by B. B. Hamel
I laughed. “You mean you’re not also an interior decorator?”
“I know I look like I love art and fashion, but no, I’m not.”
“I’m shocked. I thought you already had a career lined up for when you retire from football.”
He laughed, smirking at me. “Who said I’ll ever retire?”
“Oh, right. I forgot about all those guys over thirty playing running back.”
He just grinned at me. “Come on, have a set.”
I shook my head. “Let’s get to work.”
“Well okay then.” He stripped his shirt off.
I gaped at him for a second. I’d seen him without his shirt on plenty of times before, but for some reason this felt more intimate. I stared at the tattoos on his skin, my eyes slowly moving up along his muscular chest, lingering on his smiling lips, and finally coming to rest right on his eyes.
“Put your shirt back on,” I said. “And help me move this coffee table.”
He just laughed and got up. We moved the table aside together.
“Okay,” I said. “Assume the position.”
“You’re all business.”
“That’s right. I am. You got me to come out here, so we’re going to do some work.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, fake serious. He got down on the floor in our usual position. “Do what you want with me.”
I couldn’t help but smile as I got down on my knees and we went into our routine. It was like clockwork between us; he knew what I needed to do next, and we transitioned from one stretching exercise to the next.
I could see a little pain on his face, but he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t ask me to slow down or stop, which was a good sign. I had expected some pain, but if it were so bad that he couldn’t continue, then we’d have a problem.
The whole routine took about fifteen minutes. When we finished, I leaned back on my heels. “Okay,” I said. “Ready for more?”
He laughed. “Seriously? I thought we were done.”
“You called me out here, so we’re working hard.”
I moved toward the side of him, but he reached out and grabbed my hips. He pulled me onto him, and I lost my balance, toppling over. He grinned at me.
“I’m ready to get to work.”
“Cut it out.”
I went to move, but he held me against him. “Are you really going to pretend that you don’t want this?”
“Nobody is pretending about anything.”
“You are. Look at you. I’m sure you’re dripping wet right now thinking about exactly what I want to do to you.”
“And what do you want to do?”
“I want to slide those shorts off and tongue your tight cunt until you scream.”
I went to respond, to tell him that I didn’t want it, that I didn’t want it at all, even though it was a lie, but he stopped me. He pulled me against him and kissed me hard. I kissed him back, relieved that I didn’t have to keep lying to him, relieved that I was finally getting what I wanted.
He kissed me hard, his tongue in my mouth, and I lost myself in him. He held me against his hard body, and I loved the way he kissed me. It was intense, needing, the sort of kiss that only came around a few times in a lifetime. It was the final release after a long, long dance.
He pulled my shirt off and tossed it aside. Then he kissed my neck. “Still going to pretend?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Good. I like when you play hard to get.”
“Why?”
“Makes it that much sweeter when I get what I want.”
I bit my lip as he pulled my bra off and felt my breasts, teasing my nipples with his tongue. I ran my hands through his thick hair and held on as he rolled me over onto my back.
I gasped as he unbuttoned my shorts and pulled them down my legs.
“You have a perfect fucking body,” he said as his fingers found my pussy. “And a wet little cunt. Fuck, girl, you’re dripping.”
“Owen,” I said as he began to rub my clit.
“You have no idea how hard it makes me when you say my name.” He kissed me again, his hand down my panties, working my pussy.
He pressed his fingers deep inside me. I spread my legs, letting him fuck me with his fingers. There was a voice deep in the back of my head screaming that I should stop, that I should back off. But I knew I couldn’t. I knew there was no stopping, not now, maybe not ever.
He just felt too damn good. Pleasure flooded my skin, flushing my cheeks, making me float. I loved it as I squirmed under his touch. He knew exactly what he was doing, working my pussy and back to my clit, teasing me with his fingers while he kissed me, licked my nipples, kissed my neck.
I was his in that moment. I couldn’t have gotten up even if I tried.
He moved farther down my body, his lips lingering along my hipbones as he slowly moved lower, pulling my panties down as he went.
He kissed my inner thigh, teasing me. He looked up at me, grinning. “Tell me what you want.”
“I don’t know,” I managed to gasp.
“You know. Say it.”
I bit my lip, shaking my head. “I can’t.”
“Tell me you want me to lick your pussy until you come against my lips.”
“I can’t say that.”
“Tell me you want me to taste you.” He just kept teasing me, his fingers gently rolling along my clit, his lips kissing everywhere but where I wanted them.
The anticipation was tearing me apart, but I wasn’t like Owen. I couldn’t say those dirty things like he did so effortlessly.
But I wanted it. His teasing, the way he was looking at me, I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t handle it. I needed his mouth between my legs.
“Taste me, Owen,” I moaned. “Please, taste me.”
He didn’t waste a second. His lips found my clit as he grabbed my hips. He began to lick me, soft and slow at first. His tongue moved in amazing circles around my clit, moving down into my pussy and back again, licking every part of me.
I reached down and grabbed his hair as I tipped my head back, moaning, not caring about anything but this moment. I could distantly hear the noises I was making, but I didn’t care at all. Owen was the only thing I wanted as he licked and worked me, his tongue moving around my clit. Pleasure was rocking through my body, taking me to somewhere else, making me forget about all the reasons why I shouldn’t be doing this.
Owen did that to me. I felt his fingers slide inside me as he licked my clit. He fucked my pussy as he sucked on me, his tongue rolling along. I pressed him harder as he fucked me with his fingers, pushing his face against my soaking pussy. I rolled my hips, lost in the moment, needing to come so badly.
He pressed his fingers deep inside me and looked up, a delicious smirk on his lips as he slid his fingers in and out. “Come for me,” he commanded. “I want to taste you coming in my fucking mouth.”
“Keep going,” I gasped. “Oh shit, Owen. I’m so close.”
“You fucking bad girl. Come in my mouth.” He went back to work, sucking my clit, his fingers sliding in and out of me.
I rolled my hips with him, my whole body tense, teetering on the edge. I was focused to a point of pure pleasure burning inside me as he kept working me, his fingers and mouth working together, sucking and licking.
Finally, I felt it wash over me. The orgasm flooded my body, tensing my muscles, making my body spasm up and back. I held his hair gripped between my fingers as I came, and for a second I thought I might black out.
But the orgasm passed, slowly, and he looked up at me, still sliding his fingers in and out gently.
“Good girl,” he said.
I lay there panting as he slowly pulled his fingers out and licked them clean. I shook my head, unable to say a word. He grinned at me and leaned up against the couch.
“This is exactly what I wanted,” he said.
“What is?”
“You lying there spent and speechless.”
I smiled, un
able to stop myself. “You’re good at that.”
“God damn right I am.” He leaned down and gently kissed my lips.
Just then I heard his phone ringing in the other room. He looked up and frowned. “Be right back.”
I nodded as he got up and limped into his bedroom. I stared up at the ceiling, slowly getting ahold of myself.
I was so stupid. Doing this with Owen was just going to make things even more complicated. It was bad enough that I was trusting him on this injury thing, but if anyone found out about what we were doing now, I would definitely lose my job.
I stared up at the ceiling, mentally chastising myself. Though as much as I berated myself for making a stupid decision, I realized that I didn’t exactly regret it. Owen made me feel good, so incredibly good, and there wasn’t a lot of that in my life. Any good moment was important.
He came back into the room a couple minutes later. “Hey,” he said.
I sat up, getting dressed. “Hey.”
“Look, I’m really sorry about this.”
I frowned. “What?”
“I have to go in. That was Raylon. Coach wants to go over tape with the two of us this afternoon.”
“Oh,” I said. “Okay. That’s fine.” I finished dressing and stood.
“I’m not kicking you out.”
“I get it.”
I stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
Owen walked over to me, grabbed my hips, and kissed me. He didn’t seem awkward or unsure at all.
When the kiss was done, I felt like my lips were tingling.
“I’ll see you later,” he said. “Feel free to hang around here if you want.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me.”
He opened his door and was gone.
I stood there staring at his empty apartment for a second, not sure what to do.
Part of me thought that was a little convenient, but I knew Coach Kelly was always bringing in the players on off-hours for extra mental prep, and I was sure he would also bring Raylon in with Owen. He was probably trying to get Owen as much experience as possible since he was still a rookie.
I shook my head and left his apartment, summoning an Uber on my phone.
What a strange, amazing day.
12
Owen
My knee ached as I burst between the linemen. I saw Peter up ahead, ducking down, ready to tackle me, but I juked aside. He hit my side but couldn’t find any purchase as I pushed through into the secondary.
Coach blew his whistle and the play came to an end. So far, my knee was holding up. It ached a little bit, especially on those hard cuts, but I was running pretty well.
Maybe that extra rehab with Taylor the day before really had helped. Or maybe just getting a taste of her nice little pussy was enough to make me not give a shit about my pain.
The girl was incredible. The way she kissed me, the way she tasted, everything about her made me want her more and more. Getting her to admit that she wanted me to suck her little clit until she came was the highlight of my fucking year, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Too bad I really had needed to go in for more fucking film training with Raylon. Knowing that I had to leave Taylor behind had fucking killed me as I sat there and talked strategy with Coach Kelly and Raylon, but it was my job. I had to do what Coach wanted. I couldn’t risk getting Taylor into any trouble just because I wanted to stay behind and tease her clit until she couldn’t breathe.
“You look strong out there,” Raylon said as I came over to the sidelines.
“Thanks, man.”
“Make sure you hit that A-gap hard. Shoulder down, ready to break a tackle. They’ll come hard at you.”
“Fuckers can’t take me down.”
“They can and they will. Don’t get a big head.”
I nodded. “You’re right. But they won’t get me every time.”
He grinned. “No, they won’t.”
I glanced over Raylon’s shoulder and caught Taylor looking at me. I grinned and she quickly looked away.
This morning’s session had been a little strained. I had flirted with her, and even went to kiss her again, but she had pulled back. She wanted things to be professional when we were at work. She didn’t want what had happened to change anything between us.
Bullshit, but if that was what she wanted, then that was what we’d do. She was clearly uncomfortable even looking at me in public, like people could somehow magically tell what had happened between the two of us.
I couldn’t blame her, though. If we got caught, she would lose her job, but I wouldn’t. They might be pissed at me for sleeping with my therapist, but they weren’t going to get rid of their starting running back over it. Maybe back when I was the backup rookie, maybe then they’d cut me for being an asshole.
Now, though, she was risking way more. I had to be aware of that if we were going to keep this thing up.
Practice went smoothly. After field work, I did some more therapy with Taylor, and she acted just as professional and distant as she had that morning. Overall, though, it was a good day. I didn’t hurt myself or push myself, and soon I was back in the locker room showering off.
My knee was aching, so I took my time. I was the last guy dressed, and I walked slowly out of the facility, heading back toward my apartment building. I probably should have gotten a car, just to minimize any work on my knee, but I felt stupid getting a car for a ten-minute walk.
Just as I left the facility, I noticed someone suddenly step onto the sidewalk up ahead of me. I usually didn’t mind that sort of thing, but I suddenly tensed.
It took me a second to recognize him. Tony smiled as I slowed down.
“Hey there, buddy,” he said.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Tony was tall, though not as tall as me. His hair was cut short and he had tattoos all along his chest. He wore slacks and a clean white dress shirt, and he was smiling at me casually.
“I just wanted to check in with you.”
“This is not okay. We can see my fucking practice field from here.”
“So what? They don’t know who I am.”
“Fucking asshole.” I started walking, and he fell into step next to me. “Extorting me for cash isn’t bad enough?”
“I’m not extorting you. I’m just implying that you should make some legitimate bets with my organization.”
“Right. Because if I don’t, you’ll ruin me.”
“We’re friends, Owen. We don’t ruin our friends.”
“You just extort them.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “We’re going to go in circles at this rate.”
“What do you want?” I asked again.
“I just want to say hello, remind you that we’re around.”
“I thought that phone call was for that.”
“You sounded unhappy on the phone. I thought I needed to come see you.”
“You saw me.”
“Don’t forget what we did for you, Owen. We made your life good. We helped your career.”
“And now you’re making me place bets on my own sport just to keep me in your fucking back pocket. And for what?”
He shrugged. “We like to cultivate favors. One day we’ll need something, and we’ll come to you.”
“Like the fucking Godfather.”
“Just like the Godfather. It may have been a movie, but it had some good ideas.”
“I placed my bet. Now leave me alone.”
“You’re our man. Don’t forget that.”
I stopped and faced him. “Nobody owns me.”
He smiled and kept walking. “We own you, Owen. Don’t forget it.”
I watched as he waved and then crossed the street. He didn’t look back as he headed down and away, disappearing from view.
“Fuck,” I said to myself, and slowly started back toward my apartment.
I didn’t know what I was going to do about them. Between the mob and Taylor and my knee, I
had enough to worry about for one damn lifetime.
At least Taylor made me feel good. The others were just a drain on me, a stress. Taylor might have been difficult, but god damn if that wasn’t a good thing. I wanted the chase.
Most of all, I wanted the feeling of finally getting what I wanted.
13
Taylor
I didn’t know what to do or say around Owen.
After I got home from his apartment, what had happened really began to sink in. I had done what I hadn’t wanted to do, given in where I’d wanted to stay strong. I had known what I was doing, and I’d wanted it, but it was such a big risk.
He would be fine if we got caught, but I was expendable. Really, they were giving me a huge opportunity here, and I repaid them by sleeping with their up-and-coming star.
That was just bad form.
I was stressed all the next day at work. I went through our usual routine, but I kept it professional even when he wanted it to be more.
But every time I touched his body, I felt something. It was a stinging spark rolling through my spine, a deep and dark feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew what it meant, but I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to give in to myself, no matter how badly I wanted it.
Monday passed and Tuesday passed, and I managed to bite my tongue around him. I managed to not say what I wanted to say, even though I wanted to say it badly.
I wanted to tell him that the feeling of his fingers deep inside me was something I’d never experienced before. I wanted him to know that I was dripping wet every time I touched him, that all I thought about was him fucking me rough, his strong hands gripping my hips as his cock slammed into me.
I wanted him to know that I was a soaking, dirty girl for him.
Tuesday night, I was alone in my apartment. As I sat there watching crappy reality TV, feeling tired and trying not to think about Owen, my phone rang.
I answered it without thinking.
“Hello?”
“Hello. Were you just thinking about me?”
Of course it was him.
“No,” I lied.
“I’m thinking about you.”
