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

by Violet Blaze

  I scream and flail, kicking and hitting him with enough force that his rage finally gets the best of him. He hits me in the face with the pistol again, knocking me senseless as he rises to his feet.

  “You goddamn bitch,” he screams as he hauls back his foot and kicks me as hard as he can in the back of my knee. I groan and roll forward, curling around my belly protectively as I try to stand up. Walter rains blows down on me with the grip of his gun, bruising my back and sides as I fight to get away from him.

  In desperation, I throw a quick elbow back at his groin and manage to make contact again, getting myself to my feet for the briefest of seconds before the gun goes off and splinters into a tree ten right to my right.

  “Turn the fuck around,” Walter gasps as I spin slowly, rain mixing with the tears streaming down my face, my legs bruised and my back aching and my feet bleeding into the mud. I turn toward him and I wonder how he got to be so sick, this man. If it was the money and the power that made him this way, or if that only exacerbated a problem he was born with.

  I swallow hard as he lifts the gun up and points it at me.

  “Get over here,” he tells me through gritted teeth now. “Crawl over to me on your fucking hands and knees like a goddamn dog. Do it.” I open my eyes again and stare at him, my mind racing frantically as I try to figure out a way to escape, to run, to fight some more. Because I can't give in. I won't do that anymore. This is my life and for the first time ever, I love me and somebody else loves me and I'm having a fucking baby.

  I won't let it end like this.

  When I don't move, Walter comes at me again, raising his gun up like he's going to hit me again. Vaguely, I realize that I can hear movement to my right, but I don't look, just in case I might give away whoever's there.

  Walter notices though and turns his gun on Rhoden the moment he appears in the rain, breathing hard, his dark hair mussed and stuck to his forehead, his hands curled at his sides. Those whisky-honey eyes look more like dark embers as they flare with rage and concern, darting between me and Walter in a frantic flicker.

  My hands curl into tight fists as I watch the two men face each other.

  “Did you come to watch?” Walter asks as he smiles at Rhoden and I see that he's lost in his own head, consumed with his rage and frustration. I don't really think any of this is about me in particular. I'm just an example of one thing he's never had, that he can't have, but that he's decided he wants. I'm the only thing in his life he's ever had to work for, and he doesn't like that he can't get it.

  Walter lowers the gun suddenly like he's going to shoot Rhoden in the leg, but the man's already moving, charging toward Walt like two hundred and twenty-five pounds of muscular brick. The gun goes off and the shot hits the side of the house, splintering green siding in the air like small wooden stakes. I scream and try to move forward to help, but I can't see what's happening with the gun in that frantic moment.

  I curl an arm across my tummy and watch as Rhoden takes hold of Walter's wrist with one hand, yanking the weapon away with the other and tossing it aside. He's so much stronger than the other man that there's no contest. The gun just goes sailing off to the side like nothing.

  “I should've fucked you up when I had the chance,” Rhoden growls and then pulls his arm back, letting loose a hard punch that cracks Walter's nose.

  “Hit me again and I'll see you rot in prison,” the man screams as he attempts to hit Rhoden back. He might as well be struggling against a set of iron bars. Rhoden shoves the man's hands off and takes another hit, knocking Walt's head back into the mud. When he rises to his feet, he takes one look at the sniveling pile of suit on the ground and then pulls his foot back, kicking Walter as hard as he can in the side before turning to me and lifting his hands up to cup my face.

  Water's sluicing between my lips, plastering my curls against my cheeks as I try to hold back a sob.

  “Are you okay, baby?” he asks me, his face open and warm and tender and terrified, all at the same time. “Fuck, please tell me you're okay?” Rhoden pulls me close to him, folding me into his arms as Molly appears on the deck near the French doors.

  “Rhoden!” she screams as her son releases me, spinning around just in time to see Walter pick the pistol up from the ground. This time, when he lunges at the man, it's for keeps. Rhoden grabs Walter by the front of his shirt, ignoring the gun as he slams the man into one of the deck's support beams. The force of the impact is so hard that Walter almost loses the pistol, scrambling for it in midair as Rhoden rams him into the wood a second time. As soon as the gun falls to the ground, I stumble forward and pick it up, taking a step away as Rhoden pulls his fist back and hits Walter with all the force he can muster right in the stomach.

  The air rushes out of the man in a wheezing breath as Rhoden pulls back and does it again, taking this easy, slow controlled sense of rage out with careful intensity. When Walter's doubled over and doesn't seem able to stand back up again, Rhoden lifts him by his shirt and then takes a final punch, right to Walt's cheek.

  His fist cracks into the man's face before he lets him slump to the ground at his feet.

  When he turns back to look at me, he's panting.

  “I called the police,” Molly says, rushing toward us with a shotgun suddenly in her hands.

  “This could look bad,” Rhoden says as he glances back at the unconscious Walt and puts his fingers through his hair. “This could look really bad for me. Shit, I shouldn't have done that.” He reaches out and pulls me into his muscular arms, breathing hot against my hair, pressing his lips to my scalp. “But Jesus, I couldn't help myself. Della, are you alright?”

  “I'll live,” I whisper, but my sides are killing me and my feet feel like they've been shredded to pulp. I slide my arms around Rhoden's waist and squeeze him tight, hold him to me and breathe in his bourbon-oak-vanilla smell. “I love you, Big Dick,” I whisper as he cups the back of my head with his hand and puts our foreheads together.

  “I love you, too,” he tells me and then pauses as we both hear a groan from the mud near our feet. Distantly, I realize I can hear sirens echoing around the trees. The cops should be here soon, but I have no idea if they'll be Virgilville PD officers or not. Fingers crossed for the best.

  “I'm going to have you crucified for this,” Walter says as he sits up with a groan, blood streaming down both sides of his face, dripping from both nostrils onto his dirty white button-up.

  Rhoden releases me reluctantly and then kneels down next to Walt, leaning into his face with a curled lip.

  “Listen to me, you corporate fucktard weasel piece of shit, I sent those documents that Anise gave Della to every guy on the team. If anything happens to Della, to her friends, to me or my career, they go out to every media outlet in the country, on every Tweet from every player, to that forensic accountant your sister handpicked. I swear to God, one thing. Just one. That'll be all it takes.”

  “Besides,” Molly says in her strangely melodic little voice. “I have cameras all over this place. Whatever's happened here tonight won't just be a matter of hearsay.” She points up at a blinking red light tucked up under the eaves of the porch. “I had animals going through the trash and getting into the house,” she explains with a small smile. “Took the cameras for me to finally catch some raccoons.”

  I almost laugh, but then I start to sob a little and Rhoden stands up, pulling me into his arms.

  When I look down at Walt, he glances away suddenly and I pray that this time, it really is over.

  There's a lot I want to tell you guys, but I can't. Just … I went through a lot in December and not all of it was good. If you remember from my posts then, I got seriously hurt in a … home invasion. Yes, that was at the same time Walter Virgil lost majority control of the board of Donsanto. His sister and his parents pulled their backing and used their own shares to vote against him. I won't go into detail about it, but it doesn't matter because I'm not with him. I was never really with him at all.

  But ha
ve I told you lately that I'm in love with Rhoden Richards?

  Probably a million times, I'm sure. But you know what I'm really in love with right now? The fact that I get to go to the Super Bowl at Levi's Stadium in Santa Clara. The Adders are playing against the Green Bay Packers and I am almost literally DESPERATE for a win. It doesn't help that I'm getting hugely pregnant either (look at all the pics I posted today!), but what is awesome is that I don't have to do this alone. As you probably remember from my post a few weeks ago, we've moved in together! We're staying at Rhoden's place while my BFFs, Scottie and Ariana are moving into mine. It's the least I can do considering it's pretty much my fault that neither of them have steady jobs anymore (don't ask about that because I can't tell!).

  Anyway, I'm leaving tomorrow for Santa Clara. I'll let you know if my man wins (he better) and I'll find some awesome NFL merch to give away.

  P.S. I got an email from a publisher a few weeks ago, and they want to publish ME! Yep. You heard me right: they want me to write a book. They seriously told me they were planning on titling it Loud and Proud Big Girl Della Garland, but that's crass and tasteless so we'll see. I #lovemycurves, but I'm not feeling the title. What do you think?

  For now, over and out. I'll be posting live from the game.

  “Stop distracting me from the game,” I growl at Ariana as she clings to my arm and squeezes her eyes shut tight. You'd think it was her lover on the field down there, fighting an epic battle in super sexy tight black football pants and a red and purple jersey. Yum. “Look, he's fine, okay? He didn't get sacked. Stop being such a baby.”

  Ariana sits up and tugs on her red braids while Scottie sits on her other side, staring at the field with a perplexed expression on his face, like one day he's going to suddenly understand why other people actually like the sport.

  I sigh.

  At least Hal is cheering like a normal person, not at all bothered by the fact that the tight end, Deshaun Green, still has a crush on her. Hell, maybe she'll actually date this guy for a while? This pseudo relationship has lasted longer than any other I've seen. Although I'm not holding out much faith. This is, after all, Hal that we're talking about.

  “Too bad Dad's still being a whiny ass,” she says as she smacks her gum and I try not to scream. Why did I choose to bring these people with me to the game again? Oh yeah, because they're family. I sigh and glance over at my sister. The game is almost over, and I've barely gotten to watch half of it there's so much damn talking up here.

  “I'm pregnant and trying to watch the Super Bowl. Can we talk about this later, please? The Adders are down 24-30 and there's less than a minute left in the game. Would it be too much to let me savor this?”

  “All I'm saying is that it's shitty he can't admit he was wrong and just be here. When's the last time we watched the Super Bowl without him?” I can barely hear her over the crowd, but she's right. This is the first time we've been dad free for a Super Bowl, and it sucks. But even though he now knows the full extent of what happened with Walter, he has yet to apologize. Hal says she thinks he's softening a little, but at this point, it doesn't matter to me. Here, with these people and this game, with Rhoden and our baby and our two stupid dogs, one angry bunny and murderous orange tabby cat, that's all the family I need (oh, and don't forget Ariana's hermit crab; Hal's is already dead).

  I lean forward, cupping my hands over my growing belly as I watch Rhoden move across the field, the announcer's voice blaring loud in the stadium.

  “Big Dick out of the gun … pocket … hole … looks right, throws to Forsyth. Got him, inside the five, into the end zone. But no! He stayed inside the one. Richards gets the offense into position … GOES … he dives in for the touchdown. Did he get it? Good God, but he did! Touchdown Arcata Adders!” I stand up and scream bloody murder, scaring the living hell out of Scottie as I bounce around and then regret it, feeling ridiculously huge in my Adders jersey with the number nine on it. Rhoden's jersey. My Rhoden. “The Adders have taken the lead with twelve seconds to go!”

  I cheer and shout, my voice lost in the immensity of the crowd, swallowed up by the excitement and the joy of the people around me. But I know in my heart that they can't be feeling what I'm feeling, this pride, this overwhelming love, this anticipation for the future.

  I wait for Rhoden's usual showboating, but it doesn't come.

  Instead, he turns and looks in my direction, like he knows exactly where to find the speck that's me in this mass of people. Yes, he knows where I'm sitting in a general sense, but … the way his eyes lock onto mine, hone in on my face, the way his smile melts across his own in a slash of liquid sex, I know he can feel me, too.

  His teammates surround him in a swarm as I grin and sit back to watch my man take the Super Bowl.

  Somehow, it feels like he's doing it just for me.

  I know it's been a while since I've posted, but I was busy having a FREAKING BABY! Yep. That's right. I gave birth about two weeks ago to a healthy ten pound one ounce baby boy (ouch!) that we named Carson Richards. Before you even ask, Ariana also gave birth to her little girl—all of six hours later. Yeah, like I said, we're kind of in sync with each other. Unfortunately, she did name her child Honey (which is basically a dog's name in my opinion), but I guess it's cute anyway.

  Luckily, Scottie was actually able to land a job at a nearby hospital in Eureka, and Ariana's decided not to work for a while so everything's been turning out alright. Basically, with the rent-free apartment I'm letting them use, their expenses have evened out.

  Anyway, before you can even ask, yes, Hal came to the hospital to see me and has stopped by every day since I got home. And no, my evil stepmother and stepsisters did not. My dad … that's a little more complicated. He sent a bouquet of carnations to Rhoden's apartment with a generic, pre-printed card. Other than that, I haven't seen him. But I'm okay with that. I've accepted my life for what it is, for what I want it to be, and I'm the happiest I've been in … well, ever. One day, if he comes to me and apologizes, we might be able to fix this.

  For now, I'm focusing on my new life and the family I've chosen to surround myself with.

  A few days ago, the Adders had a party to celebrate finally receiving their Super Bowl rings. When I first saw it in person, I almost died. It's big and gaudy and ridiculous, but it has the Adders' snake logo in diamonds and it represents our first Super Bowl win ever. Mom would certainly be proud! I know Molly is; she drove in to see the baby and stayed to help out for a few weeks.

  Or maybe she just knew what Rhoden was planning.

  The day after he came home with the ring, we left the baby with his mom for a short dinner date … and he proposed! WITH THE RING. The Super Bowl ring. He GAVE it to me. How cute is that? When he jokingly asked if I wanted to pick out something different, something prettier or more traditional, do you know what I said?

  FAT FREAKING CHANCE!

  Even if we get divorced one day (hah), I am so keeping this thing forever. An Arcata Adders Super Bowl ring, come on.

  Anyway, this time, I didn't say sure. I didn't freeze like a deer in the headlights, didn't panic or wonder or fret. This time, when this man asked me to marry him, I said yes with my words, with the frantic fluttering of my breath, and with every beat of my heart.

  My name is Della Garland, a loud and proud big girl, and I fell in love with a Big Dick.

  That's my story. Everyone has one. So tell me, what's yours?

  DESCRIPTION

  Holy sweet baby Jesus.

  I don't know anything about taking care of kids.

  I pierce nipples, navels, and noses for a living.

  I've never even held a baby before. Not once. Never changed a diaper or cleaned up a skinned knee. Hell, I don't even want kids. I'm more of a drifter, a once in a lifetime lover, and then I move on.

  Family? Commitment? Nuh uh, no way.

  Tough shit, though, because my brother and his kids need me. Desperately.

  I never thought to wonder if I might need
them, too.

  That I might need her, this strange woman I met at a playground.

  Brooke Overland.

  She doesn't know I'm not a professional nanny, but what am I supposed to do now?

  She hired me; I took care of her sister's kids for her; I fucked her.

  My life is so screwed up.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Zayden Roth

  "Move for me," I growl, curling my hands around my new lady friend's hips. She's got almost as many tattoos as I do and the kaleidoscope mind-fuck of her arching her back above me is just about enough to send me over the edge.

  She squeals and giggles as I flip her over and run my fingers through her hair. It's like cotton candy, all pink and soft and shit. I fucking love Las Vegas. Ever since I moved here and got a job as a body piercer, I've had so many opportunities to meet new friends. Friends that smell like body butter, with soft skin, and healthy sexual appetites.

  Oh yeah.

  This is the real "City That Never Sleeps" and there's no way in hell I would ever leave. I don't think this girl, Katie, and me have slept in three days. Thank God for holiday weekends, right?

  "Oh, Zay," she moans, running her tongue up the side of my face. I grab her wrists in my hands and slam them into the pillow behind her head, nipping at her exposed throat as I thrust hard and fast, slamming our pelvises together with the sweet sound of flesh on flesh. Oh God yes. "You are the world's fucking hottest nerd."

  I grin big.

  "Hey, just because I take breaks to shoot rebel soldiers online with my buddies does not make me a nerd." I put a little extra strength in my next thrust and get rewarded with a guttural groan from Katie's pretty little lips. If she hadn't walked into the shop to get her tits pierced on Friday, I'd have missed out on all this fun. Lucky me.