. We get into a rhythm and I can tell she loves it. I can tell she’s close.

  But I’m not ready yet. I pull back and she gasps, almost angrily. I pull her away from the couch and take her into my bedroom. I push her down onto the bed then pull her to the edge, spreading her legs wide.

  I drop down between them. She wraps her thighs around my face as I lick her pussy, lapping her up, tongue sliding all over her soaked little clit.

  I pull back and spread her legs again. She rolls her hips as I slide my fat cock deep inside her and start to slowly thrust.

  I lean over and kiss her as I grind into her pussy. She gasps and I feel her grab onto my back, digging her fingernails into my skin. It makes me grunt as I thrust faster, fucking her deeper, making her breasts shake with every deep thrust.

  I pull back and fuck her fast. I feel wild and fucking good as she moans, her eyes shut tight, her mouth open wide. I fuck her faster, harder, beating her pussy up. I spread her legs and rub her clit with my thumb which only makes her hips move along with me.

  I can tell that I’ve lost myself. I’m entirely inside of her, entirely lost with her. This happens every time we fuck, every inch of my body gets sucked into her orbit, like I can’t resist what she’s making me feel.

  It’s bliss, pure and simple. I lose myself and find it inside of her. I’m an animal, and all I can think about is what she’s making me feel.

  Her perfect hips, her pretty lips, her tight cunt wrapped around my cock.

  I fuck her faster, groaning now. She’s panting with me and we fuck together, writhing in a mass of bodies, sweating, completely combined, pure and joy and bliss and intense pleasure ripping between us.

  I feel her body stiffen, her back arch. I keep fucking her, deeper and rougher, the only thought in my mind is the need to keep going, to keep feeling pleasure. I feel her come, her cunt tighten around me, her body tense, contract, spasm with joy.

  I keep going, animalistic, intense, I can’t stop myself even if I wanted to. I fuck her faster, harder, practically roaring with pleasure.

  I come deep inside her pussy. I come hard and intense, deep spurts of pleasure filling her, deep inside of her.

  I groan and I feel her again. I feel her lips against mine, her body against mine, her warmth. I feel her breath against my ear.

  “Fuck, Brynn,” I whisper.

  “Yeah,” she says back.

  She laughs softly. I can’t help but grin.

  “That’s why you keep coming back,” I say softly.

  She smiles and kisses me. She doesn’t need to agree.

  We both understand. We both just felt it.

  Nobody can argue with that, with the intense, primal pleasure we just felt.

  We both need it again. We both crave it.

  And her body is the only way I know.

  14

  Brynn

  I spend the night at Sean’s, and in the morning, he drives me back to my place.

  “Want to come up?” I ask him.

  “Another time,” he says.

  I frown a little bit. “Sure.”

  “Seriously, another time. I need to get to the facility soon or else Wood’ll give me shit.”

  “Okay.”

  He leans across the car and kisses me. “See you later.”

  “Bye.”

  I practically float up to my apartment. I refuse to inspect what’s happening, not right now, at least.

  I shower, get changed, and call an Uber. It gets me into the office where I left my car last night.

  I head up to my desk. I make a cup of coffee in the break room. I say hello to my coworkers, I smile like I belong, but deep down inside, I know something is off.

  I started feeling it last night, after the first time we fucked. When I thought about my job, it just seemed…

  Useless. Unnecessary.

  I don’t even know why. But the idea of not seeing Sean because of this job just felt stupid. And the idea of using him for a story just to keep this job felt even dumber.

  The whole thing is a trap. I think my boss knows it as much as I do. I think he’s just trying to get rid of me.

  Or maybe that’s paranoid. I don’t know. I guess I don’t care.

  It doesn’t take long before Soren calls me into his office, though.

  He smiles at me over a mug of coffee.

  “Have you thought about our chat?” he asks.

  I nod. “I have.”

  “Good. And what do you say? Five hundred words, due tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  He blinks. “Excuse me?”

  “No,” I say again. “I know it’s my job to write whatever you assign me, but… no.”

  He takes a long breath and lets it out. He puts down his coffee, takes off his glasses, and rubs his temples.

  “Listen, Brynn,” he says finally. “Let’s level with each other, shall we?”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “Look at this from my perspective. Your articles about Sean were very, very popular. People want more of them, and it’s my job to give them what they want. It’s my job to sell papers. You get that, right?”

  “Right,” I say, nodding.

  “So I need you to write more articles. That quarterback is popular, and you have insight into him. People want that right now.”

  “I hear you,” I say.

  “Good. I honestly don’t understand why you’re resisting this so much.”

  I cock my head, and suddenly, I just don’t care anymore.

  “Wood banned me from
writing about Sean.”

  Soren looks surprised. “Coach Wood did?”

  I nod. “He banned me. Said I was getting in the way of Sean playing well. Said I was distracting him.”

  Soren grunts, clearly surprised. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me before?”

  I shrug. “You made it clear that not writing about Sean was not an option. And you pissed me off.”

  He laughs softly. “Okay, fair enough.”

  “Wood won’t give me access if I write another word about Sean. He’ll revoke my press pass.”

  Soren hesitates. “Would that matter?”

  I sit there for a second, surprised by the question. “I think so,” I say, but I’m suddenly not so sure.

  “If it’s only Sean you need, why does it matter if you can’t get into practices?” Soren asks me. “Just call him up, see him outside of the facility.”

  “You don’t care if I get banned?”

  He laughs. “Of course not. Who the fuck cares, so long as you keep giving me what I want?”

  I can’t believe I’m hearing this. It’s like all the worry I’ve been feeling was for nothing. If I had just come clean with Soren from the start, I could’ve avoided so much anguish and uncertainty.

  And yet now, I just don’t care.

  That’s the funny thing about all this. I started out hating Sean, hating him for his petty rumor. But I didn’t really hate him, so much as I hated all the asshole guys surrounding me.

  Soren was one of those guys. He still is, really. He doesn’t care about me. He’s just using me to write him some articles that’ll sell a few more papers. He doesn’t care what I think, what I feel.

  If I told him that I was fucking Sean, he’d probably shrug and tell me to write a thousand words about the guy’s dick.

  It’s suddenly strikingly, absurdly, crystal clear for me.

  “I’m not going to write about Sean,” I say finally.

  Soren shakes his head, exasperated. “I don’t get it,” he says.

  “I don’t care if you don’t get it. I’m just not going to. So either fire of me or let me write about something else.”

  He stares at me, not speaking. I can tell he’s thinking, trying to decide what to do with me. I’m insubordinate, and if he lets me get away with this, who knows what I’ll try and get away with.