Go Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  At first, it was just his body that attracted me to him. I only saw a muscular and dangerous man all covered in tattoos. But now I was beginning to see much more of Travis, past the cocky attitude and into his past, into the man he once was. To really understand a person, you needed to understand where they came from.

  The car ride felt short, and soon enough we were pulling up outside my apartment. Travis parked and we got out, heading inside. The dry cleaner downstairs was in full swing, which meant the building smelled like chemicals. Travis made a face as we walked up the steps.

  “It’s always like this?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “It’s not so bad. I got used to it.”

  “Not sure I will.”

  I paused outside my door. “What’s that now?”

  “I thought we talked about this.”

  “You’re really going to sleep on my couch?”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “I wasn’t kidding. When I say I’m going to do something, I do it.”

  I sighed and unlocked the door. “Okay then. Welcome home.”

  He laughed as he followed me inside. “Aside from the smell, it’s pretty cozy.” He sat down at the kitchen table. “Though not exactly personalized.”

  I shrugged and poured myself a glass of water. “I didn’t think I’d be staying here long.”

  “Still. There’s nothing on the walls, no pictures or anything. It’s like a serial killer lives here.”

  “It’s functional.”

  “It’s creepy.”

  I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Not all of us carry around our high school yearbook.”

  “You don’t need that, but maybe hang a picture or something, make this feel like less of a prison.”

  I sighed and drank down my water. “Done criticizing the place where you’re living rent-free?”

  “For now.”

  I shook my head and headed toward the bedroom. I went inside and shut the door behind me, leaning up against it as it closed.

  I’d been trying not to think about Travis staying over. I didn’t know what I was going to do with him sleeping on my couch all night long, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. I wished he wouldn’t stay with me, but I also knew that I had no other choice. If he thought this was the best thing for us, then I couldn’t exactly disagree. He was doing so much for me already. I wasn’t going to risk looking like a total jerk by kicking him out now.

  Still, he was such a distraction. I couldn’t stop looking at him every time we were around each other. I hated it, but I kept wondering what he’d feel like, his hard body pressed against mine, my legs wrapped around his hips.

  As I took some deep breaths to steady myself, I felt my phone starting to ring in my pocket. I fumbled with it and pulled it out.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, honey.” My mom’s voice, singsong as always.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said, still flustered. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Just checking in with my favorite child.”

  I smiled to myself. She said that to me and to every one of my three older brothers.

  “You don’t need to check in,” I said. “I’m doing fine.”

  “I know I don’t need to. I just like to hear your voice.”

  “Dad driving you crazy?”

  She sighed. “You know how that man can be, dear. It’s rougher when he’s your husband.”

  I smiled to myself. I loved my parents dearly and thought they were perfect people, but ever since the farm went into bankruptcy and we took that loan, dad was more and more ornery. He didn’t lose his temper or anything like that, but he was always sullen and sulking around the farm, trying to keep himself busy so he didn’t have to think about our problems.

  Meanwhile, my mom just kept moving forward. That was the kind of person she was. She couldn’t stop moving for anything, or else risk drowning where she stood. I understood that about my parents and could see some of it in me. I liked to always be on the move, always trying to keep myself busy to combat anything unpleasant.

  That was how my father was, and the whole money situation only made him worse. He felt like he was a failure somehow, because he couldn’t keep his farm going in horrible economic conditions. That just brought strain onto the whole family.

  And that was why I left. I thought I could solve things, like if I worked hard enough everything would just magically right itself. Instead, the mafia wanted to sell me into sex slavery and I had been almost raped.

  “I understand. But you’re doing good?”

  “I’m great, honey. How are things over there? Good?”

  “Things are great. I love my job, I love my friends. I’m out practically every day. I can barely keep it all straight.”

  “That’s so good to hear.”

  I hated lying to my mom, but what was my alternative? If I told her now, she’d just come out here and try to drag me home, probably making everything worse. She was just as stubborn as I was, and that wouldn’t help this situation at all.

  “What about the gang of three?”

  “The boys are good. Reggie just got a little promotion at work, but he’s still coming around on weekends. And the other two are helping your dad out for a while, ever since he hurt his back.”

  “Great. Really great.”

  I hated feeling this way. I hated lying to my mom, making stupid small talk when I knew that everything around me was falling apart. I knew that I couldn’t fix or help it, and I just felt so incredibly powerless to do anything about it.

  The gang of three, my brothers, they were invincible. It seemed like no matter what happened, they always had a smile on their faces. Reggie was quick with a joke, and serious Jonny was always giving brotherly advice. The oldest, Reese, was always the first to stick up for me back in the day. It wasn’t easy having three older brothers, but they were amazing guys, and they were turning into even better men.

  But it never seemed to touch them like it touched me. The pain of everything, the way Daddy struggled and Mom constantly picked up after him, the difficulty of it all never seemed to get to them. They were content living their lives, seeing how things turned out, but not me. I had to step up and do something, even if that meant putting myself in danger.

  It was all so hopeless, and hearing my mom talk about home only made me feel that much worse. I didn’t want to lie to her anymore, and so I’d been trying to avoid her. I needed a familiar voice in that moment, but I also couldn’t stand to hear it.

  In the end, maybe I was just a coward. Maybe I couldn’t step up when I needed to. I didn’t know what I was, but I quickly ended the conversation.

  “Sorry, Mom,” I said. “I have to get going. A friend is calling on the other line.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, call me back soon.”

  “I will. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  I hung the phone up and tossed it over onto my bed. I stared at it for a second, wondering.

  I believed that in Travis’s case, where he came from was so important, but I hadn’t really looked closely at myself, at where I came from. Maybe I needed to do a little more of that before I started judging him.

  Maybe I was being a little harsh on myself and a little unfair to Travis. Feeling guilty, I pulled open my bedroom door and went back out into the living room.

  Travis was sitting on the couch and glanced up as I walked in.

  “There she is,” he said. “Who were you talking to in there?”

  “You spying on me now?” I sat down at the other end of the couch. Travis was watching a baseball game, though he looked more like he was drinking some of my wine than watching anything.

  “Couldn’t help it,” he said. “This place is fucking tiny.”

  “I’m sure you tried real hard not to listen.”

  He grinned at me. “I did. That’s why I’m asking you now.”

  “It was my mom.”

  He nodded. “You tell her you’re elbow-deep with the Dixie Maf
ia?”

  “No. I told her I’m off working a job I love and hanging out with people my own age.”

  “I’m your own age.”

  I laughed. “You’re like five years older than I am.”

  “How old are you anyway?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “Shit, you’re young. I’m twenty-seven.”

  “Six years. I was close enough.”

  “Shouldn’t you be in college?”

  “I decided not to go. Wanted to stay home and help my parents on the farm.”

  “Farm girl through and through.”

  I sighed. “Guess so. Hey, think you can get me some of my own wine?”

  “Sure can.” He smirked and stood up. “So how was lying to your mom then?”

  “Not fun.”

  “I’m sure.” He grabbed an extra glass and poured me some. He handed it back to me and sat down. “Never fun lying to your family, even when you fucking despise them.”

  “Speaking from experience?”

  “I am.”

  “You lied much to them?”

  “When I was younger, all the time. They all died after that, so it’s easier not lying to them now.”

  “Guess you’re trying to say I’m lucky that I can even lie to them at all.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Yeah, well, save it. I don’t feel lucky.”

  He smirked at me. “I feel lucky. I get to sit on this couch with you, drink some wine. Feels good.”

  “Not to me.” I sipped the wine and stared at him, frowning. “How can you be so calm right now? Do you have a plan?”

  “No plan to speak of beyond this second,” he said.

  “Then it seems like you should be more stressed.”

  He shifted toward me, sitting closer. I didn’t move, but I felt my heart start to beat harder in my chest. The memory of the bathroom that first night came back to me. I had been so starving for him that night, had wanted him to kiss me so badly, but everything got so messed up after that. It was like we dropped the whole thing and forgot to pick it back up.

  Until now, at least.

  “That’s not the kind of man I am,” he said. “I just don’t stress about that.”

  “But why? I don’t get it. Our lives are in danger.”

  He moved closer, shifting his body toward me. “You know how many times my life has been in danger? Too many to count, honestly. I’ve been shot at more times than you’ve ridden the bus, I bet. When you’ve lived your life like that, you come to accept certain things.”

  “What things?”

  “Inevitable things. You can’t change what’s done; you can only change what’s ahead. You buckle down and you do the damn work. Otherwise you drown.”

  “Comforting words,” I said.

  “True fucking words,” he responded. “We can’t change what happened. We’re in this now, and we’re going to do the work to get out. Right? Me and you.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “We will.”

  He clinked my glass and drank. I smiled and drank with him. For some strange reason, I felt oddly comforted. I knew I should still be terrified, that nothing had been solved, but his confidence was infectious.

  I couldn’t help but stare into his deep blue eyes, his intense gaze. I became incredibly aware of the positions of our bodies on the couch as he sat there, inches away from me, our knees touching. I sipped my drink to try to cover my embarrassment, but it was way too late. I couldn’t look away.

  So when he reached out and took my chin, tilting my face toward him, I couldn’t move.

  “I’m a practical man,” he said softly. “I take what I want. Do you know what I want?”

  “What?” I asked, but I knew the answer already. I knew the answer and I wanted the same thing.

  He leaned forward and kissed me, and I knew he had me.

  His lips pressed against mine, our tongues touching as he pressed my face against his. He kissed me hard, and every built-up ounce of frustration and need inside me broke in that moment. All of the fear and the anguish, all of the pain, it was suddenly gone, or at least okay.

  I loved his taste and the soft roughness of his kiss. He was hard and he was gentle and he was so much more than that, sending long waves of pleasure along my spine.

  I sank into the kiss and let him shift his body against mine. I felt him take the glass from my hand and put it on the end table. He pressed me down onto the couch, kissing me hard, his hands against my hips.

  I felt him slowly begin to unbutton my pants as he kissed my neck. I felt a thrill race through my chest.

  “I’ve been thinking about this since that night,” he whispered in my ear. “We got fucking interrupted then. We won’t now.”

  “Is this a good idea?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “But the things that feel the best usually aren’t.”

  I gasped as I felt his hands flipped beneath my jeans and find my panties. I was soaking wet, knew I was soaking wet, and the soft grin he gave me only proved it.

  “I know you’ve been thinking about it too,” he said.

  “I haven’t,” I lied.

  “You have. You can lie, but your pussy can’t. You’re dripping and you want it, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I admitted as he slowly began to work my clit. “Yes, shit,” I gasped.

  His fingers rolled around my soaking clit, sending long waves of pleasure all through my body. I kissed him again, pressing my lips hard against his, feeling greedy for every bit of him as he continued to work my spot.

  Slowly I felt his fingers press deep inside me. I gasped, breaking off the kiss, as he began to slowly slide his fingers in and out, fucking me. He grinned at me, pressing his fingers deeper, working them around me, and I couldn’t stop the moans from escaping my mouth.

  “That’s right, girl,” he whispered. “Moan my name. I want to hear you say it.”

  “Travis,” I groaned, not able to stop myself. I couldn’t believe how much control he had over my body as he worked me with his fingers, pressing deep inside me and slowly sliding out.

  I felt him work back onto my clit, sliding his fingers along me. I kissed his lips, hungry for him, grinding my hips against him. He worked me as I kissed him harder, harder, getting deeper into it.

  Suddenly he pulled back. He grabbed my hips and pulled me onto him. I straddled his lap and kissed him hard. He pulled my shirt off, tossing it aside, and then pulled my hair gently, tipping my chin back. He kissed my neck and felt my breasts with his free hand before undoing my bra. He slid that off and tossed it aside as well.

  He kissed me hard then, his hands roaming my body freely. I wasn’t used to moving so fast with a man, but I couldn’t stop myself with Travis. There was something so powerful, and I felt it bubbling up to the surface from underneath me. I began to slowly work my hips against him, needing it, desperate for that contact.

  He kissed my neck again, his hands teasing my breasts. “Fuck your body is perfect,” he said. “Your fucking pussy is tight as hell, and these tits are incredible.”

  “You don’t need to compliment me anymore,” I said, smiling. “I’m already topless.”

  “At this point, I just need you to know what you fucking do to me.” He took my hand and slowly guided it down. He placed it on his cock and I bit my lip. He was hard as hell.

  “This is what I do?” I asked, slowly sliding my hand along his length.

  “God damn right it is,” he grunted. “You get me hard as fuck. Look at you, Hartley. My cock can’t lie.”

  I bit my lip and then stood up. He moved to get up, but I pushed him back down, dropping to my knees in front of him. His eyes were all fire and intensity as I unbuckled his belt, sliding it out, and then unbuttoned his pants. I slowly took them off him, sliding them away.

  He sat there, his big, thick cock straining against his boxer briefs. I looked up at him, teasing him just a little bit, as I slowly slid off his underwear.

>   His cock was big and hard, standing straight and thick. I tried not to marvel at it too much, but I couldn’t help myself. I slowly slid my hand up along his length, biting my lip.

  “You’re staring like you just won a prize,” he said.

  “Maybe I did.”

  He grinned at me. “You have no idea.”

  I slowly licked him from base to tip before taking him into my mouth. I could barely fit him as I began to suck his tip, my tongue rolling around. He groaned as I jerked his thick shaft off, sucking his tip, using my spit to slide along his skin.

  “There’s nothing better in this world than a fucking pretty girl sucking cock,” he said. “And Hartley, you have to be the fucking prettiest.”

  I continued to work him, sucking his tip and jerking him off. He groaned, loving it, and that only made me even more wet. He pressed my head down slightly and I let him, sliding his cock into my throat, amazed at how much of him I could take, and amazed that there was even more left.

  “Oh fucking shit, Hartley,” he said. “Suck that fucking cock, girl.”

  I worked him, letting him fuck my mouth, sliding his big dick down my throat. I moaned, not able to help myself, losing it completely. I loved a man that took control, that made me suck his dick the way he wanted it and wasn’t afraid to tell me what he needed. Travis wasn’t shy about pushing his thick cock down my throat, and that only excited me more.

  I pulled his cock out and took a deep breath, jerking him off and looking up at him.

  He grabbed a handful of my hair and kissed me hard. “You have no clue what that does to me,” he said after the kiss was done. “Those tits, you jerking this cock. Fuck. I can’t take this shit anymore. I have to feel that cunt wrapped around my big cock.”

  He stood up, pulling me up with him. He undressed me fast and easily, sliding my jeans down over my ass and kissing my skin as he went. He tossed my pants aside, went down on his knees in front of me, and grabbed my ass. He pulled me against him, spreading my legs.

  I was surprised to feel his mouth and tongue begin to work my pussy. He began to suck and lick my clit, kneeling down in front of me. I laced my fingers through his thick hair, pleasure rolling through my body. He supported me, holding my ass as his tongue worked me. He sucked and licked me, working in circles around my clit, eating every inch of me.