Football Dick: A Sports Romance (Big Girls, Bad Boys, and Babies)

by Violet Blaze

  My nostrils flare and I suck in a deep breath.

  “Are you going to elaborate?” he asks as he tilts his head to the side and then runs his tongue across his lower lip. He's either flirting with me or he's so used to flirting with everybody that he has no idea what he's doing. I'm going to assume the latter. “About the whole hating me thing? Because now you've piqued my curiosity.”

  Rhoden sits up and leans toward me, the motion making my insides twist.

  “You're a showboater,” I tell him and he nods like he was waiting for that. “The penalties for victory dances are so high—the fines, the fifteen yard penalties. Why even bother? Oh, and your first season with the Adders, you seriously sucked. I saw you fumble a good half-dozen passes. You cost us that game against the Giants, and then you got into that fight with LeBraun Davids at a bar. All in one season. I mean, it's a shock that you're still around.”

  Rhoden's eyes glitter as he looks me over again, this time with a different sort of appreciation in his gaze.

  “So you're not just the owner's daughter, huh? You're a real fan.”

  “Football's a huge part of my life. I …” Haven't been able to watch any of the games lately because I'm pregnant with your baby, and this situation totally sucks. “My mom was a huge Adders fan,” I say, my voice drooping before I can stop it. “The Adders were her team.” A smile tickles my mouth. “She would've died twice if she'd been around to see Dad buy the team.”

  “And then sell it?” Rhoden says, but it's phrased as a careful question instead of an insult. I look up at him, praying that he won't notice I'm not drinking my wine. Do guys even think about things like that? If he was a woman, I'd be terrified.

  “I didn't know my dad was going to sell the team. It … happened so quick. Clearly, Walter and Reuben have had this deal in the works for a long time.” I drop my chin to my chest and set my kung pao on the sofa table, rubbing the heels of my hands over my eyes. “Anyone else, anyone, would've been a better owner. I can't even imagine him being in charge of the Adders. Especially after this … the breakup thing …” I gesture loosely into the air and then drop my hand to my lap.

  Rhoden watches the movement and then reaches down to take his socks off. Yep. Just takes them off and bundles them up, dropping them next to his discarded shirt. His feet … yeah, I even like those, too.

  “What were you doing at that masquerade party?” Rhoden asks mildly.

  “Same thing you were doing, I guess,” I say and he nods like that makes tons of sense. Maybe to him, it does? “Are … you seem …” I can't figure out how to phrase the question.

  “Are you seem? What kind of question is that?” he asks as a joke, leaning back into the couch pillows and crossing his muscular arms behind his head. “Is this about us? The sex?”

  “Well, yeah. This is kind of awkward for me.” I gesture between us again. “One-night stands are supposed to stay one-night, not three nights and some dog park visits. Is there something you want from me?”

  “Is there something you want from me?” he asks back, one brow raised.

  He looks so fucking pretty there, leaning back on my couch like that. I wish I could keep him here forever, just to admire his physical form. It's absolute perfection …

  “Do you want your shirt back?” I ask, avoiding his question the same way he avoided mine.

  “Nah,” he says, eyes half-lidded as he looks at me from across the couch. “You keep it.” A pause. “So, what's your story, Della?” he asks, nodding his head slightly to the faint whisper of music in the background. I left something playing on my computer, but at this volume I can't even tell what it is.

  “My story?” I ask as Rhoden opens his eyes a little wider and smiles at me.

  “Sure,” he says. “Everybody has a story, Della. Tell me about yours.”

  Several hours later, I stretch my feet out and bump into something warm and hard, groaning as I try to adjust myself into a more comfortable position.

  “Little Dick, get off the couch,” I mumble as I kick at the offending dog and try to encourage him to retreat to my bedroom to sleep. Yep. You heard that right; when I fall asleep on the couch, I chase the dog off and he usually ends up in my bed.

  “It's not Little Dick this time,” a sleep warmed voice says from the other side, and my eyes fly open, head lifting to find Rhoden Richards staring at me in the dark. “You've got Big Dick on your couch tonight.”

  “Hah,” I say, trying not to let my rapidly thumping heart get to me. I'd forgotten that Rhoden was here. After he'd asked for my story, we'd just ended up … talking. For hours. I glance over at the clock and see that it's almost three in the morning. We both must've dozed off sometime around one. That's the last thing I remember, checking the clock at that time as Rhoden told me stories about his kick-ass single mom.

  She's the reason he fought so hard to make something of himself. She's the one that spent hours tossing the football around the yard, driving him to practices, cleaning him up after fights with kids at school.

  She's the one who would suffer most if I got Rhoden in trouble with Walter.

  “Rhoden,” I start, my voice quiet and strange in the darkness. I'm about to tell him about the baby when his hands slide along the arch of my foot and make me moan. It's been … forever since I got a foot massage from someone. I forgot how exquisite it felt.

  “You're even tenser than before, Della. Didn't Mr. Virgin give you any rubdowns?”

  “I didn't let Mr. Virgin touch me,” I whisper and then groan as Rhoden pushes his thumb into the arch of my foot, working out a knot I hadn't even known I was carrying there. It's almost … sexual, the way he touches me, runs his fingers up my calves, kneads the muscle with his strong hands.

  “No? Not the way you let me touch you,” he says as he sits up and grabs the top of my knee-high sock, dragging it slowly down my foot and tossing it aside. The way his fingertips graze the suddenly bare skin is almost painful in its intensity. “With all of that money and that swagger, that asshole couldn't figure out how to make his woman feel good?”

  “I was never his woman,” I say, the words breaking from my lips like whiplash. Rhoden freezes for a moment and then drags my other sock down, getting rid of that, too, before he reaches out for my hands and pulls me to him.

  I'm sitting in his lap now, straddling the thick hardness of his erection, one leg tucked up beside him on the couch, the other hanging off the edge. Rhoden looks me in the eyes and traces his fingers up my thighs and under the shirt, taking hold of my waist.

  He watches me for a moment before leaning forward and kissing me in that slow, easy way of his, working his tongue into my mouth, heating me up from the inside. I can feel my hips start to wiggle of their own accord, my chest arch forward against his. I put my arms around Rhoden's neck as he takes his hands out of the shirt and starts unbuttoning it from the top down. When he stops kissing me and leans back, I drop my gaze to his hands, watch as he pulls the fabric apart and reveals my favorite comfy sports bra.

  Oops.

  “This is—” I start, but he's laughing, reaching under the band and helping me pull it up and over my breasts. Let's just say, it's a bit of a struggle. I have a big chest, so getting those things out from under the tight fabric is … Rhoden sucks in a sharp breath and bites his lower lip, cupping my breasts, one in each hand.

  “Jesus fuck,” he says, and those words are sharp enough that I know he's not bullshitting me, or treating me like a fetish, or trying to get off for getting off's sake … no, he likes me. Or at least my body. I can be certain he's got a deep appreciation for it—which I like. Love. Rhoden makes me feel sexy. Now, if I could only dredge up the power to feel sexy by myself, I'd be in good shape. “You're so goddamn gorgeous,” he tells me and my mind flashes with flickers of Walter's horrible words. You're pretty enough. Like I wasn't hideous to look at, but, well, he could pass if he wanted.

  “Rhoden,” I whisper as he leans forward and captures one of my breasts with h
is mouth, causing my head to fall back, my breath to slide out of me in a rush. His left hand trails a fiery heat down my side, cupping my hip with enough force that I bite my lip. “Rhoden, wait.”

  I have to tell him now.

  I have to.

  But then he's kneading my breast with his fingers, biting the hard point of my nipple, and I'm burying my fingers in his hair and thrusting my hips against his erection. The pressure feels so good between my thighs that I can't help but rock against him, grinding my clit with the motion.

  Rhoden takes his time, slow and easy, tasting and sucking my left breast until it's tender and sore, and then moving onto the other. I want him bare inside of me, I think as he tastes the side of my throat and I lean into his touch.

  When Rhoden reaches between us and unzips his slacks, I suck in a sharp breath, watching the shadows shift around us as he frees himself and tugs me forward.

  “Fuck me, please,” I whisper against his ear, leaning into his chest and hoping he'll just go for it without asking questions. And then I'll tell him after, I swear. I reach down and push the tiny shorts aside, tilting my hips back until I find him hard and thick and ready for me. The slow subtle movement of my pelvis sheathes Rhoden inside of me as I lean back and gasp at the hot feeling of his flesh buried inside of mine.

  Exquisite torture. That's what this is. The more I sit back, the deeper he goes, our eyes locking together the same way as our bodies. Rhoden doesn't speak, just watches me as I get used to the deep ache of being filled. When I'm ready, I start to move and he takes my hips in his hands, guiding me, encouraging me, turning my resolve to jelly.

  Wow. I seriously have a huge crush on this guy. Big time.

  God, please let him be okay with this baby.

  I close my eyes and lean my head into his shoulder, kissing him in the exact same spot he told me not to touch before. The sound he makes is completely delicious, a low rumbling that echoes through him and into me as I work us together in a wet, sweaty frenzy.

  “Faster, Della,” he urges in my ear. I grind and buck and move as fast as I can, whipping us both up into a sexual panic. When it's clear neither of us can handle this much longer, Rhoden lifts us up and lays me on my back on the couch, driving into me with deep, hard pumps of his hips, my ass sinking into the couch cushion as he fucks with me all his strength and comes in a flurry of grunts and curses, kissing and nibbling at my neck between panting breaths.

  “Stay the night?” I ask as he sits up a little and looks down at me with a gaze like burning embers, a slow and easy heat that burns everything around it to ash.

  “Yeah,” he says, and I try not to freak-out about that because I don't even really know what that means. Rhoden pulls back and reaches underneath me, lifting me up as I let out a small squeak.

  “You don't have to do that,” I say, trying not to laugh, but he just looks down at me like, what, this little thing?

  “Relax, Della. Like I said, you're too stressed out. Let me take care of you.”

  My heart flitters and jumps, even though his words don't mean what I kind of secretly, maybe, almost, possibly, might want them to mean …

  “Bedroom's straight ahead and to the right.”

  “I think I can handle that,” he says with a slight smirk, carrying me over to the door and pushing it open with his foot. My room's nothing fancy, just a queen bed with two nightstands, a couple dressers and a single chair. It should have more personality, I suppose, but I kind of like things simple, easy, beautiful.

  Rhoden kicks the dogs off—both of them this time—and then lays me down, reaching to take his shirt off and tossing it side. He wastes no time stripping me of my shorts and sliding his fingers up my thighs. My warm heat envelops him as he starts with two, and then three, working me easy and slow, his golden body beautiful in the weak light leaking in through my bedroom window. Must be moonlight, this high up.

  When Rhoden puts his face between my thighs again, I relax into it completely, letting my hands grip the headboard behind me, my back arching off the bed. He works his tongue around my clit the same way he does when he's at my lips, like he's completely sure of himself, like he has all the time in the world.

  My lids stay half-shuttered, my body loose and limp. Just when I think I'm about to come, Rhoden slides up over me, his muscular body crushing me against the mattress. He takes hold of the back of my head as he kisses me and slides his cock into me again, propping himself up and then dragging my hand to my clit. He pushes me to move my fingers in a circular motion and then lets go, leaning his pelvis into me as I tease my most sensitive spot. If I let my touch drift down just a little, I can literally feel him as he parts my body, enters it, slides out again. His shaft is wet with me, and the very idea of that is intoxicating.

  My orgasm is so intense that I scream, setting the dogs off into a barking fit that ends up making me laugh while I'm still quivering and gasping for breath, slightly sobbing. The contraction of my muscles makes Rhoden come again, and then he's laughing, too.

  When I fall asleep that night, I feel contented, sated, and safe.

  Rhoden wakes me up a few hours later and whispers something in my ear. I'm too groggy to process it, but later, when I finally crack my eyes open for good, he's gone. Disappointment trickles through me before I remember that he's got practice.

  Duh.

  The man's in the freaking NFL.

  I sit up with a yawn, stretching my arms over my head and smiling at Little Dick, sitting and wagging his tail at the end of the bed, his orange and white spotted fur bright against the dark wood of the dresser behind him. Billy's gone, probably back to Rhoden's apartment this morning.

  You didn't tell him, a small voice nags in the back of my mind. I meant to, but I forgot he'd be leaving so early. Deep breath. Okay, next time I see him. Literally, as soon as our eyes meet, I am shouting this news across the street.

  Little Dick whimpers, dragging me out of bed with a groan as I throw some clothes on and get ready to take him down to the dog park to do his thing. It's a pleasant morning outside, sunny and bright and cheerful. To be honest, I'm feeling pretty damn good after last night. Rhoden and I, we have a connection. I know he feels it, too.

  But then my good mood shatters in a sea of broken ice, stabbing the inside of my belly with panic.

  Walter's waiting for me outside the gate.

  My heart skips and bounces, but not in the way it does when I see Rhoden. No, this is a sick lurching feeling, a premonition of terrible things to come.

  The man's leaning over the fence, staring at the pack of dogs playing inside the park with a blank face. When he hears my boots scraping across the pavement, he turns to look at me with a stoic expression on his thin lips and dull gray-blue eyes.

  “Walt,” I say, trying to keep my voice cool as I unlock the gates and let the puppy in. I come to stand in front of Walter … on the other side of the fence. Maybe he won't grab my wrist and shake me if I'm standing over here? “Did you come to get your ring back? If so, I have it upstairs. I can run and grab it.”

  “Della,” Walter starts as he stands up and purses his lips at me. “Rhoden Richards was a terrible choice. I'd suspected him, but for the sake of your character, I'd sincerely hoped not.” I blink back at him and try not to gape. Shit. But of course he would find out that Rhoden was with me last night. What have I done?! I force myself to take slow, shallow breaths. This, this was what I've been trying to prevent from happening all along.

  “Listen,” I start, but Walter interrupts me … like he always does, curling his pale fingers around the top of the fence. As usual, his suit is impeccable, his teeth perfect and white, his skin unblemished. But he looks so ugly to me in that moment, it's sickening, like I'm finally seeing the person beneath the mask.

  “It's his baby then?” he asks me, but he's not looking for an answer. Walt's already made up his mind about this. “I see.”

  “Don't, please,” I say, but I have no idea what it is that I'm pleading for. �
��Walter, this has nothing to do with Rhoden and me. It's us that doesn't work. Me and you, we wouldn't work together. Please, just take the ring back and let it go.”

  “Listen to me, Della. When I set my sights on something I want, I get it. Do you understand me?”

  “You can't boss me around, Walt,” I snap. “I'm not a dog.” I cross my arms over my chest and keep my chin raised.

  “No. But what I can do is make your boyfriend's life a living hell. Think about that, Della. I'm sorry it had to turn out like this, but I need you to understand how serious I am. I won't be made a fool of again.”

  Walter turns and climbs back in the limo as I stand there and cross my arms tight over my chest, sucking in deep, calming breaths. Only … they're not working and I think I'm about to have a panic attack. Why can't he just let me go?!

  My gaze snaps up as the tinted windows of the limo slide down the street like a snake's scales. I watch them go before I sink to one of the benches in the park and put my head in my palms.

  What the hell am I going to do now?

  When I get back to the apartment, I see that Rhoden's actually left his number on a piece of paper. It's stuck to the fridge with the only magnet I own—a cupcake with a giant penis candle that Ariana gave me as a joke.

  I'm far too freaked-out to laugh about it … or get too excited about the phone number or the way it's signed simply Lion. Cute. Real cute. And yet … did Walter just threaten Rhoden? Threaten to do what?

  So what do I do?

  Do I call Rhoden and tell him everything? Do I keep all of this craziness to myself? Maybe Walt's bluffing, trying to get me to roll over for him.

  If so, he's wasting his time. No matter what, I won't give him what he wants.

  My cell rings and I tug it out of my pocket. It's Ariana.

  “Hey,” I say, trying to figure out the best way to explain what happened this morning.

  “Babe, you need to Google yourself. And quick.”

  “Why would I want to do that?” I ask, standing up and moving over to my laptop. I type my name in the search bar … and up pops a million results featuring me and … Walter. My throat gets tight and my breath catches hard in my chest.